Drakon's Past Page 8

  “I won’t.”

  “You listen to me. I’ve done more research on those statues. Information is scant, but it does seem these things have power. There was one mention of them being used to capture a drakon. They didn’t need their drugs or potions to hold him. Those things are bloody dangerous. They shouldn’t all be together.”

  Nic relaxed but only slightly. “Constance only has two of them.”

  “Are you sure about that?” The quiet question was more potent than if he’d shouted it.

  As much as he wanted to reply in the affirmative, Nic couldn’t. A part of him still didn’t trust Constance. Why would she tell him the truth? They barely knew each other, and her focus was on saving her sister.

  And if he didn’t believe her, it was easy to bet that Dent didn’t, either. Which was another very good reason for keeping her alive, at least for now.

  “That’s what I thought,” Tarrant replied.

  “She gave me a necklace.” He pulled it out of his coat pocket and let it dangle from his fingers. The gems were the best quality to be found in the world. There was nothing like drakon tears.

  That silenced his brother, but only for a few seconds. “What kind?”

  “Air drakon.”

  Tarrant blew out a long breath. “How old?”

  He studied the setting. “Fairly modern. I’d say the past century. I’m going to send it to you as soon as I can for safekeeping. See if you can find the maker once you have it. You might be able to trace the original owner.” It wasn’t likely, but there was always an outside chance.

  “I’ll keep it safe.” A promise and a pledge.

  “You need to find where Dent’s men are keeping Constance’s sister.” That was the only way any of this could work. If he rescued the sister and removed the Knights, he could pay Constance and take the statues. He liked having a plan. Too bad there were a million things that could go wrong with it.

  “Listen, if something happens—”

  “Nothing is going to happen.” There was no disagreeing with his brother when he used this tone.

  Nic continued on as though Tarrant hadn’t spoken. “There’s a list of my houses and storage units in the safe at my place in Arizona. Darius knows where to find it.” He rattled off the combination, even though his brothers could just break into the thing using brute strength or drakon fire.

  “Go easy on the armor in my collection.” It was a long-standing joke among the brothers. Tarrant hated anything to do with any knights, from the medieval to the comic-book kind. They’d often competed when bidding on unique suits of armor from bygone eras. Nic wanted to preserve them. Tarrant wanted to destroy them.

  “You go missing, I’m going to pull out every set of armor you own, pile them in the desert, and melt the entire lot of them.” A promise.

  “Then I’d better do my best to stay safe. Find Dent and his men.”

  There was clicking going on in the background. Tarrant was multitasking, something he was a master at. “Dent is on his way to Las Vegas. He caught a private jet. Probably figured it was better for him to be there in person to deal with things. He used an assumed name, but I’ve had a search running on every airport large and small in the state of New York just in case.”

  That was Tarrant, always thinking ahead.

  “That could be a good thing.” Nic considered everything he knew about the Knights. “If Dent gets killed, it’s unlikely any of the other Knights know about the statues or Constance.”

  “Or you.”

  “Or me,” he agreed. “If I take them all out, this dies with them.” He hated the thought of having to kill anyone, but these weren’t innocents. They’d kidnapped a young woman and were ready to kill her to get what they wanted. They’d already threatened Constance and searched her home. They’d capture him in a heartbeat if they knew what he was. And they’d show no mercy.

  As if understanding his thoughts, Tarrant added. “No mercy.”

  Nic released a long breath. They’d been content to live and let live, but the Knights had proved they would never stop trying to imprison drakons. “I’ve got to call Darius. He and Sarah need to move just in case.”

  “I’ll update Ezra.”

  Their other brother and his mate were currently on his private island off the coast of Maine. “Good enough. Talk later.” Nic ended the call and then contacted Darius. His brother answered on the second ring.

  “Yeah.”

  The curt answer made him smile. That was Darius. Why use two words when one would do? “You and Sarah need to leave.”

  “What’s happened?” Darius roared Sarah’s name before Nic could answer. He ordered her to start packing.

  Nic gave his brother a rundown on the events of the day. “Dent knows who I am. And although my houses are under different names, I’d feel better if you weren’t there.” He hesitated before suggesting this. “Maybe you should take Sarah to your bunker.”

  As much as they teased Tarrant about his fortress, his Batcave, they all had one. Not as elaborate or fancy as Tarrant’s. After all, that was his main home. The rest of them preferred to live on top of the ground instead of under it. Their places were much smaller and not meant to be inhabited long term. If he remembered correctly, Darius had an actual cave he used. “Or maybe another safe house,” he amended. Yeah, Sarah wouldn’t be happy occupying a dank, dark cave. “I think Tarrant has a place in the Appalachians.”

  “Do you think it’s that serious?”

  Nic raked his free hand through his hair. He glanced toward the convenience store, wondering what they had in snacks. He was starving. “I don’t know. But I don’t want to risk it. I might be able to contain the situation and make it go away.” He was hoping he could do that and protect his brothers.

  “Call me as soon as this is done. And call if you need me. I can always stash Sarah with Tarrant and come to you.”

  Everything inside him settled. He could always depend on his brothers. “I will.”

  Before he hung up, he heard his brother yell at Sarah. “We’re going to the Appalachians.”

  Nic checked the time. He hadn’t been gone long and didn’t expect Dent to make contact for another while yet. He pulled up the search engine on his phone and started looking for the nearest courier service or postal outlet and found one only a few blocks away. He’d send the necklace to Tarrant. That would be one less thing to worry about.

  …

  Constance cleaned up and changed her top. She’d sweat buckets earlier, her nerves pushed to the limit. Wearing a long-sleeved cotton top, she sat on the side of her bed and stared at the phone. She’d set it on top of the quilt that had adorned her bed for years. She’d bought it at a yard sale for twenty bucks and had loved it ever since.

  She traced her finger over the pattern on the quilt, wondering where Nic had gone and what he was doing. Was he still close by? She’d gotten close to him in a very short time, partly due to the stressful life-and-death situation, and partly because of the attraction she felt for him. If it were only physical, it wouldn’t matter so much, but it went much deeper. He’d protected her. Maybe even killed for her. She swallowed heavily.

  “Come on,” she muttered. What was taking so long? Why hadn’t Dent called back?

  Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She glanced at her watch. It was almost five in the evening. But the thought of food made her sick to her stomach.

  Abigail was out there somewhere, scared and probably hungry. She doubted her sister’s captors were too worried about feeding her. The phone rang, and she all but pounced on it, fumbling before she managed to answer. “Hello.”

  “Things did not go as planned before.” She recognized the voice as Dent’s.

  “Where is my sister? I want to talk to her.”

  There was some shuffling in the background, and then she heard what she’d been waiting hours to hear. “Constance.” Her sister sounded scared to death but very much alive.

  “A
re you okay, honey? Don’t worry. I’ll have you home again soon.”

  Before her sister could answer, the phone was pulled away. She could hear her sister calling her name. “You have something I want,” Dent reminded her.

  “I’ll bring you the statues,” she promised.

  “All of them.” There was a note in Dent’s voice that hadn’t been there before. “Did you think I wouldn’t check with the people who held the estate sale? There weren’t many in the surrounding area this past weekend, and the seller remembers you and the statues. All four of them.”

  Shit. She never considered for one second he’d be able to discover she had all the statues.

  “You had a necklace, too.”

  At least she could be honest about that. “The necklace is already gone.”

  “Pity.”

  She gave a sigh of relief when he didn’t ask who’d bought it. She didn’t want to have to tell him she’d given it to Nic.

  “My men didn’t find the other statues when they visited your charming home.”

  Her fingers gripped the phone. These people had violated her home and stolen her sister. She wanted them all out of her life for good.

  “You either had them on you,” Dent continued. “Or you’ve hidden them. I would imagine it’s the second option. You’re a clever woman, Ms. Owens, but I’ve been playing these kinds of games since before you were born.”

  “This isn’t a game.” This was her sister’s life.

  “I’m so glad you see it that way, because plans have changed. If you want to see your sister alive again, you’re going to have to do something for me.”

  “You can have the damn statues. All I want is my sister.” Her heart was racing, and perspiration beaded on her forehead.

  “I realize that now. Things could have been so much simpler if Mario had kept his mouth shut and only contacted me.”

  Constance stared blindly around the room, not seeing the sanctuary she’d lovingly created for herself over the years. She was locked in the grip of a nightmare with seemingly no way out. “What do you want from me? You can have the statues. If you want a hostage, you can have me. Just let Abigail go.” There was nothing she wouldn’t do for her sister.

  “The game has changed, and there is a new player on the board.”

  She closed her eyes and willed herself to be strong. She was very afraid what was coming was going to only add to her misery.

  “Nicodemus Wilde is an enigma. My people can’t find out much about him other than that he’s a gambler and he buys and sells antiquities, artifacts, and other interesting items.”

  In other words, Nic was a lot like her grandpa, only on a much more successful scale. Nic had money. It was evident in the car he drove and the clothes he wore. The jacket was leather, and she knew quality and custom work when she saw it. Even his jeans were designer. Her grandpa had taught her to notice such things from a very young age. Having a good eye was a necessity in her business.

  “What do you want?” She was tired of Dent baiting her. The bastard was obviously enjoying himself at her expense.

  “What do I want? Why, I want you to seduce Nicodemus Wilde.”

  Her mouth dropped open. Surely, she hadn’t heard him correctly. “What? Why?”

  “Because I’m curious about him. Because I’m not satisfied with what little my people can uncover about him.”

  She began to laugh. She couldn’t help herself. It was all so absurd and her nerves were shot. “Are you out of your mind? I can’t just sleep with a man.” Not that having sex with Nic would be a hardship. Even thinking about it was making her nipples pucker and setting off a low throb between her legs. “And even if I could,” she pointed out. “I’m no femme fatale.”

  “Are you refusing?” Dent’s voice was calm and controlled, but she wasn’t fooled. He was angry.

  “To what purpose? What would my having sex with him do for you?” It was absurd. There was silence on the other end and then a feminine scream. “Abigail,” she yelled her sister’s name. “Stop hurting her.”

  “Her well-being is wholly in your hands,” Dent reminded her. The screams were abruptly cut off, but she could hear weeping, which at least assured her Abigail was still alive.

  “Why?”

  “Nicodemus Wilde is a big man.”

  “So?” She wasn’t following his logic.

  “I want to know if he has a tattoo bisecting the entire left side of his body. If he has one, it will run from his neck to his ankle and down his arm to his wrist.”

  Constance was tired and scared and completely confused. “You want to know if he has a tattoo. I don’t have to sleep with him to find out. I can just ask him.”

  “No, you can’t. He can’t know you’re looking for one for me. He can’t know,” Dent repeated. “Your sister’s life depends on him remaining in the dark about this.”

  “Why does it matter?” Everything about this situation was getting weirder by the second.

  “That is not your concern. Not yet. But I need to know, which means you must get Mr. Wilde to spend some time in your bed. I’ll call when he leaves, and you’ll answer yes or no when I ask you if you found out what I want to know. Depending on the answer, you’ll get further instructions. Don’t let him know you have the other statues. And don’t let him stay the night. I want this situation dealt with as quickly as possible.”

  “So you want me to get him here, jump his bones, look for a tattoo, and then kick him out.”

  “Yes, but make sure he enjoys himself enough that he’ll come if you call. I may want him to join us a little later.”

  Her breathing was quickening, and she forced herself to take a slow one. Dent was out of his mind. Why else would he want her to seduce Nic. Doing what Dent wanted meant betraying Nic. If she didn’t do as he asked, he’d kill her sister. Constance was no longer under any misconceptions there. It was likely Dent intended to kill both of them before this was done. But there was still hope.

  “Oh, and in case you’re thinking about betraying me or telling someone about our little arrangement, I’ve already snipped off one loose end. Don’t create more for me to have to deal with.”

  Her blood ran cold. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m afraid Mario has gone out of business. Such a shame.” Dent laughed, and the line went dead.

  Shaking with both fear and anger, she tossed the black phone aside and grabbed her own. She found Mario’s name in her contacts and connected. The phone rang and rang. That wasn’t like Mario. He always answered his calls. When his voicemail kicked in, she left a message asking him to call her.

  Then she tried the ancient landline in the shop. That was answered on the third ring but not by Mario. “Who is this?” she asked.

  “This is Detective Fredericks with the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department. Who is this?”

  “I’m looking for Mario. Is he there? I tried his cell, but he’s not answering.” Maybe he’d been robbed, but Constance knew in her heart that Dent had had him killed.

  “Do you know Mr. Gonzales?”

  “Yes. He’s a friend of my grandpa’s. I’ve known him for years.”

  “What’s your name?” His voice softened slightly, but she knew she had to tell him. The detective would probably find out soon enough when he checked Mario’s cell phone.

  “Constance. Constance Owens.”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Owens, but it looks like someone broke into the store at some point today and shot Mr. Gonzales.”

  She knew he was dead. Knew it, but she still had to ask. “Is he—” She broke off, unable to finish.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She was crying in earnest now. Mario hadn’t deserved this. He was a good man. Sure, he liked to play both ends of a deal, but there hadn’t been a mean bone in his body. He’d taught both her and Abigail a lot about the buying and selling business. They’d spent hours roaming his shop and playing with things as children while he and her grandpa chatted. He’d been
her last link to her grandpa.

  “Do you have any idea who would do such a thing?” the detective asked.

  She wanted to scream, “Yes.” That she knew who’d killed him, but that would only get her sister killed.

  “No.” Her voice was shaky, but that was okay. She was shocked. The detective wouldn’t expect her to be any other way.

  “Why were you contacting him?”

  “I often ask his opinions on items I find. I buy and sell like he did. Sometimes I just call to check up on him. He didn’t like the idea of getting older, but he was. I worried about him.” Again, the truth. He’d been like an older uncle to her.

  “I may have more questions for you later, but this appears to have been a robbery gone wrong. I’m sorry.”

  “Yes. Okay.” She ended the call and just stared at her phone. She knew Mario’s murderer would never be held accountable, not unless she brought him to justice. She had no doubt the Knights had set this up so it would read like a robbery. These people were very good at what they did. Obviously, they’d had practice.

  She allowed herself five minutes to cry and then pulled herself together. She had to think about her sister. Abigail was still alive. Once she had her sister back, she could mourn their friend.

  She went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. Her skin was blotchy. Dent was an idiot if he thought she could seduce Nic after something like this. But she really had no choice.

  It was like a knife to her gut, but she had no other alternative. Betray Nic and possibly get him killed but maybe save her sister. Tell Nic to run and definitely get her sister killed.

  She peered at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were haunted. Whatever choice she made, she was going to lose.

  She squared her shoulders, went back to her bedroom, and picked up her phone. Nic answered before the first ring was over. “What’s happened?” he demanded.

  The sound of his voice calmed her. There was a third option. She’d betray Nic, get her sister back, and then do whatever she had to do to protect him, even if that meant sacrificing her own life. It was the best plan, the only one. She had to save her sister. And then she had to save Nic.