Page 14 of Courted By the Grumpy Dragon (Monsters of Saltford Bay #2)
Chapter Nine
Nina
I can't stop staring at the entrance to the parking lot of the The Wandering Gnome, my breath creating little clouds on the passenger window of Kraxon's sleek black sedan.
Each time another call pulls in the parking lot, my heart leaps into my throat, only to sink back down when it's just another bleary-eyed local seeking their morning coffee fix.
Eight-fifteen and still no sign of Trina.
"Maybe she changed her mind," I whisper, tapping my pen against the small notebook in my lap. The pages are filled with hastily scribbled questions, my handwriting messier than usual. "Or worse, maybe Delilah found out and didn’t let her go."
Kraxon sits perfectly still beside me, his golden eyes never leaving the entrance. "She'll come."
His certainty both comforts and frustrates me. How can he be so calm when everything hangs in the balance? The library, Harold's legacy, my future. Our future, if we even have one.
Everything depends on what Trina Voss might tell us.
I glance at him, taking in his profile. Even after spending the night wrapped in his wings, I still find myself stunned by his beauty.
The strong line of his jaw, the way his scales catch the early morning light filtering through the fog.
His formal suit jacket looks only slightly rumpled from our hasty departure from the carriage house.
"How can you be so sure?" I ask, fidgeting with the corner of my notebook.
"I’ve had witnesses reach out to me before.
The fear in her voice was genuine." His hand reaches across the console to cover mine, stilling my nervous movements.
His scales radiate comforting warmth against my skin.
"She's taking a significant risk in contacting me.
She wouldn't have done that without intention. "
I turn my hand to intertwine our fingers, marveling at how natural it feels.
Twenty-four hours ago, I wouldn't have dared imagine holding hands with Kraxon Ashbane, let alone everything else that happened between us.
By all rights, I should be freaking out about how fast this is moving.
Instead, I feel like I've finally found something I didn't know I was looking for.
Crazy. I’ve gone completely bonkers.
"What happens if she gives us what we need?" I squeeze his hand .
He turns to face me fully, those golden eyes intense. "Whatever you want to happen, Nina."
My heart flutters stupidly at the simple statement. Before I can respond, movement catches my eye. A blue compact car pulls into the parking lot, moving slowly through the morning fog. It parks far from the entrance, and we watch as a figure emerges.
Even from this distance, there's no mistaking Trina Voss. The pixie woman looks over her shoulder repeatedly, her small frame drowning in an oversized black hoodie. Large sunglasses cover half her face despite the overcast day and the hood of her hoodie pulled low over her face.
"That's her," Kraxon says, already reaching for his door handle.
"Wait." I grab his arm. "Let's give her a minute to get settled. We don't want to spook her."
He nods, and we watch as Trina hurries inside, hood pulled up and head down. Once the door swings shut behind her, Kraxon turns to me.
"Ready?"
I take a deep breath. "As I'll ever be."
The gravel crunches beneath my boots as we cross the parking lot. Kraxon's hand finds the small of my back, a protective gesture that sends warmth spreading through my body despite the morning chill.
Inside, The Wandering Gnome buzzes with morning activity.
The smell of coffee and bacon hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of maple syrup and toast. Fluorescent lights cast everything in a slightly harsh glow, making the vinyl booths look even more faded than usual.
Conversation hums around us, punctuated by the clatter of silverware and the hiss of the espresso machine .
I spot Trina immediately, huddled in a corner booth with her back to the wall.
She's removed her sunglasses, revealing bright lavender eyes that dart nervously around the room.
Her hoodie remains up, and I can see the fabric moving slightly where her wings must be fluttering beneath.
Pixies hate having their wings confined.
She must be terrified to cover them like this.
Kraxon guides me toward her booth, his tall frame effectively shielding us from view as we slide in across from her. I go first, with Kraxon taking the outside position, his broad shoulders creating a barrier between our conversation and the rest of the diner.
"Ms. Voss," Kraxon extends his hand across the table. "Thank you for contacting me."
Trina flinches visibly before accepting his handshake, her small hand disappearing completely in his larger one. Up close, she looks even more nervous, her pale skin nearly translucent under the harsh lighting.
"I'm Nina Farrington," I offer a warm smile, hoping to put her at ease. "Thank you for meeting with us."
Trina nods jerkily but doesn't speak. Her fingers twist a paper napkin into shreds.
Mathilda, the gnome owner of the diner, approaches our table with a coffee pot in hand. Her gray hair is piled in a messy bun atop her head, and her apron is adorned by creepy and cheerful smiling pumpkins.
"Morning, Nina!" She beams at me, then gives Kraxon an appraising look. "And who's this handsome dragon you've brought to my establishment? "
I feel my cheeks heat. "This is Kraxon Ashbane. He's in town on business."
"Business, huh?" Mathilda winks at me. "Can I start you folks off with some coffee?"
"Please," Kraxon nods. "Two coffees and whatever the lady would like."
He gestures toward Trina.
"Just water," Trina whispers, her voice barely audible over the diner noise. Her hands tremble as she reaches for the glass Mathilda places before her.
Mathilda bustles away with promises of the best muffins in town, already focused on other diners.
“I can’t stay long.” Trina leans forward, her voice dropping even lower. "This is a huge risk I’m taking."
Kraxon maintains his calm exterior.
"We appreciate that, Ms. Voss. Whatever you can tell us will remain confidential; you have my word."
Trina's wings flutter more violently beneath her hoodie, creating an odd rippling effect across her back.
"The will is fake," she blurts out in a stage whisper, eyes wide. "Delilah and Marcus forged it."
The words hit their target. Vindication floods through me, immediately followed by white-hot rage. I reach for Kraxon's hand under the table, finding his scales already hot with anger.
"Tell us everything," I say, fighting to keep my voice steady.
Trina glances around nervously before continuing.
"Delilah received a call from her uncle about a week before he died. I don't know exactly what he said, but she was furious afterward. She kept screaming about how he couldn't cut her out, how she deserved everything."
"When was this?" Kraxon asks, his thumb stroking soothingly across my knuckles beneath the table.
"October fourteenth. I remember because it was my mother's birthday, and I was trying to leave early." Trina swallows hard. "That's when she called Marcus and hatched the plan."
"Marcus Baird?" Kraxon clarifies. “What can you tell me about him?”
Trina nods. “His family has a construction business in Hollywood. He’s been trying to make it as an actor, but he never quite managed it. He has connections to unsavory people, mostly through his father’s business. He brags about it sometimes in front of me.”
Mathilda returns with our coffees, and Trina falls abruptly silent, shrinking back against the booth. Her wings press so hard against her hoodie that I worry the fabric might tear.
"Anything else I can get you folks?" Mathilda asks, eyeing our tense faces with curiosity.
"We're fine for now, thank you," Kraxon says smoothly, his professional mask firmly in place.
When Mathilda walks away, Trina continues, her voice even softer.
"Marcus called in someone who’s an expert at forging documents. I don’t know his name, but I remember we all met him in a hotel room in a shady part of town."
I take a sip of coffee to hide my trembling lips. "And they asked you to sign as a witness?"
Tears well in Trina's lavender eyes, but she nods .
"At first, Delilah offered me money. When I refused, she threatened to fire me." Her voice breaks. "My mother needs expensive medication. I couldn't afford to lose this job."
My emotions war between sympathy for her situation and outrage at her part in potentially destroying the library's future. I understand desperation, but this feels unforgivable.
"Were you present when they created the document?" Kraxon asks, his voice gentle but probing.
Trina nods, wiping at her eyes. "Yes. I was there for the whole thing."
"Ms. Voss," Kraxon leans forward slightly, his golden eyes intent. "Would you be willing to testify to this at the hearing on November 1st?"
The color drains from Trina's already pale face. She shakes her head violently, sending her hood sliding back to reveal iridescent green hair.
"No! I already told you; I can’t lose this job."
"You're already taking a risk by meeting with us. You know what they’re doing is wrong," I point out, careful to keep my voice gentle. "Your testimony could save the library."
"I'm sorry, but the answer is no!" Trina's voice rises slightly before she catches herself, glancing around in panic. "I only told you because what they're doing is wrong. Mr. Greaves was kind to me the few times we met and he deserves to have his wishes respected. But I can't testify. I won't."
Kraxon's expression remains neutral. "Without your testimony, this information won’t be enough to contest the will."
"I've told you what I know." Trina stands abruptly, nearly knocking over her untouched water. "That's all I can do. "
Before either of us can respond, she rushes toward the exit, her small form disappearing into the crowd. The bell above the door jingles cheerfully as she steps outside, and then she almost skips to her car across the parking lot.
"She's not going to help us, is she?" I ask, staring into my coffee cup.
"Not willingly," Kraxon says, his voice thoughtful rather than defeated. "But she's given us something to work with."
But would it be enough? I look up and my eyes catch on the clock at the back wall.
For a long time, I watch the hands tick, second by second. We’re nearly out of time.