Page 15 of Red Fury (The Dragon Tributes #8)

F ury

The Rosewood Grande Hotel towers above us as our convoy pulls up to the impressive entrance.

Downtown Chicago is bustling with mid-morning traffic.

I step out of the armored SUV, automatically scanning the area as I’ve been trained to do.

Heat hits me hard after being in the air-conditioned vehicle.

I nod, though I’m more focused on the tactical aspects of the location than its history. This particular hotel is a smart choice for a high-security meeting with its multiple entrances and exits, together with established security protocols.

“Alpha Team, sound off,” comes Thompson’s voice through my earpiece.

“Bravo One, lobby secured,” responds Peterson from inside.

“Bravo Two, rear entrance clear,” adds Williams.

“Charlie One, perimeter check complete,” I report, falling into the established protocol.

Secretary Harrison emerges from his armored vehicle, immediately flanked by his close protection detail.

He looks every inch the powerful government official in his charcoal suit and red tie, but I can see that he’s tense.

Whatever’s about to be discussed in that conference room, it’s important enough to make even him nervous.

Shadow steps out of the second vehicle, and I have to force myself not to stare.

She’s wearing a deep burgundy suit that brings out the green in her eyes, her short hair perfectly styled.

She carries herself with that same professional confidence I’ve come to expect.

I note that she grips her leather portfolio a little too tightly, as well as the slight tightness around her eyes.

She’s nervous and I can’t blame her. This is huge. It could crack things open for our people.

She glances my way for the briefest moment, and I see something flicker in her gaze before she looks away and falls into step just behind Harrison.

“All teams, we’re moving inside,” Laurence Webb’s voice crackles through the comm. “Stay alert. This is a high-priority event.”

The lobby is exactly what you’d expect from a historic hotel – soaring ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and enough marble to build a small palace. Our group moves through the space; the advance team having already swept and secured our route to the conference facilities.

I keep my eyes open and my senses honed.

We’re maybe fifty yards from the conference room entrance when Webb appears at my elbow.

“Marsh, I need a word.”

I glance toward the conference room, where Shadow is disappearing through the doors with the rest of the delegates. Shit. I was hoping to position myself where I could at least catch glimpses of the meeting, maybe overhear something useful.

“Yes, sir?”

Webb guides me to a small alcove away from the main flow of people. His expression is serious, all business. “Change of plans. I need you to come with me to a meeting across town.”

My stomach drops. “Sir, I thought my assignment was close protection for the Secretary during these meetings.”

“It was, but something more important has come up, by order of Harrison himself.” Webb checks his watch, then looks back at me. “We’ve got a sit-down with Roman Kozlov in forty-five minutes. Lincoln Park area, nice part of town. The boss himself specifically requested I bring you along.”

Roman Kozlov. The name means nothing to me, but from Webb’s tone, it should.

“I’m still fairly new to the team,” I say carefully, trying to find a way out of this without seeming insubordinate. “Maybe someone with more experience would be better suited for whatever this is.”

Webb shakes his head. “Kozlov is our primary independent arms supplier. He’s got contracts worth hundreds of millions with the Department of Defense, Homeland Security, you name it.

The guy can be…difficult to work with. Temperamental.

He is the only arms supplier who can help us…

if we’re lucky. It’s time to get your feet wet, rookie. ”

“Okay…sure.” I nod a few times. What kind of arms do we need supplying, and why?

“And he’s about your size, which means he’s used to intimidating people just by standing in the room. Bringing you along might just bring him down a peg or two.” He chuckles.

My dragon stirs. This could be exactly the kind of intelligence I need to gather, but it also means leaving Shadow alone in that conference room. Not being close enough to hear what’s going on in there. It means I’d have to trust her to hand over the intel.

I don’t.

As much as I want to, I can’t.

“I like what I’ve seen from you so far, Marsh,” Webb continues.

“You think on your feet, keep your head down, and your mouth shut. You don’t get rattled.

We all heard how you handled yourself in that elevator incident.

” He widens his eyes. “Also, Kozlov needs to see that Harrison’s people aren’t just a bunch of suit-wearing bureaucrats.

You’re ex-military, which means you’re good people. ”

“Some might disagree,” I retort.

“Trust me, it’ll be good for him to meet someone he has to look up to for once, instead of down.” Webb laughs, but there’s no humor in it.

“Am I there as your security detail?”

“Yes.” He nods. “I don’t fully trust him. I’d choose not to deal with him if I could help it, but it’s not my choice to make. It would be good having you there to watch my six.”

“Understood.”

I glance toward the conference room doors, now closed, with security posted outside. Shadow is in there. Fuck! I wish I could split myself in two.

The rational part of my brain knows I don’t have a choice here.

Webb is my boss, Harrison requested me specifically, and refusing would blow my cover completely.

Besides, Shadow can handle herself just fine.

An image of her straddling me with a knife to my jugular hits my mind, and I have to hold back a smile.

My balls tighten. I need to get laid. It really has been too damned long.

“How long will we be gone?” I ask.

“Couple of hours, at most. The rest of the detail can handle things here. Peterson’s good at his job, and we’ve got plenty of coverage.

Williams is here as an extra set of eyes and ears.

We’re good.” Webb’s tone suggests the decision has already been made.

“Besides, this Kozlov meeting could be exactly the kind of thing you need to see. Learn how these high-level negotiations work. There could be room for you to grow with us at Sentinel. I was impressed with your resume and have been equally impressed with your work so far. There could be further opportunities with us in the very near future.”

Opportunities? I want to ask him to expand but I instinctively know that he isn’t going to give me anything. Not yet, anyway.

“Great, sir. Whatever you need.”

“Good man.” Webb slaps me on the shoulder. “Let me just check in with Thompson, make sure the shift coverage is sorted, then we’ll head out.”

As Webb walks away to coordinate with the team, I steal one more look at the conference room doors. Whatever Shadow learns in there could be crucial for both our people. I just have to hope that when push comes to shove, she’ll remember that we’re supposed to be working together.

Even if I’m starting to doubt whether I’d do the same in her position.

The thought sits heavy in my chest as I follow Webb toward the hotel exit, my dragon restless and unhappy about leaving Shadow behind. But orders are orders, and I’ve got my own intelligence to gather.

I just pray to all the scales and claws that whatever arms this Roman Kozlov is selling to the government aren’t intended for use against us dragons.

The thought makes my blood run cold as we step back out into the sweltering Chicago heat.

Shadow

Dr. Henley adjusts her glasses and clicks to the final slide of her presentation.

“In conclusion, traditional biological threats such as anthrax, smallpox, and weaponized influenza strains remain our primary concern from a preparedness standpoint. Our stockpiles of vaccines and antidotes are adequate, though I recommend increasing production capacity by fifteen percent over the next fiscal year.”

I try to keep my expression neutral as disappointment crashes over me.

Three hours. Three fucking hours of listening to discussions about threats I could have read about in any medical journal.

This isn’t the intelligence breakthrough I was hoping for.

This is a bunch of bullshit as far as our species is concerned.

I only pray that we are on the agenda somewhere.

The topics up for discussion are so vague that I couldn’t say either way.

Around the polished conference table, the other delegates nod with varying degrees of interest. General Delport, a sharp-eyed female in her forties with more stars on her uniform than I can count, takes careful notes.

Defense Secretary Michael Torres – a stocky man who’s been checking his phone every ten minutes – finally looks up from his device.

“Dr. Henley,” Defense Secretary Torres says, “what’s your assessment of containment protocols should we face a biological attack on American soil? Specifically, how quickly can we isolate affected populations?”

“Depending on the pathogen and initial exposure radius, we’re looking at a twelve-to-seventy-two-hour window for effective quarantine measures,” Henley replies. “The CDC has protocols in place, but implementation speed varies dramatically based on local infrastructure and cooperation.”

“Thank you.” Torres makes a note on his iPad. “That’s all from me.”

Presidential Chief of Staff David Kellerman, a thin man in an expensive suit who’s been silent for most of the meeting, leans forward. “And what about international cooperation? If a biological threat crosses borders?”

I force myself to take detailed notes, though my dragon is restless. This is all standard information. Nothing here suggests any specific plans regarding dragons or enhanced security protocols targeting our islands.

“Thank you, Dr. Henley,” Harrison says from his position at the head of the table. “Your insights have been invaluable. Can we save any further questions for the Q Harrison’s computer would have everything on it – from meeting minutes to classified reports and correspondence.

But accessing it would require getting into his office and doing it all without being caught.

I already have part of his password memorized. I need to push harder.

The risks are enormous.

It’s so damned infuriating. Right now, decisions are being made that could determine the fate of my entire species. And I’m sitting in a hallway, completely powerless to influence or even witness them.

I close my laptop and lean back in my chair, my mind made up. If I can’t get the information through conventional means, I’ll have to be more creative. Harrison’s office, his computer, his files – one way or another, I’m going to get the answers I came here for.

Even if it kills me…quite literally.