Page 26 of Red Fury (The Dragon Tributes #8)

S hadow

Secretary Harrison is immediately whisked away by the relief security team the moment we clear the gate. They surround him, and within seconds, he’s gone, leaving the rest of us to make our own way through the terminal.

This team has a few days to ourselves. I’m not looking forward to going back to Draig. Not right now. Not when I’m needed here, but what can I do?

I adjust my leather portfolio strap on my shoulder, looking around the busy airport building.

“Well, that was fun,” Jake says. “Chicago was a good time, but I’m ready to sleep in my own bed.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Thompson replies. “I had to leave the club prematurely on account of our early start this morning, but I may as well have stayed longer.”

I keep walking ahead of the group, pulling out my phone to check messages as we head toward the security checkpoint for the main terminal. My cheeks still feel warm thinking about last night – about Fury’s hands on my body, the way he made me come apart twice.

No!

We’re keeping things strictly professional from here on out. Partners. Nothing more.

I’m so lost in my thoughts that I almost miss Thompson’s next comment.

“I should have stayed at the club, since there was no sleep to be had back at the hotel,” he says, his voice carrying that teasing tone men get when they’re about to embarrass someone, “Fury, my man, did you take that gorgeous redhead home, by any chance?”

My eyes widen, and I hold my breath. Behind me, I hear Fury clear his throat, but before he can respond, Thompson continues.

“Because I’m pretty sure all those noises were coming from your hotel room last night.” Thompson’s laugh is loud and obnoxious. “I know they were. Your room is right next to mine, remember?” He sniggers.

Heat floods my face so fast I feel dizzy. My cheeks are burning, and I pray to every dragon god that none of them can see my reaction. I walk faster, desperate to put more distance between us.

“Tell us what went down,” Thompson insists when Fury says nothing. “Spill, big guy!”

“Nope,” Fury says almost under his breath.

“Why not?” There’s an edge of frustration to Thompson’s voice. “Come ooooon!” he begs. “We want to know all about it.”

“No can do. A real gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” Fury says, his voice carefully neutral.

“Oh, come on,” Thompson persists, clearly enjoying himself.

“You and the redhead disappeared at the same time. I’m not stupid.

I know you two went at it.” There’s more laughter from the group.

“I heard it all for myself. You were going at it already when I arrived back.” He laughs, and the others join.

“Did you get some after all?” Webb asks. “I thought you weren’t interested.”

“He clearly was.” I can hear that Thompson is smiling.

I want to disappear into the floor. My face is so hot I’m surprised I haven’t spontaneously combusted. I need to keep my cool. They don’t know it was me. Thank god they don’t suspect. I was a little worried that someone might.

“That redhead sure has a pair of lungs on her,” Thompson continues, completely oblivious to my mortification. “That shrieking sure was loud.” The others laugh.

“And the way that headboard was banging against the wall.” Thompson laughs some more. “I couldn’t sleep with all that racket. I just had to wait it out…and wait…and wait some more until you were finally done.”

The guys all laugh even more, and I hear Reynolds chime in with something about Fury being a lucky bastard, but I’m trying to walk ahead. Sometimes I wish my hearing wasn’t so good.

“Then, just when I thought it was finally over,” Thompson adds, “round two started up. You’ve got some serious stamina, my friend.” He snort-laughs, and the others join in.

I don’t want to hear anymore.

I practically sprint through the security checkpoint, barely acknowledging the TSA agent who checks my credentials. My overnight bag goes through the scanner while I stand there, my face still burning.

All I can think is, thank god they don’t know it’s me.

By the time I collect my bag on the other side of security, I’m practically running through the terminal. I need to get to my car, get home, and pretend last night never happened. Professional partners. I’ve got this.

I don’t wait for the others. I don’t even look back to see if they’re following. I just keep walking.

The parking garage is a relief; cooler and, mercifully, fairly quiet. I dig out my ticket and pay at the automated machine, making sure to keep the receipt so I can submit it for reimbursement.

My car is on level three, and I’m fumbling with my keys when I notice an elderly woman hobbling along beside the vehicle next to mine. She’s moving slowly, clearly struggling with a large purse and what looks like an overnight bag.

As I pop my trunk and toss my bag inside, the woman loses her grip on her purse. It hits the concrete with a loud thud, contents spilling across the garage floor.

“Oh no,” she says, her voice frail and shaky. “I’m so darned clumsy. Silly arthritis. I just…” she mutters something I don’t quite make out.

“Here, let me help,” I say, abandoning my car to crouch down and gather her scattered belongings. Wallet, tissues, reading glasses, prescription bottles – the usual contents of an elderly woman’s purse.

“Thank you, dear,” she says as I hand everything back to her. “You’re very kind.”

Her scent hits me; it’s overpowering lavender. Perhaps her senses are dulled with age, and she doesn’t realize how heavy it is.

I frown, looking more closely at the woman’s face as she takes her purse back. Something’s off. Her skin doesn’t have the right texture for someone her age, and her hands… They look too young, too strong. I frown, trying to put my finger on it.

“Are you—?” I start to ask, but that’s when I feel it.

A sharp pinch on my upper arm, like a bee sting.

My arm goes warm, and my vision immediately starts to blur. The parking garage tilts sideways, and I have to grab onto my car to keep from falling.

“Oh, my! Are you alright, dear?” the woman asks, but her voice sounds strange now, distorted and far away.

My dragon snarls inside me, recognizing danger. She tries to surge forward, tries to shift, but whatever was in that needle is working too fast. My limbs feel heavy, uncoordinated. The world is spinning.

“I don’t…” I try to speak, but my tongue feels thick and useless.

The last thing I see before everything goes black is how the woman stands straighter. Her shoulders are no longer bent like they were. Maybe it’s… I… Then my knees give out, and I collapse to the concrete floor of the parking garage.

Fury

“All I can say is that you are my hero,” Thompson says, slapping me on the back as we make our way through the terminal. “That redhead was insanely beautiful, and you got to spend the night with her. I’m jealous as hell.”

“I second that,” Webb says.

I nod and smile, still not saying anything.

“At least tell us if she was as flexible as she looked?” Thompson asks.

I shake my head. “Nope, not telling you anything.” They can joke and laugh all they want, but they’re not getting anything from me.

Something in my tone must penetrate their thick skulls because the conversation shifts to weekend plans and who’s covering what shifts. We reach the main exit, and the afternoon heat is oppressive. I need to get out of this suit.

“Alright, gentlemen,” Webb says, checking his watch. “Good work this week. Enjoy your time off, and I’ll see you all in a couple of days.”

There’s a round of handshakes and backslapping, the usual male bonding rituals that I’ve learned to mimic during my time here.

Thompson mentions something about hitting a sports bar tonight, but I decline.

All I want is to get home and shower off the last twenty-four hours.

But first, I need to report back to Steel and formulate some sort of plan for the way forward.

I need to come clean with him about Shadow and pray he understands.

The parking garage is a few levels down, so I take the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. My dragon is restless. I will have to find time for a shift during my days off. Being around Shadow last night settled him in some ways but agitated him in others.

I reach level three and start walking toward my SUV. The garage is surprisingly quiet for this hour.

My eyes automatically drift toward the section where I remember Shadow parking when we arrived.

It feels like a lifetime ago. I expect to see an empty space – she was in a rush.

She needs to get back to Draig to get her vaccination.

She’s right; she’s late already. There’s going to be hell to pay with the Mainland Officials in charge.

But her silver sedan is still there.

What?

Why?

I frown, my steps slowing. Her trunk is open, and from this angle, I can’t see her anywhere near the vehicle. Maybe she’s having car trouble?

Something prickles at the back of my neck, and my dragon stirs.

I change direction, walking toward her car with growing concern. As I get closer, my enhanced senses pick up something that makes my blood run cold.

Her scent is here, fresh, but it’s mixed with something else. Something that doesn’t belong.

Lavender?

The scent is strong. That’s when I see her purse.

It’s lying on the concrete beside the driver’s side door, its contents partially spilled across the garage floor. Her wallet, her lipstick, her work ID badge – all scattered like someone dropped them in a hurry. Like she dropped them in a hurry.

“Shadow?” I call out, my voice echoing off the concrete walls.

No response.

I move to her trunk, which is standing wide open. Her overnight bag is inside, exactly where she would have put it if she were loading her car normally. But then why is her purse on the ground?

My heart starts racing as I scan the immediate area. The parking spaces on either side are empty. There’s no sign of her anywhere.

“Shadow!” I call again, louder this time.

Nothing.

I start walking through the area. It takes me a while to check everywhere. Then I return to her vehicle, picking up her purse. Her regular cellphone is inside, along with everything else. It’s all untouched. It’s clear she dropped it…and then what?

I pull out my phone and dial the number of her burner phone, but it just rings.

Fuck.

I stand by her car for several minutes, waiting, hoping she’ll appear from behind some pillar or return from the restroom. But the garage remains eerily quiet, except for the distant hum of ventilation systems and the occasional car door slamming on other levels.

My dragon is snarling now, pushing against my skin. Every instinct is screaming that something is wrong. Shadow wouldn’t just abandon her purse like this. She’s too careful.

Her trunk was left wide open.

I try her burner again, and once again it just rings and rings.

“Fuck,” I growl, eliciting a look from a couple three cars down. I mutter an apology.

Something is wrong.

Something bad.

I know it.

Shadow is in trouble.

My dragon wants me to shift, to take to the air and search for her from above. The urge is so strong that I can feel scales trying to push through my skin. But I’m in a public parking garage, in broad daylight. Shifting would expose everything.

I can’t.

I force myself to concentrate on my breathing. In and out. I have to calm down. I’ll find her. I will! I just need to think.

If Shadow’s been taken – and every fiber of my being is telling me that’s exactly what happened – then this isn’t random. It can’t be.

My hands are shaking as I dial Webb’s number.

“Marsh?” he answers on the second ring. “Everything okay?”

“Laurence, I need your help,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Something’s happened to Claire.”

“Claire?”

“Yes, Claire Douglas.”

“Oh, um…Claire. Okay, um…yes. Why do you think something’s happened to her?”

“I’m in the parking garage. Her car is here, but she’s not. Her purse is on the ground next to the driver’s side, contents scattered everywhere. There’s no sign of her anywhere.”

There’s a pause. “Maybe she’s in the restroom? Or grabbing something from the terminal?”

“I’ve been waiting here for twenty minutes, Laurence. I called her personal phone, and there was no answer. Something’s wrong. I know this is a bold statement, but I think she’s been abducted.”

“Abducted?” Webb’s voice rises with disbelief. “You’re right; it sure is a bold statement. Who the hell would abduct Claire? And in broad daylight in a busy airport parking garage? Come on, Marsh, there has to be another explanation.”

“I’m telling you, something isn’t right,” I insist, my dragon’s agitation bleeding into my voice.

“Claire wouldn’t just drop her purse and walk away.

She’s the most organized person I know. Where is she, Laurence?

I’ve looked everywhere, and it’s like she vanished into thin air.

Who would just leave their purse lying on the floor?

I can’t find her personal phone. That means that she must have it on her.

It’s ringing, but she’s not picking up. I’m hoping you know a way to trace her cell phone.

I can give you the number.” I know that Shadow would hate me giving out this number, but what choice do I have? I have to find her.

“Okay, okay,” Webb says, and I can practically hear him thinking. “That might just work. Let me make some calls. I have a friend at the FBI who owes me a favor. If Claire has her phone on her, and it is still powered up, we might be able to put a trace on it and track her location.”

Relief floods through me. “How long will that take?”

“A few hours, maybe less if we’re lucky.

These things take time to set up properly.

My friend won’t be able to justify an emergency search, so he won’t be able to put a fast trace on the phone, just a regular one.

” Webb’s voice becomes more businesslike.

“Listen; go home and sit tight. Don’t do anything stupid.

If someone really has taken Claire, the last thing we need is you going off half-cocked and making things worse. ”

“I can’t just sit around and—”

“Yes, you can, and you will,” Webb cuts me off. “I’ll call you the moment I know something. Who would take Claire? I wonder if they will use her to get to Harrison. Perhaps we need to inform—”

“No, this stays between us…at least for now. Maybe I have it all wrong. I don’t think I do, but let’s not get the others riled up over what might be nothing.”

“You’re right. Send me her personal number and I’ll get back to you as soon as I have anything.”

The line goes dead, leaving me standing alone in the parking garage beside Shadow’s abandoned car. I text him her number, and he responds with a thumbs-up.

Whoever took her has no idea what they’ve just unleashed. Because if they hurt her – if they so much as touch a hair on her head – I’m going to tear them apart with my bare hands.