Her Dragon Hero Page 2

  After Maddox was out of sight, I smoothed my hair and opened the front door, making as much noise as I could.

  “Jury?” my dad called from the living room. I turned around and gave them a big smile. “Hey, Dad. Gramps, what are you doing here?”

  Everyone was here, up and cheery, at six in the damn morning. Something bad had to have happened. Maverick gave me a dark look when we both heard the back door open and shut with a soft click. “My son?”

  I gave him an apologetic shrug and was relieved to see when he rolled his eyes, it was in fond exasperation and not outright annoyance. We’d be okay.

  “Come here, boy, give your grandfather a hug!” Gramps stood and laughed as I crossed the room. “Sneaking in again, boy?” he whispered in my ear.

  As if the room full of dragons couldn’t hear it. “I prefer to think of it as responsibly having a few drinks and then not driving,” I whispered back, carefully avoiding my father’s glare.

  “Good boy,” Gramps boomed.

  When he pulled back and sat down, I realized the tension in the room was thick and palpable. “What’s going on?” I asked.

  Gramps exchanged a glance with my father, whose face hardened. “Tell him,” he said. I didn’t know why, but even though Dad told Gramps to tell me whatever the news was, he wasn’t at all happy about it.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Rico is missing.” Gramps sighed and tugged at his white beard. “For at least a week now.”

  I sat down in the tall-back chair across from Gramps and Dad on the couch with a sinking heart. Rico was my favorite cousin. We lived in a house beside his parents’ place as I grew up in Arizona. We’d lived here in Colorado when I was born but moved soon after because my older brother nearly killed another shifter. We’d gone to stay with Gramps, eventually settling there, and didn’t come back to Black Claw until I was a teenager.

  The whole time we’d lived in Arizona, Rico and I had been best friends. We’d grown apart, thanks to distance since I moved home, but that didn’t mean I didn’t care about him. “Can I help?”

  My father made a hissing noise through his nose. I looked at him with raised eyebrows to see what that was about. “It’s too dangerous,” he said.

  “Dad, Rico is my age. If it’s too dangerous for me, it’s definitely too dangerous for him.” He wasn’t normally so protective.

  “No, but he’s not a tracker,” Dad said in an even voice. “You are. And the last thing we need is for you to be found out.”

  “I can’t hide forever. What’s the point of having this skill if I never use it?”

  Maverick cleared his throat. “He doesn’t have to go alone. We can make it seem like we sent a group to track Rico.”

  “I’m going,” I told Gramps. “I want to help find Rico.”

  Dad studied me, then Mav, then grunted. “Fine. But I’m going, too.”

  3

  Abby

  “I love my kids, I love my kids, I love my kids.”

  As I cleaned up my classroom for the fourth time while the kids were in the cafeteria eating lunch, I chanted a reminder to myself that most days I did enjoy my job. Today was difficult. It was Friday and all the kids were as ready as I was for the weekend.

  Technically, we were a preschool, not a daycare, which meant I had a curriculum I followed to prepare my students for kindergarten.

  It had gone straight out the window today. When the first lesson didn’t go over well, then the second, I made it a free-learning day and dealt with the fallout. At least they’d be worn out for their parents and sleep well tonight.

  After lunch, I gave in and we spent the rest of the day on the playground. It was shady and warm, always warm in Texas.

  By the time we went in to gather our things and wash hands, I was exhausted. It was nearly six, closing time for the preschool. Parents had been trickling in for the last several hours as they got off work, picking up their little joys, but of course, there were always a handful of late pickups.

  At last, fifteen minutes late, I said a cheerful goodbye to the last of my students and collapsed into the rocking chair we read stories from.

  “Oh, man,” I muttered.

  “Long day?” My boss, Sarah, walked in with a smile on her face and grabbed the sanitizer bottle. She started on the tables, so I dragged myself out of the rocker to pick up the rest of the toys. “Long week,” I said.

  If I was truthful, my life had dragged by for months. I hadn’t ever had such a hard time, but losing my father, meeting and losing my sister, and freaking Jury had put me in a funk I couldn’t seem to shake. I’d been considering seeing someone about it.

  “I’ll finish up here,” she said. “Get out of here and enjoy your weekend.”

  I looked around the room. It wasn’t much, just a bit of wiping down. “You’re the best,” I said. With a zing of fresh energy, I grabbed my purse from the cabinet in the corner and squeezed Sarah’s arm. “Have a good weekend.”

  Before I knew it, I was in my car and headed toward home. I realized how thirsty I was and eyed the bar close to my house as I drove past it. It was the only place I ever went so that if I overindulged, walking home was a cinch. I lived in a safe part of town and went to high school with the bartender, so she always watched out for me, too.

  I was alone, but I wasn’t stupid.

  Parking at home, I pocketed the keys and walked the few blocks back to the bar. A cold mixed drink sounded perfect.

  It was early and the bar was pretty empty. It would get wild later, but for now, I could have a few drinks in peace and get home before dark. Perfect.

  The bartender came out of the back, but it was some guy I didn’t know. “Where’s B?” I asked. I couldn’t even remember her real name. She’d been called Bambi or B her whole life.

  “Off,” he said. “I’m new. What can I get you?”

  “Do you know how to make mixed drinks?” I asked.

  He arched one eyebrow and gestured around the bar. “This look like a mixed drinks kind of bar to you?”

  B always made me mixed drinks, but whatever. “Fine. Give me a shot of whatever cinnamon whiskey you’ve got and if you have a wine cooler, I’ll take that. If not, pick me a light beer.” I hated beer, but it would wash the sting of the whiskey down.

  He plunked a dark bottle in front of me. I guessed they were out of wine coolers, too. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and pulled out my phone as he poured out my whiskey.

  It went down far too smoothly. I enjoyed the knock of the shot glass on the bar top as I gave it back to the cranky bartender. “Another.”

  He pulled the bottle out and filled it again. The second one went down smoother.

  I didn’t want to get ahead of myself, so I sipped the disgusting bottle of beer for a while and scrolled through my phone.

  No recent texts. Not incoming, anyway. There were a bunch going out to my sister, but she didn’t want anything to do with me. I hadn’t sent one in a couple of weeks. What was the point? She never replied.

  I kept scrolling down as the bartender filled the shot glass again. Why not? It wasn’t even close to dark yet. I’d have a couple more then walk home before they really set in. I knew my limits.

  “You need to pay soon.”

  I looked up and furrowed my brow at the bartender. “It’s just a few shots and a beer,” I said.

  Geez, my voice sounded tinny. “I’ve never had a card declined or anything here.” I pulled my debit card out of the back of my phone case and handed it over. “B treats me much better.”

  When he gave me the receipt, I had to squint to see it. Geez. “How’d three shots and a beer total over fifty bucks?” I asked in outrage.

  He squinted at me. Wait. Was that the same cranky guy? “Lady, you’ve had six shots and three beers.”

  Oh, shit. “Okay. No more shots. I’ll sit here a minute while I meta-meta...” Damn it. What was the word?

  “Metabolize?” he asked.

  “Yep. I’ll just
sip another beer, please.”

  A bottle appeared in front of me, so I made myself go slow on it while I looked at my texts again. How had I drunk so much in such a short time? It wasn’t even dark.

  Looking toward the window, I nearly fell off my chair. The bar was nearly full, and it was pitch dark outside.

  Shoot. I needed to get home soon. I’d wait a bit longer. I still felt pretty unsteady from all the shots.

  Focusing on my phone again and hoping nobody tried to talk to me, I realized it was dialing someone. Oh, crap. I squinted at it. I was calling Harley. Oh, well, since it was ringing, I figured I’d leave her an explanation.

  Crap, I missed the beep of her voicemail. “Hey, Harley, it’s Abby. I just wanted to leave a message. Apologize again. I didn’t mean to cause all that stuff. I thought I was helping him get to know you. I didn’t realize what a bad guy he was until just before you did.” I brushed tears out of my eyes and sighed. “Anyway, I’m sorry. I’ve felt so lost and alone since leaving Black Claw. I guess I saw what it might be like to have a sister and family, and now I’m missing that.” All I had now was my mom, and she was no prize by far. All my life, a revolving door of men, too many of which tried to hit on me or worse, once Mom was passed out drunk or high. I’d run from her home as fast as I possibly could have. “Anyway, Harley, I love you, even if you can’t love me back.”

  I pressed the red circle on my phone a few times until it finally disconnected. Fuck it. “Gimme another shot,” I called to the now busy bartender. He nodded and soon more spicy whiskey slid down my throat. I was all alone. What did it matter?

  “Can I buy you one of those?” It had gotten really loud in the bar, and the man shouted in my ear.

  “No, I’m going to slow down,” I replied. I tried to give him a thankful smile, but the tears wouldn’t stop. “Thank you, though.”

  “I insist.” I looked over at him, a large man with a long beard. His stomach was so big it pressed into the bar.

  “Please, I appreciate it, but I just want to sit here and cry over this beer,” I said. He’d get the picture I was a drag soon and leave me alone.

  “I could cheer you up, you know,” he replied.

  Ugh. I doubted it. “No, probably not. I’m not much fun tonight.” I turned my head and looked for somewhere else I could go sit. Every chair was full. Damn it.

  When I looked back, another full shot sat in front of me. Sure as hell wasn’t drinking that. I knew the dangers of being roofied.

  I sipped my beer and turned my back on the big guy, facing the front part of the bar. It was really hard to focus on any one person. My eyes didn’t want to work properly.

  My mother had used alcohol and drugs to escape her pain. I had to be careful not to get this drunk very often. The last thing I wanted was to go down the road she’d taken.

  I’d been stopping for a drink too often, though normally B gave me food and probably watered my drinks down. I hadn’t been this wasted since... well, since I got home from Black Claw.

  A grip on my arm turned me around. “Why are you being rude?” the big man asked.

  Damn it, he wouldn’t get the picture. “I don’t mind talking, sir, but I’m having a rough week and don’t want to lead you on,” I said. At least I could still think clearly enough to not give this guy the wrong impression.

  “Come to the back room,” he replied. “I’ll make you forget all your troubles real quick.”

  I held my hand up and grabbed my beer. I’d go stand in the corner until he turned his attention to someone else, then I’d slip out and hurry home. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

  Sliding off the stool, I nearly stumbled but caught myself in time. Before the man could put a hand on me, I walked away from the bar, sipping my beer as I worked my way across the room and found an empty spot near the pool tables. When I rested my back against the wall, I looked up to find him right in front of me, so close his stomach was in danger of pressing against mine.

  And I’d trapped myself. I looked to the left and right and realized I was near the door to the bathrooms. If I could get in and get the door locked, I could call someone for help. Fear began to trickle through the haze of alcohol. I’d had too many drinks, though I really hadn’t meant to have so much. I didn’t remember drinking enough to be this shaky. I hadn’t eaten dinner, but still… I was being a total lightweight tonight.

  But who could I call? I’d stopped talking to all my friends. They’d proven themselves in one way or another. The last best friend I had slept with the guy I’d been flirting with. After that, I distanced myself. I was tired of getting hurt. I considered calling my mom, but she was probably drunker than I was at the moment.

  Inching toward the bathroom door, I smiled at the man. “We can talk,” I said. “What do you do?”

  “I’m not interested in talking,” he snarled.

  My head swam as I tried to feel behind me for the knob to the bathroom door. Something was wrong. More than the drinks. Had he managed to drug me?

  I lurched forward, right into the asshole’s chest, and tried not to gag. “Please,” I cried. “I don’t feel so good, please leave me alone.” How could this be happening? I’d tried so hard for so long to be careful. The disgusting pig laughed in my face, his breath sending waves of nausea through me.

  His laughter was cut off in a yelp, then someone put their hand on my arm and yanked me sideways and several feet away from the asshole. I sucked in a deep breath as my mind fought to understand what was going on. A spicy, delicious scent invaded my senses as I turned to see who had pulled me away. Whoever it was, they smelled amazing and had a strong, firm chest. My hands, pressed firmly to it, were sure of that.

  I looked up and into Jury Kingston’s furious eyes.

  How? When? How?

  “Jury.” I couldn’t believe my eyes. Was the alcohol playing tricks on me? My heart thudded in my chest, and the beautiful feeling of safety washed over me, as if I could finally calm down and let go. “My drink,” I whispered. My hand relaxed, and I knew the bottle was going to slip out of it.

  I didn’t know how he was in Texas, how he knew where I lived or that I was even here at the bar, but I’d never been so glad to see someone. It was like the night I was rescued all over again. The feeling of completeness when I looked into his hazel eyes, the feeling like I’d always be protected.

  But then he’d rejected me the moment I was safe again, the moment they all learned about my part in my father’s plans. Plans I didn’t know about. He’d misjudged me and spoken badly about me. So, I didn’t understand why my heart was racing at the sight of him.

  Why was he here? How was he here?

  “My drink,” I whispered again as blackness crowded my vision. I’d never been so drunk I’d passed out, and I was definitely about to lose consciousness. I fought to keep my vision from darkening and tried to tell him I’d been drugged. “I...”

  The words wouldn’t come out. My vision went fully black, and I floated in darkness. My last thoughts were of safety. Jury wouldn’t let that man hurt me.

  He had come for me.

  4

  Jury

  It had taken me three weeks to find Rico’s scent strong enough to feel sure he was close. We’d started in his hometown, and he took us on an exhausting chase across half the damn United States.

  The time had made me question my forestry degree. Some sort of investigation classes might’ve been better. We ended up stuck in North Texas without a scent to be had, until I found a social media post that was quickly deleted. But it gave us a general town to look in. I’d been able to pick up the scent there, and now we were in a small town about six hours from Austin.

  Rico’s wasn’t the only scent bothering me, though.

  It’s her.

  Nyx was sure the scent was Abby, but that was impossible. She lived back in Colorado, a few counties over. I didn’t know exactly where, and I hadn’t allowed myself to seek her out. If I saw her again, I’d never be able to stop myse
lf—or Nyx.

  I was sure it was my head messing with me. There was probably a woman in the town that somehow had a similar scent. Nyx and I were missing Abby so much we’d projected her scent onto someone random. But being a tracker, Nyx and I were never wrong, we had a keener nose than most other dragons. But I was here on a mission and, ignoring the tantalizing smell that kept getting stronger, we followed Rico’s tracks into a dive bar. I spotted him in the corner right away.

  “Please.” I heard Abby’s voice seconds after we walked in the door. “I don’t feel so good, please leave me alone.”

  Rico’s and Abby’s mixed scents consumed my nose, and I nearly sneezed. I’d been so focused on both of them that now being in the room with them was nasally overwhelming.

  Rico walked out of a door, causing one of the men to move to the side. The angle revealed Abby, cowering against the wall behind him. She looked terrified.

  My blood ran with fire when I saw her there, obviously trying to get the fucker to leave her alone, and then it ran hotter when I realized all those men were around her, playing pool, laughing and joking while enjoying their beers, and none of them made a single move to help her. Including my cousin.

  Nyx vibrated under my skin. Oh, sure, now that we were in a crowded bar, he wanted to shift. I pushed him back and made a beeline for Abby. My fury wanted to spill over as I grabbed the shoulder of the fat man and yanked him backward toward Maddox.

  I grabbed Abby and tugged her into my arms. How could she let herself get into a situation like this? Why was she even here? She was supposed to be safe back in her life in Colorado. Not drunk in a bar in Texas. A bar this shitty and full of lowlifes, to boot.

  She whispered my name, and it nearly undid me. I’d never wanted someone more in my entire life. The terror on her face shifted to relief and happiness as she looked up at me. If I hadn’t been a dragon, I wouldn’t have heard her next words.