Half Wolf (24 page)

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Tempting the Dragon

by Karen Whiddon

Chapter 1

“A
lake monster?” The elderly man peered at Rance Sleighter as if he’d shown up drunk at church on Easter Sunday. Never mind that they were standing in front of Rex’s Hardware store on Main Street in the small town of Forestwood, New York. Upstate New York, which Rance understood as anywhere north of New York City.

“Yes, a lake monster,” Rance repeated patiently, mentally wishing, as he still did several times a day, for a beer. The craving never went away, but at least now he knew he was strong enough to resist it. He hadn’t been once, right after his wife, Violet, had died. His drinking had cost him too much for him to ever go back.

Meanwhile, he had to think of Eve. As usual, the thought of his tiny stepdaughter made his gut clench. He’d loved her since the moment he’d met her, when he and her mother had started dating. Luckily for all of them, Eve’s human father, Jim, and her mother had remained on civil, almost friendly terms. Rance and Violet had even invited Jim to their wedding.

Now Violet was dead and Eve lay seriously ill in a hospital bed in Houston, silent except for the steady beeping of the machines. Though Jim had taken custody, he’d allowed Rance full visitation. The two men had remained friends, sharing Eve’s love.

She couldn’t die. She wouldn’t die. He wouldn’t let her. The thought strengthened his resolve. Eve was why he’d come here. No matter what, he refused to let her down. He’d do anything for his little girl. Even find a lake monster.

“The story has traveled all over the country. It’s the reason I’m here. You can’t tell me you haven’t heard about it.”

The old man puffed up at that. “Harrumph. I might have heard nonsense, but you won’t catch me discussing it. You want to talk lake monsters, go talk to the witch’s family.”

“The what?”

“You heard me.” Pointing a shaky finger north, the codger grimaced. “Burnett family. Daughter is a witch. I’m sure they’ll be delighted to discuss lake monsters with you.”

And then, while Rance struggled to formulate a reply, the old-timer stomped off, heading across the street toward a restaurant titled Mother Earth’s Café.

As small towns went, Forestwood had a picturesque, holiday-postcard-type of appeal. The brilliant reds and orange of the fall leaves helped. In Houston, where Rance was from, they didn’t have much of an autumn. When the trees did shed their leaves, they just sort of turned yellow and fell off.

He took another glance around him, charmed despite himself. It almost felt as if he’d stepped back in time. Fully restored old buildings lined Main Street, and all of the houses surrounding downtown were large and beautiful and...old. Painted and pretty, but from another era.

Not his thing. Rance grimaced. Give him a sleek modern condo downtown in any large city any day. Much less upkeep, especially for a guy who lived the way he did—constantly on the move in search of the next story. If he were to be perfectly honest, which he usually was, a guy who stayed on the run from his internal demons.

Dramatic, too, he supposed. Guess that was what investigative journalism and losing his family had done to him. Lifting his camera, he snapped a few shots of the street with the beautiful trees in the background. Nice to get a sense of place to go with the story.

His stomach growled, reminding him it had been a while since he’d eaten. What the hell, Mother Earth’s Café sounded as good as anything else. He could go for a juicy hamburger right now.

As soon as he stepped inside, Rance took note of how many diners were crowded into the small room. That might have been due to the restaurant’s relatively tiny size or the fact that he hadn’t noticed any other eating establishments in the immediate vicinity. Whatever the reason, the scent of good food—beef and fried chicken among other things—made his mouth water.

Taking a stool at the lunch counter, he checked out the place’s leftover-from-the-seventies vibe. Perfect. Surely someone in here would have no problem telling him about the region’s very own mythical beast. A local Loch Ness monster would be a great way to attract tourists to this out of the way town. He’d think someone would have gone out of their way to promote it already.

The waitress came over, smiling. “What can I get you today?” she asked, batting her false eyelashes so much he wondered if Forestwood also had a shortage of single men.

He smiled politely back, placing his order for a burger and fries, along with iced tea. If his lack of flirting disappointed her, she didn’t show it. Instead, she jotted down his order, nodded and disappeared. Listening to the hum of chatter and clink of utensils, he decided to wait to ask anyone anything until after he’d eaten.

His food arrived a few minutes later and he dug in. The aroma of the place hadn’t lied. The juicy burger tasted great—one of the best he’d had in years. The fries were perfect, too—crisp and flavored with a hint of seasoning spice. And the tea—sweet tea, without him asking—tasted like it had been made in Atlanta rather than up north.

A meal like this deserved him taking his time. He tried, but hunger had him scarfing it down. He considered it a tribute to the cook that he completely cleaned his plate.

As soon as he’d finished, the waitress reappeared, asking him if he’d saved room for dessert.

“I don’t think so,” he told her, genuinely regretful. “Maybe next time. Listen, I’m wondering if you can tell me how to find the lake monster.”

Just like that, the smile vanished from her pretty face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, no longer batting any eyelashes. She thrust a paper at him. “Here’s your check. Pay the cashier on the way out.” And she took off without a backward glance, her shoes making slapping sounds on the linoleum floor.

Stunned, he stared after her. Wow. Two for two. People in this place were awfully defensive about a thing that was supposedly nonexistent.

What about asking the witch’s family? Seriously? This had him shaking his head. They’d admit to the existence of a witch, but not admit the possibility of a giant lizard living in their lake? Made no sense. A witch. Whatever. The man earlier had called them the Burnetts. Maybe he’d have better luck asking around how to find them. He guessed it couldn’t hurt.

After leaving a five for the waitress, he headed toward the cashier. Evidently, word of his questioning had preceded him since the pink-haired woman eyed him warily.

“I’m wondering if you could help me,” he began. She started shaking her head before he even had a chance to finish.

“I don’t know anything,” she answered, taking his ticket and his twenty and giving him back change. Her long fingernails were painted black with white tips.

He couldn’t help but find the way everyone wanted to stonewall him amusing. Did they not realize doing so piqued his interest more than if they’d simply laughed off his questions?

“I haven’t even asked you yet. You have no idea what I’m wanting to know.”

She shrugged, looking anywhere but at him. “Thanks for visiting,” she chirped. “Come again.”

“Where can I find the Burnetts?”

This
got her attention. “The Burnetts? Which one?”

“Any one,” he responded.

Clearly unsure of how to react, she met his gaze and swallowed hard. “Are you in town at their invitation?” The way she said it let him know it mattered if he was. Sort of like being invited by royalty.

He wished he could lie, but he refused to start out on that kind of footing, so he shook his head. “No. But I need to ask someone about your local lake monster. You know, the one no one will admit is here. Someone else told me the Burnetts might at least be willing to talk to me.”

Her loud sigh let him know she’d rather be rolling her eyes. “Urban legend, sir. Nothing more. However, if you still want to find the Burnetts, three of them are having lunch at the booth near the back door. Their usual place.”

That was all he needed to hear. “Thank you,” he murmured, already turning and heading toward the back. He spotted them, three women, apparently all older. The two who faced him looked up as he approached their booth. The one sitting with her back to him, long silver hair streaming in luxurious waves over her slender shoulders, did not.

“Excuse me, ladies. My name is Rance Sleighter,” he began. Then the third woman glanced up, and he completely lost his train of thought. Desire slammed into him with all the force of a tornado. Whatever he’d expected, it hadn’t been this.

She was stunning, simply gorgeous. And younger than her hair color would make one think. Her brilliant emerald eyes, slightly upturned to give her an exotic look, were fringed with long lashes. Not false. Silver, like her hair. He took a moment to register the unusual color, still dumbfounded. Unable to help himself, he let his gaze travel over her, aching to touch her creamy skin with his mouth, to trace over the curve of her luscious lips, before claiming her with a kiss. A necklace with an unusual purple stone nestled in the hollow between her perfect breasts.

Women didn’t affect him so suddenly or powerfully. Not ever. Still marveling at the heat of his desire, he had to admit she might be the most exotically beautiful woman he’d ever met. The metallic glimmer of her hair added rather than detracted from her appeal.

His.
Something clenched in his gut.
His.

Even as the knowledge settled deep inside him, their gazes locked. Jumping slightly, she actually gasped. “You,” she said faintly.

He couldn’t respond. Or move. All he could do was stare and battle the urge to haul her up against him and claim her as his.

Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face. The two older ladies tittered. “Don’t worry, sonny,” one said. “Most men have that reaction when they meet Jade.”

Jade. The exotic name suited her. Pushing down his strong and almost violent arousal, he collected himself and managed to nod in what he hoped might be a passable semblance of a greeting. “Nice to meet you.”

“And I’m Amber,” the middle-aged one continued. She had fiery red hair and similar colored eyes. “Jade’s mother. And her—” she pointed “—she’s Opal. My mother. Three generations of Burnetts right here at one table.”

He nodded at Opal, the oldest woman. Her red hair had faded to gray and red tinted the short, spiky tips. Yet the eyes were the same vibrant green.

“What can we help you with?” Jade asked, her mouth curving in a sensual smile so delectable he knew he had to taste it as soon as possible.

“I...” Once again he found himself at a loss for words. This irritated the hell out of him. He earned his living with words and he’d traveled the world covering stories, for Pete’s sake. In the course of his work, he’d certainly met tons of beautiful women, all sexy, and photographed most of them, too.

Yet none had knocked him off his game. He shifted his stance, hoping his arousal wasn’t apparent to them.

“Yes, the Burnetts. I was told to talk to y’all,” he began, his voice coming out a bit more raspy than normal. “I was hoping you could answer some questions for me.”

The three women shared looks and smiles, as if his simple words reminded them of some private joke. “Oooh. I adore a man with a Southern accent. We can definitely try, honey,” the oldest of them replied. “What do you need to know?”

Judging by the way everyone else he’d talked to had reacted, he figured they’d shut him down really quickly. He braced himself and went ahead with the rest of his request. “I’m trying to find out information about the Loch Ness–type monster reported to be living in your lake.”

Again that shared secret glance among them. “Have people been talking about her?” the middle-aged woman asked.

Her.
He made a mental note to file that information away for later. Even though Jade sat silently, every fiber of his being vibrated with awareness of her.

“No,” he admitted. “And that’s the problem. Every time I mention her, people shut down. They act like I’m crazy or overly familiar.”

At this, Jade looked down. Her mother and grandmother continued to smile benignly.

“Why exactly do you want to know?” Opal asked. “And think carefully before you answer. This is important.”

“All I can do is give you the truth. I’m a fairly well-known photojournalist. I even have a couple of books under my belt.” Despite having appeared on various national news programs as well as several late-night shows, rarely did anyone recognize him. He preferred it that way. “Currently I’ve been traveling the world checking out stories of beasts like yours.”

“And have you found any you could report on?”

“Not yet.”

“I can’t quite place that accent,” Jade put in, her green gaze meeting his and sending another jolt straight to his groin. “Like my grandmother said, I can tell it’s Southern. Where exactly are you from?”

“Texas.” Which might be a short answer, but actually said everything there was to say. He’d learned people up north had some strange ideas about his home state. So far, he’d done as little as possible to disabuse them.

“Really?” Interest showed in Jade’s expression. “I spent a couple of summers there when I was younger. What part are you from?”

“Houston.”

“Oh. I spent more time in Dallas.” The soft lilt in her voice had him leaning in to hear her speak.

Just then the waitress arrived with the women’s lunches. This one stood short and was built like a truck—all muscle with a no-nonsense air about her. “Excuse me,” she said, bumping his shoulder with the edge of her tray. “I need to serve these ladies their food while it’s still piping hot.”

Of course he stepped aside. Five more seconds. If he could have had five more seconds, he would have found out if Jade was actually willing to talk to him about the lake creature.

Once their meals had been served, the waitress gave him a quizzical look and strode off.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped back from the table. While the polite thing to do would be to excuse himself and let them eat their meal in peace, no one had answered anything.

“Really, I don’t think you want to be interrupting our lunch,” Opal said, her mild tone nevertheless containing a hint of reproach.