The Dragon Spy (The Lone Shifters Book 1) (2 page)

T
he man burst
into Louisa’s Café. The bell above jangled crankily as the all-glass door shuddered with the violence of his urgent entrance. It was just after the breakfast morning rush and only two customers were left. One was a beautiful brunette lingering over coffee and the other a young man so startled by the abrupt intrusion, he dropped his egg-filled fork onto the floor.

Clad in a rumpled tuxedo, an ominous red stain marring the perfect white of his shirt, his handsome face was crumpled in agitation and his chest heaved as if he’d been running. He gulped breaths of air, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting to see someone behind him. Then he looked straight at the young woman behind the counter, her mouth hanging open in shock, a pot of coffee dangling from her left hand.

“Garrett?”

“Jessica!” cried her ex-boyfriend in his delicious English accent. Jessica managed to put the carafe onto the counter just seconds before Garrett launched himself over the Formica counter and dragged her down to the floor. He put a finger to his lips in an
shhhh
gesture and scrunched close to her.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered fiercely. She kicked herself for wanting to run her fingers through his sandy brown hair that feathered across his brow. Sky-blue eyes. Granite jaw. That dip in his chin. He was still handsome as the devil.

“Mother told me to come here if I needed help.” He looked at her. “I didn’t know you’d be the one, but I am glad.”

“The one what?”

“To help.” He stared at her, frowning.

Jessica pointed to the red stain on his shirt. “Blood?”

“Ketchup,” he admitted. “Luncheon accident.”

“Attack of the killer burger.”

“Something like that.” He gave her a wicked grin that made her toes melt into her shoes. “Do you know about Giselda’s Egg?”

“Who doesn’t know about Giselda’s Egg?” Every hatchling learned the tale of the first queen’s mythical egg and how it bestowed power upon its owner before they even learned to breathe fire.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he said. “Even in a yellow peasant uniform.”

He was referring to her waitress outfit, and it made her self-conscious. She was still getting the hang of not acting, or dressing, like a royal. It was part of her Jessica makeover plan. So, she chose to ignore his comment. “Why does Syneca think I can help you?”

“You still like to get to the point.”

“And you still like to dazzle with charm.”

He smirked. “I charmed the pants off of you.”

Jessica fought not to smile. Yes, Garrett Stone had broken her heart, but she’d understood why he’d let her go. His banishment from dragonkind had serious consequences. Until he’d served out his 100-year sentence, every dragon in the world would shun him. It was as if he’d become dead or never born, to the rest of dragonkind. If he hadn’t let Jessica go, she would’ve suffered the same penalty. But what he didn’t understand was that she would’ve done so gladly.

But he never asked you, did he?

Her luck with relationships was notoriously awful. Hard to believe that she’d once been meant for the king—his mate. Instead she was raised with him as a younger sister. For so long, she had wanted to be queen, to be loved by Aiden, or at least she thought so. Watching him with his dragonwitch mate, Shannon, reminded her what real love should look like. It was what she’d felt for Garrett once. Aiden had never given up on finding his true love again—and he’d been right. And damn it, Jessica would have done the same for Garrett.

“Are you seriously questing for Giselda’s Egg? Because that’s stupid. What about your banishment?”

“This is my ticket back in.” He rubbed her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “I’ve missed you.”

She swallowed the knot in her throat.

“What are you do working in this café? It’s an odd place to find the belle of the ball.”

“I’m trying to be normal.”

“How’s that working for you?”

The bell over the door jingled the announcement of another arrival.

“Hey, you. Yeah. The broad. You see a guy in a tuxedo run in here?” The deep baritone carried an accent that was all Bronx and had a scary undertone that made Jessica’s heart pound faster.

“He ran out again,” said the brunette in a low, cultured voice. “Down the street.”

“Oh, my God,” hissed Jessica. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” said Garrett. “Really. I pissed off Red.”

“Red?”

“Alpha of the Blood wolf pack.”

Booted feet tromped past the counter. Obviously, the creep was headed toward the pretty woman. “Maybe you’re lying.”

“Maybe you should invest in a breath mint,” said the woman. “Or, and here’s a suggestion you may not get often enough, brush your teeth once in a while.”

“What are ya? A dentist?”

“Do I look like a dentist?”

“Maybe if all dentists looked like you, I’d go see one.” He hawed at this clever comment. “You look sugary enough to eat. And I got a sweet tooth.”

“I’m flattered,” the woman said in a tone that suggested the opposite. “Is there a reason you’re after a man in a tuxedo? Didn’t he kiss you goodbye after your
la nuit d'amour doux
?”

“I don’t know what them fancy words mean, but I don’t think I like what you’re saying. Maybe I ought to show you I’m a real man.”

“You’re such a flirt.”

The swinging door that led to the kitchen slapped open. Jessica’s annoyed boss, a five-foot tall Hispanic woman with graying black hair, olive skin, and a soft body shaped like a pear, stepped out. She wore a hair net, sported a white apron over her plain black dress, and held a large spatula. For all the sweet appearance of Louisa, Jessica knew the woman had a core of steel. She looked down at Jessica and Garrett then her gaze traveled to the right, probably landing on the bad guy and the snarky brunette.

“Hey,
estúpido
!
You bothering my customers?”

“Louisa!” Jessica whispered fiercely. Her very human boss shouldn’t point the spatula like it was six-shooter instead of a kitchen implement. If the guy was a shifter, he could kill her with one swipe.

“What is it with broads and fancy language today? I’m just asking some questions. You see a guy with a tuxedo?”

“In here? Go check the cafés at the Bellagio. Rich folks don’t buy their
huevos rancheros
from me.”

“Maybe I feel like getting a cup of coffee.”

“Maybe you feel like getting my foot up your ass.” Louisa crossed her arms. “Get out, or I’ll call the police.”

The booted feet returned in a leisurely walk that indicated a don’t-care attitude and stopped just about where Jessica and Garrett huddled. They tried to scrunch under the two-inch overhang, hoping Mr. Grouchy wouldn’t lean over the edge far enough to notice them. Jessica watched Louisa march forward until her belly pressed against the counter then SMACK! The spatula landed against flesh.

“Ow!”

SMACK!

“Shit, lady.”

SMACK!

Louisa spurted a stream of angry Spanish. Jessica caught
estúpido
(stupid) and
manche cerdo
(dirty swine), but the rest was incomprehensible.

“I’m going! I’m going!” The boots retreated, and the bell rang as the door squealed open. “But I’ll be back.”

“I have more spatulas!”

After a moment, Louisa looked down at them. Her head jerked toward the handsome man on the floor. “You know this one?”

“Yes. He’s my—um, an old acquaintance.”

Louisa’s dark gaze seared him. “Why does
estúpido
chase you?”

“I’m fairly sure he wants to carve out my heart and slit my throat.”

One dark eyebrow rose.

“He’s teasing, Louisa,” said Jessica. She whacked Garrett on the back of the head. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes. Right. Kidding, of course.” Garrett stood up, giving Jessica a hand up. Then he turned to Louisa and executed a little bow. “Stone. Garrett Stone.”

“Louisa.” She raised the spatula and pointed it at him. “What do you want with Jessica?”

“Time.” He glanced at the beautiful blonde. “You want to serve more coffee or you want to help me?”

Louisa sternly looked from Garrett to Jessica, and then nodded. “Okay. You take the day off, Jessica.”

“I guess that answers the question,” said Jessica.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

L
ight flowery scents
perfumed the air, but not strongly enough to filter out ashy whiffs of lit cigarettes. The potpourri aromas were pumped throughout the casinos to mask the unpleasant smells of smoke, unwashed bodies, and cheap colognes. In a casino as large as the MGM Grand, the smell-control attempts usually succeeded.

“What are we doing here?” asked Jessica as Garrett guided her into the lobby.

Garrett had lifted a carnation from a nearby flower arrangement and used it to cover the stain on his lapel. In front of them was the check-in counter; to the right, elevator banks and to the left, the casino.

“We’re here for the clue.” He kissed her knuckles, an unexpected gesture that jangled her nerves.

“Are we really going to chase down clues like a bad version of
The Da Vinci Code
? I expected something….” She waved her hand in lieu of suitable words.

“Your step-brother created this game. Don’t you know the rules?”

“Nope. This is the first I’ve heard of this crazy scheme.”

He brushed another kiss across her knuckles, sending a shiver of excitement to her belly, before heading toward the check-in counter. She hadn’t seen Garrett in more than fifty years, and her heart reacted as if she were once again a smitten youngling. Gods, how she had loved him! She shook her head at the strong impulse to leap into his arms. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—forget how he’d crushed her all those years ago.

She’d spent the last fifty years trying to find someone, anyone, to recreate the magic she’d felt with Garrett, but all other men had been poor substitutes. Because they were dragons, he hadn’t aged much at all, and it made her heart break feel fresh. New. She watched him weave through the clusters of tourists holding children and suitcases, and noted that the tux he wore showcased his wide shoulders and narrow waist.

Stop being so damned sexy
, she wanted to scream.

Jessica ambled to the edge of the casino and gazed at the rows and rows of buzzing and blinking slot machines, anything to avoid studying Garrett. She glanced over her shoulder when she sensed more than saw him stop. He was talking pleasantly to a man behind the cash counter, dazzling him with witty banter. She smiled. Garrett was the best bull-shitter she’d ever met, it was a quality that made him a perfect spy or con man, which in this case amounted to the same thing.

The one-armed bandits whirred musically, competing for passerby’s attention with neon glam and flashy lights. Some sported familiar icons of old TV shows and every so often Jessica heard snippets of “The Munsters” and “Green Acres.” Among the show tunes, she heard the occasional clink-clink-clink of dropping coins.

Many of the casinos, especially the big ones, had installed gambling machines that issued tickets. Instead of the tinny drop of nickels or quarters or the satisfying thunk of dollar coins, a long white paper ticket would emerge. It didn’t feel or look like money—just a receipt to be redeemed at any cashier’s cage or, better yet, slipped into the next machine.

A hand dropped onto her shoulder. Startled, Jessica turned around and faced Garrett. In her quest to distract herself, she’d let him sneak up on her.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes, fine,” she lied. Up until about an hour ago her world had been right as rain, but now she felt as if nothing would ever be right again. Not now that Garrett had strolled back into her life. Worse, he didn’t even seem to notice just how devastating his reemergence was for Jessica.

“Got it!” he said.

“The clue?”

“No. The key to the clue. Literally.” He held up a plastic key card. “Room Five-Oh-Two.”

“They put the clue in a hotel room,” she said skeptically. “Are you sure you’re actually after the egg and not trying to sweet talk me into bed?”

He stared at her, his wicked grin unrelenting, but in a mischievous way that diminished the devilish curve of his lips. He brushed his finger across her cheek and just that slight agitation of skin on skin caused chills of anticipation. “Shall we?”

She took his hand and together, they hurried to the elevators.

T
hey entered
the main part of the room. Garrett took in the layout of the place. Nothing out of the ordinary. It was similar to thousands of other hotel rooms on the Strip: the door opened into a small hallway with the bathroom entrance on one side and a closet on the other. The room itself housed a comfy bed with nightstands on either side of it, each topped with small lamps; an armoire that housed a TV and drawers; a simple desk with its own chair crowded against the same wall as the bed; and finally, arranged under the huge picture window were a big chair, a sofa, and a coffee table.

The décor was an ode to brown and beige. Warm and vaguely appealing, even the artwork was a bland attempt at pleasant. The room might have been the hotel’s effort to offer a place of respite for the overwrought gambler or, more likely, a psychological reinforcement of the more exciting, garish, brash, fun world that existed in the casino.

The square neon pink envelope propped on the king-sized bed stood out like a red rose in white-rose bouquet. Garrett plucked it from the coverlet and opened it, sliding out the paper.

“What does it say, Garrett?”

His heart raced like it did every time she said his name. He looked at Jessica, hesitating to reveal the envelope’s contents. She waited a couple of feet away in the hotel room, ignoring all the available places to sit. Her blue eyes, the very ones he’d dreamed of for the past fifty years, glittered with excitement as she watched him and waited for his answer.

She was lovely, so very lovely.

Jessica wore her blonde hair chin-length and straight, styled in a way that gently curved around her heart-shaped face. Her lips looked like a Christmas bow, red and shiny and waiting to be opened.
Oh, that juicy mouth.
The slow heat of arousal crept through him, and he inhaled a shaky breath.

Her pale complexion required little adornment. She played up the curve of her cheekbones with the merest hint of blush and gold shadow glimmered on her eyelids. Her thick lashes and careful application of black liner gave her a dreamy, doe-eyed gaze. Even in that waitress uniform, the one she wore so she could be “normal,” she looked regal.

“Garrett?”

Tiny gold hoops, three on each lobe and each smaller than the next, were revealed only when she turned her head just so. No other jewelry dangled from her neck or encircled her fingers. That appealed to him. He didn’t want complicated or expensive or shallow. He’d had enough of beautiful, money-grubbing women to last a lifetime.

“Garrett!”

He blinked. “What?”

“The message?”

“Oh. Uh, right. I’m sorry … you know, well, it’s just that you’re—” He cleared his throat, tried to slow the sudden yammering of his heartbeat and the quickening of his breath. “You’re quite striking.”

“The note says ‘Jessica Kearney is quite striking?’” Laughter weaved through the words, though she managed to keep a straight face.

“Note?”

“The one in your hand. I’m guessing there’s a message written on the card ... unless it’s hieroglyphs?”

“No. But just so you know, I’m a whiz at Mad Libs.” He grinned and handed it to her.

“It says, ‘The first puzzle piece is yours to hold, the next one you’ll find in emperor’s gold. This challenge is more than a dream come true, it’s also about who loves whom. Before the danger you must flee, share answers to these questions three.’”

“Dr. Seuss strikes again.” Jessica frowned. “Wait a minute. What does it mean ‘Before the danger you must flee?’ Is it talking about the big, ugly guy who chased you into the diner or is it warning us that we’re supposed to expect company?”

Garrett shrugged. “Does it matter?” A shiver of foreboding crept up his spine. The jerk in question jumped out of a car, yelling obscenities, and charged after him. At first, he’d believed some thug was trying to take his wallet, but then he realized the identity of the one chasing him. Red. It appeared he wanted to do his own dirty work. Garrett barely gotten out of the airport before the lug came after him. The werewolf must’ve really loved that motorcycle. The only thing Garrett could think to do was haul ass to Louisa’s Café.

He hadn’t expected to find Jessica there. He assumed she was placed there to support his efforts, but she seemed utterly confused by his presence. Yet, she still went with him. Beautiful, charming, and fearless. Jessica Kearney was, in essence, amazing.

For the last fifty years, his every waking hour had been consumed by work. He’d helped out Interpol with a touchy situation. And that’s how he ended up working for MI6 for a decade. Now, his time was devoted Mother’s charity and doing what he could to show penance to the king, but two seconds in Jessica’s presence and he felt as if an eternity had passed between them. Staring into her blue, blue eyes, he knew he never wanted to leave her again.

“Earth to Garrett. You’re cleared for re-entry.”

He blinked, feeling sheepish. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to zone out.”

“It’s cool. Are you ready for the questions?”

“Shoot.”

“What is your favorite food and why?”

“Strawberries,” he said. “When I was eight-years-old, I spent a hot week in June at my grandmother’s farm in Northern England. She had this little place just north of Leeds. We went into the garden with metal pails and plucked big, red strawberries from the tangled growth that snaked all over the ground. Our hands got dirty, and the sun beat down on us, but it smelled like summer—all earthy and wet. She let me eat those berries straight from the vine. They were warm and sweet—the sweetest things I’ve ever tasted.” Garrett blinked away the memories and ventured a look at Jessica. “Sorry to blather on like that.”

Her gaze was sympathetic. “It’s a very nice memory to have.”

“Yes, it is. So … your favorite food is?”

“Chocolate. And the reason why is because it tastes like heaven and makes me feel like life is worth living.”

“Fair enough.” He tried to shake off the cobwebs of sadness that still clung to him. He hadn’t thought about his grandmother in a long time. His banishment had made it impossible for him to see her. He wondered if she considered him a disappointment.

“Second question,” said Jessica. She tucked her chin. “This is as strange as the first. I don’t understand how this is a clue.”

“What does it ask?”

“It’s not really a question. It says, name one trait you want in a mate.”

Garrett didn’t hesitate. “Adventurous.”

Jessica looked surprised and pleased. Her expression made him feel like the little boy who’d answered the teacher’s question correctly.

“Good answer.”

“What about you?”

“Loyalty.”

Garrett swallowed the sudden knot of shame in his throat. “Yes. You deserve loyalty, and so much more.” He waved at her to continue. “What’s the third question?”

She glanced at the paper. Jessica looked askance at him. “This all seems rather silly, Garrett. If getting Giselda’s Egg is such an important task, why bother with all these clues about favorite
shite
and mates?”

He loved that her Irish accent came out with her agitation. It made him want to kiss the petulance from her lips.

“Why are we running around Sin City like a couple of fishmongers? Why not say ‘Here’s the egg, go get it.’”

“I don’t know. I haven’t figured that out yet.” He paused. “Why are you helping me?”

Jessica shrugged. “I suppose it’s less boring than waitressing.” She looked distressed. “I’m trying really hard to live a decent life. I’ve been a selfish brat for so long, wanting what I can’t have only to find out I didn’t really want it all.”

“You speak of Aiden.” His chest squeezed. When he’d heard she was pursuing the king again, it had felt as if someone had taken a hammer to his heart. He had expected her to move on, but certainly not returning the lofty goal of being queen. Every dragon knew Aiden’s heart belonged to the love who’d died 800 years before. It was a miracle he’d found his reincarnated wife.

“After I lost you, I returned to my old self.” He could hear shame in her tone, and it wrenched his gut. She blinked. “I sought to be official royalty. I wanted the power of the throne so people would see me. Value me.” She shook her head. “I’ve learned that I must value myself and become the person who deserves merit.”

Gods, he’d done that to her. He’d made her feel like she was somehow unworthy. Less loveable.

“Forgive me,” he said. “Forgive me, my love.”

The seconds piled onto one another. It seemed like a whole year had passed when she finally stopped staring at the pink cardstock. Her eyes locked with his. For a moment, her gaze went liquid and he saw the blaze of desire. His pulse skipped a couple of beats, rallied, and then plummeted into a fast mambo. He crossed the room, and never broke eye contact. He felt the mad pulse of lust in his body, and heat that rushed to his groin.

He couldn’t act on his desires. Not yet. He’d asked for her forgiveness, and now he’d have to wait for her to make the next move.