Dragon Heartstring(29)

“But Demetrius—”

His wrist comm buzzed. He read the message, then cupped her face gently. “Lucius has three more Nightwing Security officers already in place here to watch your building from all sides. No one will get in.”

“Okay.” I should’ve known that was what the messaging in the car was about.

“You’ll be safe,” he assured me, his thumb stroking my cheekbone.

“I know. It’s just that—I wanted you to stay.”

He gave me a tight-lipped smile and kissed me, tilting my head to slide a bit deeper before finally pulling away.

“I’ll be back. But I have to take care of something first.”

The storm that washed over his face gave me a glimpse of the darkness he always seemed to hold in check.

He stepped out into the hall. “Now close the door and bolt it.”

I laughed at his stern expression, but I did as he said. I heard his footsteps move to the elevator only after I bolted the door.

KORC was a small-minded group of ridiculous activists. Tossing a brick here and there and picketing places where Morgons and humans shared each other’s company was about as far as they’d ever gone. They were annoying but harmless. And if Lucius had sent more security, then I would certainly be safe.

Still, I double-checked my locks before I finally laid down in my bed, my comm close on the side table. With my reading lamp on, I opened the thriller novel I’d been reading. And though my eyes scanned the lines, I read not a word. The only comfort I could find was in his promise to return to me. And so I waited.





Chapter 10





I punched in Max’s number on my car comm while speeding away from the north side of the city toward the west.

“Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon,” said Max when he popped on-screen.

“I need you to run a tag number, and I need an address now.”

“Good evening to you, too.”

“Here’s the tag.” I sent him the photo I’d captured before the car had disappeared around the corner.

“Slow down. What do you need this for?”

“Max, two fuckers just drove by Shakara Icewing’s clinic and chucked a brick through her window that would’ve cracked her skull if she’d been standing in the way. I need that address.”

Max’s relaxed expression tightened. “All right. Give me a minute.”

I heard him typing on his keyboard as I drove past the human-only nightclub scene still going hard. On instinct, I ventured to the side of town where I suspected the pale-faced asshole who’d thrown that brick would live. Kraven Silverback, the Nightwing guard on duty following Shakara, had appeared by my side on the street the second I popped outside. He said he’d follow them. But I needed the address. Needed to get there faster before the rage thrumming through me set me on fire.

“Okay,” said Max. “The tag belongs to some dude with multiple priors. All violent, but nothing to send him to prison.”

“The specific address, Max.”

“Whoa, man. What are you planning to do?”

“What do you think?”

“With that look in your eyes, I’m afraid to guess.”

“Give me the address.”

“The hell I am. Meet me on the five hundred block of Glendale Strip.”

I clicked off the comm and took a left on the next street heading south toward the human-only section of low-income housing. After a few more turns, I made my way down the Strip, then slowed when I came upon the five hundred block.

This didn’t make sense. KORC was comprised of zealots and radicals, mostly pretentious college kids out at Gladium University trying to make their voices heard. Even if their message was bullshit. Rarely did their members come from the ranks of the poor. For one of its members to live here wasn’t just rare. It didn’t happen.

I pulled into a parking spot along the curb underneath a broken streetlight. Actually, there were several streetlights broken down the Strip. I couldn’t sit here long in my sleek, expensive vehicle without attracting attention. Scanning the line of parked cars, none of them were the dinged-up gray muscle car I’d seen tearing away from the clinic tonight.

I reached into the backseat, unzipped my duffle bag, and pulled out a T-shirt. After changing out of my buttonless, wet shirt—my thoughts straying briefly to the clinic and the desk and Shakara—I reached behind my seat again and found the brick. I reread the part of the message on the backside of the brick that I hadn’t shared with her.

Careful you don’t break your pretty white wings.

A fresh surge of fury rushed through me just as Max’s car wheeled past. He slowed and backed into a spot across the street, hopped out, and strode toward me. I clicked the unlock button as he reached the passenger side. He shouldered in out of the sprinkling rain and closed the door.

“Nice night for a stroll down Glendale Strip.”

I handed him the brick and continued scanning the street while he examined it. “So who is this prick?” I asked.

“The owner of the car is Gus Simmons, mid-twenties, high school dropout, multiple arrests for various degrees of assault and possession of low-grade drugs. Guilty of several petty crimes but he is not a member of KORC,” he finally said.

“I know. But they’re going to pin it on them anyway.”