Daughter Of The Dragon Princess Page 2

  His whole body ached to reach out and touch her. When he could hold back no longer, he took the final step. His nostrils filled with a warm spicy scent, mingled with a hint of fear and maybe arousal. When she didn’t move away, he lifted his hand and stroked her arm, his fingers gliding over skin as soft as anything he had ever felt.

  At his touch, she shifted and let out a small gasp of shock, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the mark.

  She moved quickly. He glanced up but already too late.

  His last thought as he fell into darkness was that she was definitely her father’s daughter—treachery was in her blood.

  ***

  Lily’s whole body quaked, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

  Get a fucking grip.

  Her fingers still clutched the handle of the vase. The heavy stone had shattered against his skull. Was he dead? Swallowing her fear, she peered down.

  He lay still, but his chest rose and fell and a pulse fluttered at his throat. Relieved he was alive, her wobbly legs gave way, and she collapsed onto the bed behind her. But she couldn’t stay here forever.

  Move.

  She had no clue how long he would stay out and she needed to be gone. Quickly she pulled on panties, jeans, and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Her gaze locked on the gun on the bedside table and a shiver of revulsion ran through her. She picked it up between two fingers and dropped it into her bag.

  But where could she go? This had been no random attack. He had known her name and from his reaction to the mark, it was obvious this man had expected to see it. Hell, he’d wanted to see it.

  Who was he?

  Crouching down, she studied his features. Blood matted his dark hair, and his eyes were closed. Even so, he was probably the most gorgeous guy she had ever come across. She’d always believed herself immune to the pull of male attraction, but now she couldn’t resist the impulse to reach down and run her finger along the hard planes of his face. His skin was hot to the touch, and a shock ran through her. Snatching back her hand, she stood. She had to go, but she couldn’t risk involving anyone she knew in this mess.

  That left the cops.

  She hated to involve the police. Having spent much of her youth running wild on the streets of London, she’d developed an issue with authority figures and avoided them whenever possible. Even now. But what was the alternative? She took her cell phone from her bag and dialed the emergency number.

  “A man broke into my apartment,” she told the woman who answered. She gave a brief description of him, then her name and address. “I won’t be here,” she said when she was told someone would be there soon. “I can’t stay here. He’s unconscious—I hit him—but I don’t know for how long.” After giving her cell number, she cut the connection.

  Time to get the hell out of there.

  She took the stairs at a run, down the eleven flights, only pausing at the door to the street. Outside, the light was dim and she stood motionless as her eyes adjusted. She didn’t want to leave the shelter of the doorway.

  “Don’t be such a wimp,” she muttered.

  Pushing open the door, she slipped through and headed to where her car was parked fifty feet down the street.

  The skin down her spine prickled, and she turned quickly, but there was nothing there. No bad guys. Well, apart from the unconscious one in her apartment. But what if he had a partner waiting for her?

  She was being paranoid. Still, her hands trembled as she unlocked the car.

  “Lily Palmer?”

  She whirled around. Two men stood in the glow of the streetlights. Where had they come from? It was way too soon for the police. Besides, they didn’t look like any cops she’d ever met. Both were blond, around her height, with pale grey eyes, almost colorless in the artificial light. Something about them made her skin crawl. Her eyes searched the street behind them, but they were alone.

  Swallowing the lump of fear in her throat, she nodded slowly. “Who are you?” she said. “What do you want?”

  “My name’s Stark. Let’s just say we’re colleagues of your father.”

  She stumbled back, coming up against the side of her car. “My father? You know my father? I don’t understand.”

  “Just come with us and we’ll explain everything.”

  No freaking way.

  When she hesitated, the man reached down and drew a gun from the holster at his side, the barrel extended with what she recognized from the movies as a silencer. Lily went instantly still. Her pulse picked up.

  Again.

  “I promise, we have no intention of harming you,” Stark said.

  His tone was soothing and she didn’t want to be soothed.

  What was it about guys and guns tonight? And why the hell would she believe that they didn’t intend harm when they were waving one in her face?

  “Yeah, right.” Her gaze flashed to the gun, then down to where her bag hung from her shoulder. She had a gun of her own now, but unfortunately, no way to reach it in time. And no clue how to use it. She was an accountant, for Christ’s sake.

  “Is she the one?” the second man asked, breaking the silence.

  “Let’s see, shall we?” Stark, reached across and pushed the shoulder of her T-shirt down, revealing the mark.

  “Oh, yeah.” He grinned. “She’s the one, all right.”

  The touch pulled her out of her shock. “Hey, get your fucking hands off me.”

  “Don’t look so fierce. I told you we’re not going to hurt you.”

  He was still staring at her arm and suddenly she had to ask, “The mark—what is it?”

  He shrugged. “It’s the mark of the Dragon Princess.”

  “Who’s the Dragon Princess, and why do I have her mark? And what’s it to do with my father? Who is my father, and how do you know him?” She couldn’t get the questions out fast enough.

  He rolled his eyes. “Enough. We’re going to take you to someone who will answer your questions.”

  “Take me? Take me where?” She stared from one man to the other. “I don’t think so,” she said slowly. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “Stark,” the second man said. “We have company.”

  A police patrol car rolled slowly down the street.

  Hallelujah!

  She almost punched the air. The cavalry, and about time. She’d never been so pleased to see the police in her life. She opened her mouth to yell, as Stark pushed her back against the car and jammed his free hand over her mouth.

  The car pulled up outside Lily’s building and two uniformed officers climbed out. They glanced their way and Lily struggled to free herself.

  “Shit,” Stark said through gritted teeth. “Stay still.”

  She sank her teeth into the hand over her mouth and Stark swore. But the policemen were looking their way now. She kicked out, ramming her heel into Stark’s knee.

  Down the street, a trash can burst into flames.

  Lily hardly noticed, all her attention focused on getting free. Hands grasped her shoulder from behind, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her arm. She fought, kicking out, clawing at his face, vaguely aware of the police running over. Then the soft pop of a silenced pistol. More fires jumped to life around them. Something pricked her skin, and then…nothing.

  Chapter 3

  Mal swallowed the last of his beer, put the glass down on the bar, and rubbed the back of his head. An hour later, the wound had almost healed, but he couldn’t believe he’d let down his guard. He should have remembered who her father was. But then, the dragon princesses he’d known in the past would never have had the balls to take a vase to his head.

  A goddamn vase. He almost chuckled.

  How would Vortigen take to a princess with balls?

  Again—badly, he hoped.

  He had a hunch things weren’t going to go as smoothly as the King expected. Mal couldn’t be sorry. But first, he had to find her. He took out his cell phone and punched in a number. “Detective Cole?”


  “Yeah. Is that you, Mal? What the hell are you doing calling at this hour?”

  “If I give you a cell phone number can you trace the owner?”

  “I’m off duty.”

  “Come on, Cole. It’s important.”

  A huge sigh heaved down the phone line. “Okay. What’s the number?”

  Mal reeled it off.

  “I’ll call as soon as I have anything.”

  He put the phone down, waved over the bartender, and ordered another beer. Ten minutes later, his cell rang.

  “Mal? It’s Cole. Where are you?”

  “Why?”

  “Be a pal and answer the question.”

  Mal shrugged. “I’m in a bar, The Dragon’s Breath, off Oxford Street.”

  “I know the place. How long have you been there?”

  “Half an hour. Why? What’s this about?”

  Cole ignored the question. “You have witnesses? Never mind, wait for me. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Do not leave.” He cut the connection, and Mal stared at the phone.

  Something was up.

  Something related to Lily Palmer.

  Cole’s tall figure strode through the door exactly fifteen minutes later. Even if you didn’t know he was a cop, you would have guessed. He had that look about him—formal but scruffy, in a crumpled gray suit, as though the intention was there but the follow-through was too much effort. Coming to a halt by the bar, he examined Mal carefully, his heavy brows drawing together. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get a table.” Not waiting for an answer, he headed to one of the alcoves that lined the back wall and sank down onto the bench seat.

  Mal sat opposite. “Did you get the information I asked for?”

  “The number you gave me,” Cole said, “did it belong to a Lily Palmer?”

  “So?”

  “The Lily Palmer who phoned in an emergency call just over an hour ago?”

  “Could be.”

  “The thing is, this Lily Palmer told us she had left an unconscious man on her apartment floor.”

  Mal remained silent.

  “She’d apparently hit him over the head with a blunt object.”

  “Could we get to the point?”

  “She hit him over the head after he broke into her bedroom and pulled a gun on her. Kinky, huh? Anyway, thing is, the description she gave was spot on for you. I might not have made the connection, though it’s unlikely—it was pretty accurate. Then out of the blue, you phone and ask me to trace her.” He sat back and folded his arms across his chest. “What’s going on?”

  Mal raised one eyebrow. “Do I look like someone just hit me over the head?”

  “No. That struck me straight away. Maybe she didn’t hit you as hard as she thought.” He stood up. “May I?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.” But he leaned over and allowed the other man to run his hand over his scalp. Cole wouldn’t find anything—Mal’s kind healed fast.

  The detective sat back down, shaking his head. “I was so sure—”

  “What? You were so sure I was the kind of guy who would break into a stranger’s bedroom and hold her at gunpoint? What else was I supposed to do?” he asked coldly. “Rape her, then put a bullet in her head?”

  “I hadn’t thought that far. But you have to concede it’s a big coincidence.”

  “So, you accept it is a coincidence. Do I get my information now?”

  “The thing is, buddy, that’s not all.”

  A cold feeling stirred in the pit of Mal’s stomach. She couldn’t have come to harm. She couldn’t be dead. It would be the end of his people’s hopes. But more than that—at the thought of all that youth and beauty extinguished, a fierce unexpected pain stabbed him deep inside.

  He forced himself to relax. No one else knew of her existence yet, and even if the Conclave did find her, they wouldn’t kill her. Well, not straightaway. He still had time to get her back. “Tell me what else.”

  Cole sighed. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I trust you. We sent a unit to her apartment. They never called in so we sent another. They found the first unit dead, in an alley beside the house. Shot through the head, execution style. There’s no sign of any unconscious guy in her apartment either.” He sat back in his chair. “One of the neighbors saw some sort of fight outside the building and gave a description of a vehicle. We’re trying to trace it. So now, we wait. And perhaps you’ll tell me what’s going on.”

  Mal remained silent, and Cole sighed again. “I’ll give you a few minutes to think it over. I’m getting a beer. Want one?”

  Mal shook his head—a clear mind would be good right now. He needed the police off his back, but he also required their cooperation. He made a call and put things in motion.

  “Well?” Cole asked when he got back to the table. “Are you going to talk? Or am I going to have to beat it out of you?”

  “Probably not necessary.” He nodded to his cell phone. “I called my boss,” he lied. “I need clearance before I can talk to you. He’ll get back to me in the morning. Come on, you can trust me until then.”

  Cole studied him, a line forming between his brows, but then nodded in resignation. “I suppose. Where the hell are they? We should have heard by now. You know this whole thing is weird. I’ve researched this woman. She’s a fucking accountant—squeaky clean.”

  His phone rang. “Cole here.” He listened for a minute. “I’ll be right there.”

  He glanced down at the table then back up at Mal and grinned. “We’ve picked the car up heading north out of town. We’re on.”

  ***

  Darkness surrounded her.

  Nausea churned in her stomach, and she hurt all over. She tried to sit up but cracked her head on something hard. She sensed the motion beneath her, the vibration of an engine shaking through her body. They’d locked her in the goddamn trunk, the bastards.

  What had happened? Then she remembered. Stark…the police…that last fight with the man. The prick at her neck.

  The car picked up speed, hurling her forward and smashing her against the back of the trunk space. She tried to brace, scrunching herself into a ball to shield her head. If she died here in the darkness, not knowing what this was about, she’d be seriously pissed off.

  Hysterical laughter welled up inside her, and she pushed it back. The acrid scent of smoke prickled her nostrils and some inner sense warned her to calm down.

  Think of something else, anything else. Think of something good.

  The image of a tall dark haired man with glowing golden eyes flickered across her brain.

  That wasn’t good, just likely to piss her off more. All the same, the smoky, masculine scent of him filled her nostrils and a vision flashed across her mind. Suddenly, she was there with him, staring out of a car window, moving fast.

  A series of loud bangs came from in front of her.

  The image vanished.

  Gunshots. Then she was upside down and they were rolling. For a long while, her brain shut down. Her muscles tightened as she braced herself for the searing pain of a bullet.

  Then everything stopped.

  ***

  Up ahead the black SUV swerved as the driver lost control. It veered off the road, disappearing over the edge of the embankment. Mal stomped on the brakes, his car skidding to a halt. In the rear-view mirror, he could see Cole pulling up.

  He leaped out of the car, then ducked down behind the open door as bullets whizzed past his head. Cole ran up from behind, bent double, and took cover beside him, swearing under his breath.

  Mal peered over the door. Below them, the SUV had come to rest at the bottom of the embankment, the headlights glaring up into his eyes so he could make out nothing else.

  Other cars pulled up close by, the police lights flashing blue in the darkness. Then the bullets stopped.

  “Come on.”

  He ran forward, sliding down the steep grassy slope, but he knew what he would find.

  “Where the fuck are they?” Cole yelle
d.

  The car was empty. The driver and his companion had vanished. “Gone.”

  “What the fuck do you mean ‘gone’? Gone where?”

  Mal considered mentioning the word “magic” but decided the time wasn’t quite right and the police detective wasn’t quite ready.

  Cole ran a hand through his dark hair and smashed his fist into the side of the car. “There was no time for anyone to go anywhere. We had the bastards.” Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, he barked in an order then thumped the side of the car again. “They’ll set up a perimeter, but we don’t even know who we’re looking for. This is some crazy weird shit.” He turned to Mal, his eyes narrowed. “And you’re right in the middle of it. Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  A faint groan sounded from inside the car. Mal took a step toward the rear and stopped to listen. The groan came again. “The trunk.”

  “What about it?”

  “The girl’s in there.”

  “And you know that how?”

  “If you’d shut up for a moment, you’d hear her.” He yanked at the door. It didn’t budge.

  Cole moved to the front of the car and reached inside. “Here.” He tossed the keys. Mal caught them and unlocked the trunk.

  Her long, slender body was curled into a fetal position, her head tucked in between her shoulders, arms wrapped around herself. She moved, slowly unfolding. Her hands lowered and her head lifted. She blinked a few times.

  Mal took a step back—it was probably best if his wasn’t the first face she saw.

  “Jesus,” she said. “What the hell just happened?”

  Cole moved closer. “Ms. Palmer. I’m Detective Inspector Cole of the Metropolitan Police.”

  She cast him a wary glance. “You are?”

  “We’ve been looking for you since you called in. You’re safe now.”

  She rubbed a hand across her forehead and winced.

  “Are you all right?” Cole asked. “There’s an ambulance on its way.”

  “I’m fine—I think. Just bruises.” She shifted to sit on the edge of the trunk and peered out past the ring of lights into the darkness beyond. “The men who took me—where are they?”

  “They escaped, but they can’t get far. Did you know them?”