'Til Dragons Do Us Part (Never Deal with Dragons) (17 page)

Chapter Seventeen

The pub was super busy for a weeknight, but Bernie seemed to have no problem with the noise as he pushed his way toward the bar, his beefy arm wrapped securely around my waist while he dragged me along with him. He managed to locate two empty stools, and I slid onto mine gratefully, my feet aching after their bout with the ill-fitting flip flops.

I accepted the glass of beer from the man behind the counter and scanned the room as Bernie negotiated the menu, finally settling on three orders of cholesterol-laden cheese fries and a quarter pound hamburger.

Despite the pulse-pounding music coming from the jukebox, the place had a nice homey feel, and I decided that I might enjoy this meeting more than I expected. It had been a long time since I’d had the time to sit down with a beer.

A crowd had formed out on the dance floor, their feet moving in rhythm to the Texas two-step as they made their way around the small space, the sound of laughter and conversation a soothing compliment to the clink of glasses behind me.

His order complete, Bernie swiveled around to enjoy the show, his feet tapping with the music on the metal step of his chair before his attention landed on me.

“Vanni Cavenaugh. It’s been ages since I’ve seen you. You look good.”

I gave him a smile, and made a big show of running my gaze over his impressive girth. “You look exactly the same as the last time I saw you.”

He laughed. “That’s Bernie. What you see is what you get.”

“You always say that, and then you try to cheat me at pool. Don’t think I don’t remember your attempts to pawn that broken cue stick off on me. Did you think I wouldn’t notice the crack? Amateur.”

“Just making sure you’re staying sharp. All that artsy stuff can make a girl go soft.”

I laughed into my glass, the puff of air disrupting the thin layer of foam on the surface of my beer. “Are you trying to prod me into a game? Because you know, all you have to do is ask me. I’ll gladly embarrass you in front of all of these people.”

Bernie snorted, and pushed himself out of the chair. “We’ll see about that.”

We played pool for the next hour or so, each of us taking full advantage when we managed to get a ball or two ahead. I was up a game on Bernie—mostly because he kept getting distracted by all the food he’d ordered—when a good-looking guy approached and challenged us to a match against him and his date.

His girlfriend, a perky brunette with more style than skill, was more interested in how her cleavage was being displayed than where she hit the cue ball, and we cheerfully wiped the floor with them. Laughing a little at the guy’s obvious irritation, I started to rack the balls for one last set with Bernie.

It was time to get down to the business that brought me here. “Jeanie tells me you’ve been looking for us. I’m hoping you have some news we’d be glad to hear.”

“Well, I’m not so sure
glad
is the word I’d use to describe your reaction, but I’m happy to share. Rumor has it that your client is shopping around.”

I straightened from leaning over the table, easing the pool stick back to the ground so I could face Bernie without succumbing to the urge to throw the stick against the wall.

Could anything else go wrong?

“Shopping around? Since when?”

“I got confirmation from the other party two days ago when I went to pick up my new machine.”

I gave him a sharp look. In addition to enjoying an occasional game of pool with yours truly, or a similar boys’ night out with Simon, Bernie liked to perfect his craft. And while the man was a genius with a pen and paper, there were only so many forged identities he could create by hand. Bernie’s business depended on volume, and he needed equipment to achieve that volume.

So Bernie did what a lot of people in the black market did when they needed high-end toys. They went to the king of high-end toys.

And Prometheus was the king of high-end toys.

“So let me get this straight. You’re telling me that my client hired us to get the Tofegaard, and then hired Prometheus for the same job? He can’t do that!”

But it wasn’t true. Our client absolutely could do exactly what Bernie claimed he had. As part of our standard contract, we’d ask for a very small upfront fee—honest money, Simon jokingly called it—but for the most part, we weren’t paid until the art landed with the client. There was nothing in our agreement that precluded someone else from being sent after the same piece.

Rude? Yes. But nothing we had any control over.

Despite the irritation at knowing I’d just had an additional kink added to the already messy situation, I was glad I would at least know to keep a lookout for another thief sniffing around Relobu Manor. I walked around the table and gave Bernie a peck on the cheek.

“You didn’t have to tell us this, but you did it anyway. I speak for both me and Simon when I say we appreciate it, and we won’t forget.”

Bernie patted me awkwardly on the back, uncomfortable with my impulsive display of affection.

“Aw, it’s nothing you wouldn’t do for me. You just remember old Bernie when you’re in the market for a new life. Or when you get tired of standing in line at the real passport office.”

I laughed. “Sounds like a fair deal. Now,” I lifted my stick and took aim at the cue ball, “it’s time for me to demolish your self-esteem.”

* * *

I thought about heading over to Simon’s house after I left the bar, but decided that since there wasn’t anything we could actually do with Bernie’s news tonight, I went home instead.

Stripping off my clothes, I tossed the shirt that smelled of cigarettes and stale beer into a laundry hamper on my way to the bathroom. I flipped on the shower, only to flip it off a moment later and instead dig under the sink for my bath salts. If there was ever a time when I needed to relax, tonight was the night.

I filled the tub up to the brim with bubbles, then sank into the scalding hot water with a deep sigh. Second only to the existence of a patio, a full-service whirlpool tub was something I always requested of Jeanie when she was apartment shopping. That way, I knew that no matter how bad my day might get, I’d always have a warm bath to fall into.

I lay in the tub for almost an hour, letting the water soak away the last of the soreness from my muscles. But no matter how I tried, my brain wouldn’t relax along with my body. Images of Cameron’s eyes staring at me as I slowly grew scales danced across the backs of my eyelids every time I attempted to enjoy the quiet.

The ring of the doorbell jolted me out of my self-inflicted misery. I scrambled out of the water, pulling the drain plug with one hand while I grabbed for a towel with the other. Glad that I’d remembered to bundle my hair onto the top of my head before jumping in the water, I shrugged into a robe and almost had it closed when I reached the door, leaning in to look through the peephole.

Cameron stood on my doorstep, hands in pockets, staring right back at me as if the door wasn’t even there. Dressed in a pair of worn jeans and an equally worn shirt, he looked as tired and beat up as I felt.

I wasn’t precisely sure that I was ready to speak with him, but I was sick to death of secrets. On the other side of that door was the kindest, most honorable man I’d ever met, and if he needed to come in and scream at me for lying to him by omission, so be it.

I opened the door. “Hey.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. He just stared at my eyes as if he could read my thoughts in their depths.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

I waited until he stepped by me, unable to stop myself from breathing in his scent like a strung-out addict before closing the door behind him.

“Was your team able to find anything that will help you figure out who left the bomb at the shop?”

“No. But they’ve taken what they need back to Relobu’s.”

“Myrna called about a half hour ago. The doctors think Sara is going to recover just fine. She’s banged up, but she’ll survive.”

Cameron nodded, and then walked a few steps into the house before he turned to face me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Let’s just jump right to the point
,
why don’t we?

I sighed. “It’s...complicated.”

When he simply waited for me to continue, I took a deep breath and headed for the living room couch. There was a beat of silence before the heavy tread of his boots thunking on the floor behind me signaled that he was at least willing to hear me out.

“I didn’t have the happiest childhood. I never knew my parents, and for as long as I remember, I was passed around from foster home to foster home, waiting for the day that my new parents would decide I was a forever kid, and not just a temporary face at the table. Don’t get me wrong, I was never abused or treated unfairly.

“In fact, every single one of them was a caring, loving person. It was the timing that sucked. One pair of parents—a lifelong foster home—had finally hit their golden years and decided they needed to retire because they were too old to take care of a small child. After that, I was moved to another home for about a year before my “dad” got a job offer he couldn’t turn down, and they had to move. Without me. The older I got, the more difficult it became for the system to find me a place to stay, and I spent a few years bouncing in and out of government-run children’s homes.”

Ill at ease with the memory of how lonely I’d felt in those early years, I hopped up from the couch and headed to the window to stare out as I finished reciting my life history.

“I was fourteen when I landed with the Cavenaughs. I was the second foster child in their home, and after a brief period of get-to-know-you awkwardness, I found that I got along very well with the boy.”

“Simon.”

I nodded, acknowledging the fact that Cameron had a copy of my background check. While Bernie’s services came in handy for the countries who’d managed to pull their border check departments back together after the war, we were always careful to keep the majority of documents authentic. Similarly, we endeavored to keep our cover stories as close to reality as possible, and often kept our real names intact.

“Anyway, within a few weeks, he’d introduced me to a few of his friends at school, and I was feeling cautiously optimistic that this set of parents might keep me around long enough for me to hit sixteen, get a license, and start my own life. One that I’d chosen myself.”

“But you didn’t leave. Your records show that you graduated.”

“I did. I also morphed into a dragon before the second semester of my sophomore year started.” I laughed. “And I thought starting my period had been traumatic.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on Cameron’s lips. “I can imagine.”

“Lucky for me, Simon was there when it happened, and other than a short bout of sibling teasing, he was the only person who made me feel like everything was okay. When our adoptive parents died in a car accident when he was eighteen, Simon didn’t hesitate to step up. Of the handful of others I’ve told, he is still the only person who didn’t make me feel like a complete freak.”

Okay, and then there was Trian. But considering the circumstances, and the fact that I wanted to think more on how my abilities being made public would affect our business, I decided he didn’t count. Technically, he’d only seen my knees, and still had no idea of my true identity.

Cameron ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Vanni, I get that people don’t react well to finding out a dragon is in their midst. When Trian first morphed in front of me, I almost had a heart attack. But he was still my friend. You’re still my friend. I just don’t understand why you didn’t feel safe telling me.”

It was his turn to sigh. “I didn’t come over here to berate you. Well, okay. Actually, I did. I was just...hurt, I guess, that you didn’t feel comfortable telling me about this. I know we haven’t known each other that long, but I felt, I don’t know, drawn to you.”

His face colored slightly, but he didn’t look away.

And wasn’t that just the sweetest thing I’d ever been told.

But my pleasure was short-lived, because his next words struck to the heart of our current problem.

“I mean, you knew Trian was my friend, did you really think I’d react that badly? I thought we were getting along really well, but now I see that you’re not comfortable being honest with me.”

I picked at a string on my robe. “I didn’t. I just—” How to explain that I was so used to keeping secrets, it felt more natural than telling the truth? “It’s a habit, I guess. Hiding. But I think I’m interested in learning not to. I want to be honest with you.”

My heart was beating a million miles an hour. I’d never be able to tell him, but I’d just been as honest as I could possibly be. The job, the background, even who I was—it had never been part of a normal conversation for me. The very act of admitting this much was a huge step for me, and I struggled to find a way to put that in words.

I didn’t know what I was going to do about the job, or Emma, or anyone else. But right there, in that moment, I felt like the acceptance, the understanding, and the love that I’d been searching for my entire life was standing right in front of me. I could look at Cameron and see myself laughing with him in the kitchen like Simon and Jeanie, or rushing home to him like Trian did with Myrna. The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying.

I raised my hand, wanting to touch him but not sure exactly how. Before, while shopping at the toy store, we’d laughed, and touched, and even kissed. But now, with both of us standing here with emotions bared, something as small as reaching for his hand seemed almost too charged with promises.

Promises that even if I wanted to make, I wasn’t positive I could keep.

But I didn’t have to do anything, because Cameron stepped forward with a tentative smile and gently ran his fingers along the line of my jaw.

“Since the honesty shop is so obviously open for business, I want to be very clear. I like you. A lot. And I am not bothered a bit by the fact that you turn into a dragon. You could turn into a leprechaun on St. Patrick’s Day for all I care, and I’d still think you were the coolest girl around. And most definitely the most interesting.”