Hours later, a trill startled Elaina from sleep. Alex sprang from her side and searched for the source of the noise in the cottage. He lunged to the table and pulled his satellite phone from the laptop case.
“Hello?”
His tone matched her confusion. Only three members of his staff had their cell numbers, so they rarely received calls—and never this late. Middle-of-the-night calls were seldom good news.
“I don’t have the satellite antenna up right now, but give me a minute.” He hung up, threw on a T-shirt and shorts, and carried the equipment outside.
She shoved her arms into a robe and followed him onto the darkened beach, where he hooked up the antenna and started his laptop. “Something wrong?”
“That was George. He said he needed to show me something.”
Visions of someone kidnapping George filled her limbs with icy dread. As soon as Alex’s laptop was running, the video chat program dinged for an incoming call. He clicked the icon, and George’s face appeared on the screen.
“Sorry to disturb you so late, but we have a problem.”
His wrinkled brow seemed more worried than scared, so she tied her robe closed and stepped into range of the webcam. “Are you all right?”
His gaze moved with her. “Elaina, I’m glad you’re there too. Yes, I’m fine. This is about Dakon Fabricating.”
He concentrated on her for another second, long enough for his words to sink in. This was about one of Alex’s businesses, and yet George wanted her to be part of the conversation. Her chest tightened at his implied request for her help.
George’s attention returned to Alex. “The chip fab plant in New York was firebombed a couple of hours ago.”
Alex’s sharp inhale echoed hers. The computer parts manufacturing company was one of his most successful.
George pushed a button and streamed live video onto Alex’s screen. Tendrils of smoke rose from the ruins of a large, warehouse-sized building outlined by spotlights in the darkness. Emergency lights flashed red on the rubble. Portions of the structure were still standing, but fire had gutted most of the walls and the entire roof.
George’s face appeared again. “No deaths, but eighteen wounded. Three critically.”
Alex propped his forehead on his fingertips. “Do we know who’s behind it?”
George’s eyes shifted toward her for a split second, answering why he wanted her here. “An email arrived right after the bombing. The FBI already tracked it to New Jersey. They think it’s the Albanian Mafia.”
She cupped her mouth, and her muscles shook. Eighteen people injured. Because of her.
It had happened again. Despite everything she’d done to honor her vow not to hurt humans—or anyone—it had happened again.
Her knees weakened, and she clutched the back of Alex’s chair. “Albania? You’re sure?”
“I take it that means something to you?”
“Last I knew, that’s where my father had his—” She caught herself. “Some property.” The involvement of the Albanian Mafia explained how her father had been able to make contacts in the United States.
Alex’s hand dropped from his temple. “What did the email say?”
“That you have twenty-four hours to turn her over, or they’ll hit another facility.”
“What? No, I can’t—”
“George”—she straightened—“tell them I’m on my way.”
While George acknowledged, Alex spun in his chair toward her. His expression curled into a grimace. “I won’t let you do this.”
Arguing was pointless. Instead, she focused on the screen over Alex’s shoulder. “What does Alex need to do from a business standpoint?”
George’s eyes locked with hers in silent agreement. “He needs to show his face in New York, support the injured, provide leadership. Or else the stock market will eat him alive.”
“Bullshit.” Alex pointed at the laptop. “You’re exagger—”
“He’ll be on a plane tomorrow.” She’d make sure of that. Somehow.
Alex jostled the table and stood, crowding her. “Stop this. Both of you. I won’t leave you here.”
Behind Alex’s back, George mouthed, “Good luck.” The screen went blank.
A pulsing vein throbbed on Alex’s forehead, warning her and serving as a reminder of his determination. But they weren’t dealing with an enemy they could hide from anymore. All their efforts to cover their tracks during their journey here had only forced the mob to attack them a different way.
She’d seen plenty of evidence that he worried about being too much like his father, and his businesses—his successes in business—were wrapped together with his sense of being the better man. She wouldn’t let him lose part of himself for her. She’d known this moment of choice was coming, and the fact that three people might die from injuries that were her fault only proved she should have done this long ago.
He had to go to New York, and she needed to get the Mafia off his case. Either they could attack this problem as a team, or she’d have to force it.
“Alex, we’ve talked about this. I won’t let you destroy your companies for me. We tried it your way, and it didn’t work.”
He waved toward the laptop. “He’s overstating the risk.”
“He’s not. People could have been killed. Innocent people. I can’t give my father the excuse to escalate this. Who knows what will happen next time?”
“You heard George. He’s already involved the FBI. There’s not going to be a next time.”
“You can’t know that.” When his mouth drew into a scornful twist, she held up a hand. “You can’t. And I refuse to take that chance. Unless you’re saying that I value human life more than you do, you have to let me do this.”
“What are you proposing? That I let you sacrifice your life for my companies? For money? That’s crazy.”
“No, you’re going to New York to take care of those issues, and I’m going to...”
She paused. If she told him the truth, would he use that knowledge to stop her? But she couldn’t complain about him acting behind her back if she did the same.
“I’m going to leave enough of a trail so they know you’re not hiding me anymore. Then I’m going to Europe.”
He jerked back. “You’re marching straight toward him? To do what? Surrender? Fight him?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t know the answer herself yet.
“No, not until you show me right here”—his arm swept out, indicating the wide-open beach—“that you can shapeshift.”
“I can’t.” Not even close.
But she didn’t have a choice anymore. She wasn’t the only one getting hurt.
Her best option for protecting Alex and having a chance to spend her life with him was to be proactive. Stop running. Take the fight to her father and convince him to leave her alone, just as Alex had convinced his father.
And to even the odds for a fair fight, as Alex was so fond of saying, she had to be able to shapeshift. Now.
A thought began to gel at the edge of her mind. The danger would be worth it if she could finally end this and be safe with Alex.
“If I steal the hoard of another dragon, an elderly one who can’t keep up with me, I’ll get stronger in a hurry. Then my father will think twice about coming after me.”
“Christ.” He pinned her in an embrace. “I can’t let you do that alone. What if you needed my help, like you did this afternoon?”
His reaction didn’t surprise her, but she’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Would they ever be able to not lie to each other? How could they ever check the respect column on Peggy’s list of healthy relationship traits if they couldn’t trust each other’s judgment?
But she didn’t see another option. At least not one that didn’t endanger him or other innocents.
She misdirected him, adding a touch of weakness to her tone. “Okay. What do you think we should do?”
Tension released from his muscles at her feigned submission. “Right now, we’re going to go back to bed. It’s way after midnight, too late to make arrangements for anything anyway, and we’ll both think clearer in the morning.”
“Okay, that sounds good.” Just not for the reason he thought.