Page 14 of His Brazen Mate

Megan nodded, her breathing more controlled now. “Okay.”

Drake listened for a moment, judging the fire’s progress outside. When he deemed it safe, he cracked the door open, peering out. The hallway was still ablaze, but the flames had moved further down, leaving a path clear for their escape.

“Now,” he said, grabbing her hand.

They dashed through the hallway, dodging falling debris and bursting out of the building just as part of the roof collapsed behind them. The cool night air hit them like a wave, and they stood there, breathing heavily, hearts pounding from the adrenaline.

Once safely away, they watched the distillery burn, the orange and red flames licking the sky. Drake wrapped an arm around Megan, pulling her into his arms.

“That was too close,” Megan said, her voice shaky.

“But we’re alive,” Drake replied, pulling her closer.

The fire had forged more than just physical danger; it had solidified their trust in one another. As they stood there, watching the flames die down, Drake knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together. Their bond had been tested by fire and was the stronger for it.

CHAPTER 8

MEGAN

Megan’s green eyes scanned the landscape as the plane touched down, her mind already on the next step. She needed to retrieve her belongings from the cabin she had been renting, but more importantly, she needed to report her findings to Agent Marcus Turner. Convincing Drake to let her go back alone was going to be the tricky part.

As they disembarked, Megan turned to Drake, mustering her most persuasive tone. “If we’re really going to sell this whole fiancée thing…”

“There’s nothing to ‘sell.’ You are my fated mate; I have claimed you.”

Megan shook her head. He was an arrogant bastard, but instead of annoying her, she was starting to find it a bit amusing. “Whatever. If we want people to believe we are mated, especially those outside the shifter community, I need to go back to the cabin I was renting and collect all my things. We don’t want to answer any questions that may arise.”

Drake’s expression hardened slightly, his protective instincts clearly flaring. “I don’t like the idea of you going there alone. It could be dangerous.”

Megan placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a quick trip. I’ve got a gun, and I know how to use it. Besides, you have other matters to attend to here, don’t you?”

He hesitated, his eyes searching hers for any sign of deception. Finally, he nodded, though his reluctance was palpable. “Alright, but I’m going with you.”

Megan suppressed a sigh. He was also possessive and protective, which she was beginning to find endearing. “Drake, please. I need to do this alone. I promise I’ll be careful.”

After a moment of tense silence, Drake relented, though his gaze remained sharp and unyielding. “Fine. But you call me the moment anything seems off. Understood?”

“Understood,” she agreed, grateful for the concession.

Megan drove back to her rented cabin, the familiar route a soothing contrast to the chaos of the past few days. Once inside, she quickly gathered her belongings, but her mind was already on her real objective.

She pulled out her phone and dialed a number from memory.

“Agent Turner,” came the brusque voice on the other end of the line.

“It’s Megan,” she said, keeping her voice professional. “I have some updates.”

“Megan, where the hell have you been? We were starting to get worried.”

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “I ended up staying at Northern Lights for more than the event.” She needed to give her boss a reason for her staying that he would believe and that wouldn’t alert him to her status with Drake. “Drake McAllister doesn’t think his father’s car accident was an accident. I think he may be right. He’s willing to open the Northern Lights’ books as well as give me access to some ledgers his father was keeping, which seem in contrast to the official information. I’ve found something significant. I’m certain there’s a smuggling operation tied to the bourbon auctions, and I have a way in.”

“With McAllister? I find it difficult to believe a former SEAL commander would be knowingly involved.”

“I don’t believe he is,” Megan assured him. “But when I was at the Northern Lights event, Michael O’Brien invited me to a private bourbon auction.”

“Michael O’Brien?” Turner whistled in admiration. “That’s quite a coup. We’ve been trying to get someone inserted, or at least listening devices planted, in that auction for a while, but O’Brien has kept a ruthless grip on the guest list. Go on; I’m listening,” Turner said, his tone all business now.

“I’m convinced O’Brien is involved in all of this.”

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