Page 6 of Burn Dragon Burn

“Oh, sorry. I should’ve introduced myself.” Dropping his bag while reaching behind his back with the other, Nat had to look away before she hyperventilated when the fabric of his shirt pulled tight across his chest, outlining its near perfection.

Whoever this guy is, he sure packs a punch…

Opening his wallet, he held up his government credentials along with a gold badge at the same time that he explained, “Name’s Rafe O’Rhordan. I’m with the DPA. Director Isaacs received a call from your Commander for help with a case.”

His last comment hung in the air, an unasked question he was looking for an answer to. Anger turned to rage as she stomped past Special Agent O’Rhordan and straight into Captain Rogers’ office.

Slamming the door, she ground out through gritted teeth, “What the hell, Cap? The Feds? Really? This is my case and I don’t need some frikkin’ uptight ‘Special Agent’,” she threw up air quotes with her left hand, “gettin’ in my way.” Stepping forward, leaning over his desk the best she could, she added, “And you know how Ihatesurprises.”

Leaning back in his chair, he tossed his pen on his desk and sighed. “Last time I checked, I was still the Commander of this Unit, Detective Hale.” Propping his right elbow on the wooden arm of his chair, he rested the bottom of his chin on his fist and added, “And as such, it ismycase andat mydiscretion who works on it. My suggestion to you is to calm the fuck down, do an about-face, and welcome the Special Agent to our station.”

“But…”

“But nothing, Hale.” The sting of anger and disappointment in his voice was worse than being kicked in the teeth. She respected Commander Rogers, had followed his career from the time she decided to be a cop when her friend Stacey had disappeared. He’d been a detective then and had questioned all the girls more than once.

“You will play nice, or you will take a mandatory vacation until this case is over.” The old, worn springs of his desk chair squeaked as he leaned forward, putting his elbows on the desk. Shaking his head and taking a deep breath, his chuckle was forced but the fatherly look in his eyes was what she’d cometo expect from him as he cajoled, “Give this guy a chance, Nat. He’s got an exemplary service record the length of both my arms and a leg and during his time with the DPA, he’s got a ninety-five percent close rate.” Shrugging, he went on, “Work with him. Who knows, maybe together you can catch this stupid son of a bitch before he kills again.”

Knowing that was his final word on the subject, she gave a quick nod as she reluctantly agreed, “Yes, Sir.”

Turning around as quickly as she could and striding across his office, her hand had just landed on the doorknob when Rogers added, “Play nice, Hale. I won’t like it, but I will suspend you if I even get a wild idea that you’re running this investigation around him.”

“Yes, Sir,” she muttered before opening the door and all but flying out of the office.

Making a beeline for the ladies’ bathroom, refusing to subject herself to the ‘wham-bam-sexy-vibe’ that Agent O’Rhordan exuded, she raced into the farthest stall from the door and kicked the door shut. Leaning against the side wall, she blew out the breath she’d been holding and let her head fall forward.

With her eyes closed, trying to make sense of her undeniably crazy attraction to a man she’d only just laid eyes on that very day, she groaned under her breath, “Wonder if Nona has a chastity belt, ‘cause whatever this dude’s packin’ is powerful shit.”

4

Oh, yeah, this is gonna be fun,” he snickered, turning back to the murder board Detective Hale had set up.

Pretending to be studying the pictures and notes hanging in the order of the murders, Rafe used his enhanced hearing to eavesdrop on the irresistible woman who with any luck, he’d be working with in some capacity or another for all eternity. He’d wondered if she was his mate from not only his reaction, but that of the Dragon King with whom he shared his soul. Then he met her, and there was absolutelyno doubtshe’d been made for him.

Drawn to her like bees to honey, Rafe felt her intuition and powers of perception slide alongside his magic, testing the waters, happy to settle with his. The look in her eyes was sharp and direct, the speed of her thoughts momentous, and her determination damned near as unstoppable as his own.

In a word – perfect.

However, Detective Donatella Hale was no pushover. There was no denying she’d felt the attraction between them. Her heart had raced. Her blood whooshed through her veins. Her body warmed, filling Rafe’s senses with a succulent multi-dimensional scent that made it hard for him not to trail behind her like a hound dog after a bone.

The moment he’d crossed the threshold, the sweet scent of treacle tart had tickled his nose, immediately followed by an undertone of bold, earthy truffles then finished off with the sharp bite of a strong cup of java. Feeling like he was floating, it had taken everything in him to stop at the side of the table and comment to let her know he was in the room.

Working hard not to laugh when she nearly jumped out of her skin and squeaked like a mouse, he’d witnessed her amazing ability to control her emotions when it took only a split-second for her to grab hold of her irritation and growl at him.

And, dammit, if I don’t want her growling at me in the sheets…

“Enough of that for now. Heaven knows Gil will descale my hide if I mess this up,” he muttered under his breath, forcing himself to focus on the boards before him.

Walking the length of all three boards, he committed everything to memory, even the Leviathan Cross the nasty bugger had tattooed on the wrist of each of his victims. Not only was it the sign of the Devil himself, but the killer had used mercury as the ink for his glyph. The two together meant he knew both alchemy and the dark arts. He marked them as virgins and sent their souls to old Lucifer.

“What was the date of…?”

Talking to himself as he pulled the notecard size leather-bound pad from his bag, he wrote down the date of each murder. Pulling out his cellphone, he looked up the dates on the calendar, the information making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Every damn one was killed on a Wednesday.”

“But we didn’t find them all on Wednesdays,” Nat interjected, strolling back into the room with her pictures stillclutched to her chest and her spine so straight Rafe wondered if it was hard for her to walk.

But she was talking, that was a step in the right direction.

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