The Seven: Four tales of passion, danger and love (45 page)

“Maybe I should call 911, honey. Let the doctors look you over, just to be—”

“No!” Grace backed up, feeling for all the world like she’d just fallen into the rabbit’s hole and ended up in a world gone mad. “No. I’m fine. I have to get to class. I have to—“

She was out of the door before her sentence was complete. What the hell was happening? She hadn’t imagined Nyah. Her body bore evidence that Nyah existed. So why was everyone lying?

What now? Grace hadn’t a clue. Maybe she could get in touch with the power company or the Better Business Bureau. Maybe they’d have an address for Nyah.

But that would have to wait until tomorrow. She had to get to class and by the time she got out, those places were long closed for the day.

She would go over and talk to Mr. Friendly about it tomorrow. She’s been talking about Nyah for months on end. He’d have a suggestion on how Grace could find her.

She wasn't crazy. Nyah did exist. There had to be a reasonable explanation for her disappearance and people pretending not to know anything about her. But, as Mr. Friendly would say, right now she had bigger fish to fry. A new beginning waited and she didn’t want to be late her first class.

As it turned out, the class was nothing more than an introduction and receiving reading lists. And the new job wasn’t much different from others she’d had. Dancing half naked was the same no matter how fancy the surroundings were. And men watching half-naked dancers behaved pretty much the same, regardless of the size of their bank accounts.

Still, she made over three hundred dollars in tips so she had to count herself lucky for that. When the night ended, she changed into street clothes and made her way through the club to leave.

One of the men who’d tossed her a fifty was leaning against a lamppost, smoking when she exited.

“Hey.” He thumped his cigarette in the direction of the street and straightened. “Would you be interested in a night cap?”

“No, thanks.” Grace fished out her keys and kept going.

“Hey! Hold on!” The man grabbed her arm. “That’s not very friendly. Especially considering the tip I gave you.”

“Let go of me,” she warned in a voice that, even to her own ears, sounded terribly deep.

“There’s more than fifty in it for you.”

“I said no!” She jerked away and ran to her car. As she slammed and locked the door, she looked for the man. He was nowhere to be seen.

Relieved that he hadn’t followed her, she started the car and headed home.

Grace’s thoughts were troubled as she drove. She couldn’t understand why Nyah would just up and move without telling her. Or why other shop owners on the street lied about her even being there. Was Nyah in some kind of trouble?

It just didn’t make sense.

After she reached her apartment complex, she grabbed her bag and hurried to her door. Just as she was inserting the key, a hand landed on the top of her shoulder. Fear rose hot and sharp, bringing bitter bile crowding her throat.

She whirled, her only weapon, her keys, held in front of her.

The man from the club gave her a smirk. “I think you and I have some unfinished business.”

“I told you I wasn’t interested. Now leave me alone or I’ll call the cops.”

“Yeah, you do that.” He grabbed her wrist hard. “Call and tell them how you took my money, you whore.”

Suddenly, the fear was gone. In its place was something just as hot, but far more powerful. Rage.

Grace drew herself up, feeling strength flow through her like some great river that had been released.

“Get your hand off me. Now!” Her shout was more of a roar, something that shocked her.

But far less shocking than what happened next.

The man was in the process of laughing when suddenly his eyes flew open wide and his mouth rounded in a gape of shock. In that same moment, Grace felt something scalding up her throat—something that had to escape. She opened her mouth and flames shot out.

The man screamed, beating at his hair. Grace couldn’t do anything but stand there in complete shock, watching as he ran, his hair smoldering.

When he jumped into a Lexus and screeched out of the parking lot, she was still standing there frozen.

What the hell?

Sudden fear that maybe someone had seen what had happened sent her hurrying inside her apartment.  She locked the door and threw the deadbolt into place and thenleaned against the door, shaking and breathing hard.

What had just happened?

And why was her skin crawling? It felt like something moving beneath her skin. All over her back, around her sides and even along the curve of one breast. Grace dropped her keys and bag and ran to the bathroom, stripping off her shirt as she went.

The hard florescent light made her blink as she stopped in front of the mirror. Horror brought an instant sheen of sweat to her skin. The tattoo of the dragon was quivering, its muscles bunching and relaxing, the scales undulating with the contractions.

“What the—” The words choked in her throat as her eyes moved to her face in the mirror. The skin looked scaled, colors matching that of the tattoo circling the orbits of her eye sockets.

And her eyes themselves. They were the eyes of the dragon.

What the hell was happening to her?

Chapter Four

Walker parked his truck and sat there, looking at the outside o
f
ooking at the outside
 
the club where he was due to meet three of his fellow firefighters and friends. He wasn’t big on strip clubs, but his buddies—Dan, Mike, and Bob—claimed this one was different.

It had just opened last month and everyone swore it was top-notch with a new headliner that was out of this world hot. Whatever. As far as Walker was concerned, a titty-bar was a titty-bar. But he was tired of sitting home alone on his nights off and his captain wouldn’t let him pick up any more extra shifts, so here he was.

He saw one of his friends, Mike, pull up, so he got out of his truck and walked over to Mike’s car.

“Fire Walker.” Mike grinned as he got out of the car. “’Bout time you crawled outta your cave.”

Walker hated the moniker he’d been stuck with but knew if he protested, it would only make his friends use it more to razz him so he kept his mouth shut.

“I’m surprised Lizette lets you come here.”

Mike was engaged to a pretty redhead who worked as an emergency room nurse at the local hospital. Walker wondered if the two would ever get around to tying the knot. They’d been engaged for two years.

“Looks are free.” Mike gave a laugh as they started toward the door. “It’s touching that gets you in trouble and I never touch.”

“Never?”

“Well, except to tip and that doesn’t count.”

“Yeah, right.”

Walker didn’t plan on doing any tipping. He was there to have a few beers and hopefully a couple of laughs with the guys. He didn’t care how hot the strippers were. They weren’t getting his hard-earned money.

Dan and Bob were already inside at a table adjacent to one side of a long runway that attached to a large stageAfter exchanging greetings, Walker and Mike took seats.

“What can I bring you gentlemen?” A voice from behind him had Walker turning.

The woman was stunning. Red hair that could not have been natural framed a face that should have been in a centerfold spread. Along with a body to match.

All the men at the table just sat there looking at her. She glanced around at all of them and her gaze landed on Walker.  She gave him a sexy smile. “Let’s start with you.  What can I bring you??”

“Beer. Whatever you have on draft.”

She cut him another smile and turned to Mike. “And you, sir?”

“Same. And bring these guys another.”

“Will do. Be right back.”

Bob, a recently divorced man in his mid-thirties gave a low whistle as she walked away. “Christ on a crutch, what I’d love to do to that.”

“She’d kill you in ten minutes,” Dan said, earning a laugh from Mike.

Bob passed it off good-naturedly. “Well, I’d die a happy man.” He then added, “The women here are freaking amazing.”

Walker looked up at the two girls on stage, finishing their set. Yeah, they were definitely lookers, but there were a lot of beautiful women in the world. And it didn’t really matter how hot they were, he couldn’t get involved. His last attempt at a relationship had proven that.

Besides, none of them were Leann. She was the only woman he’d ever loved.

Thoughts of Leann brought back memories he fought to suppress. The night he got the call that she’d vanished. The two years he and Utah had spent looking for her. Still today,no one had a clue what had happened to her
.
Just like the other women in the area who had disappeared over the course of a two year stretch
’
That memory propelled him to thoughts of the man who’d saved him, his best friend Utah. Leeann was Utah’s little sister. Utah had searched as hard as Walker, running down every lead in a fruitless search..

And then had died saving Walker. Maybe he was just plain bad luck for the people he loved. Maybe he deserved to be alone.

Maybe his life was meant to be a series of one nighters—a thank you and see you around kind of thing. The problem was he’d grown sick of that. Still, he guessed it beat the alternative. Perpetually alone.

“That one’s giving you the eye, Walker.” Dan nudged Walker’s arm, jerking him back into the moment.

Walker looked in the direction Dan indicated. A blonde woman in a pink G-string and matching stilettos on stage blew him a kiss and ran her hands down to her crotch. He watched, didn’t react, and turned his attention back to the men at the table.

“Did you hear that we might be getting a new captain? Rogers got an offer from somewhere down around Sarasota.”

“No shit?” Mike asked. “I figured he’d stick it out to retirement here.”

“Nope. Now that his daughter’s out of college, his wife wants to move back closer to her folks who live in Tampa,” Dan offered.

“I’d hate to see him go,” Bob said.

“Yeah, me too.” Walker agreed. Captain Rogers was a by-the-book kind of guy but would take it to the bricks for one of his men.

The server returned with their drinks and placed them on the table. “I’m going on stage in half an hour,” she said to Walker. “Any special requests?”

He shook his head and lifted his beer as he replied, “No, but thanks for asking.”

“Well, if you change your mind…”

“Thanks,” he said and took a drink from his glass to end the exchange.

“Fuck man,” Bob said when the woman moved away. “What is it with you? You got women falling all over you and you… I mean, what the fuck?”

Walker shrugged. “Not my type.”

“Then what is?” Dan asked.

All Walker gave in way of reply was another shrug.

Just then, Dan tapped his arm. “Hey, check her out. Sam Miles was here last week and told me about her. She’s kinda like the star of the club.”

Walker turned to look at the dancer who had taken the stage. The dancer had a mane of hair that tumbled in a riot halfway down her back. Browns highlighted with golds and reds, it glowed like fire under the lights.

She wore a floor length black coat, very Matrix like as she stood there, stark still in the light. Then the music started. She danced for a few seconds, unfastening the coat, then worked it down off her shoulders.

Walker looked away to pick up his beer but looked back at the stage when Dan muttered, “Holy mother of god.”

His breath literally caught in his throat. Free of the coat, her body was bare, aside from a flesh colored G-string and high-heeled shoes.

It wasn’t the shapely curve of her body, the fine ass, or the firm, lush breasts that had him frozen.

It was the ink.

A dragon circled her body. In colors of the sunset that complemented a skin tone that spoke of Latin ancestry, it was a true work of art, undulating as she danced so that it almost seemed alive.

Walker couldn’t take his eyes off her. The dragon was almost familiar, but why?

It came to him in a rush that had something hot and almost suffocating wash over him. It couldn’t be…but it had to be. She had to have been inked by the same hand as he.

And whatever the purpose of her ink, it was clear as day that it had endowed her with something that made her damn near irresistible. It was

impossible not to watch. He was spellbound and, when her number ended, found himself clapping along with everyone else.

“Fuck me sideways,” Bob said over the sound of the cheers. “That bitch is smoking hot.”

Walker bit back a sharp retort, surprised the comment would have bothered him. It wasn’t as if he knew the girl.

Yet. He realized in that moment he had to meet her. Talk to her.

“Gotta hit the head.” He got up and walked away, but headed for the bar rather than the men’s room.

The bartender took a few seconds to get to him, “What can I get you?”

“That girl, the one who just finished dancing. Any chance on getting a private dance?’

“Ginger? When?”

“Now.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t know. I can ask but I don’t know if she’s—”

“Find out.”

“Yeah, sure thing. Give me a second.”

Walker leaned on the bar, watching as the bartender picked up the phone behind the bar and made a call. A few minutes later, he returned. “Five hundred. In advance.”

Walker pulled out his wallet and withdrew his credit card. The bartender took it, swiped it through the machine, and returned it to him. “Five minutes, private room 3, over there on the right.”

“Thanks.”

Walker headed in the direction of the private rooms, but stopped after a dozen steps. What the hell was he doing? This wasn’t like him. He’d never paid five hundred dollars in his life to spend time with a woman. It was insane. He should go back and ask for a refund, say he changed his mind.

He almost did. But an image of her flashed in his mind. The dragon circling her, covering her skin.

His body went into motion and it wasn’t in the direction of the bar. He headed straight for the private room. He had to know. Where had she gotten that tattoo and had it done anything to her?

Grace chugged down half a bottle of water, then set it on the small table along the back wall, which bore several more chilled bottles of water. She still had two more sets tonight and had not planned on any private dances, but five hundred dollars was tough to turn down.

Just then the door opened. She turned, ready to issue a sultry “well, hello there” greeting, but one look at the man who entered the room and every bit of moisture in her mouth vanished, leaving her tongue paralyzed.

Just as suddenly, an unfamiliar energy flashed through her, innervating every cell in her body and heightening her senses to the point that she could smell him from across the room. A subtle scent of soap, toothpaste, and beer, mixed with a sublime masculine essence and…

Something else. Something powerful and full of heat. It was pervasive and overwhelming. So much that without meaning to, she closed her eyes.

That awareness was followed quickly by a sensation that had her tensing. Her skin was crawling, as millions of nerve endings were electrified. A second later, she realized it was not her entire body. Just the part where the dragon lived.

Oh, shit.
Having the dragon move on her was
not
something she wanted to deal with right now. Anxiety over the sensations had her desperate to escape, to bolt from the room and get away.

Her eyes flew open and when they did, they connected with those of the man standing just inside the door.

Mistake. The heat intensified and the dragon on her began to writhe and twist. She wanted to look away, more than ever wanted to flee, but she was caught. Caught in his gaze.

The amber of his eyes danced with sparks of light, gold and red, green and cerulean, like flame shot from gas.

“Take off your coat.” His voice was low and deep, barely above a whisper.

Suddenly five hundred dollars didn’t seem so important. Grace didn’t want to take off her coat, didn’t want
this
man to look upon her body. With others, her dragon was a shield, giving her power. With him it was… She didn’t know what it was, but she felt no power and that scared her.

“I …” She couldn’t get the words out to refuse. What the hell was wrong with her? She wanted to run, wanted to escape and yet she couldn’t seem to command her body.

“Take it off.”

That was it. She had to get the hell out. The sound of his voice made something hot unfurl in her belly. Something hungry.

“No.” Oh thank god, she got it out. Feeling a tiny surge of empowerment, she tugged her coat more tightly around her and started for the door.

She made it two steps before freezing in place. The man pulled his knit shirt over his head, baring himself from the waist up.

Grace’s breath whooshed out and her legs suddenly felt like rubber. She reached out with one hand, bracing against the wall for support. The man made a slow turn, letting her see him front to back.

Holy hell. He bore a dragon. One that covered the entirety of his back, with the wings wrapping around to frame his abdominal muscles and the neck of the dragon arching over one shoulder so its head rested on one side of the man’s chest.

It was beautiful, breathtaking, and there was no way it could not have been created by the same hands who inked her.

Nyah.

Longing and loss swelled inside Grace. Nyah had created her and then abandoned her, leaving her to discover what the dragon would do to her and who she could become because of it.

“Take off your coat,” he said again.

“Who are you?”

“Walker.”

“Just Walker?” She stalled, despite the sudden insistence of her body to be divested of the garments covering her.

“Ellis Walker. I go by Walker. And you?”

“G̶race. Jennings.”

“Take off the coat, Grace Jennings.”