She stared at him, trying to make sense of the words spouting from his mouth. The only thing she could wrap her head around was the fact someone had broken in and destroyed the work she’d poured her heart and soul, her sweat and tears into. When she found the creep responsible for this, she’d rip off their arm and beat them with the bloody stump. Righteous fury blanketing the dread that’d earlier gripped her, she stepped around the officer and stormed to the wall that’d received the heaviest application from the asshole’s spray can.
Tony joined her. “I honestly tried to reach you on your cell phone.”
“The battery died. Unfortunately I didn’t notice until we were almost here.” Sidestepping the chunks of glass littering the floor, she headed into her office. She desperately wanted to crawl beneath her desk and not come out until her bad luck decided to take a long hike off a very short bridge. Since that probably wouldn’t be happening anytime this century, she flipped through her rolodex, searching for her insurance agent’s business card.
The card wasn’t in the appropriate slot. Of course not. Why would life suddenly decide to do her any favors?
Mumbling a few swear words beneath her breath, she dug in her purse for her wallet. The sharp edge of a piece of paper sliced into her finger. “Damn it!” Yanking her hand out, she glared at the red dot welling at the tip of her finger. “Oh, this is just the smoking turd topping the shit pile of my day.” Snatching a tissue from the decoupaged box resting on her desk, she wrapped her finger in a Kleenex tourniquet and pulled the offending papers from her bag. It was the damn Drakoni contract.
“Argh.” Growling, she whipped it onto the desk and continued rummaging for her wallet. Her luck took an unexpected turn for the better and she found her agent’s card tucked in behind the dog-eared photo of her father that she always carried with her. Stroking her thumb over his grinning face, she blinked back a stinging wash of tears. “I’m doing a piss-poor job of impersonating a successful, got-her-shit-together daughter, aren’t I, Pops?” Her throat uncomfortably tight, she shoved the photo back in place and dialed her agent.
The call took less than ten minutes and wasn’t nearly as painful as she’d expected it to be. Resting the phone back in its cradle, she pillowed her cheek in her hand and stared glumly at the business card she’d been nervously fidgeting with. She tossed it down and her attention returned to the contract lying on the center of her desk. Plucking the nearest edge, she dragged it closer. She hadn’t attempted reading it further after that one time, figuring the end part would be as difficult to comprehend as the beginning.
Flipping to the last page, she grimaced at the smear of blood marring the top corner and scanned down the page. She blinked in surprise when she realized this part of the document actually contained words that made sense.
If you could call the terms so bluntly laid out as being the slightest bit sensible. Or reasonable. Or remotely anything a woman in her right mind would agree to.
“The sacrifice, who shall henceforth be named Sacrifice number 5, must submit to and obey her Drakoni master completely or risk severe punishment.” Her hands shook with fury, causing the papers clutched in her white-knuckled grip to flutter wildly. “I’d be reduced to a freakin’ number? And what sort of bullshit is this about punishment?” She inspected the remainder of the contract closely, on the lookout for any suspicious clause that mentioned flame-broiling her for lunch if she refused to do windows. Unfortunately, she couldn’t find any specific breakdown of what the punishments might entail. But halfway down the last page she came across another section that made her eyes bug out.
“When the time comes for the sacrifice’s master to take a bride, the sacrifice will become the property of the married couple?” She dropped the papers like they’d suddenly become infected with cooties. “What the hell does that mean exactly?” An image flashed in her mind of a very butch female dragon wearing only leather chaps and a tattoo stating I make ’em squeal like a pig riding over her left breast.
Shuddering, Dana slumped back in her chair. “I am so screwed.”
Aiden watched the cop mosey to the back of the gallery while Dana’s assistant continued snapping off photos of the ruined paintings hanging haphazardly on the wall. Rage over the vandalism pounded in Aiden’s skull. It’d only taken one look at the white sheet of Dana’s face to know how hard this had hit her. A sour ball of guilt clogged his throat at the idea that he might have inadvertently brought this to her doorstep.
Jace stopped beside him, his expression grim. “Do you think this was random?”
“Possibly, but highly doubtful.”
“Maybe the dude we put the scare in on Saturday decided to enact some revenge.”
“Dana’s psycho ex?” Aiden mulled it over. Part of him really wished that were the case. It’d be easy enough taking care of the son of a bitch. “Could be.”
Jace’s gaze sharpened. “You have another theory?”
“I spotted Claudia Knoxville at the Ren fair.”
A choke sputtered from Jace. Once he regained his voice, he shot Aiden an accusing glare. “And you’re just now telling me this?”
“I wasn’t entirely sure it meant anything.”
“But now you do.” Still wearing a pissy scowl, Jace tucked his thumbs in his belt loops and rocked on the heels of his boots. “What the fuck is Knoxville up to?”
“Nothing good, I’m sure. But whatever it is, she’s damn well getting paid to do it. That chick doesn’t do anything that isn’t motivated by some cold, hard cash.”
Jace’s jaw tightened. “You think it has something to do with us. With the sacrifice.”
Aiden nodded.
“But the council wants us to fulfill the contract. Why sic Knoxville on Dana?”
Plowing a hand through his hair, Aiden released a frustrated growl. “All I know is Claudia’s appearance and the timing of the break-in are mighty convenient.” He dropped his arm to his side as the cop ambled from Dana’s office. “I’m going to check on how she’s doing.”
“While you do that, I’ll pump the cop for any additional info he might have.”
Leaving Jace to that task, Aiden strode across the gallery. He found Dana slumped in a padded office chair that was parked in front of a small window that faced the small alley between the gallery and the neighboring Chinese restaurant. As far as views went, it wasn’t exactly spectacular, but she seemed riveted by the sight.
“Do you see that cat out there rummaging through the Chens’s garbage? Man, does it have the life. Prime pickings from all the dumpsters. A little tail here and there whenever it feels frisky. And not once having to worry about how the hell it’s going to pay the bills. Or deal with a couple of dragons who insist Mr. Kitty is their sacrifice.”
“Dana—”
Her heavy sigh cut him short. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be such a big downer. None of this is your problem. Other than the sacrifice thing.”
His chest tightened, both at her weary tone and her declaration. Everything that affected her was his problem. Maybe he didn’t like it, or welcome it, but it was the truth.
“Well, at least there’s one bright spot,” Dana said, breaking through his morose thoughts. “I didn’t drop my insurance last week like I’d been contemplating. The adjuster is on his way. Should be here in…” she glanced at the wall clock fashioned from an oversized paint palette, “…two hours.”
“After he’s done with the inspection, Jace and I will get this place cleaned up.”
Dana pushed away from the window, the chair’s casters squeaking on the wood floor. “You don’t have to do that. Tony and I will—” She broke off with a gasp when he clasped the arms of the chair. Her wide green eyes blinked up at him. “Okay, I’m going to hang a bell on you to warn me every time you make one of your Flash Gordon moves.”