The Dragon's Hunt

Rhea got up and busied herself readying supplies to get herself under control. What the heck was that about? He was kinda hot, sure, but not so-hot-that-smelling-him-makes-you-wet hot. Except, clearly, he was.

She worked to keep from blushing as she gave him a smile after setting up the machine and ink caps. “Okay, ready?”

Leo smiled back, and it nearly melted her. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

She managed to act like a normal person as she sat and got to work on the outline. When the needles made contact with Leo’s skin, the image bombarded her psyche: blood spattered across a dazzling field of snow, like a giant cherry slush spilled on a white rug.

Leo was looking at her funny. “Are you okay?”

She’d taken her foot off the pedal. “Hmm? Yep, sorry, just thinking for a sec. I might want to use round needles for the line work instead of flat. Give it some more depth, since some of these strokes are really fine.” She hoped she wasn’t babbling nonsense. She could barely remember the words as they left her mouth. Rhea took a breath and went back to work. “I’ll start on the thicker lines on the three parallel columns.”

“Staves.”

“What’s that?”

“The columns are called staves, like in the tarot.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” And like the tarot, they were drawing pictures she couldn’t unsee. Running through thick overgrowth in an ancient wood, tree branches scoring limbs and face. After someone. On the hunt. A pause in the here and now to wipe the blood. The enemy emerges from the darkness. Now the hunted. Swinging the blade to block the blow and missing. Stumbling headlong into the snow as the light grows dim.

Somehow, she got through it without botching the original work and actually managed to make the tattoo sharper and bolder while giving the lines a bit more definition and character—a subtle woodiness to the staves, with ridges and bumps of texture in the outlines if you looked closely.

“This looks fantastic.” Leo studied his tattoo in the light, obviously pleased, as Rhea cleaned up.

“I hope you don’t mind the little extras I added. If you prefer the lines smooth, I can go over it again.”

“No, it’s great.” Leo looked up, his eyes shining behind his glasses. “I hope I can earn it.”

“It took me a little longer than I expected, but I’ll honor the estimate. So ten hours of work should do it.”

Leo shook his head. “Nope. I’ll pay for the time it took. Plus, there’s the tip, which you’ve totally earned. This is excellent work.”

Rhea felt her cheeks warm, as if he’d complimented her on her body instead of praising her skill. “Well, thanks. But you don’t have to tip.” Yes, he does, Rhea. Shut up and take the money. Even if the money was paid in labor, she had earned it, and she needed to stop devaluing herself if she wanted to make a living as an artist.

“But I want to. So what would twenty percent bring it to?”

“An hour and a half at one fifty an hour would be two twenty-five—”

“An hour and a half?” Leo’s brows drew together as he drew his phone from his pocket.

“Yeah, I know. Really, I’m absolutely cool with charging what I originally estimated. It’s not your fault I got fancy. Let’s make it one fifty plus anything else you think is appropriate.”

“No, that’s not it.” He was still looking at his phone, his expression slightly worried. “I’ll happily pay for the work. I just didn’t realize how late it was.”

Rhea glanced at the tablet on its stand. She’d spent a little extra time setting up, but it wasn’t even six o’clock yet.

“Sorry. I should have let you know what time it was when we got started. Did you have somewhere you needed to be?”

Leo slipped his phone into his pocket and gave her a slightly forced smile. “No, it’s cool. I’m just not a night person. I like to be home before it gets dark.”

“I suppose you turn into a pumpkin?”

Leo’s laugh was nervous. “Something like that.”

Rhea couldn’t figure out what faux pas she’d made, but she’d definitely made one. “I shouldn’t have assumed you’d want to jump right into it after your first day of work. We can schedule the rest of your touch-ups for whenever you want.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal. And I love the tattoo, so it’s all good.”

She still felt she’d upset him somehow. Maybe a gesture of trust would smooth things over. Rhea twisted an extra door key off the shop ring.

“In case I need you to open or close sometime.”

Leo stared as she placed the key in his palm. “You’re giving me a key?”

“Is there any reason I shouldn’t?” Damn, she really hoped there wasn’t.

Leo’s smile this time was genuine and a little heartbreakingly adorable. “Absolutely not. You’ve got my Social Security number, so you can track me down. Not that you’d ever have to track me down. Because you won’t need to. You can count on me.” Leo looked flustered at his own rambling. He held out the key. “Maybe you should keep this after all.”

Rhea laughed. “No, take it. Just know that I will hunt you down if you ever screw me over.” He looked a little worried. Which was perhaps a little worrying. Why hadn’t she just taken the key back?

“Well, I thank you.” Leo gave her a dramatic little bow and slipped a length of ball chain out of his shirt from around his neck. He unhooked the clasp to slide the key onto it to hang next to the pendant he wore, an image of a wide-branching tree with roots that mirrored them. “I shall keep it close to my heart.” He patted his chest after he’d slipped the chain back into his shirt, emphasizing the firm definition of his pecs.

* * *

After Leo headed out, Rhea tidied up and checked to make sure all the valuable equipment was locked in a cabinet. She was almost home when she remembered she’d left the damn tablet.

A strong wind drove the light snow still falling across the highway, making Rhea more cautious than usual—while also keeping an eye out for wayward ghostly riders. Luckily, she saw none of those, but it was almost seven by the time she got back to the shop.

She’d left a light on in back. Had she let Leo Ström’s soulful eyes and potent scent rattle her that much? She grabbed the tablet off the counter without bothering to turn on the light and headed into the back to switch off the lamp—and gave a little yip of surprise. Leo Ström, speak of the devil, was sitting in her chair.

Correction: he was shackled to her chair.

Chapter 4

Rhea dropped her bag in the doorway. “Leo? What the hell happened?”

Leo looked embarrassed as Rhea examined the restraints at his wrists. “I came back to get my hat and surprised these two guys. I guess they were looking to steal your equipment or something. One of them pulled a gun and ordered me into the chair and cuffed me.”

The restraints were professional looking, heavy-duty leather cuffs secured with a pair of electronic padlocks. Rhea turned one of the locks in her hand. “These look serious. I’m going to have to cut the cuffs off.” She probably had a pocketknife or a box cutter in the toolbox in the back of her car. Rhea pulled aside the curtain and headed back out. “I might have something I can use.”

Leo called after her. “Maybe we should leave it. They said the locks were on a timer and they’d open automatically when the time was up. It can’t be that long. They probably just needed enough time to get away, right? We should just wait.”

“Wait?” Rhea glanced over her shoulder, incredulous. She shook her head and opened the door. “I’m not waiting around to see if they were telling the truth. Let me find something.”

There was no pocketknife, but she found a fish-gutting knife she’d forgotten about. It had belonged to her father, whose toolbox she’d been hauling around since leaving for college. Some girls kept letters and stuffed animals to remember the dead. Rhea had a toolbox.

A bell tolled distantly as she crawled out of the hatchback, some church clock chiming the hour. The mark of passing time brought her focus back to Leo’s claim. Who would use a timer on a padlock? Why would a couple of crooks even have wrist restraints with padlocks? Something didn’t add up.

When she returned, Leo had one leg crossed jauntily over the other as though he was just relaxing in the tattoo chair. He no longer looked embarrassed but completely at ease.

“Ah, you’re an angel.” He nodded at the knife in Rhea’s hand. “I knew you’d come through.” His eyes looked different somehow. Darker. Or bluer. Maybe it was just because he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

“You’re lucky I came back.” She unsnapped the sheath and slipped the knife out.

“Guess it’s a good thing I stopped in, though. Otherwise you’d have been robbed.”

Rhea paused with the knife at the edge of the first cuff. “But you’re tied up. How does that keep me from being robbed?”

“I guess finding someone here spooked them and they didn’t want to hang around.”

There hadn’t been much to rob because she’d locked up her machines and needles, and even the ink. The only thing of value had been right on the front counter in plain view of the door. The tablet hadn’t been touched. But they’d hung around long enough to threaten Leo with a gun and strap him to a chair with timed electronic locks?

Rhea regarded him. “So where’s your hat?”

“My what?”

“Your hat. You said you came back for your hat.”

“Oh.” Leo shrugged. “Yeah, guess it wasn’t even here. How dumb am I?”

Rhea straightened. “You don’t even remember telling me about a hat, do you?”

“Of course I do. It just wasn’t the most pressing thing on my mind.” He wriggled his wrists in the restraints. “Come on, doll. These are starting to chafe.”

Rhea slid the knife back into its sheath. “Don’t call me doll.”

Leo’s smile was mischievous. “What would you like me to call you?”

“How about my name? Rhea will do fine.”

“All right, then, Rhea, sweetheart, would you please get these off of me?”

Rhea folded her arms. “Is this some kind of joke?” She glanced around, half expecting to see a hidden camera. “Are you punking me?”

“I wouldn’t even know how to ‘punk’ you—unless that’s a euphemism for something. I wouldn’t mind euphemizing you, now you mention it.”

“Leo, this isn’t funny. I thought you seemed like a nice, normal person, so I gave you a chance—”

Leo’s laughter interrupted her. It infuriated her, and, at the same time, there was something deeply sensual about the way he laughed. It somehow managed not to be mocking. It was as though he genuinely found the idea amusing.

“Nice and normal aren’t words I would use to describe myself.”

“I’m beginning to sense that.”

Leo laughed again, and the timbre of his laughter tickled along her skin. “Come on, Rhea. Just release me. I promise to make it worth your while.”

“You’re kind of creeping me out right now.” Or maybe the fact that she was aroused by his laugh was creeping her out. She shivered as he chuckled softly. Nah, it was him.

“I’m sorry. I promise to be good.” He straightened in the chair and blinked at her from behind a messy lock of hair. “I solemnly swear I am not a creep.”

“You just said you weren’t nice or normal, which kind of leaves creep.”

“Oh, come now. There’s plenty of room between nice and creep. There’s interesting. Fun. Unusual. Exciting. You don’t really like nice, normal people. Admit it.” Rhea blinked back at him, matching fake innocence with fake innocence. “You’re not nice or normal.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Leo studied her, taking stock with a frank gaze that made her blush. “You don’t dress like every woman your age.”

“What do you mean, my age? You can’t be much older.”

He ignored the question as if he hadn’t heard it. “So many tend to wear tight, revealing, bright colored clothing, as if they’re afraid of not being seen. The plain white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, loose cotton pants in black, practical boots—they speak of comfort, both physical and with your own individuality. Your dress is confident and unconcerned with being ‘right.’”

“I see.” She shifted her weight, feeling downright uncomfortable under his scrutiny, appreciative though it was.

“And your hair... I’ve never seen anything like it. How many colors have you got in there? I see dark roots beneath an almost platinum fair and little streaks of pale blue, pink, lavender—”

“Okay, so I like color.” Rhea ran her fingers through her hair, trying to get the floppy point out of her eyes.

“And then you put something in it to make it do that, to separate it.”

“Look, why are you going on about my hair?”

“It’s not nice or normal. It’s rather exceptional. I quite like it.”

Rhea could feel the heat in her cheeks. “Well, goodie for you. I didn’t ask for your approval—”

“I know. It’s extraordinarily sexy, you not wanting anyone’s approval.”

“And you’re trying to distract me from the real issue here, which is that you’re up to something weird in my tattoo shop. I don’t believe for a minute that you came back here for your hat, and a couple of random thieves happened by and locked you up at gunpoint with restraints and timed padlocks.”

“Don’t you?” Leo’s eyes glinted with amusement.

“No, I don’t. I think somebody else tied you up. And you let her. Or him. But I’m guessing her.”

“Sex games, you mean.” Well, there it was. Blunt and out in the open.

“Maybe you didn’t play by the rules, so she left you to cool your heels. Or you were paying for it, which is more likely—paying for sex in my tattoo shop—and she robbed your ass and took off after she’d tied you up like a sucker.”

Leo seemed pleased. “I like that story. That’s really good. I should use that. But why would I do such a thing in your tattoo shop?”

“I don’t know, because you’re obviously a freak? I don’t care why. Because I’m calling the cops.”

Leo’s plump lower lip protruded in a mock pout. “That’s not very nice.”

“Yeah, well, as you’ve pointed out, neither are you.”

“Why don’t you cut me loose and find out how not nice I can be?”

“Cute. Enjoy your jail cell.” Rhea pocketed the knife and took out her phone.

“Well, it’s not ideal. But so long as somebody cuts me loose, I’ll have won the contest. I can work with that.”

Rhea paused and sighed. “What contest?”

Leo looked surprised and chagrined. “Contest? Did I say contest? There’s no contest.”

“Uh-huh. Good luck with that, then.”

“All right.” Leo sighed audibly. “All right, you caught me. It’s a little game I play with a friend. He bets me I can’t escape before the time runs out on the clock. If I’m free before dawn, I win the whole pot. And the pot is substantial. We’ve been at this a long time. If you help me win, I’ll split it with you, eighty-twenty.”

“Eighty-twenty.”

“Seventy-thirty, then.”

“You’re so completely full of shit. Tell you what. Let’s pretend there really is a game, and I won’t call the police. If you’re gone when I come back tomorrow morning, good riddance. And if you’re not? If your ‘friend’ doesn’t return to let you loose because you’ve been such a very naughty, naughty boy, then I call the cops. And you can tell your bullshit stories to them. Have a super night.” She switched off the light and left him sitting in the dark.

“Rhea.” The way he growled her name sent a shiver up her spine. “Rhe-a.” The musical lilt to his voice this time, deep and rich, made goose bumps skitter over her arms, the slight accent making her name into a promise of unspeakable pleasure.

She dug her nails into her palms, steeling herself to ignore him, and went out, locking the door behind her. There was nothing he could steal. She had the tablet. Let him get out of his own mess. And hopefully she’d never have to see him again. Which sucked, because she’d really wanted to like him.

It was a long, boring drive back to Cottonwood, and she couldn’t stop rehashing the strange scene she’d walked in on. Leo had to be on drugs. It was the only explanation for his odd behavior and for the bizarre change in his demeanor. It would be just her luck to have hired a meth head. Though he didn’t look like a meth head. He looked like Thor. The snug T-shirt fit him like one of Chris Hemsworth’s costumes in the Marvel Avengers movies. Did he own anything that wasn’t stretch cotton and snug? Who was he to talk about Rhea’s clothing, anyway?

His amber-resin scent still lingered somehow, and Rhea let out a quiet, frustrated growl. It wasn’t often a guy really got to her physically. She appreciated a hot body and a pretty face as much as the next person, but she was more likely to be affected by cerebral attraction. And there was nothing cerebral about Leo. At least, not the Leo she’d met yesterday, not the Leo she’d tattooed this evening. The Bizarro Leo currently shackled to her tattoo chair, however... Maybe not cerebral, exactly, but he certainly seemed to have a layer of depth the “other” Leo lacked.

A familiar thundering drew her out of her reverie, and Rhea gripped the wheel and slowed the car. The spectral hunting party galloped out of the darkness several yards ahead. Beside the leader, a woman in a long, flowing and utterly impractical gown rode a white horse that lacked the skeletal features of the others. She lacked them, in fact, green eyes bright in the headlights reflecting off the snow and healthy, rosy cheeks visible, as if an altogether different light shined on her. Or perhaps she refracted light differently. The gown was layers of brilliant cobalt blue fluttering in the wind, with a kind of leather breastplate covering the bodice, and flowing copper hair streamed out behind her.

Rhea slowed to a stop. The female rider did the same in the center of the highway, while the others thundered onward. She turned and smiled, and it was by no means a friendly smile. It sent a little chill up her spine. Or maybe that was the frigid air seeping through her windows. Rhea turned up the heat, her gaze drawn away for a second as she sought the knob. When she focused on the road once more, the huntress was gone.

Chapter 5

In the morning, Rhea took her time getting ready. She wasn’t looking forward to getting the police involved if Leo was still there. By the time she finally made herself head into town, the midmorning sun was brilliant against a clear winter sky—crystalline blue, although the air was icy. The snow had stopped falling sometime in the night, leaving the red rocks of Sedona’s dramatic landscape striped and dotted with white, like a spice cake dusted with powdered sugar.

She parked in back, making a mental note to take care of the spray paint on the wall of the building. She couldn’t make out what it said. Probably just some stupid tags. So much for Leo being able to help her with the cleanup. To her relief, when she unlocked the door, the shop was empty.

There was no sign of any hanky-panky Leo might have gotten up to in the back room. No leather cuffs and no electronic locks. And speaking of locks, she was going to have to change hers. That was another hundred bucks she didn’t have.

The little bell on the door jingled, and Rhea went through the curtain, hoping someone finally wanted to make an appointment. Her jaw dropped when Leo turned from closing the door behind him and smiled as if showing up this morning were the most ordinary thing in the world.

His smile faltered at her expression. “Is something wrong?”

“Seriously? That’s how you’re going to handle this? Just act like nothing happened?”

Leo frowned. “Like...what happened?”

“I’m not in the mood for this.” Rhea held out her hand. “Just give me the key.”

He stood blinking at her, baby blues wide with innocence behind his glasses, and she thought he was going to keep playing dumb, but he sighed and fished the chain out of his shirt inside his coat and slid the key off.

“You were here last night, weren’t you?” Leo placed the key in her palm. “I had this vague idea I’d spoken to you. I was hoping it was a dream.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny. I kind of...blacked out last night. I should have told you about my problem.”

“What, that you’re a meth head?”

“I’m not a meth head.” Leo took off his hat and tousled his hair, which made him look even more like a meth head. “I...have a dissociative disorder. I usually lock myself in my room when I feel it coming on. It mostly happens around this time of year, after dark. That’s why I try not to be out late. It only lasts a few hours, so I came up with the idea of using timed padlocks.”

Rhea laughed sharply. “That’s the lamest story yet. You’ve gone from ‘a man came in the window’ to ‘I can’t help myself, it’s a mental disorder.’”

“It’s not a story.” Leo stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dopey plaid hunting jacket. “I said a man came in the window?”

“It’s from an old comic routine. Except the guy’s not funny anymore.”

“I see. What did I say?”

“You’re honestly going to stand there and tell me you don’t remember.”

“I don’t remember. I hope I wasn’t rude to you. But I can’t apologize properly if you don’t tell me what I said.”

Rhea curled her fist around the key. “You said you came back to get your hat and surprised a couple of thieves who’d broken in, and they shackled you to the chair.”

“That’s it?”

“Pretty much.” She wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t want to acknowledge the game he’d played with her.

“But I was still here this morning. You didn’t try to cut me loose?” Leo blushed. “I mean, not that I’m blaming you.”

“I didn’t believe you last night—and I don’t believe you now—so I left you to get out of your own mess. And it looks like you did, so I guess your dominatrix came back.”

“Dominatrix?” The slight pink in his cheeks went crimson. “I swear to you, that is absolutely not what happened. When I’m dissociating, I do a lot of weird things, say a lot of weird things. It’s like sleepwalking. That’s why I use the restraints. But there was no dominatrix. I just stayed out too late and didn’t think I’d make it back to the motel in time, so I slipped back in here after you left.”

“And you just happened to have restraints on you. You carry them around.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. I can’t always afford to rent a motel room around the clock, so I usually check out in the morning and take all my belongings with me.” Leo sighed. “Look, I don’t expect you to believe me, and I’m really sorry for anything weird I said or did last night. I’ll have to find some other way to pay you back for the ink.” He went to the door. “But I will. You have my word.”

“Why don’t you just pay for it now?”

Leo paused in the doorway, looking back. “I really only have enough cash to cover the motel.”

“You can clean off the graffiti in the parking lot.”

She wasn’t sure why she wasn’t just letting him go and being glad to be rid of him, but something about his little sob story of not being able to afford the motel room around the clock rang true. She wasn’t buying the dissociative bit, but if he was essentially homeless, it didn’t feel right to toss him out on his ass in the snow. What had he really done, anyway? Used the key she’d given him willingly to let himself into her shop after hours and maybe got kinky with some crack whore in her tattoo chair? Yeah, okay. That was pretty bad. But he hadn’t done anything to her, and he hadn’t robbed her. So that was something. Sort of.

Leo was still staring at her, uncertain.

“I mean, if you want to prove you’re not some kind of creep, you can at least work off your debt.”

He nodded emphatically. “Sure. Absolutely. Just point me in the right direction.”

“There’s a bucket of cleaning supplies in the bathroom. I’ve had to do this a few times already. These damn kids keep coming back and tagging things.”

Leo nodded, looking like an eager pup, and fetched the supplies.

“The lot’s down the back stairs. Paint’s on the wall next to the red MINI. You’ll see it.”