Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

SIMON

I hadn't expected Van to call so soon.

I'd thought I'd have time to get to know Ogden a little better. To talk to him. To kiss him some more. To have him try on some more of my clothes.

Instead , Van called an hour after we'd left Doc Roberts and said he'd been able to pinpoint where the abductors were monitoring the tracking device. I suspected magic was involved, but Van didn't elaborate on how he knew all that. Less than thirty minutes after the call, we were on the road. And now, it wasn't even lunchtime, and we were already seeing signs for Aspen Bay .

When I'd heard my brothers talk about Aspen Bay —and The Drunken Drake strip joint, in particular— I'd imagined it was a long way from Willow Lake . I don't know why I thought that, since they could go there and be back in an evening. But , in my mind, I'd built it up as some place other .

Arriving at Aspen Bay not too long after leaving Willow Lake didn't seem right. Aspen Bay sounded exotic to me—like it should have a bunch of fancy hotels along the waterfront with fancy patio restaurants overlooking the water where fancy colorful drinks came with fancy little paper umbrellas. Instead , from the outskirts of town where we were, Aspen Bay looked a lot like Willow Lake , which looked a lot like every other small rural town. There was nothing inherently exotic about it at all.

I was a little disappointed, to be honest.

It was probably strange to feel happy about that disappointment, but it was nice to feel something other than my escalating anxiety. Because , seriously, what was I doing here? Why had I insisted on coming? And what the H E double hockey sticks could I do if something happened?

Not much, that's what.

This was not the behavior of someone who valued their nine. But I wondered if I was starting to value Ogden more. And wasn't that confusing? How could I have existed one way my entire life and have it all upended in such a short amount of time?

He was so… relaxed. If he could face his abductors with such calm, I could too, right?

Ha ! What a bunch of lies.

Except I wanted to be there for Ogden . Protect him as best I could. Somehow . I didn't want to let him down. And that meant channeling big cat energy. Fake it until you make it, right?

Says the guy who is freaking out over holding someone's hand.

Because I didn't know what to think about Ogden holding my hand the entire trip, either. I didn't hold hands with people. It was… weird. Not unpleasant, but not overly comfortable either. Although the discomfort had more to do with me worrying about my palms sweating or if I was squeezing too tightly or if I'd wreck the moment if I let go—just for a second—so I could change the angle of my hand.

Dillon was in the passenger seat, giving directions to Van , and coordinating with the local police department. I was in the back seat with Ogden , trying to pretend I wasn't losing my mind. We didn't go into the town. Instead , we turned down a gravel road just before the town boundary. Another couple of police vehicles turned down the road to follow us. Based on what Dillon was saying, those were the locals.

" We're almost there," Dillon said, watching a screen on the laptop he was holding.

Were they serious about trying to track the tracker right now without having any other discussion or planning or anything ? Were they actually planning to—gulp—raid the place? Today ? Right now? Shouldn't we wait for, I don't know, a SWAT team or something? The mere thought of it had my cat wanting to take over and hide under the seat.

" Close enough to be in my backyard," Ogden muttered. " The holding facility must be close too."

I scanned the landscape for a building that looked evil. Wait , could buildings look evil? Regardless , nothing I saw screamed "the bad guys live here."

" Slow down," Dillon said. " There ."

He pointed to an old shack on the edge of a farmer's field. The small wooden structure looked ready to collapse under the next big wind.

" Damn ," Ogden said. " That's not where I was held. I should have known it wouldn't be that easy."

" Let's see what we find," Van said. He pulled the SUV to the side of the road. He and Dillon both hopped out. " Stay here."

I expected Ogden to argue, but he didn't. We watched in silence as Van , Dillon , and the local police officers stormed the building.

They came out empty-handed a minute later.

Ogden slipped his hand out of mine and jumped out of the vehicle before I could stop him. I raced after him, ready to pull him away if necessary. I clenched my hand, wishing it still held his. As much as I'd worried about it, it'd been nice to have that physical connection.

" What ? What did you find?" Ogden demanded.

Both hellhounds' eyes blazed with fire. Dillon's nostrils flared. " It's a machine. Looks like it uploads information to the cloud."

" A dead-end?" Smoke and sparks spluttered out of Ogden's mouth and nose. He looked surprised at what he'd done, then he looked relieved. I wondered what that was about.

" It isn't the smoking gun we were hoping for, but we know more than we did," Van said. " Aspen Bay is collecting evidence. Hopefully we'll get some fingerprints. The equipment still has serial numbers, so we might get a lead there too. We'll pack up everything and send it to the SC . They have a hacker who might get more information from it, IP addresses and what not. "

Ogden scowled at the shack, as if he could scare it into coughing up more clues.

" Hey , Van ?" a local officer called out as he approached.

My first impulse was to look away and pretend I didn't see them. If I didn't look at them, maybe they wouldn't look at me. I knew it was stupid, but my mind did random stuff like that sometimes. Being surrounded by so many police officers made the back of my neck itch. Not that I'd ever done anything to get on the wrong side of the law—well, except for keeping the whistle, I guess. I shouldn't have done that. Oh , and then there was the inflatable tube man incident. I shouldn't have done that either.

Holy Magic , maybe I really was a criminal.

Mama would be so disappointed in me.

I swallowed. Hard . Maybe everyone would be so focused on the tracker and such that they wouldn't notice me. A cat could only hope.

I sniffed the air to get more information about the new arrival. He was a shifter. That was better than human police officers, so I relaxed… just a little. I mean, I still didn't like being surrounded by so many police officers, but at least everyone was a supe. Supes didn't look at petty crimes the same way that humans did, or at least that's what Clive and Warren always said. I hoped they were right.

But when the officers narrowed their eyes at me as they sniffed the air too, I was right back to maximum anxiety levels again. I swallowed hard and fought the urge to hide behind Van and Ogden .

" What's up?" Van asked.

" Since you drove all the way over here to Aspen Bay , do you want to come with us to The Drunken Drake ?"

" You haven't been there yet, Norbert ? What the fire and fury have you guys been doing?" Ogden demanded, swinging his scowl toward the officer, who he obviously knew. I guessed that made sense. Aspen Bay looked about the same size as Willow Lake and everyone in Willow Lake knew who Van was. Ogden set his hands on his hips in a way that reminded me of Mama when she got pissed at us kittens.

" Oh … Oggie . I didn't see you there." The officer grimaced.

Oggie ? Really ? Why did this guy have a nickname for my dragon?

" Why haven't you been there yet?" Ogden demanded.

" It was locked up tighter than dragon's hoard—uh, no offence," the officer said.

" Wesley was supposed to give you access."

The officer shook his head. " We haven't been able to find Wesley Scott since Van called us about him last night."

" Damn it," Ogden muttered. " Then we should definitely get over there."

A few minutes later, we were in downtown Aspen Bay . The place could easily have been mistaken for downtown Willow Lake .

" So this is it?" Van asked from the front seat once he'd parked.

" Yes ." Ogden leaned forward in the back seat of Van's SUV to peer up at the red brick building. I wished I could tell from his face what he was thinking. The uncertainty did nothing to abate my rampant anxiety.

I studied the building as if it could give me answers. The massive two-story structure had five storefronts facing the street, with The Drunken Drake taking up one end. I couldn't tell if the second floor held offices or apartments. Did Ogden own the whole place or just The Drunken Drake ? Either way, it was impressive.

Van looked at us through the rearview mirror.

" You ready for this?" Van asked.

" Of course." Ogden nodded as he slipped out of the truck. He beckoned for me to follow. " Come on, kitty cat."

I was moving toward him before I even realized what I was doing, scrambling across the seats to go through his door and get to him as quickly as possible when I'd had my own door right beside me. Before I could overthink my actions, Ogden smiled at me like my eager response to his wish made him happy, and that made it all okay. Anything I could do to put a smile on his face right now was a win.

The officer who'd talked to us at the shack arrived next. He and a couple of other officers joined us on the sidewalk.

" We didn't introduce ourselves earlier," the officer said. " I'm Inspector Norbert . You can call me Peter . And this is Sergeant Glover and Constable Keats ."

After a quick round of introductions, everyone looked at Ogden . Since the new officers didn't ask questions, I figured Van must have already briefed them.

" Shall we?" Van asked .

" Follow me," Ogden said with a nod.

Ogden had arrived in Willow Lake with none of his clothing or possessions. I hadn't thought about it until now, but how would we get in if he didn't have his keys?

He led us around the side of the building to a narrow walkway between The Drunken Drake and its neighboring building, which appeared to be a secondhand store of some kind. Toward the back of the building, there was a nondescript door painted the same color as the wall. At some point, it had probably been red, but was fading to a dull salmon pink now.

I glanced around for a welcome mat or a hollowed-out rock that might hide a key, but Odgen went straight to the door. He touched a nondescript brick beside the casing. I couldn't believe it when the face of the brick swung open to reveal a hidden compartment with some kind of high-tech security pad thing. I'd never seen anything like it outside of movies.

Of course, Ogden wouldn't have something as simple as a key.

After Ogden tapped in his code and swiped his finger over a shiny black square at the corner of the mechanism, a machine-like hum told me something was happening, which was followed by a small green light flashing on the pad. Something clicked.

" Good . Everything is as it should be." Ogden grinned as he twisted the door handle.

He beckoned everyone inside to a small landing. To the right was another door and in front of us was a steep set of stairs going up to the second floor .

" Let's go this way," Ogden said, opening the door. " My office is down here. We can collect the security footage first."

The door led to a dark narrow hallway with another couple of doors along its length. Ogden stopped at the first door. Once again, he tapped something into a pin pad and scanned his finger. As soon as the door opened, though, Ogden gasped.

Van shoved him aside, right into my arms. He and Dillon charged into the room, while the Aspen Bay police officers crowded around us in a protective stance. Unable to curb my curiosity, even though it warred with my carefully nurtured need to preserve my nine, I craned my neck to peer over the officers' shoulders so I could see what was going on. Someone had trashed the place. Furniture was tipped over, papers were strewn everywhere, and paintings were ripped from the walls. I may not have known Ogden long, but I knew this was not his doing. He was too particular to leave his office in a shambles like this.

" Clear ," Van said a few seconds later. Their search hadn't taken long because the office wasn't much bigger than the galley kitchen in my tiny apartment. " Ogden , can you come in here?"

Ogden pushed through the others and stepped into the room. He pressed his hands to his chest as if it pained him. Scales rolled out over the backs of his hands and up his forearms, betraying how close to the surface his dragon was.

I followed at Ogden's heels, desperately wishing I could draw him into my arms and haul him out of here. Hadn't he been through enough? Except I knew he wouldn't want that. Not right now. He'd want to find whoever had made him a target.

" I take it you didn't leave the room looking like this?" Van asked.

" Of course not," Ogden snapped. A few sparks and a curl of smoke exploded from his mouth to punctuate his words. Then he muttered something in a language I didn't know and rushed to a painting on the floor. The canvas had a bunch of small holes, as if someone had repeatedly stabbed it with a pen.

" Don't touch anything," Van commanded.

Ogden stopped and spun around to face the hellhound. His scowl was fierce. Scales covered every bit of his exposed skin now. His eyes had transitioned to his beast's. He looked angrier than Mama had when Clive and Warren hitchhiked to the coast because they wanted to see if fish straight out of the ocean tasted better. They'd only been fourteen.

I ducked down to make myself a little smaller. Ogden wouldn't hurt me. I just knew he wouldn't. But I didn't want to get accidentally caught in the middle of something if my dragon went after the hellhound. Then I watched to see what would happen next.

Ogden was absolutely gorgeous like this. We'd been under the moonlight the last time I'd seen his scales, so I had paid little attention to them. Okay , so I'd also been convinced he was going to take one of my nine, so that'd been a bit distracting too. But they were beautiful— he was beautiful.

Most of his scales were blue, reminding me of the flowers in Mama's garden. She always called them Bachelor Buttons . I remembered the name because I couldn't imagine anyone I knew—man or woman—wearing a button that looked like that. His scales had a slight ridge that caught the light and appeared to change color, making them switch from the darkest navy to the palest sky blue. They had a soft sheen that made them look like polished leather. Scales like that weren't for decoration; I bet they'd be nearly impenetrable, which might come in handy if he went for the hellhound.

" We'll see if we can get some prints off it," the hellhound said, not intimidated by Odgen's anger.

" That painting is worth more than your annual salary," Ogden said. " Keep that in mind when you do whatever you are going to do to it."

My eyebrows rose. What was something like that doing in this dingy office? And wasn't it destroyed now? By the look Ogden was leveling at Van , though, he seemed to think it could still be saved.

" Is anything missing?" Van asked.

Ogden huffed as he waved his hand at the mess. " I have no idea."

Van frowned but said nothing.

" The art pieces were the most valuable things in here," he said as he scanned the jumble on the floor. " There was this one and… Oh , there it is." He pointed to the corner of another gilt frame peeking out from under a bunch of paper. " There is the other. I don't know why someone would do all of this and not take the paintings."

" Unless they didn't know their worth," Van said.

" The security footage?" one of the Aspen Bay officers asked from the hallway. " You said that was in here too? "

Ogden pointed to the corner of the room. Van pulled on latex gloves, then started sifting through the mess in the corner to unearth the security system. It only took a moment to realize it wasn't there.

" So that's what they were after," Dillon said.

Van shook his head. " I don't think that was all, though. It would have been easy to come in and grab that without causing all this…" Van gestured to the room. " They were looking for something. The question is whether or not they found it."

" Or they were just angry," Dillon suggested quietly.

" Who has access to this room?" Van asked.

Ogden sucked in a deep breath. " Only me and Wesley ."

One of the Aspen Bay officers— I couldn't remember which one was which—called his office to check if they'd found Wesley yet. They hadn't.

" We'll come back and process the office, but let's check out the rest of the building first."

On the ground floor, where the lounge was, everything looked like what I imagined any other pub or restaurant would look after hours. Chairs were up on the tables. Little stoppers were in the keg taps. Glasses and liquor bottles were all lined up on the shelves. Except for a guitar, mic, and amp, the stage area was empty. Seeing everything tidy and clean calmed Ogden . His scales slowly disappeared from his forearms.

Ogden kept an apartment upstairs, so after we checked The Drunken Drake , he led us up there. At first glance, it looked normal. But when he growled "that little fucker" and a puff of spark-filled smoke streamed out of his mouth, I knew he didn't agree.

" He's been up here," Odgen snarled. The scales were back. " In my home. Using my things."

" Let's not jump to conclusions," Van warned, but I didn't think Ogden heard him as he stomped through his apartment, going from space to space.

The apartment was enormous, a much larger footprint than The Drunken Drake . It took me a minute to figure out it must extend over all the businesses on the ground floor. Most of the living space was open and airy, with an industrial edge. A living room, although that label didn't seem quite right for a space like this, ran along the front of the building, with a kitchen and dining area toward the back. On the far side, there were a couple of doorways, which must lead to a bedroom and bathroom. Large windows faced the street and light streamed through them, making the space warm and cozy. Enticing squares of sunlight lit up the polished wood floors.

What a great place for a nap.

Except I wasn't here to nap.

I forced myself to look away from the sunlight. The exterior brick walls were all exposed, as were the shiny metal ducts overhead. An ornate spiral staircase in the corner led to the roof. And throughout the space were pieces of art I suspected were as expensive as the ones in Ogden's office. But instead of just paintings, there were sculptures and colorful glass pieces and bold tapestries and more in a profusion of color and texture and shapes and sizes of all kinds that I would never have thought would go together, but they did. The space was beautiful and chaotic and unexpectedly cozy all at once. And thankfully, none showed any damage.

I wanted to stop and look at everything—walk the perimeter of the room, maybe rub my scent on a couple of things—but Ogden wasn't stopping, and I needed to be with him. He marched through the living room and disappeared through a wide threshold. I darted after him, as did the officers.

It was his bedroom.

The bed linens were rumpled, but even in this state they looked expensive with fancy embroidered detailing and soft-looking fabrics—much nicer than the bed-in-a-bag set I had on my bed. I sniffed, expecting a rush of his scent, but getting a whiff of… a stranger and sex and… I growled and the tiny hairs on the back of my neck lifted.

Did Ogden have a lover? He would have said something, wouldn't he?

I looked to him for answers and found him fuming, literally, as he stared at his bed. His hands were fisted at his side and his skin rippled to show scales before receding back to human skin, only to ripple into scales again.

" Ogden ," I whispered as I approached him. " We'll catch him."

I slowly reached out and wrapped my hands around his clenched one. His eyes snapped to mine.

" Wesley slept in my fucking bed, Simon . He fucked someone in my fucking bed." Smoky steam and sparks blasted out of his mouth with each word.

I swallowed. Should I tell him we could cover the bird shifter's scent with ours? Should I tell him we could burn the bed and bedding and forget this ever happened? Or should I drag him away from here and not stop until we were safely tucked in my bed, far away from this place? I didn't know, so I gave up on finding the right words and pulled him into my arms.

He vibrated against me, but he let me hold him. Then I did everything my mama always did for me when my brothers were jerks to me. I petted his back in long, smooth strokes. I rubbed my chin on the top of his head, coating him with my scent. I pushed myself to purr, to soothe away some of his anger.

Van and the others kept back and let me calm him. I supposed no one wanted an angry, out-of-control dragon on their hands.

When he finally leaned into me and pushed his face into my neck, I sighed with relief. We stood that way for a few minutes before Ogden patted me on the back, signaling he was ready to face everything again. I broke the hug, but I grabbed his hand in mine. He entwined our fingers, so I hoped that meant he was happy to have me there with him.

He didn't look at the bed again.

Instead , he pulled me toward an opening in the corner of the room. It led to his closet. The room was larger than my bedroom and lined with one of those expensive built-in closet organizers I thought only existed in show homes. When Ogden saw a small heap of clothing in the middle of the room, where it looked like clothes had been tried on and cast aside, he tightened his grip on my hand, but he didn't stop or comment on it.

When we reached the back wall, he glanced over his shoulder at Van and Dillon , who'd trailed after us .

" Give me a minute," he said. " I need to check my hoard."

They nodded and left us alone in the closet.

" Should I …?" I pointed to the door to the bedroom.

Ogden squeezed my hand to the point of pain, and I guessed that was my answer. I wasn't going anywhere. Then he pulled open a drawer filled with folded lacy underwear arranged in a rainbow of colors. My eyes bulged, and I glanced toward the bedroom. I moved to block the view just in case anyone snuck a peek inside. No way was anyone else seeing his underwear, not if I could help it.

Ogden reached inside the drawer with his free hand. I didn't know what he did, but another panel swung open. He fiddled with it to open another. And then another. Finally , whatever he'd done made something click on the corner cabinet. Ogden led me toward the corner.

" Sorry , kitty cat," he said as he pushed me against one cabinet and pressed his body flush against mine. " I designed this for one person, not two."

I was about to ask what he meant, but then we were spinning. When we stopped, I realized the cabinet had turned like a revolving door and dumped us into a vault full of, well, everything. Unobtrusive lights cast the windowless space in a warm glow. The room was massive, easily the size of my apartment. One wall alone was dedicated to wines, carefully stored in a fancy refrigerator type thing that looked like it belonged in an expensive restaurant. Another wall had floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with vinyl records. Artwork was stowed in beautifully crafted storage racks. But it was the jewels and coins that took my breath away. The only surface that didn't glitter with them was the floor. It was a room fit for a king… or a dragon.

I gaped.

Ogden narrowed his eyes and studied the room. The tension in his shoulders eased. " I don't think he found it. But can you give it a sniff, love? Just in case. Your nose is better than mine."

I nodded and did as he asked.

" I don't smell him in here."

" Thank the Eternal Magic for that," he muttered.

He dragged me to one of those long fancy couches you see in historical dramas and pushed me onto it. Then he crawled into my lap, straddling my legs with his. My arms came up automatically to hug him. He leaned forward and pressed his face into my neck again, as if breathing in my scent calmed him.

I hoped it did; I wanted to do that for him.

I didn't know how much time passed before he lifted his head. It seemed like hours, but if it'd been that long, I thought Van would have been pounding on the wall by now. Although maybe he was. This place looked like it could withstand almost anything, so maybe it was soundproof too.

" I'd imagined you in my hoard."

" You did?"

" From the moment I met you." Ogden smiled. " I wish we could spend the rest of the day here. I want to drape you in jewels, cover you in gold, and then fuck you until we pass out."

My cock plumped at the image he painted. Ogden rolled his hips forward, and I realized he was hard too. I slid my hand to the back of his neck and drew him down until our mouths met. His lips and tongue and wet heat consumed me as we lost ourselves in the most erotic kiss of my life. Each time our lips joined, it got better and better. My other arm wrapped around him and pulled him even closer.