Chapter Twenty-Three

NASH

Over the past few days, I’d dreamed of flying with Erin many times. But not like this.

I wanted to shake a fist and yell that at destiny. Not like this, dammit!

Not in a basket in a storm suspended by flimsy material instead of strong, leathery wings. Hell, even in dragon form, I wouldn’t brave a storm like this.

Just wait till we get our claws on Harlon, my inner beast growled.

That was item two on my agenda. Number one was getting Erin out of this alive.

“So, what’s the plan, Captain?” I asked.

“Landing,” she grunted, studying the storm.

That much was obvious. So why wasn’t she bringing the balloon down? We were a good mile past the power lines now.

“Why not there?” I pointed at a clearing.

She shook her head. “Too exposed.”

I gestured over the wide-open landscape. “The whole damn county is exposed — other than the canyons.” I stopped and stared. “Wait. Don’t tell me you’re going to try to maneuver into one.”

She glanced north, murmuring, “Interesting idea.”

My eyes went wide. No, it wasn’t. More like suicide.

Not that that stopped Erin. She studied the twisted, broken hills. “The wind eddies around the mouth of Boynton Canyon. Maybe it will do the same here…” A moment later, she shook her head. “Maybe not, though. I’ll stick to Plan A.”

My pulse only settled slightly. “What’s Plan A?”

She pointed to a low, rocky ridge and dropped her voice. “There’s a hollow just beyond those rocks. It’s not big enough to land in…”

My heart rate spiked. So the allure was…what, exactly?

“…but it’s big enough to drop into and stay put, if I get the timing right,” she finished.

For all my faith in Erin, that sounded like a big if . Also, nuances. Did drop into mean crash ?

I pointed to the clearing. “Wouldn’t over there be better?” It looked a hundred times better to me — but I was a dragon, not a balloon pilot. I could stop on a dime, fold my wings, and take shelter. A balloon remained at the mercy of the wind throughout its entire, sluggish landing.

“No. We’ll get dragged along. Mauled, practically.” She rolled her hands over each other, illustrating what the basket would do — with us in it — if she tried landing there. “The balloon would be wrecked, and we would be lucky to get out alive.”

At that point, the dark, rolling clouds weren’t chasing us any more. They surrounded us like a pack of hungry lions. The dark, swirling masses were so dense, they blotted out everything behind us.

“Desert Skies One, Desert Skies One…” John’s voice came over the radio.

Erin nodded for me to grab it.

“Desert Skies One, over,” I replied.

“Holy crap!” John blurted. So much for maintaining radio etiquette. “You’re crazy. Both of you.”

My dragon grinned. Makes us perfect for each other.

“Ask him if the guests are all right,” Erin said, still focusing on the clouds.

If Madden had still been in the basket, he would have been a blubbering mess. But Erin was cool and calm. Professional, in a word. If we survived this—

When we survive this, my dragon corrected.

—I would make damn sure Henry knew it was Erin who’d salvaged what she could.

“A little bruised, but okay,” John confirmed. “Where are you headed?”

“To the holl—”

Erin cut me off, grabbing the mike. “To the wetlands. No time to talk now. Desert Skies One out.” With that, she clicked off the radio.

“Um…” I started, confused.

She huddled closer, whispering. “No need to announce our intention. Just in case the walls have ears.”

I glanced around the basket. Did she think Harlon had it bugged?

Erin shook her head, pointing to the clouds. “My dad says the wind carries sounds to him. So, just in case…”

I nodded, more uneasy than ever. The average warlock couldn’t mess with things like wind and weather — not on this scale anyway. But there was nothing average about Harlon.

I glanced at Erin, wondering about her father — and her own, subtle power.

She’d started to descend, I noticed. Not by dumping air in big bursts, however. Instead, she’d stopped the flow of hot air, letting the balloon descend gradually. Did she hope the wind wouldn’t notice?

The jagged line of rocks drew swiftly closer, though our path was a zigzag. Dark, cloudy tendrils buffeted the balloon from both sides, toying with us like a cat with its prey.

“Dammit…” Erin murmured, waving a hand to swat an insect away…or coaxing the wind into a more favorable direction?

I tried not to stare, because I doubted she was even aware of it. But the more I watched, the more I was sure she’d inherited some of her father’s powers. Not enough to extinguish the blasts that attacked us from all directions, but enough to nudge them. The balloon’s zigzag turns grew less abrupt as we steadily approached the rise.

“The minute we touch down, jump,” she whispered.

I tapped her shoulder, making her look at me. “Only if you do.” I wasn’t going to try that hanging-off-the-balloon stunt again, and I sure wasn’t going to let Erin’s heroics carry her away again.

And, whoa. Her eyes were glittering. Was that determination or a trace of magic?

She nodded firmly. “Believe me, I’m bailing out this time.” Then she spoke loud and clear, bluffing in case Harlon was listening. “Another mile and we’ll reach the landing point near the wetlands. I’ll stay low to avoid the worst wind.”

Whoosh! The balloon zipped along even faster.

I gulped, looking around. Maybe Harlon really could hear us.

We were so low, the basket scraped over bushes. So low, I feared we wouldn’t clear the rocky outcrop rushing up at us, concealing whatever lay beyond it.

Erin signaled for me to brace for impact.

A few feet later, the ridge dropped away to a deep, crater-like depression I would never have seen coming. Erin yanked the dump cord, then yelped as the wind whipped over the flap, flattening it. I hung on with her, wrestling to keep the flap open.

“Come on…” Erin murmured.

The basket dropped far enough into the hollow to glimpse walls on either side of us. But the balloon rose high above, still exposed to the wind. If we couldn’t dump the hot air fast enough, we would crash against the far side of the crater.

Whack! Every bone in my body felt the impact when we hit bottom. But the shock wave was transmitted to the balloon, which wavered, then toppled sideways.

The space around us was eerily quiet, though the wind howled overhead. Erin was a goddamn genius. But we still had to get the balloon down.

“Hurry! Get it!” she yelled.

In one quick sequence, she twisted the propane valve off, vaulted out of the basket, and started clawing her way up the crater slope to where the balloon wafted. It was starting to fold in on itself, but enough of the fabric remained aloft to act as a sail.

Erin grabbed a handful of fabric and hauled.

“What are you doing?” I yelled.

“We might be able to salvage the balloon if we get in it now,” she grunted, grabbing another handful.

Duck and cover seemed like a safer plan, but hey. Erin was a woman on a mission.

For the next minute, I stumbled, cursed, and yanked, half stuffing, half rolling the balloon into the bottom of the hollow. All that time, the wind blasted by, not yet catching on to our evasive maneuver. Then, with an angry whoosh, the clouds swirled, backtracking to search for us.

“Hurry. Get some rocks to hold it down,” Erin hollered.

Normally, she was a stickler for neat, tidy rolling, insisting we ground crew re-do our work if it was less than perfect. Now, she settled for a bumpy mess — thank goodness.

I moved as quickly as possible, conscious of the swirling wind. Any minute now, it would find us, and I didn’t want to picture the havoc that would follow. Finally, I grabbed Erin’s hand and pulled her away.

“A little more,” she protested, grabbing another rock.

“Not that one—” I started.

Too late. That stone had been holding back several others, and moving it set off a rockslide.

“Shit.” Erin gaped as a huge boulder creaked toward us.

We both froze. The boulder was the size of one of those rideable lawnmowers — and mow down was exactly what it would do to Erin and me.

My mind spun for something in Marine or agency training that could solve this one, because brute force couldn’t fight that kind of momentum.

And, damn. I only came up with one option. One taught by a grizzled, old, crazy-ass badger shifter at the agency. The guy was a mixed martial arts master — the kind who could break three bricks with his pinkie — who loved lecturing us on redirecting an opponent’s energy rather than fighting force with force. I’d seen it work too — once, when he’d tossed a bear shifter twice his size across the room using those principles.

Once. And that had been him demonstrating. The rest of us tried but failed miserably.

All that flashed through my mind in a nanosecond. No time for a better idea. Only action.

I raised my arms. Braced my legs. Sucked in a breath. The rolling boulder blocked out the sky above me while pebbles tumbling ahead of it pinged off my legs and chest.

Ow, ow, ow, and oof!

I reached out, slapping one hand against the boulder before the other.

Absorb the energy. The badger’s voice echoed through my mind. Redirect it.

I was sure the boulder would redirect me , but hell. I tried anyway.

Don’t try, my dragon gritted. Succeed.

I pictured Erin, then Angelina and Harlon, and channeled all those mixed emotions — love, hate, resentment — into my arms, shoving with everything I had.

Correction — redirecting .

And, whoa. If a camera had freeze-framed on that particular moment, it would have caught me as Atlas holding up the globe. At least, that’s what it felt like. Just as heavy, and just as crushing.

But in the next frame, the boulder inched sideways, and farther still in the next. And the next and the next, until I glimpsed sky overhead. The sky was still stormy, but I would take that over staring straight up at a boulder. One last shove with the left side of my body sent the boulder careening to the bottom of the crater. The force nearly sent me sprawling, but Erin grabbed my arm, and I fell beside her.

Rain pelted us as we stared down at the boulder.

“Well, that ought to hold the balloon down,” Erin quipped, though her hands were shaking.

I gulped, then grabbed her hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

We crawled up a gravelly slope. It gave way under us, pushing us back one step for every two in the right direction. Finally, we made it to the top and crouched in the lee of the rocks that had hidden the crater. I feared what might come next. A goddamn tornado?

“This way.” Erin pulled me along that natural rock wall.

We ran at a crouch, a lot like I’d done a couple of times in war zones. The wind continued to roar, and tumbleweeds rushed past. But every step took us farther from the epicenter of the storm.

Thunder boomed in an angry explosion. We dropped flat, though no lightning followed — that, or the clouds were so thick, even lightning couldn’t pierce them. A moment later, we raced off again.

“Great,” Erin muttered as rain started pattering down.

In seconds, it went from a drizzle to all-out, pelting rainstorm. Every drop was a painful projectile. I threw my arm up, protecting my face, squinting to follow Erin. The storm, having failed to locate us, seemed intent on drowning us instead.

“Not far now!” Erin hollered over the wind and rain.

Every step I took sent up a cold splash, and when we turned into a gully and headed uphill, the red soil grew slick and muddy. Still, Erin pushed onward, climbing a steep, rocky slope.

“We’re nearly there.” Heaving for breath, she pointed to a narrow ledge traversing the cliff.

“Are you nuts?” She wanted to head back into the open on a path as treacherous as that?

Yep. She did.

She set off, flattening herself against the cliff while sidestepping along the ledge. Cursing, I followed. The cliff became steeper, higher, and even more exposed. Rain hammered my back, and the wind whipped at my soaked shirt.

After edging along for a good fifty feet, I was ready to give up. But the ledge gradually widened, swung around a bend, and—

I stumbled into a huge cave, nearly barreling into Erin.

“Over here.” She pulled me to the far wall, where we stopped, staring at the storm that raged outside. Water dripped from our bodies to the floor of the cave, pooling around our feet.

“What is this place?” I whispered, looking around.

“Robber’s Roost.”

Whether the name was fact or folklore, it fit. The cave was a huge scoop in the cliff, big enough to house a whole family of dragons. Traces of an ancient cliff dwelling stood against the back wall. The front opened onto a huge, natural window high over the desert, where sheets of rain blew past on a howling wind.

Erin pointed into the gray-on-gray sky, getting me oriented. “On a clear day, you can see Sedona. The highway’s over there.”

I took her word for it, but we might as well have been on a distant planet. Some place like Mars where storms constantly whipped an otherworldly landscape.

We stared out for a while, catching our breath and assuring ourselves we were finally safe. Then we hunkered down behind the ruins to wait.

“Holy shit,” Erin muttered a few minutes later, hugging herself.

I couldn’t agree more.

“You okay?” she mumbled.

I nodded.

She patted my arm. “Nice move with that boulder.”

My chest swelled just a little.

“Nice move with that landing. And finding your way here. And outtricking Harlon…”

I could have gone on for a while there. The woman was amazing.

I pressed close and looped an arm around her shoulders. We were soaked, and the chilly air cut deep. In no time, Erin was shivering.

We huddled as well as we could, sharing our body heat. Even then, it was freezing, especially with our hair plastered to our skulls and wet clothes clinging to our skin.

“I wish I had some matches.” Erin pointed a shaky finger at a fire pit against the back wall — a ring of stones left behind by campers. And, good news — they’d left a few sticks of firewood.

I stood, rearranged the wood, and crouched before it, blocking Erin’s view as best I could. Then I cleared my throat, inhaled, and coaxed up some fire.

More, my dragon insisted, greedy to show off.

I cut off the stream of flames as soon as the fire crackled to life, searing my lips in the process.

Erin’s teeth chattered when she spoke. “Wait. How did you do that?”

I gulped against the sulfury taste in my throat. Spitting fire was much easier in dragon form, dammit.

“Um…” I huddled behind her, partly to avoid her gaze and partly for the warmth. Then I did what every man did when confronted with an uncomfortable topic — I changed the subject.

“Why the hell didn’t you get out of the balloon when you could?”

“Because I had a chance to save the rig,” she said, still shivering.

I held her closer. “You have some crazy priorities, you know that?”

She interlaced her fingers with mine. “You’re the one who hung on to the basket when it took off. What if you fell?”

I’d asked myself the same question during that heart-stopping flight. I could have opened my wings, of course. But with that wind and at such low altitude, I would probably have crashed into the ground.

So, why had I done it?

I closed my eyes, breathing in Erin’s scent.

You know why, my dragon hummed.

Okay, maybe I did. But how would I go about explaining that to Erin? I couldn’t just come out and say, I’m a dragon shifter, not a wolf, and I suspect destiny thinks we’re mates.

My dragon huffed. Who cares what destiny thinks? I know we’re mates.

An extra-strong gust of wind roared outside, and the fire flickered. Erin tensed. “This is Harlon’s doing, isn’t it?”

I nodded slowly. “That would be a safe guess.”

The storm was dissipating, though, or at least moving on. At least there was that — and the warmth of the fire slowly seeping into our bones.

“Sanity check,” Erin finally said. “Should I give Harlon the benefit of the doubt?”

I gave her a look, and she sighed.

“Okay, maybe not. But still… What if Harlon was after one of the passengers?”

“He was after you,” I said as gently as I could. “Or us.”

“Maybe he just wants the balloon company out of business…” she tried, then slumped at my hard look. “Okay, probably not. But, geez. Is he trying to kill us or warn us?”

My money was on kill , but I held my tongue.

“And is he so ruthless, he’s willing to take out a half dozen guests at the same time?” Erin went on. “Plus, what good does it do him to kill me? I only own a third of the ranch. Is he going to come after us one by one?” Then she froze, gripping my arm. “Oh my God. What if he goes after Pippa and Abby next? What if he goes after Claire?”

A split second later, Erin jumped up. The fire mimicked her, crackling with angry sparks.

I stared. What was with Erin and fire?

I grabbed her arm before she stomped outside to give Harlon a piece of her mind.

“Wait. Come on, Erin.” I pulled her back toward the fire. “Harlon could just as well have aimed this storm at the ranch and gone after all of you at the same time. So, maybe this was just a warning.”

Erin huffed. “Just?”

I squeezed her hand. “Bad word choice. Sorry.”

It took ages to coax her back to the fire. I made her sit, then settled down behind her in a loose hug.

“First, we need to warm up. Then, when the storm settles, we’ll head back to town.” Erin gave me a doubtful look, but I insisted. “Harlon can’t keep this up forever. So, we need a plan for what comes next.”

“Oh, I’ll tell you what’s next. My sisters and I march into that overpriced mansion of his and kick his ass,” Erin growled.

I chuckled. “Much as I like the idea…”

She sighed. “Okay, maybe I’ll make that item two. But I swear, that man is going to get a piece of my mind.”

I grinned, picturing her sisters beside her, Pippa with a pitchfork, Abby with a bat. I would be next in line, ready to roast that warlock until there was nothing left but ash.

With a deep breath, I rested my chin on Erin’s shoulder. It wasn’t that simple, and I knew it.

“Can he do that?” Erin’s voice shook with cold and anger. “I mean, can he just conjure up a storm?”

“You tell me,” I murmured, careful to keep my tone even.

She tensed. “If you mean my father, no. He doesn’t go around slamming cities with storms—” She cut herself off, making a face. “Okay, okay, there was that dust storm that hit Phoenix a couple of years back. But that was an accident.” She bristled. “And this is about Harlon, not my father.”

I thought it over, then shook my head. “Even the most powerful warlock can’t conjure lightning or a storm out of nowhere. He can only amplify and redirect forces that are already in motion.”

“Well, he did a pretty good job amplifying,” she muttered bitterly.

I didn’t answer. I just held her while the storm raged outside. The fire crackled angrily for a while, then slowly settled down. Erin’s breath mirrored it — or was it the other way around?

I moved my hands gently over her back, comforting her as well as myself. I kissed her shoulder next, because that was comforting too.

And, oops. Maybe I comforted myself a little too well, because those kisses kept on coming, and I was just along for the ride. They inched closer and closer to her neck, then her lips…

Erin turned in my arms, meeting my lips, and our makeshift fire crackled in a whole different way. Before long, we were swept away by an entirely different kind of storm. One just as unstoppable — and possibly as dangerous — but nothing would hold us back now.