Sam moved a step back. "How's Alex?"
"His neck looks really bad. Boris almost got his jugular but, thank God, he didn't. He's upstairs asleep. Well, actually he's doped up pretty heavily. I need to go check on him in a little while. Why don't you come with me?"
"Sorry, but I can't. I just came to say good-bye. Bogie sprained his ankle and needs some help with a runaway dragon up in Colorado. I leave in a couple of hours."
Nic was anything but pleased. He had planned to celebrate in private with Sam tonight, off and on as he kept checking on his little brother. He also didn't like the thought of her chasing a fire-breathing dragon around the Rocky Mountains.
"If Bogie can wait a day, I'll go instead—or get my brother Gregor to go," Nic volunteered.
"Thanks but no thanks." Nic's concern cheered her, but then Nic was nothing if not loyal to friends and family. Sam didn't want to remain a friend; she wanted desperately to be his family.
"Sam, corralling dragons is dangerous business."
"Not when you know what you're doing," she retorted. "And I do."
"Let me guess. Dragon psychology?" Nic guessed, his tone stiff with disapproval. Sam always lived on the edge, trying to chase and capture creatures who wanted to eat her for lunch as a crispy Paranormalbuster-and-jelly sandwich.
"You betcha. Along with riding lessons since I was eight."
"I should have guessed," he grumbled. "But what can you use on a dragon?"
"I'm surprised you don't know."
Nic sighed. Was she going to start taunting him again? "Dragons were outlawed for years in Russia," he said. "So, tell me, Sam, what scares a dragon?"
"Mice. Just like elephants are terrified of the tiny critters, so are dragons."
Nic snorted. "Come on, Sam—a mouse? A dragon could fry a mouse with one baby breath."
Sam shrugged. "You know that and I know that. Just don't tell it to the dragons."
He couldn't help himself; he threw back his head and howled with laughter. When he finished, he hugged her. "All right, Sam, but be careful anyway. I'd hate to see you go up in smoke."
Leaning over, he kissed her tenderly. Her response was lacking, and so he knew instinctively that something was wrong. His woman was distancing herself by going off to Colorado, physically and emotionally as well. "I'll go with you to the airport," he decided.
"No. You stay here in case Alex needs you."
"Well… call me from Colorado," Nic suggested forcefully, watching her eyes. "And be very, very careful."
She looked at the floor. "I'll try, but cell reception isn't great in the Rockies."
Before a protest could form on his lips, Forest sauntered up, placing a possessive hand on Nic's arm. Sam gave the vampiress a look that would have felled a redwood. Then, narrowing her eyes at Nic, she glanced back and forth between the two and remarked caustically, "Yeah, be careful yourself. You never know when there's a monster hanging around waiting to gobble you up."
Sam walked out of the room, her head held high, her eyes flashing, but left the field to Forest.
Who You Gonna Call?
Sam had just finished showering and dressing when her Uncle Myles arrived home from closing the bar. Her mind was on Nic, and on the odd flight from Colorado. Deciding she'd needed to think of something else—anything besides Nic, Nic and more Nic—she'd decided to watch the television monitor on the plane. They had been playing a cooking show, and guess who'd taken center stage? The galloping ghostly gourmet, Chef Jules—and he really was cookin' with his guest, some guy named Ramsey! At least he'd seemed happy. But that had made her wonder if all ghosts were so lucky. Were they luckier than she?
"Sweetheart," Myles said, his eyes glinting cheerfully. He hugged her. "You got back early."
Kissing his cheek, she managed a smile.
"Good to have you home, doll. How did the dragon hunt go?"
"He's back in his silo. Bogie's still in Colorado, finishing up the paperwork and instructions on how not to have a runaway dragon again. He should be back tomorrow night—if he doesn't get sidetracked by that pretty brunette dragon trainer."
Myles nodded. "I was surprised to hear of Bogie's sprained ankle. He didn't say anything to me about it," her uncle stated suspiciously.
"Hmm," Sam mumbled. Her pet goblin, Zeuss, came up and rubbed against her legs. She distractedly petted his soft striped fur.
"Sam, what gives, doll? Could it be that Strakhov fellow?"
"Could be," Sam replied, a slight smile on her face. She had been gone three and a half days, and in that time she had received over fourteen calls from Nic. A person might call to check on a friend four or five times in a period of less than four days, but fourteen meant more than friendship. It was her job to make sure Nic realized that.
"Nic came by yesterday," Myles remarked. "Said to tell you Alex is fine, but he's not." Her uncle was watching her shrewdly.
"I see." Sam could be the master of understatement when she chose to be.
"Said you hadn't answered any of his phone calls. I told him your cell phone must not be working up in the mountains."
"You know how cell reception is in the Rockies. Not good," she added, not really addressing her uncle's curiosity.
Sam had thought and thought, and now she knew she'd been a trifle hasty in leaving Nic without talking to him about their feelings for one another. A showdown was coming, and she wanted to pick an okay place to corral him.
"He and I had a long talk. I know he's a Russian werewolf prince," Myles went on.
Sam was surprised. "You don't mind me jumping species?" Zuess stretched out by the fireplace; his feet stuck straight up in the air.
"Nah, doll. Didn't I ever tell you about the time I fell in love with a beautiful little werelynx? She had the prettiest golden hair," her uncle reminisced. Sam grinned.
"I have to admit, Nic's a good Joe," Myles continued. "He's crazy about you. You could do a lot worse, sweetheart. Remember, doll, that life is easy—it's the living that's hard. And if you find love along the way, grab it with both hands."
Sam was overcome. "You know what? I love you, Uncle Myles."
"Of course you do. What's not to love?" he replied. He lit a cigarette. "Nicky boy also said to tell you that werewolves prefer blondes."
Sam's grin split her face from ear to ear. "Well, blondes—or at least this blonde—prefers black-haired wolves." She grabbed her coat and raced for the door. Chasing a fire-breathing monster through snow-capped mountains gave a girl time to think. Nic loved her and she loved him. This was as complex as she chose to make it. Therefore, she would make it simple.
"Where are you going?" Myles asked.
"To go play some piano at the bar," Sam replied. Opening the door, she headed out into the night.
"But Nic said to call him the minute you got in," her uncle warned. His eyes were twinkling. Young love was a sight to see, and he was glad to be around to watch Sam find her man, even if it was a wolfman. Species didn't mean jack.
"I'm counting on you to do just that," she replied. She shut the door, laughing.
Myles picked up the phone to call Nic, a big smile on his face. His niece was back in Dodge, but she was no longer dodging Nic. And maybe this town was big enough for the both of them.
All Through the Night
"Of all the gin joints in all the world, he had to walk into mine," Sam remarked smugly. She stopped playing "As Time Goes By," her fingers easing off the piano keys. In the emptiness of the bar, deserted as it was, she'd heard the door open and shut. With a loud click, the deadbolt slid into place.
Nic grinned as he appeared. He walked over to her, his step cocky. Sam was a sight for sore eyes, with her long blond hair hanging sleekly down her back, and her tight rear end encased in those faded jeans.