Less than a week later, Mandy arrived in Chicago, where her dragon target lived. Before she’d left Torch Lake, Mandy had read and reread every detail in Russell Porter’s file. She mentally reviewed these details as she made the five minute walk from the subway station to the bar where, according to his file, he liked to spend his evenings.

Russell Porter went by the short form of his name, Russ, and was known to grow belligerent when someone tried to call him Russell. He stood a good head and shoulders taller than the average male, an unsurprising fact since he was a dragon shifter. All of the dragon shifters Mandy had ever seen—and there were quite a few of them on the High Council—were inhumanly tall. Russ was, according to his file, no exception. Mandy could also expect him to be unusually muscular. The only thing normal about his appearance seemed to be his dark brown hair that matched his dark brown eyes. Mandy chewed her lip as she walked, calling up a mental image of the blurry headshot that had been attached to his file.

He was handsome. Too handsome. He was never going to be interested in a Plain Jane like herself. Especially a Plain Jane with zero flirting skills. In fact, Mandy had mentioned this fact to her equipment specialist in Recovery Logistics, only to be greeted with laughter. She felt her cheeks turning red at the memory. After the equipment specialist had given her all of the standard stuff for a tame dragon recovery job—a secure mobile phone for making emergency calls, a suitcase of cash for bribing reluctant dragons, and a special invisibility cover for her magic ring, Mandy had asked, as nicely as she could, how the hell she was supposed to seduce Russ.

“Isn’t there anything else?” she’d asked.

“Anything else?” the equipment specialist repeated. “What else do you want? We’ve given you all the standard equipment, and you know you’re allowed to dip into the cash to make reasonable purchases of items you think will help you bring the dragon back to Torch Lake.”

“Right, I know that. But…I was told I’m supposed to use my, uh, female powers of persuasion on this dragon. Shouldn’t there be some sort of training on how to do that? Or, at least, some sort of special outfits or perfume…”

He looked at her like she was crazy, but then must have decided she was telling a joke. “Ha, good one. Seducing a dragon? Haven’t heard that one before.”

“No, that’s what I was told to do. I’m serious.”

He winked at her. “Sure you are.”

And that had been it. Now, as Mandy walked toward the bar where she hoped she would find Russ, she wondered for the umpteenth time why no one had bothered to inform the equipment specialist of her orders to seduce the dragon. Perhaps they’d thought he wouldn’t understand, anyway. He was used to doling out cash, electronics, and, occasionally, weapons. Not exactly the stuff of seduction. So Mandy had taken things into her own hands, and used some of the money she’d been given to go shopping for a sexy outfit.

At least, she hoped it was a sexy outfit. Her normal uniform of jeans and a button-down plaid shirt was about as far away from sexy as you could get, so she’d allowed the saleslady at the department store to give her advice on what to buy. Mandy had let the women talk her into the slinky, black spaghetti strap dress she was wearing right now, as well as a new purse—a chic cross-body clutch in which it had been nearly impossible to stuff both her wallet and her standard-issue emergency phone. She’d refused to give in to the pressure to buy a pair of sky-high heels, and had compromised on a pair of overly glitzy flats that made her feel somewhat like a clown. The saleslady had assured her that these flats were all the rage in Chicago this summer, but Mandy was beginning to have her doubts about that. She’d been in the windy city for two days and couldn’t remember seeing the ridiculous glitter shoes on anyone else.

But, she figured, what did she know about fashion? About as much as she knew about makeup, which is why she’d also allowed the nice lady at the makeup counter this afternoon to add enough makeup to, in Mandy’s opinion, fully complete the clown effect her shoes had started.

Mandy sighed as she turned onto the street where the bar was supposedly located. At least, if nothing else, she knew she was good at acting confident. And that was the most important thing in attracting a man, right? Acting confident? Well, perhaps that and showing a little boob, depending on the man. Mandy sighed again. She hoped Russ was the kind of man who would be good with confidence. She’d rather not stoop to flaunting her cleavage. In fact, the very thought of doing so filled her with anger. The High Council always had their reasons, sure, but she just couldn’t believe they would demean their female employees this way.

“All’s fair in love, war, and dragon recovery, I suppose,” Mandy whispered under her breath. Then she looked around the street in confusion. Had she taken a wrong turn somewhere? She didn’t see anything that looked like a bar. She was in a residential area, surrounded by brownstones. She didn’t see any other people around, although she could hear loud voices on the main street a few blocks away. Perhaps she’d read the address wrong.

Mandy squinted down at her phone, navigating to her email so she could double check the address. She looked at her GPS and confirmed that she had entered the right street name and number, but she only saw houses up ahead. Her frown deepening, she started walking further down the street. The street numbers were rising, and she should be getting close, but there was no bar in sight. She wished she could use her magic powers to find the place. A simple locating spell would have instantly shown her where the bar was. But she was under strict orders not to use magic unless she found herself facing a life or death emergency. After the war, the rules about unauthorized use of magic had been tightened even further. Mandy gritted her teeth and kept peering at the street numbers in the fading evening light.

And then, she saw it. Just past a large row of privacy hedges, which seemed ridiculously out of place in this city neighborhood, a small neon beer sign graced the door of what must have been a house at some time in the past. The front of the building looked like all the other buildings on the street, except for that small beer sign. As Mandy walked up to the door, she saw that there was a small wooden sign just above the beer sign that said “The Token Tap.” The sign wasn’t even lit well enough by the neon beer sign to be legible from the street, and Mandy rolled her eyes.

“This place needs some help with their marketing efforts,” she said aloud. Then, after taking a deep breath and adjusting her dress, she pushed the door open.

The place was empty, except for the bartender, and Mandy felt her heart drop. She’d chosen to come in on a Tuesday night in hopes that things would be quiet, but she hadn’t wanted them this quiet. According to Russ’s profile, he came in almost every night. Leave it to her to come on the one night he decided to stay home.

Mandy briefly considered turning around and walking right back out the door, but the bartender had already spotted her.

“Howdy,” he said, looking away from the television and raising an eyebrow as he looked her up and down. Mandy knew with one hundred percent certainty in that moment that the glitter shoes and clown makeup had been a horrible choice. This was the type of bar where her normal jeans and button-down plaid would have been a much better choice. But she was already here, and already dressed in her clown getup. She’d have to make the best of it. Maybe it was a good thing, after all, that Russ wasn’t here tonight. She could try to get some intel from the bartender, and come back another night wearing normal clothes. She pasted a brave smile on her face and strode confidently toward the bar top.

“Evening,” Mandy said as she hopped onto an uneven bar stool. She let her eyes quickly take in the three beer options on draft. They were all local brews, and she decided to try out the IPA. “I’ll take the Goose IPA.”

The bartender nodded and moved to fill a mug for her. While he worked, Mandy took a closer look at the place. The dim lighting made the room appear smoky, even though smoking was only allowed outside. The bar had about seven barstools, and only one rickety wooden table in the corner. The rest of the small space was filled by a pool table and a giant juke box. This was definitely Mandy’s kind of place. It made her strangely happy to know that Russ also liked unassuming dive bars. At least if she had to flirt, she would be flirting with a guy who had good taste in drinking holes.

“Five bucks. Cash only,” the bartender said, setting the beer down in front of Mandy with a thud.

Mandy reached into her clutch to awkwardly dig out her wallet and some cash. “Slow night, huh?”

The bartender eyed her suspiciously, as though she had just asked him a trick question. Then he shrugged. “Same as any other Tuesday, until you walked in.”

He turned his gaze back to the television, which was playing a local news program. Mandy got the feeling that she wasn’t going to get much intel out of this guy. He was perhaps the least friendly bartender she’d ever met. Or maybe he didn’t want to talk to a woman who looked like she belonged in a swanky club instead of an unassuming dive bar. Mandy cursed whoever had listed the Token Tap as a “happening Chicago spot” in Russ’s file. Then she cursed herself for trusting someone else’s research. No doubt a quick Yelp search would have been enough for her to realize that this place wasn’t exactly what one would call “happening.”

Mandy took a long swig of her beer, which tasted delicious, and contemplated whether she should take another stab at conversation with the bartender. She had just opened her mouth to speak, though, when the front door of the bar creaked open. She closed her mouth and turned in her barstool, catching her first in-person glimpse of Russell Porter.

He was even taller than she’d expected him to be, and his thick muscles pressed against the sleeves of his t-shirt. He looked even handsomer in person than in his picture, and Mandy felt a strange tingling sensation rush through her stomach. Embarrassed by the sudden emotion, she looked down quickly—only to catch a glimpse of her stupid, sparkling shoes. She groaned inwardly. She had reason to be embarrassed, alright. She would have given anything in that moment to be wearing comfy jeans and a t-shirt, like Russ.

“Russ, my man. How’s it going?”

The bartender, suddenly friendly, reached over the bar top to give Russ’s hand a hearty shake.

“All’s good,” Russ said, settling into a barstool two seats away from Mandy. “I’ll take the usual.”

Mandy watched as the bartender filled a mug with the same IPA she had ordered, and she felt irrationally proud that she had chosen the same drink as Russ’s “usual.” At least she’d done one thing right.

Russ and the bartender started discussing a story on the news about a crooked Chicago alderman who’d been caught embezzling money. Mandy took the opportunity to gather her thoughts. She’d been caught off guard by how strongly Russ’s presence had affected her. She hadn’t expected to be so attracted to him, but that attraction was a good thing, right? It would make the job she had to do easier.

Mandy took another long sip of her beer and tried to listen to the conversation Russ and the bartender were having. She needed a good jumping-in point, although finding one in a discussion on local politics was proving a bit difficult. Before she could think of something to say, the door to the bar creaked open again. Mandy swiveled in her chair to see a group of three men, dressed as casually as Russ, walking into the bar. They were regulars, as evidenced by the way the bartender greeted them by name. Russ also waved hello and asked one of them about how someone named Stacy was doing. This must have been some sort of inside joke, because the question was followed by roars of laughter from everyone. Mandy felt decidedly out of place, but that feeling was about to get even worse. The door creaked again, and another group walked in. Then again, and again. Over the next fifteen minutes, the Token Tap went from virtually empty to standing room only. Everyone except Mandy was a regular, and none of the regulars seemed to even notice the crazy girl with glitter shoes and too much makeup who had invaded their midst. Mandy wondered whether she should leave and try again on another night, when she was better prepared to fit in with a crowd like this. She was about to slide off her barstool and slink out the door when the barstool next to her was vacated and Russ suddenly sat down beside her.

“This seat taken?” he asked.

Startled, Mandy shook her head no.

“Good, because those bozos down there forced me to move over. They want to sit together so they can make out all night. Young love, I tell you. Must be nice.”

Mandy glanced at the “bozos” Russ was referring to. A man and his girlfriend, who looked to be about the same age as Russ despite his calling them young, were snuggled up close on their two barstools. The man gave Russ the finger, and Russ gave it right back. Then the two men both burst into laughter while the woman rolled her eyes at them.

“What are you drinking?” Russ asked, turning his attention back to Mandy. “You can’t have an empty glass in here. House rules.”

“Uh, the Goose IPA,” Mandy stammered.

“Joe! Two more for me,” Russ yelled. The bartender gave him a thumbs up and then went to fill two fresh mugs.

Mandy took a deep breath and settled into her seat. Looks like she’d be staying a while. Perhaps her night wouldn’t be a waste, after all. Maybe she could still find a way to impress Russ and get started on convincing him to come back to Torch Lake.

A few moments later, the bartender set down the two mugs in front of Russ. Russ slid one over to Mandy and held his up for a toast. After they clinked their glasses together, Russ took a long sip before setting the mug down and tilting his head in Mandy’s direction.

“So, you’re not from around here are you?” he asked.

Mandy took another deep breath. Time to get to work.