Chapter Two
Nicodemus Wilde stood in front of the large window in the living room of his penthouse suite at the Bellagio and peered out at the lights of the Las Vegas Strip. He should be sleeping, but he was too restless.
He swore and turned away, momentarily wishing he were back at his isolated home in Arizona with his brother Darius and his woman.
Nic was a fire drakon—the result of a mating of a human woman and a dragon who had visited briefly from another dimension more than four thousand years ago. He was as at home in the heart of a volcano as most people were in their living rooms.
Drakons were powerful, but they did have an enemy. The Knights of the Dragon, a group dedicated to controlling or destroying dragons. That’s what the Knights called them, not really knowing or caring about the difference between a drakon and a dragon. They were also the reason why Darius and Sarah were lying low at Nic’s desert home.
Nic picked up the remote and thought about turning on the television, but tossed the remote back down on the coffee table. He wasn’t in the mood. Honestly, he just didn’t care.
And that was the problem.
He raked his fingers through his hair and wandered back to the window. The sun was already peeking over the horizon. The start of a new day.
He’d spent the day since his arrival back in the city gambling. He’d quit once he was up enough to cover his room and expenses. Best to not get greedy and attract attention.
But the high he used to get from gambling was gone. It was all the same to him, whether he won or lost.
The ennui had been enveloping him for the past hundred years. His brothers had noticed as well. Nic had countered the condition by seeking out new people and places, new experiences, anything that might stimulate his senses and keep him interested in the world around him.
Nic, more than any of his brothers, understood why some of their kind fell into what was known as the Deep Sleep. Drakons who no longer wanted to live in the world took themselves off to remote places and simply lay down and fell asleep. Eventually, they turned to stone and became a part of the landscape, lost to the world forever.
Nic shivered and placed his hand on the glass, as if he could absorb the life-giving heat from the rising sun. He didn’t want to turn to stone but feared that day might come. No one knew if the drakons were truly dead or if they would someday rise again.
He couldn’t do that to his brothers. They would mourn him for eternity and blame themselves.
Hell, he wouldn’t put it past them to find him and drag his stone ass back to one of their homes and keep him in their living room like a giant ornament.
In spite of the seriousness of the situation, he smiled. Tarrant, he decided, would be the one who would spearhead the operation and keep his stone body in his home. He loosened his tie and shrugged out of his jacket. He needed to do something different today. Gambling had lost its luster, but collecting hadn’t. Collecting and hoarding were in his blood due to his dragon heritage.
Nic was passionate about everything. He loved art of all kinds—painting, sculpture, ceramics, weapons, and metalwork. It didn’t matter to him as long as it was beautiful.
As soon as he’d arrived, he’d alerted every antique shop he’d dealt with before, letting them know he was in the city for a few days. Several had already made contact, listing items they thought might be of interest to him. But the most intriguing was from Mario Gonzales. He was a small-time dealer who’d sent a text, hinting he might have something special for Nic to look at later today. That was something to look forward to, something to help keep the Deep Sleep at bay for one more day.
He stripped off his shirt and toed off his shoes and socks. Wearing only his pants, he ambled into the bathroom and stared at his reflection. His hair was black and fell to his shoulders. His eyes were black, his lashes long. His skin was an olive tone.
His gaze fell to the tattoo that bisected his chest and ran down his left arm. It covered the entire left side of his body from neck to ankle. The intricate swirls were deep red in color and outlined in black. A drakon’s tattoo and the color of his eyes always reflected what kind of drakon he was.
He’d been considered exotic and beautiful his entire life, but the one person who should have loved him, who he’d done everything to please, had cast him out of her life, banishing him to the desert to die. He rubbed his hand over his jaw and hardened his heart. His mother was long dead, her human body nothing more than dust in the desert sands. But her rejection of him still hurt.
“Get over it,” he told his reflection. He turned away and stepped into the tiled shower. After breakfast, he’d go check out the local antique malls and thrift stores to see if he could find something to keep his interest for a few hours. But first, he’d pay a visit to Mario Gonzales.
…
“You’re leaving early.” Abigail poured herself a cup of coffee and yawned.
Constance hadn’t slept much last night and was already on her second cup. “I figure I can catch Mario before he opens his store.” Their grandpa’s friend was an early riser. She knew he’d be in his shop long before it opened.
“You’re really going to do this.” Abigail detoured by the refrigerator and helped herself to a vanilla yogurt.
Constance shuddered. She liked coffee and she liked yogurt, but not the combination. “I figure it’s better to know what the statues might be worth. He might even know someone who wants to buy them.”
“He’ll want a broker fee.” Her sister sat on one of the chairs at the table and pulled her feet up on the vinyl seat. She put her mug down and reached for Constance’s coffee spoon, using it to scoop up some yogurt.
Neither of them was under any illusions about Mario. He might have been their grandpa’s friend, but he was a dealer at heart, which meant he was all about the find and making money. “Of course he will. But I trust him to be honest with me about the value. If he’s going to get a cut, he’ll want top dollar.”
Abigail nodded. “True. I’ll just be happy when those statues are gone.”
She agreed with her sister. “Mrs. Karsh bought three of the perfume bottles, and I already sold another one online overnight. Sold some of the china, too.” She’d listed that not really expecting to sell it so quickly.
“Excellent.” Abigail helped herself to another spoonful of yogurt. “Mmm.” She swallowed and waved the spoon in front of her. “I got a check from the gallery while you were away. Two of my larger prints sold.”
“That’s wonderful.” Constance was thrilled. Her sister had real talent, capturing evocative images within and outside the city. A tiny local gallery sold signed limited-edition prints. Besides her photography, Abigail also worked with vintage fabric, repurposing and upcycling it into clothing, pillows, and other items.
“You coming home after you see Mario?”
She shook her head. “I’m going to see if I can unload the furniture I bought first. I’ve already boxed up the sold items, so I’ll stop at the post office while I’m out. Then I’ll be back. I want to get the rest of the items from my trip listed.”
“Good enough.” Abigail downed her coffee and popped out of her chair, her earlier sleepiness already gone in her excitement about the coming day. That was her sister, always bright and cheery. “Have you eaten?”
Constance raised her mug into the air.
Abigail gave a snort of laughter. “Contrary to what you believe, coffee is not a food group. Pick something up while you’re out.”
“Yes, Mother,” Constance promised. They both grinned and laughed. They tended to mother each other, no doubt a result of being raised without one. She pushed away from the table and downed the last of her coffee. It was almost cold, but it was still coffee.
As she headed to the workroom, she went over her mental checklist once again. It would be another busy day, but that was how she liked it. She collected the wooden statue with the sapphire eyes, leaving the others locked away in the safe. Then she made a quick detour to her bedroom to grab her bag and a heavy sweater to combat the early-morning chill.
It was quiet on the street this time of the morning, but she knew the city was humming just beyond. She climbed into the van and said a silent prayer it would start, totally pumped when it did.
She backed out of the driveway and headed toward the downtown area. Every time she had to pause at a stop sign or a light, she found herself glancing at her bag, drawn to the statue tucked inside.
Funny that she hadn’t had that reaction when she’d first found it. But the longer she was around the statues, the more they bothered her. They were inanimate objects, yet there were some powerful vibes coming off them.
She’d be glad to sell the darn things and be done with them.
She pulled around to the back of Mario’s shop and turned off the engine. Everything went silent. A cold shiver raced down her spine. “Now you’re imagining things,” she muttered. Grabbing her bag, she got out of the van and locked it behind her.
She went straight to the back door and pounded on it. The air was cool, not surprising for January, but there was already a hint of warmth in the air. She tugged her sweater tighter around her and pounded on the door again.
“Hold your horses. I’m coming.” There was a small covered opening in the heavy metal door. When it slid open, she waved. “Constance?” The small opening was covered once again. Then came the metal grinding of several locks being undone.
The door opened, and a whipcord lean man wearing jeans and a red button-down shirt stood in the doorway. “I wasn’t expecting you until later.” He stood aside and waved her in.
She stepped into the darkness and had to blink to allow her vision to adjust. The back room was crammed full of stuff that only Mario knew how to access. It might look like a jumbled mess to others, but she knew from experience he knew exactly what was there and could put his hand on it in a split second.
“I need your opinion on something.” There was no point in beating around the bush. “If you know a buyer who might be interested, I’ll give you a finder’s fee.”
He shut the door and turned several locks and threw two deadbolts. “It’s not hot, is it?”
She gave him an exasperated frown. “Of course not. I bought it free and clear at an estate sale. Just gives me the willies is all.” That was something Mario would understand. Anyone who bought and sold vintage or antique items for any length of time knew there was something not quite right about some objects.
He rubbed his hands together and led her through the maze of shelves and boxes to his desk in the corner of the space. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Now that the moment was at hand, she was almost reluctant to show him, which was ridiculous. It was why she’d come. She set her purse on the desk and dug down to the bottom where the statue had settled.
She drew the small bundle out of her bag and slowly unwrapped it. Mario turned on a lamp, creating a circle of light right in the center of the desk. The wood seemed warm, almost hot, and the sapphire eyes seemed to glitter.
Mario gave a low whistle when she set it in the center of the desk. “Now that’s different.” He lowered his head and studied it for a long moment. “May I?”
She nodded. “Sure.” She wrapped her arms around her body to keep from grabbing the statue and running out of the building. Why did she suddenly want to protect it?
Mario settled into his chair and carefully picked up the small dragon. His fingers were short and tanned, with several nicks that hadn’t healed. Even though he was old enough to be her grandfather, his hair only had a touch of gray. He bent over the figure of the dragon, muttering under his breath. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a jeweler’s loupe and studied the eyes.
Constance shifted her weight from one foot to the other, getting more and more anxious as time passed. “Well?” she demanded.
Mario slowly lowered the loupe and set it aside. The wrinkles that fanned out from the corners of his eyes seemed deeper. “Those eyes are sapphires.”
“Then they are real?” Abigail had said they were, and now Mario was confirming what she hadn’t allowed herself to believe.
“They’re very real. This is a beautifully executed sculpture carved from a single block of teak and decorated only with the two sapphires. They’re big. I’ve never seen real ones that big before.”
He set the small statue back on his desk. “You got it at an estate sale?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Do you know anyone who might be interested in buying it?”
He rubbed his chin and slowly nodded. “I’ve got two buyers who might be interested. One is local, and the other is in New York.”
“Go with the local one first.” The faster she could get rid of the thing, the better. Mario nodded and reached for his phone. “You’re going to call him now?” That was surprising.
“Yup. I texted him last night after I got your message. I knew if you were bringing me something to appraise, it would be special.”
“Okay. That’s good then.” The glittering eyes seemed to be looking straight at her. She moved to the other side of the desk, and darned if the eyes didn’t seem to follow her. She knew it was a trick of the light, but it was unnerving all the same.
“Mr. Wilde, this is Mario Gonzales. I have a dragon statue I think you may be interested in.” He rattled off his phone number with instructions to call. Mario had obviously gotten the man’s voicemail. “He’ll call,” Mario assured her. “He always does.”
That left Constance with the problem of what to do with the darn thing until this Mr. Wilde called. She didn’t want to take it home only to have to bring it back, but she didn’t like the idea of simply leaving it here, either. She began to wrap the dragon back up in the packing paper.
“What are you doing?” Mario asked.
“Wrapping the statue up for transport.”
“You’re not going to leave it?” Mario frowned.
“No.” She had no idea why. It’s not like Mario would run off with it. But something in her gut was screaming at her to take it with her.
“At least let me take a couple of pictures to send to the client if he expresses interest.”
She slowly stopped wrapping the statue and put it back down. He was right. Any potential buyer would want pictures and an accurate description. She waited patiently while Mario snapped photos and took meticulous measurements. As soon as he was done, she rewrapped the statue and shoved it back into her bag.
“Call if you hear anything?”
“You going home?”
Constance shook her head. “Not right away. I’ve got a few stops to make. But if you get a buyer, call me. I’ll come back no matter where I am.”
“Good enough.” He walked her to the back door and unbolted the locks. She breathed a sigh of relief when she finally stepped outside. The sun was higher in the sky, and the world was coming alive.
Her stomach growled, reminding her she still hadn’t eaten. And since Abigail would be sure to ask if she’d stopped for something, Constance decided to detour into a fast-food restaurant along the way and pick up a breakfast sandwich.
Feeling better now that first contact had been made with a potential buyer, she unlocked the van and settled into the driver’s seat. Mario was still watching her from the doorway. He was shrouded in shadow and seemed menacing, which was ridiculous. She’d known the man since she was a child.
She started the engine and pulled away, aware he watched her until the van was out of sight.
…
Mario wished she’d left the statue with him. It would have made life so much easier. Still, he could manage. Constance might not like him contacting his other buyer, but Mario knew a good thing when he saw it. Both his buyers would want this piece. And when two collectors wanted something, the price went up substantially.
He sat at his desk and pulled out his address book, turning the pages until he found the number he was looking for. It was early here, but later in New York where his buyer lived.
The call was answered on the second ring. “Jeremiah Dent.”
“Good morning, Mr. Dent. This is Mario Gonzales from Las Vegas. I’ve been made aware of an object I believe you might be interested in, but you’re not the only interested party.” Let the negotiations begin.