Another day, another dollar . . . or in his case, tens of thousands of dollars.

Drake Evers leaned against the balcony’s iron balustrade and surveyed the panoramic view from his mansion atop Blood Mountain. Deep satisfaction settled within him. It wasn’t exactly happiness—that had been lost to him after the death of his mate a decade ago—but he took pride in his financial accomplishments. His twin girls would be set for life, and not just financially. The remoteness of this Appalachian fortress would shield them from the world ever discovering their draconic nature.

It had certainly served him well. And if at times he was a bit lonely, so what—it was a small price to pay. Speaking of money, it was well past time he returned to business. He hadn’t amassed a fortune sitting on his ass and admiring the view. Sunup to sundown, he traded in the stock market and oversaw various ventures.

Drake entered the house, ignoring the housekeepers and security guards who roamed within. They had their jobs, he had his. He didn’t pay them to chitchat and be his friends. At the end of the hallway, he entered his office—his sanctuary. A massive mahogany desk sat in the center of the room, and the burgundy walls complimented glass shelving that held his gold coins and gem collections —rows of fire opals, rubies, sunstones, ambers, orange citrine and other crystals in every possible hue of orange and red, which captured sparks of fire in solid form. The largest, and most rare, was an inclusion-free ruby the size of a buckeye. Dubbed the Heart of Courage ruby, it was a powerful, ancestral talisman.

It filled something deep within him to see the physical evidence of his wealth. And there were other treasures as well, all safely locked in a basement vault beneath his mansion. He walked across the plush carpeting and settled into his leather chair, all set to acquire more wealth. There could never be enough.

Loud, rapid footfalls sounded from the hallway, and he frowned. It had to be either Ruby or Daphne—his staff wouldn’t dare make such a commotion. Seconds later, the door burst open.

Ruby stood in the doorway, her long red hair in tangles, her blue eyes wide with fear. For someone in a hurry to convey news, she sure was quiet. And Ruby was anything but quiet.

Drake quirked a brow. “You needed to speak with me?”

She nodded, but remained silent, chewing on a nail—always a sign she was nervous.

With an effort, he checked an impatient retort. For some reason, his daughters seemed a bit intimidated by him, although he’d never given them cause to fear him in the ten months since they’d moved in. The sixteen-year-old girls had been unexpectedly thrust upon him. Indeed, he hadn’t even known of their existence until one of his past . . . paid companions, to be polite . . . had died, and her attorney had notified him that he was named their guardian.

He wasn’t displeased with the news. Not at all. But they befuddled him at every turn with their endless chatter and giggles and questions.

“Out with it, Ruby,” he said at last, striving to keep his tone mild.

“It’s, it’s . . . Daphne.”

“What about her?”

“She’s, um, gone.”

“Gone?” Drake stifled the frisson of fear in his gut and pressed an intercom button on his desk. Charles Stanley, his security chief, would find Daphne pronto. “Come to my office at once,” he ordered when Charles answered the summons, then turned his attention back at Ruby. “When did you last see your sister?”

“Last night. And then”—Ruby drew a deep breath— “and then this morning, she wasn’t in her bed.”

Despite the dozen guest bedrooms, the twins had elected to share a room. “She probably got up early and is strolling the grounds.”

“No, Papa.” Ruby lifted a small piece of paper in her trembling hand. “She left this.”

A whirring exploded between his ears as he slowly rose. Three long strides, and he grasped the paper from Ruby.

“Yes, sir?” Charles asked as he entered. He wore the chinos and black polo shirt emblazoned Dracon Enterprises, LLC that all the guards sported on duty.

Drake didn’t acknowledge the greeting as he read the short note twice over.

Dear Sis, I’ve eloped with Adam. We’re in love and starting a life together. Please don’t try to find us. I’m sorry to break the news this way, but I was afraid to tell Papa in person. I’ll be in touch soon. Promise. I’ll miss you, Ruby. P.S.: Please take care of Squiggles for me.

So she mentioned her damned hamster, but not him? The sharp jab of pain in his chest surprised him, but that wasn’t important. The issue was to find Daphne. For heaven’s sake, she was only a kid. She knew nothing of love and danger.

Without comment, he passed the note to Charles, then asked Ruby, “Who is this Adam?”

She backed away, biting her lips.

“It must be Adam Wingate, sir,” Charles spoke up. “A new guard on our security team. He only started a few weeks ago.”

Drake glared at his chief. Fire burned in his belly, and an acrid taste of smoke scorched his mouth and lungs. Careful, take it easy. It wouldn’t do to rain down smoke and fire and compromise his secret. “Get his contact information. Now!” he growled.

“Yes, sir.” Charles hesitated at the doorway. “Shall I call the police as well?”

And invite a barrage of reporters to his home? That wouldn’t do. Way too risky. Besides, nothing indicated foul play. This would be treated as a runaway teenager case. “Not yet. Get a move on it. Find Adam. I want my daughter brought home immediately.”

The next couple of hours were a maelstrom of men frantically searching Daphne’s room and the grounds, while more of the team made phone calls and searched the Internet, trying to track down information on the couple’s whereabouts.

Not a clue, not a trace to be found. Drake stood on the balcony. To think that just a short time ago, he’d stood in this same spot and reveled about the safe and secure haven he’d built. Pride goeth before a fall.

“How would you like us to proceed, sir?” Charles asked from the doorway.

“Just keep looking.”

In the meantime, he knew what he had to do. Drake brooded on who he had to meet again after all these years. The one woman who might be able to help.

Tansy.

Damn it to hell. But much as it would suck facing the witch for help, Daphne’s well-being came before his pride.

Drake returned inside and grabbed his car keys.

“Where are you going, Papa?” Ruby flew at him, hanging off his arm. “Did you find her? Can I go with you? Please?”

“Absolutely not,” he barked. At the sight of tears filling her eyes, he softened. “Be a good girl, okay? I can’t handle any more trouble today.”

“I won’t be any trouble. I’m not a kid,” she insisted.

Sixteen and thought she had all the answers. Ah, youth. “My decision’s final.”

With that, Drake left her behind. From his underground garage, he pulled out in his Hummer and set his GPS. Too bad it wasn’t nighttime. He could fly the hundred miles in minutes. But without the cover of darkness, flying was out of the question.

The twisting backroads it was, then. Drake sped down the mountain as fast as he dared, and then hit the country road that lead to Hickory Hollow. Ninety miles later, he slowed the Hummer as he drove through downtown, which consisted of little more than a general store, a gas station, and one home-style cooking restaurant. He turned right on a badly-paved road riddled with potholes. That’s where it got tricky. The GPS was of no use once he left the main area of town.

But he’d find Tansy. He’d been to this cabin many times before, although it had been years. Drake scowled at the memory of his last visit. He’d practically begged the witch for another chance, and she’d turned him down without even hesitating a second. Paved asphalt gave way to a dirt lane, barely wide enough for his Hummer to pass. He jostled along, searching for familiar landmarks.

A curl of smoke spiraled up behind a copse of birch and pine. This was it.

Drake pulled his Hummer up to the cabin. It was small, but well-built and attractive. Potted plants dotted the shaded porch, and a well-tended vegetable and herb garden sported clumps of rosemary, pumpkins and cabbage. It all seemed so . . . cozy.

He exited the Hummer, squaring his shoulders. He was here on a mission to find Daphne and bring her home before some gold-digging con artist ruined her life. His personal feelings about Tansy be damned. In the last couple of decades, she’d probably aged considerably, as humans did. He must be prepared for wrinkles, a thickened waist, and a sensible bobbed haircut. Quickly, he tamped down an image of a twenty-two-year-old Tansy, her wild black hair framing a white pillow as he poised above her, ready to claim the naked body that writhed beneath him, begging for release.

Hot damn. This wouldn’t do at all. Drake used his considerable power of self-restraint to instead picture his runaway daughter, hell-bent on throwing her life away, falling for some scheming bastard who would use her and break her heart. He marched up the porch steps, impatient to get on with the awkward meeting. A few uncomfortable moments, and then they could keep matters on a professional level. He’d pay her well for her services and then, hopefully, never see her again.

He lifted a hand to knock, but the door creaked open a microsecond before his fist landed.

Tansy stood before him, looking as delectable as she had when they were young adults just discovering their sexuality. Her figure was slim, her hair longer than he’d remembered, and the slight crinkling at the edge of her eyes only lent her a more striking beauty.

“Drake,” she said flatly. “Never expected to see you again.”

Did he imagine it, or did her blue eyes darken in a way he well remembered as a sign of passion? In a flash, the deep hue disappeared, and her mouth slightly compressed into a pinched line. “Why are you here?” she asked.

“You don’t know? Shouldn’t you be able to detect the reason without me having to spell it out? I thought that’s what witches did.” The bitter dig escaped his lips, bypassing the careful barriers he normally used to shield his emotions.

“Same old Drake. Charming as always.”

He hadn’t meant to antagonize Tansy. Truth was, he needed her.

“Let’s start over, shall we?” he said. “I’m in need of your tracking expertise. I’ll pay you well for your time, of course.”

“I’m busy.”

To his astonishment, the door snapped shut. How rude. He wasn’t used to such abrupt refusals. Normally, people clamored to do business with him and curried to his every whim in order to gain favor. But then again, he’d never before needed to hire a witch. They were a whole different breed. He’d do well to remember that fact.

Undeterred by her rudeness, he banged sharply on the door again. Silence echoed back, seemingly mocking his efforts.

The witch would listen to reason. If Tansy located Daphne, he’d pay more than she’d ever earned doing piddly spell work for her coven and any other mountain folk brave enough to venture to her cabin. He’d bet the cops didn’t pay her at all when she assisted on missing persons cases. Tansy had developed quite a reputation helping the police. The news media always referred to Tansy as a psychic, but those closer to her knew she practiced witchcraft. It was surprisingly accepted, as most had a granny or aunt versed in Appalachian folk magic.

Drake straightened his shoulders. The key was to be firm, but polite. He’d handled thousands of business deals with this approach—negotiation was his strong suit.

“Tansy?” He twisted the doorknob and stuck his head inside. It smelled earthy, like dried herbs. She stood across the foyer at the kitchen stove, her back to him. “Tansy, I need to speak with you.”

Her sigh traveled the distance between them, gusty in her exasperation. She turned and gazed stonily at him, hands on her hips. “I told you I was busy.”

“Just hear me out. All I ask is a minute of your time.” Surely, once she learned a teenage girl was lost, she’d soften. At least, that’s what the old Tansy he’d known would have done.

“State your business.”

He stepped into the foyer and closed the door behind him. “I want to hire you to cast a locator spell. My sixteen-year-old daughter, Daphne, is missing. I’ll pay you three times your normal rate.”

“A teenager, you say?” A spark of the woman he remembered showed in the softening of her set features.

“Sixteen. And making the biggest mistake of her young life.”

“She’s run away, then.”

“Yes.” He withdrew Daphne’s note and crossed into the kitchen, holding it out for Tansy to read.

After a moment’s hesitation, she took the note and silently read it before meeting his gaze again. “Headstrong. And a foolish thing to do.” Tansy handed him back the slip of paper. “My bet is that your daughter returns home in a couple days, hanging her head low and begging your forgiveness.”

“You can’t know that. She might have been forced to write this note and leave with this character. He means to use her, I’m sure of it. Adam Wingate’s been working in our home as a security guard for the last three months. My guess is that he hired on with the intent to extort money from my corporation. In Daphne, he found an opportunity. What better way to get to me than to prey on the emotions of my vulnerable daughter?”

Indecision wavered in Tansy’s eyes. Time to thrust in one last jab at her sympathy. This wasn’t easy for him. Drake drew a deep breath.

“Please.”