Wildfire by Mina Khan

Lynn. The dragon odor in the truck
had been heady, but then she’d been smelling them everywhere in Paradise
Valley. Here it was sharp and strong. Either her imagination had run amuck or
there was something wrong with her nose. She tucked hair behind her ear and
cocked her head toward the conversation. Stilled.
    “Thanks. I’ll be expecting your call.” Jack’s strangled
voice intruded. She turned in time to catch him tipping his hat to the men
standing around. Some nodded back grim-faced. Others simply looked through him.
    Lynn almost trotted to keep up with Jack’s long strides out
of the store. Once they walked out into the sunlight, he slowed. A sigh escaped
from him.
    “Sounds like a stripper really is a machine. A troublesome
one at that.”
    “You got that right.” He grinned at her. “Come on, let’s get
that tire fixed.”
    They headed to an air pump located by the shop area. A
comfortable silence settled between them while Jack worked on the tire. Lynn
squatted next to him and watched.
    “So, how’d you get that black eye?”
    The air hose slipped out of his fingers. He grabbed it
before it clattered to the ground. “Those Indians and strippers ganged up on
me.”
    Did the man never answer straight?

Chapter 5
     

The fool woman had ridden a horse to the damn rendezvous.
    Sitting tall and straight on the pale Arabian, in her straw
cowgirl hat, a crisp white shirt and blue jeans, against the backdrop of a
lurid sunset, Kate Harrington portrayed the perfect picture of old money in the
West.
    The dragon master watched the ghost white gelding shift and
snort among the weed-choked headstones and broken angels of the cemetery. She
leaned forward, pressed her body close to the animal, and whispered. One hand
caressed its neck. The horse settled. In one graceful move, she extended a
long, lean leg out and over, and swung herself to the ground.
    He stepped out from behind the cluster of live oaks.
    Kate’s storm-blue eyes widened, then narrowed. Her face
showed no other emotion.
    “Wouldn’t it have been more practical to drive?”
    She looped the reins loosely around a branch. “Wouldn’t it
have been more practical to be an accountant than an arsonist?”
    He smiled. “Touché.”
    “And wouldn’t it have been more practical to meet in a
restaurant than a forgotten cemetery?”
    No. Too many damn eyes and ears. “You wanted a meeting, you
got one. What’s the emergency?”
    Her lips pressed into a prissy line. She took her own sweet
time sashaying forward, stopped a foot away from him. “Your stupidity.”
    The chaos of birds calling out to each other as they raced
to their nests, settled into the trees for the night echoed in the air. He
focused on the raucous calls and released a deep breath.
    “Excuse me?”
    “The first fire was a flop, and the Jarvis fire wasn’t
supposed to happen yet.”
    “What’s it to you? The Jarvis house was damaged enough for
your purposes.” The dragon master flexed his fingers, wanting to wrap them
around her slim, white throat. “Just do your part and sweet talk them into
selling the damn property.”
    “Don’t worry about my part.” She huffed out a breath and
folded her arms. “Do you seriously think people won’t wonder about two fires so
close together?”
    “You’re not my boss. I don’t owe you any explanation.”
    “I didn’t choose to work with you either.”
    “Give them back the money and get out of the deal.”
    Her gaze flickered away as she paled. Adrenaline pumped
through his veins.
    “You’ve spent it, haven’t you?” He pushed closer into her
space and ran a finger down the side of her face. Smelled her gardenia scent
laced with sweaty fear. “You’re up to your neck in this shit, aren’t you?”
    She jerked back. “You’re not my boss and I don’t owe you any
explanation.”
    The dragon master smirked. “Yeah, but I’m the guy they’ll
sic on you if you don’t deliver.”
    She shivered in the cool evening breeze.
    He