Page 11 of Tempting Her Dragons

“Oh, sure. Let me know when you’re free.”

“Great. I will give you a call.” I’m glad she took the initiative and called. Maybe tomorrow night we could meet. I’m excited to get to know her more.

“Talk later. Have a good night.”

“Bye,” I say, end the call, and twist around. “Not a word,” I growl, pointing my phone at him.

“Did I say anything?” he asks, raising his brows and his eyes crinkle. I roll my eyes and move toward the crowd.

My mind isn’t on the call or the drinks ordered but on my mark for the night; I can multitask.

Maxwell. A forty-year-old man who is on his third wife. He told his family he was going on a business trip, but he lied as he does every day. He owns a second home where he lures his victims. He will be there planning his moves on his newest wife’s daughter. There have been five other young girls he has abused. I’ve seen their pictures and the consequences of his sick acts. He gets what he wants and moves. Changing his name, his appearance, and his wives. The girls are too terrified to say anything. He picks girls who are timid and lack self-confidence. He plays the doting dad, giving compliments, buying them pretty things, and brainwashing them into thinking he is the safe, kind man he portrays.

That’s when he does the unthinkable.

Today will be the last day he lives. He’s in the final stage. He’ll go to his cave, preparing it for his captive.

Sure, I could give all the evidence I dug up to the police and hope they catch him before he does more damage, but things could go wrong. He could get a great lawyer. The girls could be too scared to talk. The people he convinces that he is an upstanding guy could testify for him.

Too many ways he could get off with nothing.

Instead, I’m going to teach him a lesson. The last one he will learn.

“Love the pants,” a guy says. I blink at the table of men in front of me. “You new here?”

I place their drinks in front of them. “Anything else?” I ask. I get it. I work in a bar and should expect a level of flirting. Usually I can brush it off, unless they cross a line.

“Your number,” he smirks.

“Does that work?” I ask with a tilt of my head.

“What?” He smirks and drops his hand to my arm.

“Does that line work?” He stares at me, and I look at his fingers curling around my arm. “I mean, come on. I am serving you drinks. I’m doing my job, not scoping for a man.”

“Fuck, forget it,” he sneers, but his hand remains.

“Look, asshole—” I forgot what I was going to say. My body has frozen as I feel a presence coming toward my back. Two scents. Two men. My mates.

My heart thuds in my ears, and a heat washes over me. I close my eyes and breathe in their delicious dragon scent. One is wild; he smells like fresh air. The other is just as wild but smells like pure leather.

A body presses against my back, his hand treading through my hair, and I drop my head back against his shoulder. I open my eyes and watch his other hand grab the man’s arm and twist it until he releases me.

“No,” he says, bending the man’s arm back. I hear a pop. “No one touches her.” The drunk guy screams and holds his broken arm to his chest.

“What’s your name?” someone asks. I turn my head to the right and see my other mate.

“Saphira,” I say.

“Maverick,” he says. “Kingston is holding you.”

Holy fuck. Maverick has brown hair with blonde streaked through it that brushes the tops of his ears. His blue eyes are piercing in their intensity, watching me carefully. He’s tall but doesn’t tower over me and has just the right amount of muscle. His jeans are worn, as are his boots. He’s wearing a white T-shirt with an unbuttoned black and red flannel over it. My mouth goes dry with the need to touch him. His hands casually slip into his pockets, and his pose is deceptive in its casualness. There is power in his stance.

Kingston’s hand flexes in my hair and I remember I haven’t moved from his arms.

“You crazy asshole,” the customer yells, and we draw attention.

“I’m in the regret stage,” Ryker’s voice cuts through my fog of lust.

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