Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

aren’t any phones in the lair.”
    “A computer, then?”
    “What do you need?”
    “My partner, Mac, is in trouble and—”
    “Not anymore.” Blue eyes fixed on her, Myst stroked the back of G.M.’s head. “Rikar left an hour ago…at nightfall…to go get him.”
    Closing her eyes, Angela said a silent thank-you. Mac was safe, but even as relief sent her sideways, she wondered whether Rikar going after her partner was a good idea. Probably not. Especially considering Rikar’s track record. She’d gone into McGovern’s in great shape, for pity’s sake, looking for a glass of Cran-Raz, and come out one memory light of a full load.
    “Rikar won’t hurt him, will he?” He’d better not. Otherwise she’d find some 9 mms to go in her Glock’s empty magazine clip.
    “Nah, I don’t know what happened exactly, but the plan is to bring Mac back here. Which means…we really need to get moving before my mate and the boys get home.”
    Angela blinked. “Mate?”
    “Bastian. I’m mated to him.” After tossing her a grin, Myst headed for the door on the opposite side of the room. “Sounds crazy, I know, but I love him, so staying with him is a no-brainer…the best decision I’ve ever made.” Pausing at the exit, her expression went from lighthearted to serious as she glanced over her shoulder at Angela. “The only thing that bothers me is leaving Tania. I miss her so much it hurts.”
    Angela nodded, remembering Tania from when she’d hauled her into the precinct for questioning. “She misses you, too.”
    “You talked to her?”
    “We interviewed her when we couldn’t find you.”
    “Is she all right?”
    “Yeah,” she said. “Pretty determined to find you, though.”
    “Crap.” A pained look on her face, Myst shook her head, battling the sudden threat of tears. “I’m dying to call her, but it’ll only make things worse. A catch twenty-two, you know? If I contact her, she’ll try harder to find me. It wouldn’t be fair to pull her into this world, so it’s better if I disappear. But it’s killing me that I can’t let her know I’m all right.”
    “I hear ya,” she murmured, understanding Myst’s dilemma. Damned if she did, damned if she didn’t…such a nasty place to be. Which meant it was time to change the subject before Myst got weepy-eyed again.
    Angela cleared her throat. “So…you live here now?”
    “New home. New life. But here’s the real kicker.” Cupping the baby’s bottom with one hand, Myst patted her stomach with the other. “New baby on the way, too. How’s that for a trifecta of holy crap?”
    “Game. Set. Match,” Angela said. “The win goes to Ms. Munroe.”
    She laughed. “Pretty much.”
    “What else should I know?”
    “Rikar’s important around here. Well, actually…all of the guys are, but your male is Bastian’s best friend and first-in-command of the Nightfuries.”
    Your male . Just two words, but wow. They packed a punch. One that left Angela breathless for all the wrong reasons. Fighting the backward slide into the Kingdom of Stupidosity, she concentrated instead on the last bit of intel. Bastian’s go-to guy. Nothing like being informed of that by the man-dragon himself. Jeez. Rikar didn’t have a collaborative bone in his body. Or any idea what partner meant, for that matter. Angela pursed her lips. Just wait until she got a hold of him. He wouldn’t have a clue what hit him.
    “Can you grab the container on the bedside table?” Halfway across the room, Myst pointed to a blue-and-white metal tin. When Angela raised a brow, her new friend explained, “Cookies for Forge.”
    Skirting the end of the bed, she grabbed the container and hightailed it after Myst. “And we need cookies because…?”
    “To bribe our new inmate.” Shifting the baby, Myst cradled him in one arm and opened the door with the other. Hinges hissed. Metal clicked and…bingo. They were out of the hospital room and into the wide corridor on the other side. “You should know he’s a hard-ass.”
    “Terrific,” she said, thinking of Rikar…the poster boy for hard-ass . “Just what I need. Another one.”
    Ignoring her sarcasm, Myst turned left, footwear flip-flip-flopping against the linoleum floor, sound bouncing off white walls. Spotlighted by twin rows of halogens, the hallway was wide, the ceiling high, not a picture in sight. Plain. Utilitarian. Function over form, just like a hospital.
    “So that’s your plan? Ply him with cookies and