Dragons Wild

“We got along well enough, I guess,” he said cautiously. “It’s the first time we’ve really sat and talked, you know. Of course, he didn’t need an ‘escort’ to get me to talk to him.”

“Yes, yes,” the senator said, leaning forward impatiently and ignoring the younger man’s dig. “What I want to know is whether or not you’ve signed on with him.”

This was getting just too bizarre. Griffen decided that he wanted to draw this discussion to a conclusion.

“No, I haven’t,” he said. “Frankly, I found Uncle Malcolm too unorthodox for my comfort.”

Langley sat back and stared at him.

“Unorthodox?” he echoed. Then a smile warmed his face. “Oh. I see. You mean about the dragons.”

Griffen frowned at him. Was the whole world going crazy?

“Yes. I guess that was it,” he managed. “And please don’t tell me that you’re one, too. I’ve heard enough about dragons for one day…if not for a lifetime.”

The senator blinked, obviously startled.

“Me? No. I’m not a dragon. Some of the principals I represent are, however. They’re very interested in…”

“Senator,” one of the bodyguards said.

Somehow he managed to crowd both an admonishment and a warning into the one word. Griffen made a hasty revision of his interpretation of the relationship between the senator and his two escorts.

“Well, the less said about that, the better,” the senator said hastily. “For both our goods.”

“Excuse me?” Griffen said, now totally confused.

“Nothing, nothing.” Langley smiled, regaining his composure. “So, you turned Mal down, eh?”

“Well, actually I told him I’d think about it,” Griffen said, “but I’ll admit I just can’t see us working together.”

“Only one to a hill, eh?” the senator said. “I guess that’s wise. Courageous to the point of being foolhardy, perhaps, but wise nonetheless. Well, I guess that answers my questions. Don’t want to take up any more of your time. I believe this is your hotel.”

The limo pulled smoothly over to the curb in front of Griffen’s hotel.

Griffen was starting to have a few questions of his own, but it was clear the discussion was at an end.

“Right. Well, it was great meeting you, sir,” he said, reaching for the door handle.

“Just one thing, Griffen…if I can call you that,” Langley said. “A friendly word of advice. Get used to hearing about dragons. They aren’t going to go away just because you don’t believe in them.”

It wasn’t until Griffen had almost reached the entrance of the hotel that it occurred to him that the senator had never asked where he was staying. He had already known.

Pausing, he glanced down the street in the direction the limo had gone.

It had stopped a half block away. The door opened and one of the “bodyguards” emerged to stand beside the vehicle. Though he carefully did not look at Griffen, his posture was unmistakable to one who knew how to read people. His pose was calculated, threatening, and quite possibly lethal. He held the pose for a moment, then stuck his head back into the limo, apparently conferring with someone inside. He straightened and stared directly at Griffen for a long moment, then reentered the vehicle, which then moved off.

Despite the day’s warmth, Griffen felt a sudden chill, as if he had just had a close call with an unseen, but no longer unknown danger.

Four

Mai looked like a doll and ate like a cannibal.

Even though she was second-or third-generation American, her Asian ancestry apparently yielded strong enough genes that she could have walked into a role inThe Flower Drum Song or maybeThe World of Suzie Wong . She had that tiny, athletic physique one normally associates with gymnasts or dancers, and radiated enough energy to power an entire city block. Her dress and manner were pure American, though, and she exuded a rich, sophisticated aura that brought boutique clerks out of their comas and had any four-star restaurant head waiter snap to attention as if she were slumming royalty.

Griffen loved being with her, if for no other reason than her dominating presence meant that he could give his sincere naivety pose a rest. No one even looked at him when he was with her. More than that, he enjoyed her company. Even now, watching her demolish a whole lobster, he took pleasure in her boundless enthusiasm.

“What is it, lover?”

Her sudden question roused him from his reverie.

“Excuse me?” he said, caught off guard.

“You were looking at me with a funny expression,” she said. “Have I got something stuck on my nose again?”

“Not this time,” he said, smiling at the shared memory. “I was just trying to figure out how you can stuff so much food into such a small body and not gain any weight.”

“I’m a high-energy person and I burn off a lot of calories,” she replied, negligently waving a forkful of lobster. “You know, kinda like a hummingbird. If I don’t eat a couple times my weight every day, I shrivel up and die.”

“That must be it.” He smirked, watching the lobster disappear into the depths of her tiny mouth.

“You certainly aren’t eating much,” she said, prizing another morsel of lobster from its shell. “Anything bothering you?”