1303 The Dragonslayer (The 13th Floor)
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Authors: Christine Rains
Table of Contents
1303 – THE DRAGONSLAYER
By Christine Rains
1303 – THE DRAGONSLAYER
By Christine Rains
Copyright 2013
Cover design by Christine Rains Copyright 2013
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes. If you are reading this book and you have not purchased it or won it in an author/publisher contest, this book has been pirated. Please delete and support the author by purchasing the ebook from one of our many distributors.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
OTHER BOOKS BY CHRISTINE RAINS
Fearless
L’il Gal Al and the Zombies of Amarillo
1301 – The Marquis
1302 – The Alpha
DEDICATION
For Brandon,
May you always find the strength to slay your dragons.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Xan missed the shot.
Screams rang out as chaos erupted on the neighboring building’s terrace. Men and women in the finest designer suits pushed each other to the floor to get to safety. They flipped tables and sprang over chairs. Cameras flashed as reporters snapped photos of the assassination attempt.
Attempt. Xan had been a boy the last time he’d missed a target.
Governor Randall Whittaker stood statue still. His bodyguards who had tried to pull him down and away placed themselves in front of him, but Xan could still see the Governor’s face through his scope: hard and cheek twitching where a thin red line marred him.
An inch off. Even from a distance of three blocks, Xan shouldn’t have been off that much.
The Governor’s gaze locked onto Xan. His target’s eyes narrowed as he bared his teeth.
Xan pushed his rifle away, but remained crouched on the rooftop. The bastard had seen him.
He’d remained too long at the site. Unscrewing the scope on his long arm, he grabbed his black briefcase and jammed it in. He ran to the door with the case under one arm, dismantling the rifle. The door was left propped open with a soda can he’d set there. He pushed it outwards with his foot and sprinted down eight flights of stairs.
His weapon was in pieces and tucked away in a hidden compartment of his briefcase before Xan reached the third floor. Straightening his tie, he exited the stairwell and walked down the hall between the offices. Just another lawyer working late and heading home for the night.
In the elevator, Xan took in a deep breath and let it out with a slow hiss. He’d missed. How was that even possible? The Governor couldn’t have known he was there. Xan had gone early in the day, scouted the place, and gotten his free souvenir at the door. A silly copper coin with Whittaker’s face and slogan. It’d taken nearly a year of planning to find the right moment. This moment. And he’d failed.
The Governor would expect another attempt now. He’d be waiting. And how far could the old bastard see? If he’d seen Xan’s face, there would be little chance Xan would get within a ten-mile radius of him again.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft whoosh. A bright flash of light caused spots to dance in front of his eyes.
Xan zipped out, snatching the source of the light.
“Hey, buster! Get your hands off my camera!”
The woman, trying to wrangle the camera from his grasp, was tall and all legs. Muscled calves led to dimpled knees and slender thighs. The blue skirt was too short, but at least her heels were a sensible height.
“Let go! The cops will be here any second.”
Xan’s gaze raked up to her face. Long with high cheekbones, fierce brown eyes, and hair that swooped over her forehead. Gorgeous and angry.
No time to admire her. He needed to be as far away from the city as possible.
“You haven’t had time to call the police.” To draw attention away from other personal details, he clipped his voice with a slight Texan accent. “I only wish to delete the picture you took, not destroy your property.”
“I can take pictures of whatever I want.” She snapped back, still unable to free her camera.
“No, you can’t. It’s a violation of my privacy.”
“Freedom of the press.” She removed a lanyard with a badge attached from within her jacket. A media pass for the Governor’s charity event. Lois King. He raised a brow, and she tucked her badge away. “Make one comment on my name and I’ll kick you in the shin. Now give me my camera!”
“Miss King,” he said with an edge to his words. “Freedom of the press is all well and good in public places and where they are invited. This is a private building. I didn’t ask you here. And I’m certain no one else is working tonight. How did you manage to get past security in the lobby?”
“Never you mind.” Lois flushed and continued to tug at her camera. “Let go, you brute. You’re going to break it.”
“I’m not going to break it.” Xan yanked it out of her hands and swiftly tapped the buttons to find and delete his photo. “As I said, I only wanted to delete my picture. There. You may have your camera. Exit the way you came in and have a good night.”
He turned away from her. Lovely legs she may have, but she was a parasite. The press drained the life from people.
There was a snap and flash. Xan gritted his teeth.
“Please tell me you didn’t take another picture, Miss King.” He stopped, glancing over his shoulder out of the corner of his eye at her. “I’m in a bit of a rush. I need to beat the traffic.” And the loop he programmed into the building’s security cameras so they’d never know he was there. “Something more newsworthy is happening at the Hilton up the street. Shouldn’t you be there?”
“If you’re referring to the Governor’s fundraiser, then yes, I was there, but there will be several boring photos of the rich rubbing elbows with the powerful. I’d left early when I heard about the assassination attempt on my, uh, radio. So I thought about which building might give an assassin a clear shot.” Lois straightened up and slung her camera around her neck. “Why am I explaining myself to you? You’re just some stuffy egotis—”
Lois went silent. As a predator himself, Xan could feel when hungry eyes were upon him. Parasite she might be, but they were still hunters.
Damn.
“You’re him.” She breathed out, excited laughter bubbling up. “You’re him!” She snapped more photos. “Look at you, tall, blond, and muscled. No lawyer working until this time at night looks like you. Black suit and big briefcase. God, you’re like the stereotypical hit man! Do you guys have some sort of dress code or something?”
No more complications. Xan dropped his briefcase and strode forward. There had been no fear on her face until he reached out to snatch her arm. A brave woman he could respect, but she should’ve taken her photo and run. A smart woman had a better chance at survival.
Lois started to scream, but he slapped a hand over her mouth lest security hear and wrapped the other arm around her neck. She was a fighter. Kicking and clawing. Even a few attempts at basic self-defense.
But he was a warrior by birth. Trained from the time he was two.
Not only had she taken his picture, but she’d seen him. The fake accent wouldn’t distract a woman like her from his face. No one could be allowed to remember him. His calling required anonymity. Best way to make certain of it would be to kill her.
When Lois fell unconscious, Xan picked up his briefcase before lifting her into his arms. His gaze dropped to her legs as they dangled. Her skirt rode up a bit, and he tore his eyes away. No distractions.
One job was botched, but another had to be done. His stomach twisted at the thought. Maybe he could convince her to keep her silence. If he gave her some information on the Governor, she could have her big story.
Xan took the stairs down into the garage and hurried to his car. But what sort of story would compel her to give up revealing who tried to murder the Governor? He knew plenty of dirty secrets about Whittaker. Secret investments, taste for underground fights, and the maidens. Nearly two dozen girls had gone missing from the last decade alone.
An assassin was still bigger news.
Putting down his briefcase, Xan opened the passenger door and gently placed Lois into the seat. He buckled her in, careful not to let his hands linger.
The truth would rock the world, though. Could he convince her of it?
Shutting the door, he pursed his lips. Lois didn’t look so tough as she lay there limply. She was a woman like any other.
No. Who was he kidding? He’d seen the fire in her eyes. No little story would do for her.
But a dragon, there was nothing little about that. And as a dragonslayer, he was the only one who could prove to her that Randall Whittaker was a nightmare out of legend.
Never bring work home.
Lois was now a project. Digging her wallet out of her jacket pocket, he found the address to her little condo and checked it out as well as her neighbors before bringing her inside. She lived alone. No husband or partner, or even a roommate. Unless one counted the rodent in the large cage in her home office.
Xan set her in the recliner and used an extension cord to tie her down. Not so tight, but enough she’d have to work at getting loose. She wasn’t a dragon, but she wasn’t on his side. He likened her more to a mercenary. Sometimes they were more trouble than the enemy you knew.
Papers were everywhere. Coffee cups, takeout boxes, and plastic containers for leftovers from restaurants. Shoes were scattered amongst the mess and dust coated the shelves.
His hands twitched. No, he wasn’t her maid. This mess wasn’t his to clean.
He deleted the newest photos of himself from her camera and placed it high on a shelf out of her reach.
Flicking on the television, he turned it to one of the local news stations. The Governor was going to make a statement within the hour.
Had the old dragon seen him? Xan paced the area between the entertainment unit and coffee table. Whittaker would know it was no ordinary human assassin who had tried to kill him. The bullet had seared his flesh. Blessed by a priest and fashioned with a splinter from a dragonslayer’s lance. The wood was too valuable to waste.
And he’d missed.
Xan gathered up all the cardboard takeout boxes and put them in the trash. He cleaned out the plastic containers and slipped them into a bag for recycling when he couldn’t find a box for that purpose. He swept and dusted and ran the dishwasher.
The quiet drone of the television was drowned out by a scream.
Lois twisted her head to glare at him when he walked back into the living room. “What are you doing? Is this some kinky rapist thing? I’ll never cooperate. I’ll scream. The whole neighborhood will come running to save me. Do I smell Lysol?”