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“I studied them in college,” I quickly said. A lie. Innocent enough but still guilt-inducing. “Anyway, it’s not unheard of for some people obsessed with the cult to get the brands done, but the real Crimson Ring members have theirs permanently burning. I think that might have been one of the high-ranking cultists who stole the painting.”
“Why are they after these paintings? Did you study that in college?”
I shook my head, just as stumped as Maddox was. “No idea,” I said, “but at least now we know who has one of the paintings. It’s going to be getting it back that’ll prove to be tricky.”
“Understatement of the century,” Maddox said. We walked over to a side street next to the museum, where the homes were mansion-sized and the lawns were pristinely manicured and cared for. “So they already had the painting but set up a trap with it, catching some of their own initiates?”
“Looks like it,” I answered. “Maybe they needed the original to create a proper duplicate. I’m assuming that if someone is after one, they’re after all of them. They were likely hoping to catch whoever had the other two.”
The big, burly ice dragon rubbed at the bridge of his nose. He had residual blue scales from his dragon form permanently displayed above his left eyebrow, a subtle reminder of the immense power that rippled just underneath the surface. A scar cut across his right, another reminder of the kind of shit Maddox had gotten into. I briefly wondered where he got that scar from. What bad-ass fight had he won, and against whom?
And his scales, they were beautiful. They glittered in the sunlight, just like those endless ocean-blue eyes of his. Fuck, this man was beautiful in the full definition of the word. “Okay, okay,” he said. I pulled my gaze up from his big chest, dragging my thoughts from “horny-as-hell land” and back into the present. “So, we know the Crimson Ring is after these paintings, but we don’t fully know why. I say we figure that out first. Maybe that’ll lead us to the other two, and if not, at least we’ll know what the fuck they’re planning.”
I swallowed a lump of nerves. My knees still wobbled slightly, but I wasn’t entirely sure it was because of my exertion or because of my fear. “Maybe…” Shit. I couldn’t believe I was about to say this, but: “Maybe we should forget it. This is becoming a way bigger job than I assumed it would be.”
“And doesn’t that make it even more worth following through with? It means the reward is going to be all the bigger.”
“I don’t know about that,” I answered. “I think we’re just walking directly into a chimera’s den.”
“Good thing you have a dragon on your side, then,” he said with a cocky wink. “It’ll be fine. I think our partnership is off to a solid start. We’re like Bonnie and Clyde.”
“Didn’t they end up dying?”
He smirked and scratched the back of his head in a way that was equal parts adorable and sexy. “Details and me aren’t friends, remember?”
I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms, unable to tamp down my smile. “Okay, fine, so what do you think we should do next, then? Not like we have a direct line to the cult.”
“You sure about that?” Maddox pulled out his phone and shot me another wink. He dialed a number and leaned against a tall palm tree. “Hey, Jules. Yeah, I need another favor. I know, I know… no, I don’t know where your underwear is. Yes, I’m sure it was expen—okay, I’ll buy you a new pair, but I need you to also do me a favor. I need to talk to a prisoner. Can you make that happen?”
My head snapped up, my attention now pinned on the ice dragon.
“Yes, yes, I know. It’s Kyler Irons. Can you do that?”
Blood rushed to my head all at once, making my vision spin. Kyler Irons. He was the only one of the five Crimson Ring leaders that had been caught and locked up behind bars. And now Maddox planned on sitting down with him? How did this situation keep getting worse and worse?
“Perfect, we can be there in thirty. Thanks.” He turned back to me, blue scales glittering on his forehead. “Sorry, I had to call in a favor from an old ex-girlfriend,” Maddox said, pocketing his phone.
I pushed aside my panic and dread, putting on a neutral expression in a feeble attempt to hide what I was really feeling. “You’ve got a lot of those, huh?” I asked, trying to get my heart to stop racing by asking a benign question.
“Not really, actually. I have a lot of hookups, yes, but not relationships. It takes a lot to get past my walls. I’ve been hurt before, bad.”
