The Blackstone She-Dragon: Blackstone Mountain Book 8 Page 7

  “It is American food?”

  “Very American.”

  He paused, then nodded. “All right, I will try it.”

  She drove for a few miles, then turned onto the next exit. Joe’s Food Hut wasn’t too far from the highway, and soon she was parking her car in the lot outside the small brick building. The place was older than her and looked outdated, but both locals and visitors seemed to like it enough to keep it going.

  Aleksei opened the door and she led him inside to a booth next to a window. She slid into one of the seats and motioned for him to sit across her, then picked up the menu. Sybil had been to Joe’s a couple of times, and she enjoyed the all-day breakfast. She decided on the French toast and bacon, then put the menu down.

  “What are you having?” she asked Aleksei.

  His brows were drawn together as he perused the menu. “I … perhaps you could recommend something?”

  “What’s wrong?” She couldn’t hide the annoyance in her voice. Did he think he was too good for the food here? It wasn’t Michelin star, but he didn’t have to turn his nose up at it. “Don’t you eat eggs in the Northern Isles?”

  “Yes, our chef can cook eggs in many different ways.” His nose wrinkled. “I’m afraid … I’m not familiar with the food items. I know what bacon and sausage are, but what is ‘chicken fried steak’?”

  Shame filled Sybil as she realized how quick she was to judge. Aleksei was a foreigner, and the menu was more of a list and didn’t describe each item. She could imagine how chicken fried steak could be confusing. “It’s basically a beef steak that’s dipped in batter and cooked like fried chicken.”

  “A what?” Then a lightbulb seemed to go on in his head. “Ah, I understand. That sounds … intriguing.” He looked at the menu again. “How does one exactly ‘corn’ beef? Is there actual corn in it?”

  Sybil sighed and slid out of her side of the booth, then moved next to him. She grabbed the menu. “Corned beef is boiling beef that’s been cured in brine.…” She continued to explain the menu items to him, patiently answering his questions, all the while ignoring how close they were sitting together or how a tingle shot up from the bottom of her feet all the way to her stomach when her thigh touched up against his.

  By the time the surly old waitress came over and asked “Whaddaya want?” Aleksei had decided on a short stack of pancakes, bacon, biscuits slathered in gravy, and home fries, in addition to the corned beef hash and chicken fried steak.

  “Are you going to be able to eat all that?” she asked wryly.

  “Of course,” he assured her. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “I am.”

  “Then perhaps we should order double portions.”

  She laughed. “Maybe we should.”

  In the end, she ended up taking bites from his plate. He didn’t seem to mind and even placed items onto her plate without her asking. Their conversation mostly revolved around the food, and he seemed to enjoy it. His eyes lit up at every bite, and she had to admit that it was kind of cute; kind of like watching a kid discovering new things. She also never moved back to her own chair, but neither of them commented on that fact.

  “What do you think?” Sybil asked, not that she needed to. Aleksei had cleaned all the plates.

  “It’s delicious!” he declared, banging a fist on the table. “Heavenly. The mixture of salt and sweetness … I can’t describe it. It’s like my brain telling me that it’s exactly what I wanted.”

  “Better than what your fancy private chef makes?” she teased.

  “I would say so.” He leaned in close. “But don’t tell her that.”

  She sucked in a breath, realizing exactly how close they were. There it was again, that mesmerizing gaze that made it hard to turn away and turned her into a puddle of mush. If he moved his head about five inches forward, their lips would be touching. The firm line of his mouth looked so inviting and she wondered how—

  “Anything else I can get ya?”

  Sybil jerked away from him as the gravelly voice of their waitress knocked her out of her fantasies. Her dragon whined in disappointment, and she told the darn thing to can it. “Just the check,” she said quickly, then slid out of the booth. “Actually, let me meet you at the cash register.”

  “Sybil, let me—”

  “It’s fine,” she said quickly, waving a hand at him. “My treat.” Besides, did princes even carry cash? She was pretty sure Joe’s Food Hut didn’t take Amex or gold nuggets, or whatever the heck dragon princes carried around for currency.

  By the time she finished paying, Aleksei was already standing by the door, holding it open. She muttered a thanks as she hurried over to her car, leaving him behind. Not that it would do any good as he caught up to her in five steps.

  “Sybil!” he called, but she ignored him, instead making a beeline to the driver’s side. “Wait!”

  As she reached for the door, she felt him grab her arm and spin her around.

  “Sybil.”

  He trapped her against the door, their bodies so close she could feel the heat emanating from him even though they weren’t touching. “Why are you so skittish?”

  “Skittish. Ha!” She hoped the laugh didn’t sound forced. “I’m not afraid of you.”

  “I didn’t say you were.” He leaned down lower. “But why do you pull away from me?”

  “Because—”

  The ringing sound from her purse interrupting them made her sigh in relief. She ducked under his arm and grabbed her phone from her purse. “Sybil Lennox.”

  “Sybil, it’s Angie.” It was her boss. “Where are you?”

  “I’m done with my morning appointments. Just finished lunch.”

  “Okay good, I need to you head out to Neville.”

  She groaned inwardly. “What’s going on?”

  “We just got a call from P.D. over there. Domestic violence call. A woman and a seven-year-old boy are involved.” Angie’s voice was calm and business-like; after all, after decades on the job, the older woman was used to these kinds of calls.

  Sybil, on the other hand, was still learning. She hated these situations, and it took all her might to control herself and her dragon. “Emergency removal?”

  “We don’t know. You’ll have to assess the situation.”

  “I’m on it. Send me the address and the details.” She tapped the red button on the screen and moments later, the address popped up in her inbox.

  “Sybil?” A gentle, yet strong hand landed on her shoulders. Aleksei’s touch was oddly comforting, and even her dragon calmed down. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. Just … sorry, we’re not headed back to Blackstone yet. I have to make another stop.”

  He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Of course, do what you must.”

  She drove them over to Neville County, not too far from where they were, but it was in the opposite direction of Blackstone. The GPS led them to the southeastern side of the county. This was obviously a more depressed part of town, of which she was familiar with, unfortunately. The big factory that had employed most of the people in the area had shut down nearly a decade back, and the effects were obvious. Most of the houses they had passed by were run-down or looked abandoned, almost like a ghost town. She stopped when the GPS declared they had arrived at their destination, though it wasn’t hard to spot: it was the house where two police cars were waiting outside.

  Aleksei eyed the cop cars. “Sybil, should I—”

  “Stay here,” she said in a stern voice. This was a delicate matter and the last thing she needed was a distraction. As soon as she exited the car, she headed straight for the officers in uniform.

  “Sybil Lennox, Welfare Services Offices.” She held up the ID hanging around her neck. “Can you tell me what happened Officer …” She glanced down at his badge. “Sarver.”

  “Well, ma’am,” the officer began. “Dispatcher got a call from the wife, saying her husband was knocking her around. We responded and arrived here about t
wenty minutes ago and knocked on the door. Lady came out,” he nodded toward the porch, where a man and woman were talking to two officers, “and says she made a mistake. She was angry at him for coming home drunk in the middle of the day.”

  “Right.” Could be true, but Sybil’s sixth sense was tingling. “And there’s a kid?”

  “That’s what she said in the call, but they won’t let us see him. Claims he’s not home.”

  Something was definitely wrong. She took a deep breath. “All right, maybe I can do something.” Straightening her shoulders, she marched toward the house, stepping carefully on the broken flagstone path and up the creaky steps to the porch. “Excuse me.”

  The officers and the couple’s heads turned toward her. The woman’s eyes went wide when she glanced at the ID on Sybil’s chest, while contempt flickered across the man’s as he assessed Sybil.

  “I’m with the Welfare Services Offices,” she said in her most business-like voice. “Sybil Lennox.” She turned to the policemen. “Officers, where is the minor?”

  “Like my wife said,” the man sneered. “Charlie’s at a friend’s house.”

  “I was asking the officer,” Sybil said in a cool and clipped voice.

  “Look, I called your station.” The woman wrung her hands together. “I said this was all a mistake. That they shouldn’t send anyone over.” Her voice was shaky and quiet as a mouse. Sybil’s gaze swept over the woman, but she couldn’t find any visible bruises. Of course, the woman was also wearing a sweater and sweat pants, and her long dark hair hung down her face. Sad to say, without any visual confirmation of abuse, there was nothing the officers could do except talk to them and try to figure out what happened.

  “Mrs. Peterson, we’re obligated to come and check on anyone who calls 911,” one of the officers said. “It’s procedure.”

  “I told you, Officer Reyes, we’re all good, it’s a misunderstandin’.” Mr. Peterson’s grin showed all teeth. “I had one beer on my way back from the bar and I was a little clumsy.”

  Sybil’s nose wrinkled. While dousing himself with a bottle of cologne may have fooled the human policemen, her enhanced senses didn’t miss the stench of alcohol on his breath or the bloodshot eyes. “Mr. Peterson? Greg Peterson, right? And you’re Emma Peterson?”

  “Yeah?” His head swung back to her. This time, his beady eyes focused and—as she was accustomed to in these types of situations—immediately focused on her chest, narrowing as if trying to imagine what she looked like underneath her blouse and suit jacket.

  She mentally rolled her eyes. “If you can produce your son and we see that he’s unharmed, we can get this straightened out.”

  “He’s at his friend’s.” Greg Peterson’s teeth ground together.

  “Which friend? Do you have a name? Address? Phone number?” she rattled off.

  “Jason or Johnson or somethin’. Sweet cheeks”—he snapped his fingers at his wife—“whatsisname? The kid with the buck teeth?”

  Sybil’s gaze flickered over to the window. It was dark inside, but with her shifter vision, she saw a small face peering through the window. “Charlie?” she called. “Sweetheart, are you there?” Her dragon paced inside her, anxious to know if the child was all right.

  “He’s not there,” Peterson insisted. “Look, I know my rights. You can’t enter my home unless you got a warrant or order.”

  Sybil ignored him, but tread carefully. “Charlie, why don’t you come out and say hi?”

  “Y’all need to leave, now.” Peterson’s tone was more forceful.

  Officer Reyes took his dark glasses off. “Mr. Peterson, we’ve asked you repeatedly if your son was in the house and you’ve said no. If you’ve been lying to us, then we will have probable cause.”

  “Oh yeah? Maybe you’ll have to speak to my lawyer.” Peterson planted his feet on the floor and crossed his arms over his chest.

  The knob turned and the door creaked open. Sybil saw her chance and reached her hand out. “Charlie? Why don’t you come—”

  “Fucking dumb piece of shit!” Greg’s beefy hand shot out in front of Sybil, blocking her from the door. He must have miscalculated the distance between them because his arm hit her cheek as she stepped forward.

  Something whooshed by behind her, the force of it making her stagger forward.

  “How dare you lay a hand on my mate!” The booming voice was unmistakable and she felt the dread growing in her stomach as she slowly turned her head.

  Aleksei had his hands around Greg Peterson’s neck as he pinned him to the wall. Peterson’s eyes were wide with fright and his breathing was heavy. Emma Peterson let out a shriek and started screaming, while the officers stood there with stunned looks on their faces.

  “Aleksei, let him go!” Sybil grabbed him by the elbow, pulling back as hard as she could. Despite her own shifter strength, she was no match for him. “Stop choking him!”

  “I’m not choking him,” Aleksei declared. “But I could, if you want.”

  “No! Just let him go!”

  Aleksei growled, but released Greg Peterson’s neck. “A quick death would have been too merciful for scum like you.”

  “Aleksei, I told you to stay in the car,” she hissed.

  “He assaulted me!” Peterson cried, rubbing his neck. “You saw it! You all saw it!”

  “Mr. Peterson,” Reyes began. “You lied to us and then you hit Miss Lennox.”

  “I barely grazed her!” When Aleksei scowled at him, he stepped back. “I know my rights. Arrest him!”

  “Miss Lennox,” Reyes said. “Who is this man? And why is he here with you?”

  Shit. “He’s, uh. A client. I have to, uh, bring him in for his therapy sessions.” It was the only thing she could think of. What was she supposed to say? Oh, Officer, he’s actually a dragon prince from a foreign country.

  Reyes looked at Aleksei, his eyes narrowing. Dressed the way he was, Aleksei did look like he was a few sandwiches short of a picnic, and Sybil had to mentally congratulate herself on coming up with a good excuse. “Please keep him under control, Miss Lennox.”

  “Will do,” she said, then shot Aleksei a warning glare. With all the excitement, she nearly forgot what she was here for. “Charlie, honey?” The door was now open, and a small face peered out from the crack. “It’s okay, baby, you can come out. I just want to talk, okay?”

  The door swung open and a small boy, about six or seven years old, slowly stepped out. Sybil knelt down to his level, her eyes trying to assess his condition. He was pale, but clean and free of marks or bruises. Of course, there were other types of wounds and scars that kid could have, non-visible to the eye. “You okay, honey?”

  Brown eyes grew wide, but he nodded. “Y-y-yes.”

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  His mouth opened, but suddenly he closed it. “I d-d-don’t know.” When he looked up at his father, his slight body curled inwardly, like a plant wilting under the sun.

  Sybil sent a sharp look toward Greg Peterson, who returned it with a smug smile.

  “He’s fine, see?” Peterson said. “Did you come home and sneak in through the back? That’s probably what happened, right Charlie?”

  Charlie nodded, but his lower lip trembled.

  All the classic signs of emotional abuse were there, and Sybil’s instinct and dragon were screaming at her to get him out of there. Unfortunately, she had to follow the laws, which always favored the parents. “Are you pressing charges, Mrs. Peterson?”

  “I said it was all a mistake,” she bit out.

  Greg Peterson’s smile turned wolfish before he said, “Get the fuck off our porch!”

  There was nothing she could do. Not now, she told herself. The fact that the police had been called meant that the welfare office had to keep tabs on Charlie. And Sybil was going to keep an eye on the Petersons and if Greg made even one misstep, she was going to make sure he would be locked away.

  “You folks stay safe,” Officer Reyes said, but his tone
had a veiled meaning.

  “Wait, we are leaving?” Aleksei’s head ping-ponged from Greg Peterson to Officer Reyes and then back to Sybil. “What about the child? It’s clear that his father is intimidating him!”

  “Aleksei, let’s go,” she said, tugging on his arm.

  “But—”

  “I said, let’s go.” She flashed him a warning look.

  His eyes turned stormy, but he allowed her to drag him off the Peterson property. When they got to the sidewalk, however, Aleksei strode to Reyes.

  “You are an officer of the law, are you not? Sworn to uphold the law?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then why are you not arresting that man? He had no qualms in manhandling my mate. And that boy is obviously scared of his own father. If you could investigate—”

  “We can’t, Aleksei.”

  He turned to her with a disbelieving look on his face. “You can’t?”

  “It’s the law.”

  “You can’t mean that!”

  “She’s right, unfortunately,” Reyes spat. “Without signs of abuse or a fight and Mrs. Peterson refusing to press charges, we have no probable cause to search the house or arrest him.”

  “I’ll be writing this up,” Sybil said, “and make sure our office keeps a close eye on them.”

  “We’ll coordinate with you, Miss Lennox, if it’s all right.”

  She handed him her card. “Call me anytime. Day or night. My personal cell is written on the back.”

  He tipped his hat at her. “I hope I don’t have to. Have a good day now and”—he looked at Aleksei—“er, good luck. I heard therapy does wonders.”

  As the officers walked back to their vehicles, Sybil took one last glance at the Peterson house. Her heart was breaking for poor Charlie, and her dragon was clawing at her, telling her to go back. But there really was nothing she could do, short of breaking the law.

  “This is preposterous,” Aleksei said. “You can’t let that child stay in that home.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Her voice was shaking. “Go in there and take him? That’s kidnapping!”