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He thought it over for another long, quiet minute, then nodded slightly. “Okay. I’m in. Tell me what you know — starting with your property. Why is Harlon so interested?”
Chapter Thirteen
NASH
Boy, did this woman drive a hard bargain.
As hard as my dick after that BSDM comment she’d made. Not that I was into bondage. But, hell. If Erin was, I could try being open-minded.
Only ifweget to tieherup,my dragon rumbled.
I nearly snorted. Yeah, like she was ever going to let that happen.
Any way she likes it would be perfect,my dragon added.
I did my best to focus. But my mind — and heart — was a jumble of emotions and ugly memories.
Angelina. The Agency. The sinking realization that fate might be screwing with me. Because, as Erin had pointed out, I’d shown up at her job — and also at the bar the night before that, when her father had come to visit.
Which you handled so beautifully,my dragon muttered.
I jutted my jaw. How was I supposed to know he was her goddamn father?
And anyway, this wasn’t about him. It was about Harlon. How did he fit into this picture?
My throat heated with the first stirrings of fire. Fate had messed with me before, and it probably would again. But I’d be damned if it played its ugly games with Erin.
Not on my watch, dammit,my dragon vowed.Not on my watch.
Technically, this wasn’t my watch. I wasn’t with the agency any more, and I hadn’t been assigned to investigate — or protect — Erin. And yet, here I was, feeling more duty-driven than I had been in years.
“Why is Harlon interested in my property?” Erin echoed glumly. “I wish I knew.”
“Madden sure seems to know about it — especially that vortex.”
She shot me a cutting look. “Maddenthinkshe knows, but he doesn’t. And he certainly doesn’t understand.”
“What is there to understand about a vortex?”
She cackled. “Where do I begin?”
I held my tongue. Pushing would only get me smartass replies, and Erin had already proven what a quick thinker she was.
She’d make a great dragon,my inner beast hummed happily.
For a long, silent minute, Erin stared at the moonlit valley. Somewhere down there was a creek, judging by the faint trickle of water and a crooked line of cottonwoods.
“Different people say different things about the vortexes,” she finally whispered. “Probably because they feel different things. And most folks feel nothing.”
I waited. If there was one thing I’d learned about Erin, it was that she wasn’tmost folks.
“When I first went up Cathedral Rock, I waited and waited, trying to feel something,” she continued. “But there was nothing. Nothing but the majesty of the place, I mean. No magic, no mystical powers. Just the sheer natural beauty.” She motioned at the moonlit landscape before us. “The second and third times I went, still nothing. But the fourth time…” Her throat bobbed.“My great-aunt took us up there — all three of us — saying the vortex was open. And that time, I felt it.”
Working at the agency had taught me a lot about supernatural phenomena, but that didn’t stop goose bumps from prickling along my skin.
Erin wiggled her fingers. “A disturbance, like air moving. Pushing. Twisting, like a tiny tornado. Another time we went, it was more like a pulsing feeling, as if pressure deep underground was trying to find a way out. My sisters and I combed the whole area, and we couldn’t trace it to any particular point. It was more like a general feeling.” Then she looked left, over the wall of the valley. “Airport Mesa was similar. One time, I felt it. Another time, nothing.” Then she sucked in a deep breath and whispered, “But the vortex at our ranch is different.”
I waited and waited, then finally cued her. “Different, how?”
