Read Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice for Free Online

he flipped open the breadbox sitting on the counter. His hand closed around the magazine he always kept hidden there. Tilting the Glock in his hand, he rammed the clip home, heard the click—felt the satisfaction—as he chambered a round. After giving the weapon one last check, he shoved it, muzzle down, against the small of his back.
    All right. Almost there.
    Pulling a drawer open, he palmed twin five-inch blades. Sheathed in black leather, he strapped one to each forearm, handles facing toward his palms. Their cousin—a seven-inch KA-BAR—got slipped inside the neck of his steel-toed boot.
    Now he was good to go.
    Kicking the oven closed, he glanced out Sarah-Jane’s side windows. Nothing moved except the ocean, the soft laps against boat hulls the only sound in the shipyard. But with dawn an hour off, it wouldn’t be long before workers clocked in and ruined the serenity. Not good on any level. He needed a place to bring Ange if—no, not if … when —he found her, and the traffic from boat to boat might prove a problem.
    So…
    That left plan B. The cabin on his small, but private, island.
    And wasn’t that a kicker?
    He never took anyone there. Ange didn’t even know about it, but today was a new day. A shitload had changed in the last few hours, so what did it matter that his secret hideout was about to become not so secret anymore? He couldn’t take her home. Not if he was right about the thing that had taken her.
    Jesus. Dragons. Who would’ve guessed and…why wasn’t he more surprised? The question was an excellent one. And the fact he couldn’t answer it should’ve freaked him out. Instead, all he found was acceptance…and a crapload of subtext and mental flashbacks.
    He’d been dreaming about dragons lately. A lot. And one in particular. A blue-gray dragon with webbed claws, smooth scales, and sharp fangs. One who loved the ocean and swimming as much as he did.
    Weird. But maybe it explained why seeing one hadn’t come as such a shock. His brain had already downloaded the file. Now he was just sifting through the rubble, looking for clues, acting on his ability to perceive things other people couldn’t, all while operating on an instinctive level that wasn’t ruled by intellect. Or logic, apparently.
    With a sigh, Mac shook his head and, moving slowly to avoid the toss-n-tumble in his gut, made for the stairs. He needed to get out of the shipyard before the sun rose. His captain would send a patrol unit looking for him. Probably try to haul his ass back to the hospital, but as he cleared the stairway and came up on deck, he got hit with a wave of…
    Mac blinked to clear his vision. All he got was static buzzing in his ears, the sound hissing like a radio with its wires crossed. Sweat trickled between his shoulder blades, then ran down his spine as another wave slammed into him. He backed up a step. Then another. God, something wasn’t right. The clawing sickness was shifting, becoming more…something else entirely.
    White light flashed behind his eyes. Pain hit him like a body shot, cracking him wide open, twisting until his vision went dark. A scream lodged in his throat, his muscles twisted, knotting up so hard he felt one snap. With a “fuck me,” he stumbled sideways toward the side of the boat. Just as his hand connected with the handrail, agony took him over. He hit the water with a splash and, as cold, salty liquid filled his mouth and nose, he pictured his partner.
    Angela.
    His baby sister was in trouble, and there was nothing he could do to help her. He was already drowning, the pain tearing him apart.

     
    The steel bars barely made a sound as Angela slid them closed behind her. Crouching low, she listened, straining to hear beyond her hammering heartbeat, and twisted her hands to get a better grip on the box cutter. A shiver rolled through her as the flex-cuffs bit into her wrists. She wanted to cut through the plastic and free her hands, but time wasn’t on her side. If she