A lot rested on the success of The White Hare.
She’d read the treatise explaining the Parkland’s role—along with Udo’s Guide to Magical Creatures—on the trip over. The hotel she now owned was a refuge, one of the last of its kind, a rare respite in a violent world for all manner of Magickind, free of the ongoing feuds between different species. Some hunted others for sport. Most fought over territory and dwindling resources. A couple of wars had lasted centuries, which made places like The White Hare all the more important.
The hotel welcomed all kinds—vampires, werewolves, gargoyles, druids and demigods, all manner of shifters, nymphs, sprites, and fairies—providing a safe haven and clear guidelines for those who stayed under its roof.
So…no. She wouldn’t be selling her birthright. Or betraying the long line of innkeepers who’d come before her.
“Fergie,” he murmured, ignoring her wishes by using her nickname. “You’ve no idea what you’ve gotten into here.”
“And what—you know better?”
“I’m part of this world. I belong in it.”
“So do I.”
“Not in the same way I do.”
An icy breeze drifted into the room, raising goosebumps on her arms, heralding an arrival.
Cradling his black cat in his arms, Cuthbert appeared in the doorway. Little more than a hazy outline, the butler frowned at Kruger. Luther meowed, which she took as a sign of support.
Hold the line.
Draw a hard, hard line.
As the words whispered through her mind, she leveled her gaze on Kruger. “Feel free to find your way to the door.”
Planting his palm on the edge of her desk, he leaned toward her. “You need tae know, you’re never going tae win. Not against me.”
Her hand tightened around her glass.
Murder in his eyes, Cuthbert stroked Luther’s fur and looked around. Gliding toward a bookshelf, he examined a collection of paperweights, no doubt trying to decide which one would work best to crush Kruger’s skull.
Ferguson shook her head slightly, warning the butler to stay put. She didn’t want him throwing anything, never mind maiming the dragon warrior who’d invaded her space. Kruger would lose his temper. Bad things would follow. Things instinct warned her she might not survive.
“I’m looking out for you, lass.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I am,” Kruger said, sounding sincere.
“No, you just want what you want, and don’t care how you get it. But you need to get this, Kruger. Really look at me. Unlike Mavis, I’m not seventy-three years old. I’m not someone heading into my golden years, someone you can wear down and bully.” Rotating her glass, she watched expensive scotch slosh against cut crystal. “Nothing you say—nothing you do—will change my mind.”
“Stubborn,” he said, glowering at her. “So bloody stubborn.”
“Must run in the family, since Mavis refused to sell to you too.”
He opened his mouth, no doubt to say something nasty about her godmother.
“Be careful,” she said, itching to reach out and slap him. Prudence stayed her hand. “Very, very careful.”
Irritation flashed in his eyes. He slammed his glass down on her desk. Scotch flew over the lip onto his hand. He flicked his fingers.
Cuthbert gasped in outrage as liquid splattered across the leather blotter.
Unaware he had an audience, Kruger snarled a command. Papers appeared in his hand. With a snap of his wrist, he slapped the bundle down in front of her. Lots of legal mumbo-jumbo on the first page. “Read that. You’ve got three days. I’ll be back after that tae discuss terms.”
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Bother coming back.” Calm in the face of his ferocity, she took another sip. “Hendrix is right…you’re not welcome here.”
He pointed to the contract. “Read it. Consult a solicitor, hire one, I donnae give a shite…just read it and be ready tae sign.”
Ready to sign? Was he out of his mind?
Her eyes narrowed. She leaned toward him. “What are you—deaf? Or simply too spoiled to take no for an answer?”
“Donnae test me, fazleima.”
“Don’t threaten me, dragon.”
“Good for you, Ferguson,” Cuthbert murmured.
With a low snarl, Kruger slammed the side of his fist against the papers, then turned on his heel. Throwing her another irate glance, he stormed out of the room, mumbling to himself, “Why did I even bother? Shoulda done what I wanted tae from the beginning. Fireball, meet car. Problem solved. Now I’ve gotta deal with another fucking innkeeper, a redhead and her…”
His voice trailed off, getting trampled beneath the loud thud of his boots across wooden floorboards. A moment later, a door slammed, rattling window panes, including the ones behind her.
Ferguson stared unseeing at the spot she’d last seen him, then downed her scotch in one go. Grabbing the bottle by the throat, she poured another. Fireball, meet car. Problem solved. She slugged back another shot. Seriously? Was Kruger so entitled, so intent, such a bad loser, he’d go so far as to—
“Did he just threaten tae kill you?” Hendrix asked, slithering into the room.
Cuthbert hopped out of the way to avoid getting walked through. An unpleasant experience by all accounts.
“Meow,” Luther said, complaining about the sudden movement.
“Is that going to be a problem?” she replied, eyeballing the gorgon carrying a plate piled high with croissants. She took a second to count the pastries. Ten total, some with chocolate dribbled on top, others without.
Her brows drew together. Did Hendrix really expect her to eat all of that?
She yanked the chair away from her desk. The adrenaline that helped her go toe to toe with Kruger leaked out of her system, allowing weariness to set in. With a sigh of relief, she sat down. “Do you think Kruger is capable of killing me?”
“Probably, though…”
“What?”
“As a rule, dragon warriors do not hurt females. Unlike other Magickind, their need tae protect is instinctual.”
“Well,” she said, raising her glass to salute Hendrix, “at least I have that going for me.”
“He won’t stop, my liege.”
“I know.”
“We need a plan.”
Did they ever. One that might include calling in the military. Or a bunch of orcs from The Lord of the Rings.
“Do you know why he’s so focused on The White Hare?”
Kruger’s interest in the inn wasn’t just business. His desire to own it surpassed mere acquisition. He might like a challenge, but she’d sensed his desperation. He’d vibrated with it, casting such a strong energy field she’d been able to read it. Whatever drove him was powerful and rooted in secrecy.
No way of knowing for sure. Complete speculation on her part, but as she replayed the encounter in her mind, intuition spoke to her. Kruger was hiding something. Something huge. A problem he believed could be solved by acquiring The White Hare.
Swiveling her chair toward the windows, she stared out into the darkness. “Hendrix?”
“Yes?”
“Did Mavis say anything to you about Kruger?”