Free The Dragon Spy (The Lone Shifters Book 1) by Michele Bardsley Page B

once. “I’m sure it’s being held in the same vault as Jason’s golden fleece and Aladdin’s lamp.”
    “Don’t be a smart aleck, Garrett. We have cause to believe this egg is the real one.”
    “I have a problem with Las Vegas. On my last visit, I might have angered Red.” Garrett shrugged. “He sorta wants me dead.”
    “The Blood wolf pack hates everybody. Red is just one of a half dozen leaders. He could be slain tomorrow and another ass will rise to take his place.”
    “He’s managed to hang on as the alpha for a few months now. I probably shouldn’t have set his motorcycle on fire.”
    “I’m sure you had a good reason.” She paused. “Didn’t you?”
    “I saw him hassling a couple of human girls, so I thought I should distract him.”
    “Sounds reasonable. Please don’t tell me you’re too frightened of a werewolf to go to Las Vegas?”
    “Bite your tongue.”
    Syneca laughed. “Well, then. That’s settled.”
    The faint scent of mesquite burning in the fireplace infiltrated the air, mixing with the fragrant aromas from the abundant vases of flowers placed throughout. His mother loved flora—from the elegant rose to the lowly carnation. No room in the house was without fresh-cut blooms.
    “When is the last time you had a date?”
    “I don’t know.” What an odd segue. From stealing a fictional artifact to his love life. Or lack thereof. Even for his mother, it was suspect. “I’ve been too busy with the charity.”
    “You should never be too busy for love.”
    “I’m not having this conversation with you, Mother.” Discussing his love life with Syneca was only slightly better than discussing his re-entrance into burgling. “It’s bad enough that we’re talking about me stealing again.”
    “How long?” she persisted.
    “Long enough that I’m rusty.” He certainly wasn’t going to mention Jemma or Brittney or the half dozen other women who occasionally kept his bed warm since he was forced to walk away from Jessica. They were lovely ladies, but none of them were “bring home to mother” types.
    “I doubt that.” She crossed the room, her heels clacking on the high-polished floor. Against the wall opposite the fireplace, with an original Monet hanging above it, was an antique roll top desk. He knew the desk had been his father’s, but he always thought she’d kept it around for sentimental reasons. He was surprised to that it was fully stocked with pens, notepads, check registers, and files. Extracting a scroll, she closed the desk and returned, unrolling and then thrusting a piece of parchment at him.
    “I hereby declare Giselda’s Egg to be real,” he read from the paper. “I also say, with complete authority, that the egg’s true location is in Las Vegas, Nevada.” He shook the page at her. “Aiden Kearney wrote this?”
    “Yes.”
    He read through the rest of it. “According to this document, I have to follow a series of clues in order to find the egg.” He held the parchment up for emphasis. “Is this some kind of game?”
    “Who knows about the whims of a king? You see there? He said if you find the Egg, then your banishment will be lifted.” His mother sat in the chair opposite of his and pinned him with a narrowed gaze. “It would be nice for you to have someone by your side when that day comes.”
    His mother random switch of conversation made alarm bells ring. What was she playing at? Yes, it was true. Garrett’s only real lover lately had been the charity—and she was a greedy woman with many needs. It was very satisfying, often exhausting work. Still, to have a mate, someone like Jessica, to come home to every night. To share his passions and dreams, it felt, much like the egg, to be a mythical fairytale. Not a life he was destined to live.
    “Will you do it, Garrett?”
    He couldn’t believe he was considering this insane plan.
    “All right. I’ll get the egg…if it truly exists. Go Team Stone.”
    “Wonderful! I’ve made all the