I punched the key again. Nothing happened. Well, shit.
A tow truck with the Porsche Spyder on the flatbed drove by me. Whoa, it hadn’t
even been ten minutes. Time to permanently shut the party down.
“Gradalis unus pretiosa,” I chanted, focusing on the front door of the De Lucas’
house. The door shattered.
Well, hell, not a peep from the damn alarm. The great seduction scene was not
happening on my watch. I dialed 9-1-1.
24 | GAIL KOGER
“9-1-1. What is your emergency?”
Doing my best impression of a concerned citizen, I cried, “Oh, my God. Oh, my
God. There’s a man breaking into my neighbor’s house.”
The dispatcher asked, “What’s the address?”
“It’s 22321 North Mainland Road. It’s the spooky-looking castle.”
The dispatcher’s fingers clacked over the keyboard as she rapidly typed the
information into her computer. “How did he make entry?”
“He kicked in the front door. There’s no one home except that poor, helpless old
lady.”
“Is the man white, Hispanic, or black?”
“Hispanic, I think.”
Her voice calm and professional, the dispatcher asked, “How tall is he?”
“I’m not sure. He’s a big guy.”
“What’s he wearing?”
“A black shirt and jeans,” I answered, frowning at my monitor. Heather wobbled
drunkenly. Fabian scooped her up, dumped her on the bed, and started rummaging
through her jewelry box. The sick fuck had drugged her.
Two patrol cars zoomed by me.
“Oh, thank God. The police are here.”
The dispatcher said, “I need your name and address.”
“It’s anonymous.” I disconnected.
With their guns drawn, the officers bailed out of their cars and entered the house.
A little time in jail should cool Fabian down.
I followed the cops on the monitor. The idiots were checking every freakin’ room.
Fabian would be long gone before they made it upstairs.
CATCHING DRAGOS | 25
Squeezing my eyes closed, I flipped back to the bedroom and took a cautious
peek. Heather was sprawled across the bed like a three-day-old corpse. Her dimpled
white butt protruded from her negligee. Dang. That image was forever burned into my
mind. Where the heck was Fabian? The better question was, had he stolen the ring?
The cops burst into the bedroom and grimaced in horror. One reluctantly checked
Heather’s pulse and yanked the bedspread over her. The other officers investigated the
closet and bathroom.
Hmm. How had the bugger gotten by them? I pulled up my tracking program.
Zip. Nada. Nothing. Fabian must have found the bug. Too bad he wouldn’t find his car
as easily.
My psychic radar went on red alert. I scanned the area. A flicker of movement
caught my attention. Less than twenty feet away, Fabian crouched on top of the
mansion’s six-foot perimeter wall. I wondered if he knew the police had the area locked
down.
He dropped to the ground, stripped, and staggered out of the bushes.
Yep. He knew.
A spotlight lit him up, and a female officer shouted, “Freeze.”
Grinning like a lunatic, Fabian raised his hands and broke into song. I think he
was singing “That’s Amore,” but it was hard to tell.
The stunned female officer stared at his rather awesome erection.
I was kind of impressed myself. How did he get it up on command?
Her unimpressed male partner stormed up and cuffed Fabian. “You have the right
to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be used against you in a court of
law. You have a right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to
you. Do you understand your rights?”
Fabian looked right at me and sang, “We are bound to get together. It is destiny. It
is our destiny.”
26 | GAIL KOGER
A cold chill ran down my spine. That sounded like a threat, and how could he see
me? I was still invisible.
“We are bound to get together. I’m gonna get ya, get ya, get ya,” Fabian crooned
louder.
“Shut the fuck up,” the male officer growled and stuffed Fabian in the back of the
patrol car. “Wipe the drool off your mouth, Samantha.”
Samantha holstered her gun. “That’s Fabian, the supermodel.”
“So?” The male officer got into the driver’s seat.
A besotted smile on her face, Samantha asked, “Do you think he’ll take a selfie
with me?”
“Get in the fucking car.”
She climbed in and off they went.
It was time to move on to Plan B.
CATCHING DRAGOS | 27
Chapter Five
Plan B was definitely riskier. It put me up close and personal with my prey. Since I
wasn’t dealing with Albert Einstein, I wasn’t too worried. Besides, after spending the
night in jail with a bunch of pissed-off bikers, Fabian wouldn’t be in any shape to rip off
any more old ladies. It was a real shame that his bond paperwork mysteriously
vanished.
But it did give Fabian’s people time to find him new digs. The condo he had
rented was suddenly swarming with hundreds of snakes. It seems Fabian has a thing
about slithering reptiles. On a photo shoot in Australia a python thought the
supermodel would make a tasty snack. It had taken Animal Control a good hour to
untangle him. Fabian now resided at the Amara Resort’s penthouse suite.
The Amara boasted upscale luxury with a picturesque private pool dotted with
palm trees and chaise lounges for that romantic rendezvous.
Luckily for me, the penthouse suite also came with its own butler, Millie. We were
similar in size and build. Add in a silicone face mask, black wig, and blue contact
lenses, and ta-da! I was a dead ringer for her. No, she wasn’t stuffed in the trunk of my
car. Courtesy of a local radio station and me, Millie had won a week’s vacation in
Acapulco.
In the staff’s cramped bedroom, I eyed myself in the full-length mirror. My
uniform consisted of a white dress shirt, black tie, gray vest, and miniskirt. The final
touch was gold wire-framed glasses. After casting a spell to disguise my unique aura, I
was ready to be the perfect butler. I mean, how hard could it be opening doors for
Fabian’s guests, serving drinks, and calling for his limo?
28 | GAIL KOGER
Pretty damn hard. I quickly discovered Fabian’s usual home attire was a Speedo.
A fucking Speedo! How could any woman resist lusting after all that tanned, male
perfection? My gaze dropped. Wowzers! The stretchy material showcased his package
in intimate detail. The phrase “hung like a stallion” came to mind. His spicy scent
beckoned to me, and all I wanted to do was map the length of his torso with my tongue.
No! Touching bad. Eyes up. Professional demeanor. “I’m Millie, sir. I will take
care of all your needs.” Did that come out wrong?
Fabian swept me into his arms.
Crap. It had.
The wannabe Don Juan whispered huskily, “Mi amore, I must kiss you.”
My brain screamed, Danger! Danger! If he touched my mask, the jig would be up.
But my family’s motto is: Shit happens. Always carry a shovel and be prepared to use it.
I didn’t need the shovel this time. All I had to do was gargle with my special
mixture of curry, fish, and garlic juice. It was guaranteed to drive away even the most
determined lothario.
Before Fabian’s lips could meet my rubber ones, I exhaled a long breath. The man-
whore made an awesome retching sound and leaped back like a scalded cat.
I met Fabian’s horrified gaze and asked politely, “Do you need a breath mint, sir?”
His jaw dropped. “Me?”
“I didn’t want to say anything, but I think they put too much garlic in your
scampi.”
Fabian breathed into the palm of his hand and shot me a suspicious look.
The doorbell rang. Oh, goody, more adoring fans. I hoped these were better
behaved.
Flicking back his long black hair, Fabian flexed his chest muscles like a weightlifter
and draped himself artistically along the couch.
CATCHING DRAGOS | 29
I resisted an eye roll and suggested pompously, “Might I suggest you brush your
teeth, sir, before entertaining your lady friends?”
Fabian jumped to his feet. “Show them to the pool and serve the champagne.”
“Immediately, sir.” I watched him disappear into the bathroom. God, that had
been way too easy.
A torrent of Italian curse words exploded from the bathroom.
I grinned. Guess he had found Butch, the harmless but rather large bull snake I
had left for him. I knocked on the door. “Is there a problem, sir?”
“No.”
Was that a tremor in his voice? “Are you sure, sir?”
Fabian growled, “Yes.”
“Very well, sir, I’ll attend to your guests.”
The doorbell rang again and again and again. Someone was a bit impatient, but a
proper butler doesn’t hurry. A proper butler walks sedately.
Whoever it was laid on the doorbell. Oh, for God’s sake. I yanked the door open.
A small crowd of elderly women stood there.
My eyes widened as I took in their attire. Each of them was wearing a bikini. An
itty-bitty, yellow polka-dotted bikini. Flabby wrinkled flesh overflowed the bathing
suits. “Are you looking for the public pool?”
An old gal wearing a long blonde wig giggled. “Fabian invited us up for a swim.”
My brows rose in horror. Fabian was hitting the local retirement homes now? The