Dragon Warrior (Midnight Bay) by Janet Chapman Read Free Book Online Page A

a newborn. And dammit, Maddy, she smiled at me,” he growled, squeezing her hand. “I was so stunned I just bobbed there like flotsam, completely speechless. She suddenly laughed, and then dove under the surface again. I got my wits back just in time to put my face in the water and see her swim underneath me, so close she actually tugged on my toes. And then . . . then she simply vanished again.”
    “She vanished ?”
    Trace stood up, his hands balled into fists as he faced her. “I swam back to my boat and put out a Mayday to the Coast Guard and to any other boats in the area. I told them there was a woman in the water, gave the coordinates, and then started scanning the waves again.”
    “You broadcast a Mayday? Saying what . . . that there was a naked, laughing woman swimming in the Gulf of Maine?” she asked, hoping to make light of what he was saying, as she sure as hell couldn’t comprehend it.
    He glowered at her. “You of all people know the symptoms of hypothermia: mental confusion, the sensation of warmth, euphoria.”
    “But a person can’t survive more than an hour—two hours tops—in water that cold, Trace.” Maddy also stood up. “And you’d been swimming around in it for what? Half an hour yourself? Have you considered that maybe you were the one experiencing confusion? You probably mistook a seal or a porpoise for a person at first, and only thought it was a naked woman once the cold started getting to you.”
    “I’m trained not to let the cold get to me. I could have swum the ten miles to shore if I’d had to. Dammit, Maddy, I need you to believe me!” He started to say more, but suddenly turned away and stood rigid, staring at the river.
    Maddy had no idea what to say, either.
    Or do.
    Or even think.
    “And because of my Mayday,” he said, his back still to her, “now there’s a rumor going around town that poor Trace Huntsman must have snapped over in Afghanistan, because he called the Coast Guard to come rescue a mermaid.”
    “And did you snap in Afghanistan?” she asked softly. “Is that why you came home, Trace, because they sent you home?”
    He turned to her, and Maddy nearly cried out at the pain in his eyes. “I took myself out of the game before I snapped.” Apparently in an attempt to appear indifferent, he gave a shrug, though Maddy knew he was anything but. “If they chose to believe my beating a man nearly to death meant I was losing it, who was I to argue with them?”
    She took a shuddering breath. “And did you . . . when you . . . had you reached some point of no return, Trace?”
    “I beat the bastard because he deserved it.” He slashed the air with his hand. “And that’s all I’m saying on the subject, so let’s get back to my mermaid.”
    “But—”
    “I returned to the same spot the very next day,” he continued, “and have gone there every day since, except today.” His hands balled into fists again. “And I saw her three more times: last Thursday, again Friday, and then again yesterday.” He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. “Yesterday she surfaced not ten feet from my boat and hit me square in the chest with this,” he said, holding his hand toward her.
    Maddy stared at the tiny metal object.
    “I’ve decided it’s a coin,” he said, taking her wrist to lift her hand, and pressing the object into her palm. “An ancient coin made of some metal I don’t recognize. I spent today at the library searching the stacks and online, but I wasn’t able to find anything like it. I couldn’t find anything resembling the symbol stamped on it, either.”
    When she still said nothing, he turned the coin over, leaving it sitting in her palm. “But I think the marking on the back is a word, and near as I can tell, it’s Sanskrit.”
    She lifted her gaze to his. “Sanskrit?”
    “It’s an ancient Indic language used around twelve hundred to four hundred B.C .”
    “Indic?”
    “It was spoken in India and is still used in