“We can take you there,” she purred, as Lexi bobbed her head in agreement, “if you agree to buy us something later tonight.”

The boys grinned at each other like they’d won the lottery. “Well, you drive a hard bargain, gorgeous,” one of them said, the one who’d winked at me. “But I think we can accept those terms.”

I stifled a groan. I didn’t want to go; I didn’t like these three for some reason. I’d seen how males acted around girls; they often got very stupid and possessive. I still wasn’t an expert on the nuances of human behavior, especially when it came to their mating rituals.

Maybe this was normal?

I really should’ve listened to my dragon.

Garret

I wasn’t terribly fond of these clothes.

When fighting creatures with fangs that could sever ligaments, claws that could rip you open like a paper sack, and breath that could melt the skin from your bones, armor was essential. A good flak jacket could take a lot of heat and damage, and was surprisingly better then a Kevlar vest when dealing with a dragon’s natural weapons. Over the years, however, our enemies started to realize that firearms were just as efficient, and now were just as likely to shoot us as blast us with flame. Still, when forced into their natural forms, dragons always fell back to their deadliest weapons. Our black and gray combat uniforms were made of flame retardant fabric and lined with steel plates; they couldn’t protect us from everything, especially a direct blast of dragonfire, but it was better than going into battle with nothing.

The point was, I was comfortable in armor. The more padding and steel between me and my enemy, the better. I’d been through missions where my armor had been ripped to shreds, burned and cut to pieces, and if I hadn’t had it on, I would have been dead. I didn’t like feeling vulnerable or exposed. And there were few things flimsier than shorts and the loose black tank top I was wearing at the moment. I might as well have walked around this beach stark naked.

“You’re sulking again,” Tristan remarked from the driver’s seat, not looking up from the window. Like me, he wore shorts and a tank top, the picture of a fist with the thumb and pinkie held out gracing the front. Unlike me, it didn’t seem to bother him.

“I’m not sulking.”

“Right. Brooding, then.” He fell silent as a young couple walked by the jeep, close enough to touch his arm dangling out the window, but he didn’t even glance their way. His gaze hadn’t left the group at the edge of the parking lot. “We’ve been here over three weeks, partner,” he informed me, as if I’d lost track. “You’re going to have to get used to it sometime. This is where that whole adapting and blending in thing applies. Can’t walk around the beach in full combat armor, even if there is a dragon nearby.”

I knew that. I also knew the Order required us to finish this mission, regardless of my personal feelings. Guns and dragons and fighting and death: that was what I was good at. Long stakeouts in a cheerful town surrounded by normal civilians, less so. “Do you still have the targets in sight?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

He snorted, again without looking back. “Garret, I can hold the crosshairs on a target for two hours without moving it or dropping the scope,” he said irritably. “I think I can keep an eye on a bunch of teenage girls.”

I let the jab slide. It had been a frustrating three weeks. three weeks of research, of watching the beach 24/7, observing the different groups, weeding out tourists, family units, the poor, the employed.

From the intelligence we’d received, we knew that the sleeper dragon was young, well-off, and that it would be drawn to the popular, pretty crowd in order to fit in. The clique that “owned” the beach, so to speak. After countless hours of investigation, we’d finally narrowed it down to a group of teens who were out here nearly every day, and usually together. Any one of them could be our target.

Phase one, complete. Now, we were almost ready for phase two, the part I’d been dreading. The part where I’d have to infiltrate the group, get them to trust me, and discover which of them was a fire-breathing monster of legend.

I had no idea how I was going to do that.

“Well, well,” Tristan muttered, causing me to glance across the lot again. “Looks like they’re about to take off with a bunch of frat boys. That could be problematic.”

I followed his gaze to where a jeep similar to our black one pulled out of the parking space. Two of the girls, the blond and the brunette, sat wedged between a pair of strange guys in the back. All four were laughing and talking, and had beer bottles in their hands. The other, the small redhead, sat up front, her eyes trained out the window like she really didn’t want to be there. Her surfboard stuck precariously out of the back as they squealed off down the road.

I glanced at my partner. “What now?”

He put the jeep in reverse and backed out of the lot. “Easy. We follow them.”

Ember

It was late afternoon when we got to the cove, flanked on two sides by a wall of windswept cliffs that sheltered it from waves and casual tourists. The small white beach leading down to the water was completely empty, though if we waited a few hours for the sun to set, that would change. Lone Rock Cove was not a place normally visited during the day, as the broken bottles, trash, and other things lying in the sand indicated. A single large boulder sat in the center of the beach halfway between the cliff walls and the ocean, giving the alcove its name.