Tracker and the Spy Read online

  Table of Contents

  Synopsis

  What Reviewers Say About D. Jackson Leigh’s Work

  By the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  About the Author

  Books Available from Bold Strokes Books

  Synopsis

  The prickly and complex Captain Tanisha is reluctantly paired with Kyle, a powerful untried pyro, to track The Prophet to his new headquarters and infiltrate The Natural Order cult. When their mission is complicated by a lovesick dragon horse, Kyle’s relationship to the leader of the dangerous cult, and the discovery of hostages in the tower of the Golden Temple, their choices suddenly aren’t as simple as black or white, good or evil, trust or betrayal. Even the dragon horse warriors must learn to embrace the mantra they are defending—stronger together.

  Dragon Horse War, Book II

  What Reviewers Say About D. Jackson Leigh’s Work

  “Call Me Softly is a thrilling and enthralling novel of love, lies, intrigue and Southern charm.”—Bibliophilic Book Blog

  “D. Jackson Leigh understands the value of branding and delivers more of the familiar and welcome story elements that set her novels apart from other authors in the romance genre.”—The Rainbow Reader

  “Her prose is clean, lean, and mean—elegantly descriptive…”—Out in Print

  “Leigh writes with an emotion that she in turn gives to the characters, allowing us insight into their personalities and their very souls. Filled with fantastic imagery and the down-to-earth flaws that are sometimes the characters’ greatest strengths, this first Dragon Horse War is a story not to be missed. The writing is flawless, the story, breath-taking.”—Lambda Literary Society

  Dragon Horse War: Tracker and the Spy

  Brought to you by

  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

  Dragon Horse War: Tracker and the Spy

  © 2016 By D. Jackson Leigh. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-469-8

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: February 2016

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Shelley Thrasher

  Production Design: Susan Ramundo

  Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])

  Illustration By Paige Braddock

  By the Author

  Cherokee Falls Series:

  Bareback

  Long Shot

  Every Second Counts

  Southern Secrets:

  Call Me Softly

  Touch Me Gently

  Hold Me Forever

  Dragon Horse War:

  The Calling

  Tracker and the Spy

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks again to my amazing editor, Dr. Shelley Thrasher. Her expert hand and patience, as well as her friendship, is appreciated more than I can express.

  A special thanks to VK Powell, for the very fun weekends a couple of times each year where we sip liquor and talk out plots and characters. That flow of ideas has helped me let go and give my characters enough rein to guide my plot through some twists I hadn’t anticipated.

  Also, a debt of gratitude to my super awesome friend, Paige Braddock (aka Missouri Vaun) for drawing Captain Tan for the cover of this book. Thanks, pal.

  Finally, a special thanks to my romance readers who trusted me enough to follow me into this fantasy adventure. Thank you very, very much.

  Dedication

  In loving memory of my father. I still feel his kind and gentle presence every day.

  Ron Jackson, February 1934–June 2015.

  A hundred years of peace is shattered when a cult called The Natural Order takes advantage of a series of weather disasters to revive a patriarchal belief that only the strongest should survive. An elite army of dragon horses and pyro-gifted warriors is activated to hunt and destroy the cult before it undermines The Collective culture of embracing diversity and the worldwide sharing of resources. There are lessons for all, however. Even the dragon-horse warriors must learn to embrace the mantra they are defending—stronger together.

  Chapter One

  Kyle blocked the doorway into the treatment room. The stream of people seeking medical attention for burns, projectile wounds, or broken bones after being trampled in the melee at the train depot had seemed endless. Some were simply sick from chronic ailments and anxious to receive their share of the medicine recovered from the men who stole it months before.

  She was hungry and exhausted but had been assigned to protect the First Advocate, and as long as Alyssa treated patients in the room behind her, Kyle would stand guard. She scrunched her shoulders back until her blades nearly touched in an effort to relieve their ache, but resisted her desire to sag against the doorframe. She might fall asleep standing up if she did, and she needed to stay alert. The hallway of the small medical clinic overflowed with people coming and going or standing and waiting.

  Alyssa was apparently someone important. Otherwise, why would the First Warrior—who seemed to be in charge of everything—have ordered Kyle to guard her? Her mind wandered. During the past twenty-four hours she’d seen other pyros like herself; winged, fire-breathing horses; and the First Warrior standing fierce and fearless and glittering in her silver battleskin. She’d dreamed of such things. Last night, those dreams had become real.

  Kyle’s heart quickened with a forgotten memory—her mother’s bedtime stories. Her younger brother and sister would fall asleep, but Kyle always listened until the end. Then her mother would tuck the covers around Kyle’s sleeping siblings before turning to her. Laine would kiss her cheek and look into Kyle’s eyes. You are special, my daughter, and destined for great things. Afterward, Kyle would dream of the fantastic creatures in her mother’s stories—warriors and winged horses that breathed fire.

  Was it a mother’s wish or a seer’s premonition? They didn’t speak of her mother’s and her sister’s gifts, just like they hid Kyle’s pyro talent. Kyle didn’t know why they should hide theirs when so many others didn’t. Her mother said all would be revealed when the time was right.

  She shook herself from her daydream when the human traffic in the crowded hallway seemed to tense and shift. People thumped against the walls with small exclamations as they moved back to make way for someone headed straight for where Kyle stood. Fatigue forgotten, she felt every fiber of her body vibrate. She raised her hands, pal
m up and readied to ignite flame and defend the First Advocate.

  Predator. Sleek cat. Coiled snake. Dark, angry eyes stared out from a stripe of black that ran from temple to temple above slashes of blood-bright and lightning-white that marked high cheekbones of smooth, rich brown. The well-shaped head was shaved smooth except for a four-centimeter strip of tight curls from forehead to nape. Was the cape draped from shoulder to hip hiding weapons? Kyle’s fingertips ignited—reflex rather than conscious thought—when she straightened to fill the doorway as much as her wiry frame allowed.

  The figure stopped and regarded her with a curious tilt of the head.

  “Identify yourself.” Kyle’s order rang with a confidence she didn’t feel.

  “And if I don’t?” The resonant alto was punctuated with a snarl, white teeth against full, sensuous lips. “Will you burn the clinic down around our heads, Sparky?”

  Kyle stiffened but extinguished her flame. “Identify yourself.”

  “Get out of my way.” A shrug of lean shoulders parted and folded the light cape back to reveal a silver battleskin that clung to every sculpted muscle.

  Kyle stared at the dragon-horse insignia emblazoned between perfect breasts but stood firm when the warrior tried to shoulder past her. “I have my orders. Anyone could steal one of those suits. Identify yourself.”

  The warrior eyed her with disdain. Her hands twitched in a movement familiar to any pyro, and Kyle readied to reignite her own. They would both be burned in a fight at such close quarters. The warrior stepped even closer, her face inches from Kyle’s. “I am Tanisha of The Guard. Now, do you know anything more than you did a moment ago?”

  The hand that touched her back stopped Kyle’s answer.

  “Tan, thank the stars. We desperately need your surgery skills. Are you free to help?”

  Tan continued to stare down the young woman who had challenged her but stepped back as Alyssa squeezed around the upstart. Few had the backbone to take her on when she was wearing war paint. She liked to intimidate, to dominate. It kept everyone at a safe distance, except for this sparkler. Okay, maybe her flame was blue-white hot. Not a novice, but Tan didn’t know her, so as far as she was concerned, this rangy kid was still a novice firecracker who needed to learn her place.

  “Stop it. Kyle is a friend.”

  Tan relented, shifting her gaze to Alyssa, but only because of the weariness in her voice. The First Advocate’s cheeks, normally colored by swatches of sunset rose, were pale. Fatigue dulled her vibrant green eyes and shadowed her face. Even the normal spikes of her short, fiery red hair lay limp and dark with sweat. Tanisha’s respect for the young first-life had grown over the months they’d worked side by side in the clinic at the dragon-horse army’s camp, even if she did miss the occasional jump she once shared with Jael before Alyssa laid claim to the First Warrior’s heart and bed. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” Alyssa sighed. “No, but we don’t have the week I’d need to explain all the reasons why.” She rubbed at her eyes. “Right now, we need another pair of hands in surgery.”

  She nodded, a conciliatory gesture since she reported to the First Warrior, not the First Advocate, no matter how high her rank. “I’ve got some time. Diego and I were tracking the bastard that caused all of this, but he’s gone underground for now, so I can help out here while Diego works some of his local sources and we wait for nightfall.”

  “Brasília.”

  Tan turned slowly back to Alyssa’s guard. Alyssa had called her Kyle. She was lean, her dark hair cut androgynously short and her eyes blue flames.

  “I don’t know where they might be going now, but they were headed to Brasília to meet some believers there.”

  Everything in Tan went still.

  “Kyle was with the people on the train. She helped me escape,” Alyssa said, moving to stand between Tan and Kyle.

  Tan narrowed her eyes and circled around Alyssa toward Kyle. Maybe the trail wasn’t as cold as they thought. “What do you know about this?”

  “You don’t need to—” Alyssa held up her hand and closed her eyes for a long moment. Then she blinked, as if to regain her focus. “Jael is busy interrogating a group of women and a few men who were captured. Seventeen hundred at the temple. The Guard will gather to debrief then.”

  Tan straightened. Just because Alyssa was bedding the First Warrior, The Guard didn’t take orders from her.

  Seventeen hundred, Tan.

  Jael’s voice echoed in her brain, and she realized that Alyssa had been communicating with Jael telepathically. You trust this sparkler who’s trailing Alyssa?

  I assigned Kyle to that duty.

  Tan had her own opinions about things, but she was a soldier and an order was an order. As you command. She nodded to Alyssa, giving Kyle one last grudging glance. “Good enough, eh? Until then, point me to the surgery rooms.”

  ❖

  The man and woman abandoned the gurney they were guiding toward an operating room and plastered themselves against the wall to move as far away as possible when Tan pushed through the doors to the clinic’s small surgery suite. Across from them, a woman who sat behind a scheduling desk slid her rolling chair back slightly, as if preparing to sprint away to safety.

  Tan cocked her head and bared her teeth in a snarl of a smile. Reaction to her fierce appearance always amused her, and she was tempted to toy with them a bit. But a small whimpering sound drew her to the gurney.

  “Dr. Tan?” The boy’s pupils were dilated with the medication he’d been given to relax him, even though a nerve block was stopping pain from reaching his brain. Cyrus, leader of The Natural Order, had severed his hand as a message to Jael when he fled his cult’s first clash with The Collective’s dragon-horse army. Tan had found the boy in time to save his life, then handed him over to Diego to deliver to the clinic while she chased Cyrus. “Did you catch him?”

  “Not yet, Ari.” She bent over him and soothed his damp hair back from his forehead, mentally cursing that she had the rough fingertips of a pyro. “But I have his trail. I came to put your hand back on your arm first.”

  He blinked drowsily and licked at his dry lips. His eyes wandered to the dragon-horse insignia emblazoned on her chest. “You’re magic. I saw you at the train on a flying horse.”

  Tan smiled. “Don’t let her hear you call her a flying horse. She’s a dragon horse.”

  “But she can fly.”

  “Yes, she can. Maybe when you’re all better, I’ll ask her if she’ll take you on a short flight. She does that for very brave boys like you.”

  His eyes filled with tears, and his face contorted with the effort to hold them back. “I wasn’t brave. I cried and begged when they cut off my hand.” A sob, then another escaped until he was quietly crying.

  Tan stroked his cheek. “The First Advocate said you are very brave. She personally sent me to fix the damage this bad man has done.”

  “You can really put my hand back?” His eyes were hopeful.

  She cocked her head. “Yes. I’m magic, remember?”

  He nodded solemnly, then shivered.

  Tan pulled back the thin blanket that covered him and took her cloak from her shoulders to lay it over him, then re-covered him with the blanket. “There. I will shield you with some of my magic while I reattach your hand, just for good measure.”

  His smile was weary, and his eyelids drooped. “Mami will be worried when I don’t come home tonight.”

  “Don’t worry, young warrior. I’ll have someone go for your mother so she’ll be here when you wake up.”

  “Okay.” His eyes closed and Tan started to straighten, but his soft words called her back. “Dr. Tan?”

  “Yes, Ari?”

  His eyes remained closed, and she put her ear close to hear his whisper. “I like your face paint.”

  “Sleep now. All will be well.”

  Tan straightened and strode to the scheduling desk. The three adults had edged forward to eavesdrop on Tan’s conversation with th
eir patient, but immediately moved back when she approached again.

  “Changing room?”

  The woman behind the desk silently pointed to a door down the hall.

  “Spare scrubs?”

  “O-on the rack to your right, just inside the door,” the woman said.

  Tan picked up the med scanner lying on the desk next to the scheduling tablet and held it to her neck so it could read the identity chip imbedded there. “I’m Dr. Tanisha of Third Continent, and I’m a qualified fifth-level surgeon. I understand you’re shorthanded and I’m here to offer my assistance.”

  The woman cautiously scooted her chair forward to read the credentials that popped up on her tablet screen. She blinked up at Tan. “I—” She cleared her throat. “I’ll notify Dr. Mendez right away.”

  “Thank you.”

  ❖

  “Kyle! It’s good to see you safe.”

  She hadn’t expected her eyes to tear, but his presence brought a wave of homesickness and worry. She stepped into Furcho’s open arms and buried her face in his shoulder. “You smell like home,” she said, her voice wistful and muffled by his shirt.

  He chuckled but held her tighter and stroked her back. “It’s only the soap I use. The scent reminds me of home, too.” Furcho was physically little more than a decade older than she, but his soul was much older. Her father had barely tolerated him, jealous because Furcho was promoted over him at the university. But Kyle’s mother and Furcho had been good friends.

  Reluctantly, she slipped from his arms and stepped back. Her throat was so tight, she didn’t know if she could speak the words. “Thomas is dead, isn’t he?”