The Dragon Tree Legacy Read online

  Synopsis

  At age thirteen, Major Wiley Gremillion sat with Aubrey Tarver under their dragon tree, sure of her future. She’d share her life with Aubrey and continue her family’s tradition of military service.

  But as a sniper with Special Forces, code name Black Dragon, her enemies cost her a future with Aubrey. Walking away was the only way to keep Aubrey whole. Now retired, Wiley knows she’ll be alone, dividing her time between her canvasses and helping others with her unique military skill set.

  Time hasn’t dulled the pain of losing Wiley for Aubrey, but she has to set that aside when her choices put her life and her family’s lives in real danger. The only way out is Wiley, but after so many years, Aubrey’s not sure that’s an option.

  Aubrey’s first call sets off a firestorm that will take all Wiley’s experience to escape, and along the way they might find what they lost. Together they started their story under a tree, and they’ll fight to make sure it doesn’t end on the streets of New Orleans.

  The Dragon Tree Legacy

  Brought to you by

  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  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.

  The Dragon Tree Legacy

  © 2012 By Ali Vali. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-816-2

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: December 2012

  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: Stacia Seaman

  Cover Art by Barb Kiwak

  Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])

  By the Author

  Carly’s Sound

  Second Season

  Calling the Dead

  Blue Skies

  Balance of Forces: Toujours Ici

  Love Match

  The Dragon Tree Legacy

  The Cain Casey Saga

  The Devil Inside

  The Devil Unleashed

  Deal with the Devil

  The Devil Be Damned

  Acknowledgments

  Stories sometimes come from the strangest places. This one started with a tree on my route into the city, and it inspired me to a new set of characters and a great adventure.

  Thank you to Radclyffe for your guidance, advice, for giving me a home at BSB and allowing my imagination free rein to tell my stories. To be part of such a special family is an honor I’m truly grateful for.

  Thank you to my editor, Shelley Thrasher. You teach me something new with every book, and you do it with patience and grace. The most valuable lesson I’ve learned on my own is that the ability of a good editor to make a book shine is a blessing. You’re the best, and your red pen is legendary.

  Thank you to Stacia Seaman for the final polish you give every book, and for always taking them to the next level.

  The cover of this book is a piece painted by the amazing Barb Kiwak. Barb, you took my tree and made it beautiful, I can’t take my eyes off it. When the Dragon Tree is mentioned in the book, please go back to the cover and enjoy Barb’s work. Thank you, Barb, for the gift of your talent, and that it’s on my book is lagniappe. In south Louisiana, that means it makes it a little bit more special.

  Thank you to my first readers, Connie Ward, Kathi Isserman, and Tina Cerami. Your insights and comments are always invaluable, but your greatest gift is friendship. A special thanks to fellow author and friend Carsen Taite for all her advice and vlogs. All you guys are the best, and I really appreciated your help on this one.

  Thanks to every single reader for your notes, e-mails, and encouraging words. Believe me, they go a long way toward keeping me at the keyboard. Every story is written with you in mind.

  Thank you to my partner and love, C. You make me laugh, and you make me believe there is beauty in the world no matter what. You are my joy, my best friend, and I love you. Verdad!

  For C

  All my love

  Chapter One

  Wiley Gremillion softly sang the first few words of the song from Disney’s Pinocchio, about wishing on a star, as she sat in the luxury sedan with her head resting against the window. The street where she was parked had two burned-out streetlights, making it almost impossible to see her until someone actually stood next to the driver’s side of the car.

  It was a gamble to sit alone in the dark in the neighborhood along the Mississippi River, but the only two men who’d ventured close to her car had quickly departed when she stared at them. She’d long ago perfected the fuck-with-me-at-your-own-risk facial expression.

  The run-down neighborhood that cusped the river was in reality close enough to the grand homes of Uptown New Orleans to walk. The distance, though, could have been as wide as the Grand Canyon when you compared the dwellings.

  She continued to sing, keeping her attention on the peeling red paint of the door on the small shotgun house third from the corner. This was her third trip to the street Katrina’s floodwaters had spared, but it appeared devastated nonetheless, because of poverty and neglect.

  She finished the first verse of Harline and Washington’s song about desires coming true and smiled. Finally Jerry Dupre walked toward her on the other side of the street, wearing such dark clothing she would’ve missed him if she hadn’t memorized everything about his stride.

  Jerry hadn’t been hard to find. She had detected the pattern of rapes Jerry had committed from the police reports, after hacking their system. Evidently, three brutal attacks committed in different precincts weren’t enough to signal that a repeat offender was loose. But the details were too similar to ignore, so she’d hunted where people such as Jerry liked to brag. The idiot had posted pictures on a member-restricted Internet site that catered to sexual predators. From their comments, his fellow sickos had gotten off on the fear etched on the faces of the three young women he had chosen to inflict his special type of pain on.

  Stripping away the security layers of the site had led her to the office of Dr. Jerry Dupre, a recognized cardiologist practicing across Lake Pontchartrain in Mandeville. At least he’d been smart enough not to play in his own backyard. But his cooling-off period was shrinking, so she spotted his urge to revel in the other side of his controlled and knowledgeable physician persona.

  His audacity surprised her when he stopped at the front door of the shotgun house and tried the knob. Until now he’d just stopped on the sidewalk and stared as if he could see through the cypress slats covering the outside. On his knees it took him two minutes to work the lock, and he glanced back one more time before he stepped inside and closed the door quietly enough that no lights came on.

  The girl on the bed was sleeping on her stomach, her sheets pooled along her waist with her legs bare, and Jerry was so focused on studying her like a slide under a microscope that he never noticed Wiley standing outside the bedroom door. He quietly unbuckled his belt, and from what she could see in the limited light coming from the large red display of the alarm clock, he was pleasuring himself, obviously wanting to be ready when he pounced.

  “You teasing little bitch,” he whispered, as if working himself into the frenzy that would justify
the rape and beating he thought she deserved. At least that’s how he’d explained himself to his fellow online buddies.

  Wiley fanned her fingers out and waited for him to take one step toward the bed.

  “You walk around half-naked and you wonder why shit like this happens to you.” Jerry rocked his head from side to side, the bones in his neck cracking like a gunshot. His willingness to make noise was Wiley’s clue that he was ready; his MO was for the girl to wake and see him. Then he’d get what he really wanted—panic and fear. Wiley was familiar with assholes like Jerry and knew what motivated him.

  But he didn’t know that this was his target’s third night of peaceful sleep, thanks to Wiley’s visits with a syringe full of sedative. Not leaving witnesses was something she and Jerry had in common.

  “You’re going to pay for your whoring ways tonight, bitch,” he said, loud enough to wake the neighbors.

  “You couldn’t have said it any better, Dr. Dupre.” She stood right behind him, jammed her Taser to the back of his neck, and zapped him with a high voltage. He dropped like a rock at her feet. The thunk of his head impacting the floor sent a rush of satisfaction through her chest.

  He was heavier than she imagined, but she lifted him over her shoulder with no trouble. He’d be out for a while. She checked to make sure she had a clear shot to the car and left the double-cylinder lock she’d bought as a gift for the young woman on a small table near the door, next to her house keys and purse. Someone could still kick the door in, but someone like Jerry would have a harder time, if there was a next time.

  Wiley locked the door, strode to the car, and dumped Jerry in the trunk. She bound his wrists and ankles with zip ties and duct tape. “You might’ve been in the mood to get fucked, but fucked up is what’s on the menu tonight.”

  She slowly drove through the mostly deserted streets, smiling as she reviewed the next stage of her plan. The area in City Park she’d picked for their first stop stayed locked until the workers arrived at six, so she made no attempt to hide her identity. If someone glimpsed her shoulder-length blond hair or got close enough to see her oddly colored blue eyes, she wouldn’t be concerned. However, the storage facility where the park personnel left their tree-trimming equipment was usually quiet and empty of the homeless who resided on the grounds no matter the time.

  The heavy air hinted at rain. The early morning was hot as midday, making her hands slide inside her leather gloves. Weather-related discomforts didn’t bother her after what seemed like a lifetime of training to ignore them, along with a lot of other things that bothered most people, like what she was preparing to do. Very few had the stomach to do what was necessary in such situations. Those who had trained her would remember her for her talent for killing. That was nothing to rejoice over, but when she could utilize it on a savage like Jerry, it salved any guilt that crept up.

  She opened the trunk and Jerry blinked up at her, looking dazed and confused. She smiled. Before he could rally any courage and try to intimidate her, as often happened when idiots realized a woman had gotten to them so easily, she took a picture of him, the flash making him blink worse. She’d post his picture on his favorite website so his other so-called masters of pain would see how easily the tables could be turned.

  “Hello, Dr. Dupre.” She grabbed him by his collar and pulled him into a sitting position. “I’m sure you’re pissed that I ruined your night of fun, but three young women were enough. At least that’s all my employer knows about.”

  His cheeks inflated almost comically when he tried to talk despite the tape over his mouth, and he predictably glared up at her and tried to struggle out of the zip ties. He fully displayed the anger that’d fueled his new hobby until she pressed her hunting knife to his neck hard enough to draw a droplet of blood. Jerry went from predator to scared little boy in less time than it took for him to start blinking again. An image of his victims flashed through her mind and fury blurred her vision. Her hand trembled and she ached to hear him cry out in fear and pain. Taking a deep breath, she forced her rage back into its cage and steadied her hand on the knife.

  “You’ve been a bad boy, Doctor, and tonight you have to pay for your crimes.” She pressed the blade tighter against his skin. The sweat pouring off him in fat droplets seemed more to do with terror than with the heat. “But before we get to that I’m going to remove this,” she tapped on the tape, “if you promise to behave.”

  He nodded so fast she had a hard time getting a grip to rip it off. “Who are you and what do you want?”

  “Lower your voice or I’ll make the decision for you, and I don’t want to do that.” A little of his blood ran down the knife when she silenced him with another small cut. “Shut up and let me explain the rules.”

  “Who are you?” he asked, this time quieter.

  “I’m from the Hippocratic Oath Discipline Committee, here to remind you that you promised to first do no harm.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re a doctor, Jerry. You were supposed to help those who trusted you with their lives. That you did, but I know of three women who saw a different side of that bedside manner you’re known for.”

  “They asked for it.” His voice got louder again. When she hauled him out of the car to the ground and cut the ties to his feet, he went willingly to the young oak tree that Katrina hadn’t uprooted. With his back to it, she ran a rope around his chest and pulled hard enough to pin him in place.

  “They asked for it?” She showed him a picture of each of his victims, beaten so badly their mothers had barely recognized them. “Do you want me to call them and tell them you’re here, and they can do whatever they like?”

  “You don’t understand the pressure I’m under. I didn’t mean anything. They simply served as a release valve to keep me fresh so I can do good. Their willingness to take punishment made me a better doctor.” His fast, desperate, tinny speech signaled that he could sense what it was like when someone else was in charge of his fate. Wiley was ready to pour more fuel on the flames that would burn away his self-confidence.

  She slipped the pictures back into her pocket and laughed. Why were guys like this so pathetically the same? “That’s the excuse you’re going with? Really? If the cops had caught you, your jury would’ve had a hard time sitting in the deliberation room long enough to make it look like they gave you a fair shake.”

  “You think a jury will ever hear any of this?” He laughed and appeared momentarily cool, as if he’d gained the upper hand. “If you’re a cop it won’t matter if you can prove anything. No judge will allow a case to be built against me now. I have rights, goddammit.”

  “You’ve already been found guilty, Doctor.” She cut his belt, an icy stillness spreading through her. She had no problem being judge and jury. “Tonight isn’t about building a case against you, but sentencing you for your guilt.”

  “You can’t do that.” His voice carried in the stillness.

  “Remember your promise to be quiet. If you don’t, I’ll decide for you.”

  “Decide what?” He fought against his bindings as if he’d only just realized the danger he was in.

  “Decide on what price you’ll pay for what you’ve done.” She resheathed her knife and grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look at her. He smelled sour, like the evil inside him was starting to ooze out of his pores. “You may choose to lose either something you care greatly for, or your life. You have a minute to decide. If not, I will.”

  “Is this some kind of joke?”

  “You have fifty-five seconds left.” She calmly cut another piece of tape from the roll.

  “Something I care greatly for,” he blurted out before she could gag him. “How much do you want?” He cocked his head back, away from her advance.

  “Money is what you care greatly for?” He’d lost his opportunity to answer, and she stepped back to take another picture of his wide eyes and gag. “How tragic for your wife and children.”

  He looked relieved wh
en she unzipped his pants. He probably believed this was a joke and she was about to get him off. “If you rethink your answer, I bet something matters to you more than money.” She cut his underwear away and stood back, studying his penis. He’d left his hard-on back at the girl’s house, along with his old life. She’d give him back neither. “Oh, what difference an hour makes, huh?”

  She took another picture before putting her hand on him. “Something that defines the sexual god you think yourself to be.” He stayed shriveled in her hand, moaning through his gag and shaking his head as he tried to kick her away.

  “Your choice, remember.” She hesitated, letting him grasp fully what was about to happen, then cut away his testicles and held them up for him to see before she started the wood chipper and dropped them in. The grinding gears created a rough baseline to the blasts of air coming through his nose. The horror and pain in his expression left her unmoved. After all, he’d asked for it.

  “Court’s adjourned.”

  *

  Jerry sat next to her with his legs tightly pressed together and his hands squeezed between them as Wiley drove to the nearest hospital. After he’d watched her let go of what she’d deemed one of his most valuable possessions, he’d passed out long enough for her to swab the inside of his mouth with the large Q-tip-looking sticks the police used. She’d dropped those in a specimen bag from his hospital, along with the confession letter written on his letterhead. No matter how skilled the handwriting expert, they’d never be able to prove it was a forgery.