PROLOGUE

San Francisco - 1952 The fire started easily, a small spark, a whisper of breath, and the tiny flame leaped and crackled. It slid quickly down the length of rope, growing in size and beauty with each inch it consumed. It wasn’t too late to stop it, to have second thoughts. A fire extinguisher was nearby. It would take just a second to grab it and douse the small flames. But the fire was so beautiful, mesmerizing -- gold, red, orange, black -- the colors of the dragons that had promised so much, prosperity, love, good health, a second chance, a new start.

The fire began to pop, the small sounds lost in the constant boom of firecrackers going off in the streets of San Francisco in celebration of the Chinese New Year. No one would notice another noise, another spark of light, until it was too late. In the confusion of the smoke and the crowds, the dragons and the box they guarded would disappear. No one would ever know what had really happened.

The flame reached the end of the rope that had been soaked in gasoline and suddenly burst forth in a flash of intense, deadly heat. More explosions followed as the fire caught the cardboard boxes holding precious inventory and jumped toward the basement ceiling. A questioning cry came from somewhere, followed by the sound of footsteps running down the halls of the building that had once been their sanctuary, their dream for the future, where the treasures of the past were turned into cold, hard cash.

The cost of betrayal would be high. They would be brothers no more. But then, their ties had never been of blood, only of friendship; a friendship that some would think had died this night of fire, but in truth had died much earlier.

There was only one thing left to do, grab the dragons and their box of secrets. The back door offered an escape route. The wall of fire would prevent anyone from seeing the truth. No one would ever know who was responsible.

The crate where the dragons were stored beckoned like the welcoming wave of an old friend. It took but a moment to pry off the lid. Eye-watering smoke and intense heat made it difficult to see what was inside, but impossible not to realize that something was missing, more than one something.

Only one dragon was inside! The other dragon was gone, as was the box. How could it be? Where were they? The three pieces were never to be separated. They all knew the importance of keeping them together.

There was no time to search further. A door on the opposite side of the basement was flung open. A man holding a red fire extinguisher shot a small, helpless stream of chemicals at what was now a raging inferno.

The fire could not be stopped, nor the future. It was done. For better or worse, the dragons would never dance together again.

CHAPTER ONE

San Francisco - Today

They say that dragons bring good luck to their owners,” Nan Delaney said.

Riley McAllister studied the dark bronze statue in his grandmother’s hands. Ten inches tall, it appeared to be a dragon, although the figure looked more like a monster with its serpent body and dirty scales. Its brilliant green eyes blazed like real stones, but those eyes couldn’t possibly be jade. Nor could the gold stripe that ran around its neck really be gold. As for luck, Riley had never believed in it before, and he didn’t intend to start now. “If that dragon were lucky, we’d be at the front of this line,” he grumbled.

He cast a frustrated look at the people around them, at least a hundred he estimated. When he’d agreed to help his grandmother clear out her attic, he’d never imagined he’d be standing in the parking lot at the Cow Palace Arena in San Francisco early Monday morning with a bunch of people who wanted to have their trash appraised by a traveling antique show.

“Patience, Riley.” Nan’s voice still had a touch of her native Irish brogue even though she’d lived in California for sixty years.

He frowned at his grandmother’s perky smile, wondering where she got her energy. She was seventy-three years old, for God’s sake. But then, she’d always been a pint-sized dynamo. Pretty too, with her stark white hair that had been the same shade for as long as he could remember, and her pale blue eyes that always seemed to see straight into his soul.

“Good things come to those who wait,” she reminded him.

Not in his experience. Good things came to those who sweated blood, pulled out all the stops, sacrificed everything and never let sentiment cloud reason. “Why don’t you let me sell this stuff on the Internet?” he suggested for the twentieth time.

“And let someone take advantage of me? I don’t think so.”

“What makes you think these people won’t take advantage of you?”

“Because Antiques on the Road is on television,” she said with simple logic. “They can’t lie in front of millions of people. Besides this will be fun, a new experience. And you’re a peach to come with me. The perfect grandson.”

“Yeah, I’m a peach, and you can stop the buttering up, because I’m already here.”

His grandmother smiled and set the dragon gently on top of the other treasures in the red Radio Flyer wagon she’d also found in the attic. She was convinced that somewhere in her pile of pottery, dolls, baseball cards and old books was a rare find. He thought she’d be lucky to get five dollars for everything in the wagon. A loud clattering noise drew his head around. “What the hell is that?” he asked in amazement as a tall man dressed in full armor lumbered toward the front of the line.

“He looks like a knight in shining armor.”

“More like the tin man in need of a brain.”

“He probably thinks he has a better chance of getting on the show if he wears the armor. I wonder if we have anything interesting we could wear.” She squatted next to the wagon and began digging through the pile.

“Forget about it. I’m not wearing anything but what I have on.” Riley pulled up the zipper on his black leather jacket, feeling like the only sane person in the middle of a freak show.

“What about this?” she asked, handing him a baseball cap.

“Why did you bring that? It’s not an antique.” “It was signed by Willie Mays. It says so right there.”

Riley checked out the signature scrawled across the bill of the cap. He hadn’t seen the cap in a very long time, but he distinctly remembered writing on it. “Uh, Grandma, I hate to tell you this, but I’m Willie Mays. I signed that back in the days when I was practicing forgeries.”

“What? Did you think Willie Mays was going to get you excused from school?”

He grinned. “I already had your signature down pat. I was planning to sell that hat to Jimmy O’Hurley, but somebody tipped him off.”

“You were a very bad boy, Riley.”

“I tried.”

The busty redhead standing in front of them turned her head at his comment, giving him a long, sexy look. “I like bad boys,” she said with a purr that matched her cat’s eyes. The old man standing next to her tapped his cane impatiently on the ground.

“What did you say, Lucy?” he asked, adjusting his hearing aid.

The redhead cast Riley a wistful look, then turned back to the stooped, old buzzard who had probably put the two carat ring on her third finger. “I said, I love you, honey.”

“That’s just sick,” Nan whispered to Riley. “She’s young enough to be his granddaughter. It goes to show that men can always get younger women.”

“If they have enough money,” Riley agreed.

“I hate that you’re so cynical.”

“Realistic, Grandma. And I don’t think you’d be happy if I was walking around San Francisco in armor, pretending to be a knight. So be glad I have a job. Hey, look the line is moving,” he said with relief, as the crowd began to shift toward the front doors of the arena.

The Cow Palace, once known for its livestock shows, had been divided into several sections, the first an initial screening area where experts scoured through the items brought in. When it was their turn, the first screener rifled quickly through his grandmother’s stash, pausing when she came to the statue. She told them to continue to the next screening area with the dragon only. The second screener had the same reaction and called over another appraiser to confer.

“I think we might get on the show,” his grandmother whispered. “Now I wish I’d had my hair done.” Nan patted her head self-consciously. “How do I look?”

“You look perfect.”

“And you’re lying, but I love you for it.” Nan stiffened as the two experts broke apart. “Here they come.”

“This is a very interesting piece,” one of the men said. “We’d like to put it on the show.”

“You mean it’s worth something?” Nan asked.

“Definitely,” the man said with a gleam in his eyes. “Our Asian art expert will be able to tell you much more, but we feel this piece may date back to an ancient dynasty.”

“A dynasty?” Nan murmured in wonder. “Imagine that. Riley, did you hear him? Our dragon came from a dynasty.”

“Yeah, I heard him, but I don’t believe it. Where did you get that statue anyway?”

“I have no idea. Your grandpa must have picked it up somewhere,” she said as they made their way across the arena. “This is exciting. I’m so glad you came with me.”

“Just don’t get your heart broken,” he cautioned in the face of her growing enthusiasm. “It could still be worth nothing.”

“Or maybe it’s worth a million dollars. Maybe they’ll want to put it in a museum.”

“Well, it is ugly enough for a museum.”

“We’re ready for you, Mrs. Delaney,” a smiling young woman said, as she ushered them onto the set, which was cluttered with lights and cameras. An older man of Asian descent greeted them. After inspecting the dragon, he told them the statue had probably been crafted during the Zhou dynasty. “A rare find,” he added, launching into a detailed explanation of the materials used, including the jade that made up the eyes, and the 24 karat gold strip that encircled the dragon’s neck.

Riley shook his head, wondering if he could possibly be hearing the man correctly. It appeared that this very odd looking dragon had some important place in Chinese history and quite possibly had belonged in the private collection of an emperor. The expert estimated that the dragon might be worth thousands of dollars, maybe hundreds of thousands.

When their segment ended, and they were escorted off the set, they were immediately swamped by appraisers and other experts, who handed them business cards and shook their hands. Riley kept a tight grip on the dragon as well as his grandmother’s arm. The dragon was like a prime steak tossed into a pack of hungry wolves. He’d never seen such covetous looks, such outright greed and hunger. His grandmother wanted to stop and chat, but he forcibly propelled her through the crowd, not relaxing until they were in his car with the doors locked.

He let out a breath. “That was insane. Those people are crazy.”

“Just excited, I think,” Nan said, looking at the statue in his hands. “Can you believe that thing is thousands of years old?”

For a brief second he almost could. There seemed to be an intense heat radiating from the dragon, burning his hands. Oh, hell, it was probably just his imagination. Whether it was a year old or several thousand years old, it was still just a piece of pottery, nothing to get worked up over.

He set the statue on the console between them, more relieved than he cared to admit to have it out of his hands.

“And it was in our attic,” Nan continued, a dreamy note in her voice. “Imagine that. It’s like a fairytale.”

“Or a nightmare.”

Nan ignored him as she flipped through the pile of business cards she’d received. “Oh, my goodness. The House of Hathaway. Look.” She held up the simple, engraved card naming San Francisco’s most famous and elegant store. “They want me to call as soon as possible. I have a very good feeling about this.”

“Do you? Because I have a very bad feeling about all this.” “You worry too much. Don’t think about the problems, think about the possibilities. This could be the beginning of something amazing.”

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