Lian/Roch (Bayou Heat) (12 page)

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Roch

by Laura Wright

Chapter 1

After a quick shift from puma to Pantera, Roch stood on the dirt path outside Medical and slid the knot of his wrinkled tie into place.

“Isn’t that the same suit you had on last night, brother?” Damien asked, his black eyes heavy with amusement.

Roch regarded his friend and colleague. “Yes, it is.” He didn’t like it, but time demanded it be so. The position of Diplomat deserved the respect of a suit—even if that suit was rumpled and carried the faint scent of a night gone awry.

As a morning breeze off the bayou moved over them, the tall, black-haired male chuckled. “You’re such a manwhore, you know that?”

“Don’t insult me, Damien,” Roch said, running his fingers through his thick, disheveled blond hair. He was never sleeping on a couch again. No matter what the circumstance.

“What? By calling you a whore?”

“No. By calling me a man.” Roch turned his ice blue gaze on his fellow Suit. His brows lifted a fraction of an inch. “Besides, nothing happened with the female.”

The male snorted. “Yeah, I believe that. Remember, I know you. Have seen how the females respond to you. It’s unfair as hell.” He paused to wave to a couple of female Hunters passing by. When they barely gave him a second glance, he turned his attention back to Roch, his expression hopeful. “Teach me.”

Roch cracked a dry smile. Damien was a good male; funny, honest and loyal. Not to mention a brilliant Diplomat. But this understanding of his, this belief that Roch possessed some kind of sexual magic, or—pardon the phrase—catnip with the females he encountered was complete bullshit. All he had was an open and respectful desire. And maybe the belief that a female’s pleasure came before his own.

“I saw you leave The Cougar’s Den with her,” Damien pointed out. “And you show up this morning in the same clothes, looking like you hardly slept.” He grinned. “That’s what I call a successful night.”

Roch growled softly with impatience. The night before had been anything but successful. In fact, it had been pretty much hell. Owning to it wasn’t high on his priority list, but he knew Damien wouldn’t stop questioning him until he was tossed a little something to satisfy his curiosity.

“The female is getting married in a week,” Roch said, wishing he’d had time to stop home for a shower. No matter how he tried to play this, Raphael and the other Suits were going to give him some serious shit about the wrinkled jacket and pants—not to mention the lingering odors of alcohol and a pissed-off stomach.

Damien looked genuinely confused. “So she’s getting married. And?”

“I don’t play with claimed females, Damien.”

The confusion on the male’s face deepened. “Then what did you do last night?”

Her roommate
.

Roch grinned at that. At his foolish, yet highly decadent thoughts. It had been the plan. He’d even agreed to let the engaged human female watch—which she’d been damn keen on doing. But then hell had pulled him under, shaking and churning his guts until he’d become violently ill. First all over the white sheepskin rug on their living room floor, then in the bathroom for a good two hours. He’d passed out on their couch shortly after, like a hammered teenager.

Granted, Pantera had their share of medical issues to deal with, but stomach sickness was a rarity. He’d woken up late and apologized profusely to the women. And on his way back to the bayou, he had called to arrange for a new rug to be delivered and maid service to come to their apartment.

“Forget last night,” Roch said, motioning for Damien to follow as he headed toward the doors of Medical. “Today is what matters. And the work ahead. But I will say that Hiss had better give us the answers we’re looking for. My cat is just aching to attack something.”

“Hiss?” Damien repeated, his brows slamming together in confusion. “Is that who we’re meeting with this morning?”

“You didn’t know?”

The male shook his head. “Didn’t know who we’re meeting, and sure as hell didn’t know he’d been brought to Medical.”

A flicker of unease moved through Roch. It wasn’t like the leader of the Suits to keep information from his faction members. “I’m sure Raphael meant to inform you.”

“Maybe he doesn’t trust me.”

The bitterness in Damien’s voice wasn’t hard to miss. It was difficult being the newest member of any faction, but with the Diplomats it was doubly so. There was so much information, so much protocol—so many secrets that needed to be kept to protect the Pantera.

“Why would you think that?” Roch asked him.

The male shrugged. “Hiss was a friend back when we were cubs.”

With a sniff of amusement, Roch yanked the door wide. “Hiss had many friends. Raphael is no doubt suffering from intense stress due to Shakpi’s dramatic departure, and that we’ve been outed to the humans—and then there’s the lack of sleep due to the incessant squawk of one called Soyala.”

That seemed to both smooth the male’s raised hackles and cause him to grin. “The cub. I’m sure he doesn’t mind her cries. A young is a great blessing to a male.”

“To some males, that’s true,” Roch answered. “I, however, prefer work—and the cries of a male who’s just come clean after a particularly rough interrogation.”

Damien laughed. “So, why was Hiss brought here?”

“They’re testing him,” Roch said as they moved down the hall. “His blood, heart, mind—even his cat. While his tongue remains quiet, the Nurturers are hoping to glean some information as to why our new enemies would trade two Pantera for one. Why Hiss is so important to them.”

“I still think loyalty to these humans could be a factor,” Damien put in, giving a quick smile to a passing female who was in her puma state. “Maybe they have a long history. Maybe they consider Hiss one of their own. And the exchange for Rosalie and Mercier is their way of demonstrating that.”

Medical was alive with activity, as it always was in the morning hours. Roch spotted Raphael up ahead. The leader of the Diplomatic Faction was dressed sharply in a tailored black suit and was speaking intently to one of the head Nurturers, Jean-Baptiste.

“Well, they can have him,” Roch said with a growl. “As soon as he tells us everything he knows, and we have our loyal Pantera back again.”

A few feet from his boss, Roch gritted his teeth as his stomach rolled hard and fast again. What the hell was going on with him? Bad alcohol? Bad food? What? And why was it still affecting him? As he neared the two Pantera, he shoved the feeling back. He didn’t have time for ailments. He had a job to do. And, he mused with a forced grin, the cries of a traitor male to elicit.

* * *

Fired.

FIRED
!?!

Lydia Page stared at the trees swaying in the breeze outside the picture window and wondered why she hadn’t anticipated the reaction from the partners at her law firm. Maybe because they were both women, and had children of their own? Of course, they also had husbands and nannies to go along with those children. But surely they understood that she’d be committed to the firm even if she had a child?

Nope.

To be fair, they hadn’t said they were firing her because of her pregnancy. Because, you know, that would be highly illegal. Instead, they’d claimed they were firing her for excessive absences. Which was such crap. With the illness and subsequent death of her mother six months ago, she’d taken some time off. Two days over her allotment, to be specific—two days both partners had verbally agreed to. But as a lawyer, she knew how well oral agreements stood up, and how quickly they were forgotten.