Lizzie Lynn Lee (3 page)

She sighed, throwing her hands up. “Okay, you caught me. Are you going to call the cops?”

“For trespassing in a private club?” Gabe pretended to ponder. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“That certainly could be arranged.”

She hesitated for a moment before she decided to come clean. “I’m a private investigator.”

This pretty little thing?
Gabe resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Charming. What are you investigating?”

“You.”

“Naturally. What are you trying to find out about? My business dealings? My sordid affairs?”

Her eyes widened with interest. “You’re currently dating someone?”

“Which gossip tabloid sent you?” Gabe hadn’t dated in more than seven years, since the woman he had been seeing, Michelle Dally, had suddenly committed suicide by jumping from her sixty-storey apartment building. The media had hounded him to the point where he had had no privacy any longer. Since then, he had kept his appearances in public minimal and every move he had made had been done in absolute secrecy. He denied all interviews and never partook in social events.

“I’m not a reporter; I’m a PI.”

Gabe narrowed his eyes. She didn’t seem to be lying. He trapped her with his bulk. Her back was against the edge of the pool table and his arms flanked her petite body. He thought this type of intimidation would squeeze the truth out of her. But his lion mistook it for another step in the mating dance.
Fuck.
Gabe could practically feel his beast going frisky under his skin, ready to claw out at any time to claim this woman.

“All right, Miss PI. Why are you here?”

“I was hired by a woman named Judith Rossi.”

The name didn’t ring a bell. Cat studied his face with eager determination. Damn. She was terminally pretty. Gabe wanted to kiss her until she fainted.

“You know her?” she asked.

“Should I?”

“My client”—Cat cleared her throat—“strongly feels you murdered her brother, Cameron Rossi, fourteen years ago in Africa.”

That took him by surprise. But Gabe kept his mask on. He was very good at it, maintaining his poker face and not letting any kind of emotion slip through. He had never killed a human. The only person he had killed was another shifter, a lion shifter, alpha of the Veron pride. It had happened in a duel in the gathering for the Night of the Lions, and for a very sound reason. Every winter solstice, all lion shifter clans from across the Serengeti gathered at the Tree of Life to elect which alpha was going to rule them all for a year. That night, after the duel, he’d collected his brothers, all that remained of Larousse pride, and jumped on a ship heading to America, leaving everything behind.

Who was Judith Rossi and why did she claim he had killed her brother?

Interesting.

Cat waited for his answer. Of course, he wasn’t going to oblige her.

“Well?”

“Kitty, are you seriously suggesting I should implicate myself in a murder?”

“No. But I thought it was worth a shot.”

Gabe laughed. He liked this woman very much. Maybe he liked her
too
much—he was seriously considering taking her as a mate. She was pretty, young and healthy, perfect to bear him many cubs. Her scent drove him crazy. His beast approved her. Too bad she was a scion of his enemy. Judith Rossi or whoever she was.

“How about we make this more interesting?” Gabe suggested.

“What do you mean?”

“Quid pro quo. You ask me questions you’ve been dying to know the answers to, and I shall answer them truthfully. In exchange, I will ask you for something I deem equal.”

“Okay.”

He raked his gaze over the delectable beauty named Catherine Kovac and smiled. “My apartment is only a ten-minute ride from here. We go there and you can fire your questions, at a price. One question for each article of your clothing, and if you don’t have any more clothing to bargain with, well, your body will suffice.”

He witnessed her face change from flushed to deeply flustered.

“You mean you want to sleep with me if you answer all my questions?”

“Crudely put, but yes, it’s in that ballpark.”

She was speechless. “I… I don’t know,” she finally said. “You could lie.”

“Trust me, Kitty, for a game this steep, I wouldn’t dare lie.”

“Why?”

“Because it goes against my principles. I won’t cheat my end of the bargain.”

“I mean, why do you want to sleep with me?”

“Isn’t that obvious? I find you very attractive.”

“You’re Gabriel Larousse. You only need to wiggle your finger and any gorgeous blonde within a ten-foot radius would fall at your feet willingly. You don’t need a gumshoe wannabe like me to warm your bed.”

God.
She clearly had a low opinion of herself. Gabe tsked. “I don’t like blondes. Too many of them make bad jokes. And I happen to have a taste for a private eye.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “There must be more to it. I don’t believe you.”

Gabe found her amusing. She didn’t look mad because of the proposition. It seemed she distrusted him because she suspected he had an ulterior motive. Like squeezing her for information on the woman who had hired her. Spying on the spy. “If you’re going to strike a deal with someone, you have to put a little bit of trust in them. What’s the point of making a deal if you have no faith in the person you’re doing business with?”

“Touché.” She pondered. “I’ll think about it.”

Gabe couldn’t resist making clucking sounds.

A grin blossomed on her face. She didn’t seem insulted. “Fine. I’m a scaredy cat, okay? I just don’t trust it when a hunk like you suddenly thinks I’m a fine piece of meat. There must be more to it. I’m going to find out.”

“Good luck. But if you change your mind”—Gabe pulled his wallet from his pocket and plucked out a business card—“call me. This is my private number. I would be happy to make a deal with you.”

Cat took the card and gave it a thorough read. She then slipped it into her bra. Gabe watched in silence. He wished he was the card.

“Goodbye, Mr Larousse. Thank you for your generosity.”

“Until we meet again, kitty.”

“Uhm…sure.”

Sure?
Gabe narrowed his eyes as he watched her retrieve her purse and walk towards the exit. His lion growled at him for letting her go. It wouldn’t be for long. He wanted her. Very badly. And he would get her. The hunt was on.

And who was this Judith Rossi who had accused him of murdering her brother?

Something fishy was going on.

No shit.
Gabe scanned the club for Alex. His brother sat near the bar, nursing a glass of beer. Alex caught his eyes. Gabe motioned to him. They had a few urgent matters to discuss.

Chapter Two

Cat was on her second cup of coffee when she heard the apartment doorbell ring. She glanced at the clock. It was six forty-five a.m. She couldn’t guess who would be knocking on her door this early. Her landlord wasn’t a morning person. Neither was the building handyman. Most of her neighbours worked the graveyard shift; they were either asleep already or had just come home.

She fixed her bathrobe and padded to the front door. She looked at the peephole. A young man, dressed impeccably in a neat, black, Armani suit, stood on the other side of her door. He was the younger version of Gabriel Larousse, and she’d met him yesterday. Alexandre Larousse.

Cat opened the door.

Alex gave her a polite nod. “Good morning, Miss Kovac. May I come in?”

“How did you find out where I live? You know what? Never mind.” Cat stepped aside to let him in.

Alex brushed past Cat. He was two heads taller than her and oozed power and dominance. He studied her living room with interest. “Nice home you have.”

“Thanks. I was having breakfast. Would you like some coffee?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

“Okey dokey.”

He followed her into the kitchen.

Cat grabbed a clean mug and poured some coffee. “How do you take it?”

“Black. No sugar. No cream.”

How manly.
Cat pushed the mug in his direction. Alex took a sip and murmured his thanks. She sat on the stool, waiting for what he had to say.

Alex went straight to the heart of the matter. “My brother wishes to see you again. This time, he’d prefer a rather intimate setting. A dinner at Le Bernardin, tomorrow night at eight.”

“Dinner at eight? Man, I’d be starving by then.”

He cocked his head, looking a little surprised. “I could arrange an earlier time. Let’s say, six or seven?”

“Who said I want to go? Haute cuisine is so pretentious. Big plates. Little food. Totally a rip-off.”

“Perhaps you can suggest your favourite restaurant?”

“And have dinner with your brother? Yeah, rich. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“So, you’re declining his invitation?”

“Yup.”

“May I ask why?”

Because the man messed up her brain and libido, she wanted to say. “Your brother is a suspect in my investigation.”

This time, Alex’s lips stretched into an amused smile. “Of course. But Gabriel will be severely disappointed if you decline his invitation.”

“Tough luck. Nobody always gets what they want, you know?”

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to take up my brother’s offer?”

“No. Not this time.”

Alex considered.

“Is that all?” Cat asked when Alex made no move towards leaving her place any time soon.

“No.” Alex reached into his suit inner pocket and extracted a piece of paper. He pushed it across the counter.

Cat looked at it. It was a cashier’s cheque for one hundred thousand dollars, payable to her. She frowned. “What is this?”

“That one is from me personally. To drop your investigation into my brother.”

She whistled. “Bribe money?”

A light shrug. “If you prefer to call it that.”

She was stunned. “You don’t like me, do you?”

Alex’s light eyes settled on hers. “I’m not entitled to an opinion. I barely know you.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Damage control. My brother has an image he has to maintain. It’s already hard as it is, with the media assassinating his character for cheap thrills. We don’t need people like you complicating things.”

“Hunh.” Cat scratched her chin in an unladylike fashion. She pushed the cheque back towards Alex. “I don’t want your money. Take it back.”

“You’re declining both offers?”

“I’m committed to my client.”

“Is there any way I could convince you?”

“Nah.”

“You’re a stubborn woman.”

“And you’re an annoying man. You think everything can be bought with money.”

“In this day and age, yes.”

“Well, not me.”

Alex took the cheque back and pocketed it. “I’ll be watching you.”

“I’m trembling with fear.”

“Thank you for the coffee. I’ll show myself to the door.”

Cat watched him leave her apartment with a pout. Invitation to dinner. Bribe money. This case couldn’t get any weirder. Jon would have been proud of her for not taking Alex’s cheque. Integrity was the first credo he’d drilled into her skull when she had started working for him. Earn her pay in the traditional, honest way. Deliver the results to the clients.

Her belly knotted unpleasantly. What if she couldn’t solve this case?

If Jon was around, he would know what to do.

Cat bit her lower lip and reminded herself that she couldn’t depend on her brother any more, the way she always had. They had been orphaned when she’d been in middle school, and Jon, who had been a sophomore in high school, had stepped up to the plate as big brother and parent to her. He’d supported them by working various odd jobs. Jon had gone to the police academy when she’d got a scholarship to a local college. They’d remained close even after she’d moved from their house to start a new job. When it hadn’t worked out, Jon had taken her back home and offered her a job as his secretary in the investigation agency he had started. Without him, Cat felt so lost and lonely.

She shook herself out of the self-pity. She had bigger problems to face and a case to solve. Time to move on with her investigation.

* * * *

Cat stood in the cramped waiting room, shifting from foot to foot while waiting for the receptionist to finish with her rambling on the phone. There was no place for her to sit. All the chairs were occupied by scantily dressed young women waiting for an audition. The women ranged from barely legal to college age. Most of them were blonde, but only a couple looked genuine rather than some product of a beauty salon’s bleaching and colouring. Their faces were slathered in heavy makeup and their skin was Jersey tanned. They were all pretty, sexy, and fake as hell. Cat was the only one who wasn’t dressed like a skank. She was clad in a two-piece beige summer suit and low heels, and her hair was pulled into a tight bun. She was here to interview Oliver Duval, while the girls were auditioning for a hooker character in a low-budget indie movie. Oliver Duval, the fourth person who had been with Cameron Rossi shortly before his demise, was the owner of Hastings—a seedy casting and talent agency that catered to B-movie and indie filmmakers. Duval, who’d entered the country at the same time as Gabriel Larousse and his brothers, had ditched his South African identity and become Alfred Hastings when he’d got his American citizenship.

Cat had tracked Duval’s whereabouts through a favour from Jon’s friend, a cop named Kevin Preston. Cat suspected this interview wouldn’t be easy, but she was determined not to let this one intimidate her, unlike her interview with Gabriel Larousse. Okay, last night’s failed attempt at stealth in that gentlemen’s club hadn’t led to much of an interview. Gabriel had spooked her and made her horny. It had been a totally dumb move on her part that hadn’t helped her investigation.

She hated being a rookie. She missed Jon. Her brother was good at this job. He had twice taken her with him when interviewing suspects and he had been able to coerce the truth from people without them knowing it. Jon had been an ex-cop. He’d been tall, imposing, and drenched with authoritative poise. People saw her and all they noticed was her boobs. If her chest could affect people like a truth serum, she wouldn’t be deep in this shithole. The agency was twelve grand in debt in unpaid bills and such; she hoped that Judith Rossi’s final payment would keep it afloat. Besides, she didn’t have a licence. Jon had. She planned to get one after she successfully completed this job.