Lizzie Lynn Lee (8 page)

“Hey.” He pulled her into his arms. “I’m just worried, okay? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“What about not lying to me?”

“About?”

“Werelions and stuff.”

“That. I was thinking of taking you to see Oliver Duval.”

“Duval? Where are you keeping him?”

“Two floors down. In my guard’s quarters.”

“And his pit bull bartender too?”

“His name’s Ramon Ramirez. He worked as Duval’s muscleman.” Gabriel grabbed the basket of freshly laundered clothes and placed it on the bed. “My housekeeper has washed this for you. It would be more comfortable than wearing my shirt.”

“My clothes.” Her eyes lit up. “You know, being bare-ass sucked.” Cat took her panties and slipped them on. “Why did you detain Oliver Duval, instead of reporting him to the police?”

“It’s what I call damage control. I’d like to take care of the problem quietly first, if it’s manageable by me. I want to see if he’s connected to your client, Judith Rossi.”

“Is he?”

“Duval denied he knows anybody named Judith Rossi.”

Cat put on her bra. “He told me that. Why did he kidnap me? First I thought you were somehow connected to my kidnapping. But then you wouldn’t have taken me to the ER if you’re really my kidnapper.”

“Duval was going to blackmail you.”

“Blackmail? Why the hell would he blackmail me? I’m broke.”

“Not for money. He was going to videotape you naked so you would work for him.”

“In his titty bar? The nerve of that son of a bitch.”

“I will give you the pleasure of kicking him around a bit later.”

“Thank you. You’re cooler than I thought. But I’m not happy you bit me last night. Did you see the bruise?”

Gabriel halted her as she was about to put on her blazer. He inspected her shoulder. His eyes narrowed. “Just bruises. Minor puncture wounds. No big laceration. You’ll be fine.”

“Sure. Not to mention the hickies.”

“I like the hickies. It tells people you’re out of circulation. You’re mine.”

Cat sniffed. “I don’t see your name on me.”

“Shall I put it on you?”

She pouted.

Gabriel couldn’t resist kissing her. She hit his shoulder at first, but then she went limp in his arms. She gasped for breath when he released her.

“Don’t distract me with kisses.”

“Can I distract you with sex?”

Her eyes widened. “Jesus Christ. You’re going to kill me, Gabriel Larousse. You’re like that bunny battery that doesn’t have an off button.”

“I thought women liked men with no off button.”

“Horny women, maybe.”

“Horny,” he chided. “This comes from someone who woke me up at midnight for nookie.”

“I didn’t. I was just helping myself. It’s not my fault that your cock is attached to you and that wakes you up.”

Gabe laughed. This woman was funnier than he had thought.

Cat slipped on her pants. “Do you have proof that you’re a shifter?”

“In due time.”

“If you and Duval don’t know my client, I’m beginning to wonder why my client claims to know you.”

“That’s because your client sent you on a wild goose chase. The history is just to throw you off.”

“Why would she do that?”

“My best guess, she wants my dirt. My secrets. Without you knowing why.”

“You don’t know Judith Rossi?”

“No. But I have a good idea who she is.”

“You mean Judith Rossi is a fake identity?”

Gabriel pondered on how much he should divulge to her. Ren and Alex were investigating Rossi at this very moment. Also connecting her to the death of Cat’s brother, Jonathan Kovac. “Her real name is Sophie-Marie Veron.”

“I’ve heard that name before.”

“Veron Industries. They own several banks and financial firms.”

“Why does she have a grudge against you?”

“My dear Catherine, that is a trade secret that I’m not ready to divulge to you.”

* * * *

The man’s name was Danielson. First name, unknown. Cat preferred to call him The Terminator because he had the bulk of Schwarzenegger in his glory days, minus the accent. Danielson was a man of few words. He didn’t talk to her unless he absolutely had to. And, despite his appearance, he moved like a ghost and seemed very knowledgeable about his firearms. Cat guessed he must be ex-military. He looked highly trained to kill in a thousand different ways. Danielson was Gabriel’s head of security and the person in charge of keeping her ass in one piece, unspoiled.

Cat thought the personal detail was overkill.

Sure, that slime bag Oliver Duval had drugged and wanted to take advantage of her, but it wasn’t like her life was being threatened by terrorists or assassins or anything like that. She’d just had an unfortunate run-in with some sleazy smut peddler. No biggie. The risk came with the job as a private investigator.

Gabriel had taken her to see Duval, but it hadn’t been much use. Duval wouldn’t talk to her. Then Gabriel had done something crazy, like giving Duval a high-voltage Taser zap. And suddenly Duval had morphed into a big, scruffy lion, snarling. His clothes had torn apart when he’d shifted. Just like the Incredible Hulk’s, only Duval was a lion. And not a very good-looking one, at that. But Cat had almost fainted when she’d seen the transformation. It had been freaky, yet awesome. God, she’d still been shaking with the revelation as Gabriel had taken her back to his penthouse. He’d repeatedly asked if she was okay. She
was
okay. Now she got why Gabriel wouldn’t show her proof that he was a werelion. He hadn’t wanted to spook her. She knew he liked her very much and he probably thought the sight of him turning into a lion would freak her out.

Maybe a normal woman would be freaked out.

But she wasn’t a normal woman.

And, after a series of threats, Gabriel finally allowed Cat to go to her apartment to get some clothes, check her mails and feed her fish. To her dismay, Gabriel ordered Danielson and Alexandre to come with her as bodyguards. Which meant she couldn’t continue sleuthing. Gabriel wanted her to drop the investigation and let him handle everything. She was in too deep. There was no way in hell she would let Judith Rossi—or whatever that bitch’s name was—go free without Cat giving Judith a piece of her mind. No, sir. Not after the way she had tricked her into taking a fake case because Judith had a beef with something Gabriel had done in the past.

Danielson drove her to her apartment. Alex rode shotgun. Neither of them spoke. Danielson took his job overly seriously, while Alex seemed to think she was amusing. Each time she stole a glance in the rear-view mirror, she saw a faint smile curling the corners of his lips. Alex was watching her through his dark-tinted sunglasses. Maybe Gabriel had ordered him to pay close attention to her, and that was exactly what he was doing.

Danielson didn’t allow her to open her own door. He did it, treating it as if the apartment had been booby trapped with an IED. Cat wanted to crack a joke so Danielson wouldn’t be so highly strung, but the head bodyguard looked like a humourless man. She bit her tongue to refrain from commenting.

Danielson went in first, checking everything. When he’d judged it safe, he nodded to Alex to let her in. She flounced through the door. A sense of relief surged through her. Gabriel’s house was nice, but there was no place like home.

Alex helped himself to her sofa, sitting with one leg crossed and his body relaxed, looking as if he owned her place. “Pack a week’s worth,” he told her.

“Why?”

“So we don’t have to go back and forth between Manhattan and Newark just for clothes.”

“It’s only a temporary arrangement. I’m not moving into your brother’s house.”

“You think so?”

“I’ve started regretting I didn’t take your cheque.”

“Hmm. You should have.”

Cat went to feed the goldfish in the aquarium, then checked her voicemail. The answering machine on her nightstand blinked red. There were five messages waiting for her. Three from Judith Rossi—
that bitch
—wanting to know how the investigation was progressing. One from her landlord about the leaky sink she had complained about last week. The other was from the credit card company. She had missed a payment. Cat sighed and deleted all the messages. It seemed she’d have to get a real job after she’d sorted out the problem with Rossi. Just to tide her over until she’d settled the agency’s bills. Jon would be disappointed in her if he knew she had driven the agency into the crapper. She wasn’t much of a private investigator. Took a case from a fake client. Got drugged by a pervert. What was up with that?

“Need help?”

Cat jumped. Alex was leaning in her bedroom doorway. His arms were suavely folded across his chest. She hadn’t heard him sneaking about. The man was as silent as a cat. “Jesus. You gave me a heart attack,” she said, after she’d let out a hearty squeal.

“Here I thought private investigators possessed nerves of steel.”

“Quit making fun of me. I’m just a rookie, okay?” Cat dragged a wheeled suitcase from under the bed. She dusted it off as best she could and hoisted it on the bed. She went through her drawers and closet, packing some clothes and necessities.

Alex studied her with interest. “What did you do before this?”

“I was a secretary.”

“Before that?”

“I was also a secretary—for a lawyer. He was a real dickweed and couldn’t keep his hands to himself.”

“So you quit and worked for Jon.”

“How do you know about Jon?”

“Background check.”

“Of course,” Cat said bitterly. She pulled two pairs of jeans from the clean hamper and decided to take only one pair. The other one had a hole in the butt that she hadn’t had time to patch.

“Why do you keep the agency running even though it’s losing money? Wouldn’t it make better sense if you got another secretarial job?”

“Gee. You know about that, too?”

“We did a thorough background check.”

Cat sighed. “The agency is Jon’s legacy. I want to keep it running in his memory.”

“You two were close,” he stated, drawing a conclusion.

“He was the only one I had in this world. Now, he’s gone and I haven’t got a clue what the hell I am doing.” Cat tried to sound neutral, but a shard of bitterness found its way into her tone.

Alex took off his sunglasses, looking sympathetic. “I’m sorry for your loss. But you don’t have to be alone. Gabe likes you very much.”

“I know that.”

“No, you don’t. Gabe has claimed you as a mate. That means you’re part of the pride. We’re your new family now.”

“What do you mean claimed me as a mate? We just fucked.”

“Didn’t my brother mark you?”

“He bit me. On the nape. I still have the bruise. Didn’t think he was such a biter.”

Alex’s lips almost curved into a smile.

“Do you bite the women you sleep with, too?” Cat wanted to know.

“I haven’t taken a mate.”

“I thought lions are polygynandrous
.”

“We’re only half the beast and more civilised.”

“Is that so? Your bother could use less chauvinistic shit, though. Women in this country have the right of freedom to go anywhere they want.”

“This coming from somebody who was about to be stuffed into the trunk of a car? Rich.” The grin on Alex’s face turned into a sneer. “Look. Gabe’s only looking after your interests. Right now, you aren’t safe until things are sorted out.”

Cat sniffed. “I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

“Sure. On second thoughts, pack two weeks’ worth of clothing. You won’t miss anything in this apartment.”

Cat scowled as Alex stalked away. She had no intention of going back to Gabriel’s place whatsoever. At least, not until she’d settled the problem with Rossi. Alex and Danielson seemed to be in the living room, talking in low voices. She pretended to do some serious packing, rattling her drawers. She shuffled to the bathroom, making the necessary noise to let them know she was in there. She turned the water on and flushed the toilet, then took off her shoes and tiptoed on her feet as she slammed the bathroom’s door closed.

Cat edged towards the window in the bathroom. She could access the fire escape from it. During the summertime, she had removed the screen to let the fresh air in, and she was glad she hadn’t put it back yet. She twisted the latch on the windowsill and pushed the glass up. Cat slunk on to the miniscule balcony, clutching her shoes. She quietly climbed down the fire escape, hoping the men wouldn’t notice her sneaking off. Her apartment was on the second floor, and it didn’t take much to reach the ground. Her heart thumped fast. Cat put on her shoes and spirited towards the parking lot.

Her neighbour two doors down, Nancy Fritz, was starting her minivan. Cat tapped her window. Nancy powered it down.

“Where are you going?” Cat asked breathlessly.

“Target. Gonna return some shirts I bought yesterday.”

“Can I ride along? I need to get a cab. My car’s broke.”

“Sure. Hop in.”

Cat couldn’t contain her grin as she slid on the seatbelt. Alex and The Terminator would feel very silly when they noticed she was gone.

* * * *

Judith Rossi’s housekeeper answered the door. She was a cheery, middle-aged Latino woman with a pleasant face and stocky build. Her salt and pepper hair was pulled up on top of her head and the white smock she was wearing was dusted with flour. She must have been in the middle of baking when Cat had rung the doorbell.

“Is Judith home?” Cat asked.

“
Si
.” The housekeeper let her in. “I’ll tell Miss Rossi.”

“Thank you.” Cat stood in the middle of the impressive foyer. It had a high, arched ceiling and stained-glass mosaic windows. A big-ass chandelier hung in the centre. Cat had never been to Rossi’s country house before. She had always met with her in the agency’s office or Rossi’s luxurious apartment on Fifth Avenue.

Cat had hitched with Nancy to Target. She’d used the payphone to return Rossi’s calls. Her cell phone had got lost in Oliver’s sleazy bar. She had left her purse in her apartment. She’d had her wallet tucked in her pocket when she’d sneaked out of the window. Luckily, she’d had enough cash to cover the cab fare. She hadn’t thought about the ride back. She might have to take a bus or train home. Or call Gabriel if there was no public transportation to take her to Newark.