Lizzie Lynn Lee (9 page)

Man, Gabriel was going to be really pissed off. He had told her specifically not to confront her fake client and she was doing the exact opposite. Triumph blossomed in her heart. She liked Gabriel very much, but, dude, was that man bossy or what? Gabriel was overly protective, the way Jon had been. She wasn’t a child any more. For God’s sake, next month would be her twenty-seventh birthday. That was more than a quarter of a century old. Or one hundred and eighty-nine, in dog years.

The sound of heels echoed on the terrazzo floor. A tall woman dressed in black appeared from the hallway. Judith Rossi was the spitting image of a Sicilian mourning window. Her live-in personal assistant at the Fifth Avenue apartment had said Judith had been like that since her brother’s death. She clad herself daily in old-fashioned dresses with black stockings and black sheer gloves. Her blonde hair was tucked neatly under a conservative fascinator hat and veil. The head-to-toe work was to cover the burn scars Judith had suffered. Through the veil, Cat could see that half of Judith’s face had been consumed by fire and left permanently disfigured. Judith’s gait was stiff and measured, as if every step greatly pained her. How could this rail-thin, disabled woman have deceived her? Judith started to greet her, but all of a sudden her face twisted as if she had caught a whiff of something offensive. The pantsuit she was wearing was clean. Gabriel’s housekeeper had laundered her clothes while she’d strutted around in Gabriel’s shirt. Had she accidentally stepped on a dog turd?

Judith collected herself fast. “Miss Kovac.” Her voice was three-packs-of-cigarettes-a-day gruff. “Shall we retreat to the drawing room? Carmen has made us chamomile tea.”

“Okay.”

The drawing room looked even more impressive than the foyer. Cat felt as if it was trapped at the height of nineteenth-century splendour. The furniture was museum quality, and each item should have been put in a glass case and labelled. Cat took a seat in a wingback chair. Judith sat opposite her. A tray with cups of steaming tea waited on the highly polished coffee table.

“Please.” Judith waved at the tea.

Cat considered it. Since Oliver had roofied her drink, she was now wary about accepting drinks from strangers. “I’m not thirsty, thank you.”

“I appreciate you returning my calls.” Judith took a cup and sipped it demurely. Pinky up. “I was worried.”

“Thank you. I’ve been busy.” Being kidnapped by a pervert. Fucking the hottest guy in New York. Swell. “I discovered Gabriel’s secret.”

“Oh?” Somehow, Judith didn’t seem enthusiastic.

“Gabriel and his brothers aren’t human. Maybe half-human, but not entirely. They’re shapeshifters. Lion shifters.”

Judith maintained a perfectly blank face. “Do you have any proof of this?”

“Saw them change with my own two eyes.”

“Solid proof. Photographic evidence.”

“I can obtain that later. Remember Oliver Duval? Your old friend from Cape Town? He’s also a lion shifter. The bastard tried to sexually assault me by giving me Rohypnol.”

“Goodness.” Judith grew wide-eyed. “Are you all right?”

“Duval didn’t remember you, or the hunting trip you took with your brother in Africa fourteen years ago.”

“Of course he wouldn’t remember. He was one of the suspects.”

“Gabriel Larousse also didn’t recall the trip. Or knowing you. He did know Oliver in the past, but they weren’t close friends, as you have suggested. Oliver was a pride rogue and they hated each other.”

“He lied.”

“I began to wonder who’s lying in this case, Judith? In fact, your name isn’t even Judith Rossi. You’re Sophie-Marie Veron. You hate Gabriel Larousse for some reason and he won’t tell me why.”

The woman who’d hired Cat stiffened. She stood up abruptly. Her agility surprised Cat. The weak, crippled woman Judith had pretended to be vanished, replaced by a very pissed off bitch.

“I hired you for Larousse’s dirt,” she spat. “His embarrassing photos. His dirty secrets.”

“You’re a paying client. I would have done it without you lying to me.”

“And you slept with him!” Judith snarled viciously. “I can smell him on you.”

Cat was taken aback.
Jesus.
How could she possibly know that? Unless…

Judith seized her collar and yanked her up. Her strength was frightening. Behind the veil, Cat saw her eyes yellow and the pupils retract like a feline’s.

“Fuck. You’re a shifter too,” Cat choked.

With an inhuman growl, Judith hurled her across the room. Cat’s back hit the curio cabinet, sending glass and dozens of expensive, dainty crystal knick-knacks shattering to pieces. She heaved. Her lungs felt as if they had collapsed for a second. A freak wave of pain burnt her spine.

Cat pulled herself into a crawl. She inhaled much-needed air.
Jesus Christ.
Her client wasn’t just a liar, she was dangerous as hell. The image of Gabe saying, “I told you so,” flashed in her mind.

She heard cracking noises. Bones shifting. Fabric tearing. Judith shifted into a very ugly lioness. Her clothes tattered underneath her paws. She looked like an animal that had suffered a serious case of mange. Pink, fleshy bald patches covered two-thirds of her body. Frizzy, tufted hair sprouted up on her ears. Her body was so thin, her skin was moulded to her ribs.

Cat didn’t know whether she should feel fear or pity. Judith looked like a big cat that no one would touch without gloves and a very long stick.

Judith let out a menacing growl. She pounced in Cat’s direction and swiped her front paw.

The world faded.

Chapter Five

“What do you mean, you’ve lost her?”

Gabe jumped from his seat, yelling at the phone. On the other end, Alex explained in rapid fire how Catherine had sneaked from under their noses and left the apartment through the fire escape. His brother apologised, said he felt like a fool. Danielson was pissed off at himself for not doing his job properly. The good news was that Alex had a lead as to where Cat might have gone. He’d overheard the messages on her answering machine before she’d deleted them. She’d probably gone to see her client. Alex had pulled some strings with the head of the phone company executive. He had Judith Rossi’s address. It was in the vicinity of Alpine, Jersey.

Gabe wrote it down. “I’ll see you there.” He disconnected and dialled Wyatt. Gabe wanted a small, elite team of personal security dispatched to Rossi’s address. He called Ren and gave him the up-to-date situation. Ren, who was at the office working, promised to meet him at the location.

He paused and took a deep breath. He should’ve seen this coming when she’d demanded to return to her apartment. His mate was a stubborn woman. He hadn’t thought she could fool his brother or Danielson.

Gabe opened up his safe and took out his piece, a .45 Glock. When he went down to his private parking lot, Wyatt had readied the vehicle and the team. Gabe got into the passenger side of the black SUV. Wyatt drove. They rolled out to the street under the gloomy sky. Five minutes into the ride, a light drizzle pelted the windshield before turning into a full-blown downpour. Gabe glared at the sky. Just great. Why had the weather suddenly decided to be dramatic, too? Wyatt didn’t slow down, even with the heavy rain. He hit the gas and sped towards the highway.

* * * *

Wyatt pulled up several houses down from Veron’s residence. The team jumped down from the SUV and joined with the other security execs that Alexandre had brought. Alex came to him, his face grave.

“I think we’re too late. Seems like nobody is in the house. The garage is empty,” Alex informed him.

“I smell her scent. Think she might be in there?”

“Was. Let’s go check it out.”

“Go on.”

Alex motioned to Danielson, who barked at his men. Less than a minute later, the team stormed the house. They informed everyone of their progress with a link. The house was empty.

Gabe walked through the front door to inspect the house. The foyer and living room were a total mess. It showed signs of a struggle. Near the smashed curio cabinet, he saw drops of blood. Gabe stooped, careful not to touch anything and leave forensic evidence, and sniffed.

Cat’s blood. He knew its smell. And taste. A wave of rage surged to his head.

Following his instincts, Gabe trudged towards the kitchen. In the middle of the floor, there was a small pool of blood. He saw a smear of it that resembled rope marks. The trail led to the basement door.

He heard a small whine. He and Alex traded gazes. The sound came from the pantry. He took out his piece and yanked the door open.

Alex shouted, “Freeze.”

A wail in Spanish came out. They saw a middle-aged woman curled on the floor with her hands up. “No shoot. No shoot,” she said in broken English. Her face was streaked with tears and her clothes were dirty and caked with blood. She was sobbing furiously, but she appeared not to have sustained a serious injury.

Alex lowered his gun. “Who are you?”

“Must be the housekeeper. Look at her clothes,” Gabe said.

The woman still wailed. Neither he nor Alex understood Spanish.

Danielson rushed to the kitchen. “Sir, there’s something you have to see. It’s in the master bedroom.”

Gabe followed Danielson.

It looked as if a tornado had visited the master bedroom. Clothes littered the floor. Drawers had been upended and their contents were strewn on the floor. Somebody had packed in a hurry.

Danielson pointed to the TV screen. It played a looped scene: Catherine had been bound and gagged and shoved into a large wooden crate. A yellow note was stuck on the screen.

It began at the Night of the Lions. It will end there.

Gabe snatched the note and crumpled it in his fist. He met Alexandre’s hard gaze. Without a word, he strode out of the room.

* * * *

It felt like a dream. She had seen blurry faces. The men’s and woman’s voices she had heard. At one time, she thought she had woken up in a wooden box. Then this dim room, which was hot, like a Turkish sauna. She felt sluggish and thirsty as hell. She also had to relieve herself.

When she was finally able to focus her mind, she found herself in cuffs, lying on a dirty cot. Her forearms were red with rope marks. Her ankles were free. No shoes. She was still dressed in the two-piece summer pantsuit she’d worn the day she’d escaped from under Alex’s and Danielson’s noses. She remembered Judith Rossi and the way she’d turned into one pissed off lioness.

Well, you have done it
, she chastised herself.
Curiosity killed the cat.
But she hadn’t been able to help it. It was her job as a private investigator to see things through until the end. Except this one most certainly looked like
her
end.

Light from a yellowed bulb illuminated the room. The place only had one door. The window was barred shut with wooden planks. A toilet perched in the corner of the room. Beside it was a sink.

Where was she? Was she in some kind of jail cell? How had she ended up in this mess?

She shambled to the door and banged on it. “Heeeeyyy. Anybody there? Let me out of here!”

Deep inside, she knew what she did was a wasted effort, but she couldn’t sit still and do nothing. Tired and parched, she retreated to the cot in defeat and slumped. Her kidnappers hadn’t left her any water, and she sure as hell wouldn’t quench her thirst from the sink. Five minutes later, the door creaked open. A really big, ugly man grimaced at her as he shoved a tray of food down.

Cat inspected the tray. It held a bowl of porridge. It looked disgusting, but it was still warm. And there was a bottle of mineral water. She unscrewed the lid and drank thirstily. She remembered to save a third of it in case the kidnappers decided to be stingy with water.

One problem solved, but she was still hungry. She poked her finger in the porridge. They hadn’t given her any eating utensils. She tasted the goo.
Not too bad.
She had lost track of time and didn’t have any idea when she had last eaten.

What the hell.
Cat shovelled another fingerful of porridge into her mouth.

* * * *

His personal jet had been given clearance to take off, but Gabe wasn’t ready to depart just yet. He was waiting for a last-minute arrival. Alex hadn’t thought he would come, but Gabe had put his faith in him. In the business world, everyone had their own price. You just had to present the person with an offer he couldn’t refuse.

The pilot appeared in the cockpit doorway. “Sir. How much longer should we wait?”

Gabe glanced at his wristwatch. “Five more minutes should do.”

“Yes, sir.” The pilot retreated back to his lair.

Ren took a seat across from Gabe and busied himself with his laptop.

Alex pocketed his cell and leaned over. “Danielson and the team boarded ten minutes ago.”

Gabe nodded. He had chartered a jet for his personal security team, plus a dozen extra highly trained personnel from a trusted security company, to retrieve Catherine. Judith Rossi a.k.a. Sophie-Marie Veron had taken Cat to South Africa as leverage for the unfinished business they’d started fourteen years ago.
It began at the Night of the Lions. It will end there.

Alex stared at the window. “Son of a bitch. He’s coming.”

Gabe cut his gaze. On the tarmac, celebrity illusionist Gustav Angelo, along with his entourage, strode towards Gabe’s jet. The ground staff and the flight attendant opened the hatch and welcomed them in.

Gabe rose from his seat. Gustav Angelo was a twenty-nine-year-old magician at the height of his career. He was a lanky man with black hair and a stylish goatee, famous for his street magic performances. Angelo had a TV show and all his Vegas shows always sold out. He might be a person who could help Gabe perform a miracle during Cat’s daring rescue.

Angelo climbed the hatch like a cat and entered the jet. “It’s an honour to meet you, Mr Larousse.”