Wild (5 page)

“You'll find, Miss Lamontaine, that I am afraid of nothing. On the contrary, I eagerly await the results. It takes either someone with incredibly big brass balls or very limited intelligence to think they can screw me. I hope you won't make that mistake.”

She almost said “You don't scare me,” her usual reply to anyone who threatened her, but in this case, she held her tongue, partially. “What will you do if you find whoever is stealing from you?”

A cold smile, his first real expression since he'd invaded her office, pulled his lips wide. The predator in the man rose for a moment to the surface. “Best you don't know.”

With those enigmatic words, Garoux left, but questions lingered. It seemed the corruption wasn't something he'd mandated, or so he wanted her to believe. If that was the case, then who was stupid enough to think they could screw him? And who seemed determined to make her look guilty?

Thus far, Lulu had yet to see any of the supposed evidence damning her, but judging by what Broderick had said and Garoux implied, a lot of the blame was being shifted by the accountant to her.

I wonder if I need to pay him a visit.
Lulu had never met the man. Only Frank knew who he was. Lulu liked Frank, big and shy, and she had a hard time imagining him plotting such a devious theft. But then again, what better façade to fool them all?

A noise at the door had her raising her head. Expecting it to be Garoux coming back to ask her something, she was caught off guard by the big man leering at her from the doorway. He might have proven handsome if it wasn't for the menace he exuded.

“Well, well. I guess my source who claimed this place would be empty was wrong. Looks like I found myself a Goldilocks.”

“My hair is red, moron. And the bar's not open yet. So, turn yourself around and get yourself back outside.”

She kept her eyes locked on his as her hand inched toward her gun. But he must have caught the movement because he lunged, and damn, for a guy his size, he was freaking fast!

Lulu just managed to wrap her fingers around the grip of the weapon when he hit the desk, hands outstretched to grab her.

The chair scooted back, the wheels rolling with the momentum, but not far, as her seat hit the wall with a hard thump. Cigarette-tinged breath washed over her face as her attacker grabbed her by the upper arms and tried to immobilize her arm. While she didn't have a great shot, she relied on the element of noise and surprise to favor her.

She fired the gun and was rewarded with a yelped, “Bitch! You shot me.”

Nothing vital unfortunately. The angle meant she'd only nicked his leg, but it provided enough distraction for her to jerk herself out of his grip and shimmy out of the chair. She didn't make it around the desk before he was towering over her, his entire brutish frame bristling, his lips curled in a snarl.

“You'll pay for that.”

She aimed the gun at his chest as she inched to the open door. “You'll be dead before you reach me,” she promised, finger on the trigger.

What she'd not counted on were the arms that wrapped around her from behind and said, “Wrong. You're the only one dying today.”

 

CHAPTER 7

The cops didn't have a clue who had ransacked his cubicle. Neither did Brody. However, it didn't take him long to deduce why.

Almost all of the receipts gathered and given to him for the Tail Waggers' account were gone. Either the thieves had taken them, or they were soaked in urine—and no, he wasn't about to handle those tainted pieces of paper to check.

For sure taken were the printouts of the numbers, the lovely digits lined into neat columns with various mathematical sums keeping them organized. Don't mock him because he geeked out over cool equations. Mock him because he proudly displayed a replica bust of the great Greek mathematician, Pythagoras, in his living room.

The handwritten notes, made with different-colored sticky sheets—coded by question or observation—were MIA as well, but he didn't tell his boss or the cops that. He wasn't in the mood to try and catalogue exactly what the thieves had taken.

Pretending befuddlement proved easy, and he didn't have to fake at all his repugnance as the strong urine stench drove them away from the scene of the crime.

The cops promised to file a report, and his boss ranted—in other words, Perry flushed red and took a deep puff from his inhaler after saying, in a louder tone of voice than usual, “Targeted by tax evaders.”

Why else would someone steal receipts and audit reports? In Perry's eyes, the club went from suspect to guilty.

But Brody wasn't as sure.

He relayed nothing of his suspicions aloud. Instead, he echoed his boss. “Those darned thieves.” Congratulate him. He managed not to snort. Barely. He could just imagine the color of Perry's face if he told him shape-shifting bears had infiltrated their cubicled haven and destroyed the paperwork in an attempt to weaken the Lycan mob lord's hold on the city.

It sounded crazy even to him.

What surprised him almost as much as the brazen attack was his cell phone didn't have a single voice mail about the incident. Not even to check if the targeting thugs had come after him.

I feel so loved.
Not. Worried about his welfare or not, if it were Fabian running this office, he'd have fetched his feline ass himself, probably by the tail, and dragged him in for a peek while growling and promising retribution.

How different the humans handled things.

So different, that when Perry told him to take the rest of the day off, no wait, make that the rest of the week: “Work from home while we get your cubicle sterilized and re-outfitted,” Brody didn't argue.

That sounded like a fine plan to him. For one, a certain lady needed tracking down. And two, he did his best work out of the office anyhow.

This unexpected turn of circumstances led to him hitting the club in search of Lulu. It was still really early in the day, and a few hours before it was slated to open, but he drove by the parking lot in case she'd decided to start work early. His intuition proved right. Her car was the only one in the lot.

Sliding his own vehicle alongside, he exited and scanned the area, force of habit for predator shape-shifters. Another tidbit taught by his mentor. Always remain alert. Danger could strike anytime, anywhere. Be prepared.

A glance at the street didn't show anything amiss. Cars parked alongside the curb. A few people roaming the sidewalks. Not many this time of day, given the area only truly came alive at night when the bars opened up.

Nothing jumped out at him, and yet the nagging sense of something amiss wouldn't leave. The front door of the club yielded to a tug, which surprised him given the posted schedule said it wouldn't open for another two hours.

Perhaps Lulu had left it unlocked for expected staff or deliveries. Maybe.

He didn't trust it, especially since he knew how easy it was to slide past most basic defenses. One of his pastimes, which more than one girlfriend had labeled nerdy, was the study of locks, mainly the mechanism behind them. The intricate turn and tumble of pieces to allow access to places and things fascinated him. He made a study of it, and in turn, his knowledge meant he was an expert lock picker, talented enough that he'd even entered and won the competition at the annual Cat Burglar Convention. Open to real cats only.

The most concerning aspect to the unlocked door, though, was the distinct scent, still fresh, and highly recognizable.

Intruder,
growled his cat.
Bear.

The same bear, Brody would wager, that had pissed on his desk and computer.

A bear, here in the club, with Lulu.
Grrr.
He took in a deep breath as he entered, chest filling with protective urgency.

Must find our mate.

Indeed, Lulu might find herself in grave danger if the bears visited with nefarious purpose in mind.
Or she's in cahoots with them.

Surely not. He didn't believe it for a second. Surely Lulu had told the truth when she claimed to have conducted the business affairs for the club in a responsible and honest fashion.

Although I'm one to talk about honesty.
It wasn't as if he'd come clean with the revelation that he worked for Fabian on the side. Sure, Lulu worked in a sense for Fabian as well, but in a much more distant capacity.

I work for the mob.
It wasn't every woman who could handle that
.

The inside of the club proved quiet. Too quiet. It was also only dimly lit. The entrance was dark, and he didn't get any illumination until he passed the second inner door, also unlocked, and stepped into the main area of the bar. A faint light over the bar shone weakly against the streaked but clean surface of the black granite. The stage, with its red carpet and gleaming silver-plated pole, proved empty of entertainment and nudity.

I wonder if Lulu knows how to dance with that thing.
Perhaps she'd give him a private performance.

Once he convinced her to give him a chance.

At the far end of the seating area, a red
EXIT
sign provided a beacon, but it was the thin sliver of daylight around the door that bothered him. Someone had left the door open.

Sniff. It seemed he'd miscounted—the horror. His nose now discerned the distinct aroma of two bears. They'd come in through two of the entrances. Were they the only ones?

What did they do here? What did they want? Did he need to guard against them, or were they somehow on his side? Perhaps Fabian had sent them, which would make them—

His tiger stopped his circling series of questions with a very simple summation of the situation.
Bite if enemy. No bite if ally. Bite if touching mate.

Trust his feline to get to the heart of his choices.

In order to make that determination, he needed a better handle on what was happening. At the far end of the bar was a door marked
EMPLOYEES
ONLY.
The handle gave, and he swung it open on well-oiled hinges to reveal an empty hall with a few doors. One labeled
DRESSING
ROOM,
another
SUPPLIES,
a third door marked as
RESTROOM,
and the one on the end,
OFFICE.

About eight feet from the door, his ears perked as the rumble of voices came to him. Given that the scents he followed grew stronger the closer he got to the office, the more it seemed safe to assume he faced just two male bears.

He paused to strain and listen.

“… hand me those zip ties for her ankles and wrists. We don't want her escaping in case she wakes up.”

“I say we kill her now. Make sure she doesn't wake.”

“Remember our orders. No signs of foul play. We have to make this look like an accident.”

“Won't the medical examiner notice the bump to her noggin or the fact she was tied?”

Brody tensed at the mention of his mate getting knocked in the head. If she was unconscious, that would explain her silence.

“She'll be at the heart of the fire we're starting in her trash bin. There won't be evidence of nothing except she tried to burn some papers. The fire marshal will rule the flames got out of control and torched her.”

Burned alive? Brody winced. Even by bad-guy standards that was pretty darned cruel. Good thing he'd arrived in time to rescue his mate. The thing was, how should he proceed? Outnumbered by bears and him without a weapon. Not that many shifters carried weapons. It was considered unsporting.

As he saw it, he had only a few choices. Waiting until they set the fire, left the office, and came at him in the hall, a narrow passageway that would allow him to tackle them one at a time. Good for him if they were tough, bad for Lulu, as it meant giving the flames a chance to spread and for toxic smoke to choke her.

Another option was to charge into the office. Him against the pair. He'd be at a disadvantage in hand-to-hand combat against the two men. If he remained human. As his tiger, though, he could totally have some fun.

Play with the bears.
His inner tiger practically chased its tail in excitement. It did so love teddies, especially when he got a chance to rip out their stuffing.

As a teen, Brody used to go to the county fair, and with his quick reflexes and honed aim, manage to win the giant stuffed animals the carnival games offered. He'd drag the giant blue gorillas home, or the ridged dinosaur painted purple and green. Then he'd swap skin and let his tiger go wild.
Meow
.

Such fun, except when it came time to clean up the fluff. To this day, his mother still swore she vacuumed up bits.

These bears would have the gooey stuffing, which would prove messy. And loud, probably. Here was to hoping Lulu didn't regain consciousness during the battle, or else it might be kind of hard to explain how two bears and a tiger came to be fighting in her office.

Unsure of how much time he had before the bears set the fire, Brody stripped quickly.

He set his things aside, wishing he'd worn track pants and a T-shirt instead of a full suit today. Then again, when he'd woken this morning, eager to see Lulu, he'd wanted to impress her with his white-collar status. He'd not expected he'd have to wear his tiger suit at one point.

Naked, Brody paused for a listen. His breathing stopped as he heard the distinctive click of a lighter. Out of time.

Or not.

Bumbling bears bungling their burglary. Say that fast five times.

“Stupid lighter.”
Click
.
Click
.
Click
. “I think it's out of gas.”

“What do you mean ‘it's out of gas'?”

“It hasn't worked in a few days.”

“And yet you kept it in your pocket.”

“Give a hoot, don't pollute, man. And you know what Smokey says.”