Wild Cat (20 page)

She had her eyes glued to the door so she saw him the moment he returned, the three bottles of water dangling casually from his fingertips. He looked yummy. Good enough to eat. She especially liked that bulge in the front of his jeans showing he thought she looked as if
she
was good enough to eat.

She allowed the other two inner tubes to slide away from hers as she caught the edge of the pool and held on against the pull of the current. He leaned down to her, handing her one of the bottles.

“Baby, you're going to have to stop looking at me like that,” he whispered. “You're killing me.”

“It's good for you.” Deliberately she removed the loosened cap and tipped a little of the contents down her throat, and then poured some down the front of her so it ran in a little river over the swell of her breasts and into the deep valley.

His breath hitched in his throat and his eyes darkened with lust. “You're playing with fire,
mi amorcito
. I have no problems throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you off to the bedroom right in front of our guests.”

She wanted to dare him, but she knew he'd do it. She'd totally love it, but she'd never be able to face Emma or Catarina again without blushing. She bit her lip and let her
fingertips answer him, sliding over his denim-covered leg, indicating yes, but no at the same time.

His hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head back, tilting her face up to his. He bent low and took her mouth the way he often did. Pure hunger. Uncaring who saw him. She tasted love in her mouth and the moment she did, she gave him everything back, pouring herself into his kiss like a gift. Just as hungry, hoping he could taste what she felt for him.

He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead tight against hers. “You still with me, baby, or are you processing?”

“Both,” she answered a little breathily. She processed slow. She knew that, letting in a little bit of information at a time. He'd given her a lot, but there was so much more she needed to know. He'd told her about the past, not the present or the future. She needed all of it before she could make a decision.

It wasn't lost on her that he was courting her every minute of every day. With his sweet side. With his kisses. With his body. He was determined to make it difficult for her to ever leave him, and he was doing a really, really good job of it.

“You going to give my woman her water,” Jake demanded, “or are you two going to take it inside?”

Siena couldn't help but smile as she buried her face in Elijah's throat. She heard the teasing note in Jake's voice, but Elijah had instantly shifted, nearly pulling her out of the water to wrap her up in his arms protectively. He didn't like her the least bit uncomfortable—unless he was the one making her that way.

“You okay?”

“Perfectly. Your friends are really nice. I've never had the chance to have friends, Elijah, so this is awesome,” she assured him.

He settled her back in the inner tube and shot Jake a glare. Jake erupted into loud laughter, not in the least intimidated by an Elijah scowl. She
really
liked his friends. She
liked that they knew Elijah well enough to occasionally tease him. He needed that every bit as much as she did.

She couldn't imagine what it would have been like for him growing up with the violence and controversy in his family. Other children were forbidden to play with him because their fathers were afraid if there were a childish fight, his parents would retaliate. That was how bad the Lospostos reputation was.

She let the current take her away from Elijah, all the while keeping her gaze on him as he walked around the pool until he caught up with Catarina and Emma. She loved looking at him, at the fluid, easy way he walked. He did look like a leopard padding so silently around the pool, danger in the very set of his shoulder and the rippling of the roped muscles beneath his white tee.

He turned his head and looked at her, his eyes meeting hers, and for the first time, in front of his friends, he smiled. Really smiled. The kind of smile that reached his eyes and lit them up, turning them from dark mercury to dazzling silver. The burn between her legs grew hotter. Company was definitely going to have to leave soon if he kept looking so good.

She held on to the side of pool, waiting for Emma and Catarina to make their way around it as Elijah disappeared back into the house. She lay back, closing her eyes, her long, thick braid in the water, her fingers clutching the water bottle. She felt lazy and happy, completely relaxed for the first time in months ever since she'd come home and found Paolo's eyes on her every time she moved.

Paolo didn't look at her the way Elijah did. There was something sneering and perverted about the way Paolo stared at her. She felt her stomach shift into knots. Just that fast, the thought of Paolo could take away the beauty of the afternoon. A shadow seemed to slip into her mind, coloring the blue of the afternoon gray.

She opened her eyes quickly to look up at the floating clouds. The sky was still blue. Very blue. A slight breeze pushed fluffy formations across the sky. The pool gleamed, and the children still laughed in excitement as Jake carried both from the water to wrap towels around them.

She took a deep breath and let herself float away, trying to escape the sudden suffocating feeling that gripped her. She'd been plagued with panic attacks since she'd woken up in the hospital. Elijah had managed to keep most of the nightmares at bay, but sometimes, during the day, she suddenly couldn't breathe. Mostly that happened when she let herself think about Paolo and what he might be doing.

The more time passed without anyone laying eyes on Paolo, the more worried she grew. She knew he wouldn't let things lie. She turned her head toward her left, looking over the high wall toward the rolling hills where the trees were. She knew Drake's men patrolled regularly through the trees and brush, and that they were all leopard and able to use their leopard senses.

She hadn't let her leopard out since she was injured. Her ribs and lacerations needed to heal first, but the little female was growing restless and Elijah had indicated several times that his male was becoming irritable and hard to control. She hadn't asked the doctor how shifting would affect the baby. Maybe that was a good question to ask Emma. She certainly would know.

She started to turn her head when she caught sight of one of Elijah's personal bodyguards, Joaquin, running across the yard in the distance, a gun in his hand. Elijah and Drake burst from the house, shouting at Jake to get under cover and for the women to get out of the pool.

“
Dios
, Siena, move it, now,” Elijah shouted, running toward her.

Emma and Catarina were close to the house and both bailed out of their inner tubes. Drake reached an arm down
for both of them and hauled them out of the waist-deep river, curved his arms around their waists and ran with them toward the house, Jake closing in behind with the two children.

Siena was on the far side of the pool. She leapt off the inner tube and dragged herself up onto the cement. Elijah's arm went around her and he lifted her right off her feet and ran with her away from the house and toward the protection of the wall. Several gunshots rang out, the sound echoing across the water. Something spat at the cement, and she saw three trails of silver in the water.

Elijah wrapped his arm around her head, shoving her to the ground and covering her body with his. “Stay down, baby.”

“It's Paolo, isn't it?”

“I don't think so. The team's got this. Joshua spotted someone creeping up on the house. Paolo wouldn't be so stupid. He knows Drake is your security. I think this is Cordeau's man,” Elijah said grimly. “His name is Robert Gaton. He's trying to stake his claim and tie up loose ends.”

“Catarina? Is she considered a loose end?” In a way it was a relief that maybe she wasn't the cause of the danger to Emma, her children and Catarina.

“I think we were his target,” Elijah admitted. “Gaton would perceive us as his biggest threat. You've inherited your grandfather's territory. Paolo may act like he's running the show, but you're the princess. You're living here with me. In everyone's eyes, that makes us partners. Gaton, as well as several other bosses, believes we're joining forces.”

His voice was matter-of-fact, as if he wasn't delivering really,
really
bad news. In fact, his voice was devoid of all feeling. She hadn't even considered what the outside world might believe about the vacancy on her grandfather's throne, but it was his voice that sent a chill down her spine.

“Elijah,” she whispered softly, her fist bunching in his shirt.

“I don't know for certain,
mi amorcito
, it's just a gut reaction. We'll know more when we find out who's out
there.” He didn't look at her. His gaze fixed on a point above her head and his features were cut deep with lines, carved with something dark and very dangerous.

She pressed her face against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, trying without words to bring him back to her, because, although he held her, he wasn't hers. She felt him moving away from her, his mind going somewhere she couldn't follow. His fingers burrowed beneath her long braid to find the nape of her neck, massaging gently to ease the tension out of her, but he did it absently, as if she barely registered.

He suddenly lifted his head and looked toward the house. “We've got the all clear. I need you inside. Now.”

She winced at the edge in his voice. His tone cut, lashed, a crisp command delivered impersonally.

“Elijah,” she began, running her hand up his chest, trying to find their connection. Feeling suddenly very afraid.

He caught her hand and brought it down to his thigh, still not looking at her. “I'll want Drake to explain to me how someone got close enough to the house to fire on us.”

“It sounded like a rifle to me.” She tried placating him, diverting his anger from Drake and the others. Because he was angry. She got that, not from his voice, but from the heavy, oppressive feeling coming off him in waves.

“It was, but no one should have gotten close enough even for that.”

She shivered at his cold tone. Yeah. He was seriously pissed. She didn't think it was fair to Drake or his team. The ranch was huge. No one could cover the entire acreage.

“They got him, honey,” she reminded softly, as he pulled her to her feet.

He didn't reply, keeping her hand against his thigh and pulling her across the open area fast. He didn't say a word to Drake as he passed.

Once in the house, she tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip on her and turned her away from the great room.
She protested, trying to come to a stop. “We have company, Elijah. I need to check on everyone.”

“You need to do what I say, Siena,” he growled. “I want you in our room where I know you're safe.”

“But . . .”

He didn't listen to her, all but dragging her right through the house straight to the master bedroom.

“Take a shower and get dressed.” His voice was clipped.

“Elijah,” she protested.

“You're shivering, Siena.” His hands settled on her shoulders. “I promised you safety. You didn't feel fucking safe. I want to know why, and by God, I'm going to find out what the hell happened and who shot at you.”

He dropped his hands and stalked from the room, leaving her standing there with her mouth open, a little shocked at the abrupt way he left her. She stood there a long time, shaking, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, as panic took her. She didn't even know why she was suddenly so scared, but she was.

The hot water didn't drive the cold from her belly. That cold was like a snake, slithering through her, leaving devastation in its wake. She knew she was living in a dream world of her own making. She didn't want to process anything Elijah said because she'd have to face the reality of his life. Of what and who he might be. There was no escaping it now, and it wasn't the rifle firing bullets at them or their guests—it was the look on Elijah's face.

He had gone so distant. So remote. So deadly. The sweet man she had come to rely on had disappeared altogether and a stranger was there. His eyes had gone diamond hard, as cold as ice, yet there was such a gathered fury there, as if all of it was concentrated deep in his soul. If his eyes revealed what was inside the man, she knew she was looking at hell. She saw the real Elijah Lospostos, the man born and bred to rule a world of violence. He lived outside the law because he was his own law. The man she saw in her
bedroom was capable of extreme violence, and he wouldn't hesitate to use it if he decided he needed—or wanted to.

She washed her hair, taking her time, her hands trembling, the terrible cold sinking so deep into her bones, she feared she'd never get it out. She felt still inside, as if she held herself together by sheer willpower and if she moved too far one way or the other, she'd shatter from the cold.

Siena dressed with care, needing to feel as if she had armor when she faced Elijah again. She wasn't certain how best to approach him. She'd promised she'd talk to him if anything upset her, and seeing him like that, well, not only was it upsetting, it was terrifying. He had gone so remote, she wasn't certain he was even the same man. He'd felt—and looked—like a total stranger.

She tugged on her softest skirt, the one that fell to her ankles and made her feel taller. She hated putting on a bra, because the strap rubbed along the four rake marks, but she did it so she could wear one of her favorite blouses. It was a beautiful silky material, almost, but not really see-through. It hinted at what was beneath it, but was very classy. No sleeves, but tiny pearl buttons down the front, it came to a vee at her waist and hugged her narrow rib cage. It went perfectly with the skirt and gave her confidence in her appearance, even with the scar on her face.