by Eve Langlais
“Ooh, those jerks. They’re shooting at the wheels.” She tugged on the controls, and the plane lurched to the side then veered back, still picking up speed.
The men on the tarmac moved out of the way rather than try and stop it with their bodies. JF craned to see them running back to the pile of cars. One of the vehicles began to chase them down the runway.
“They’re going to cut you off,” he declared.
“No, they’re not,” she replied with a fierce smile. “Hold on tight.”
Hold on to what? He’d already left his sanity behind, apparently.
His body flattened into his seat as the plane pulled, the front part of it leaving the ground. He swallowed hard, especially as a car at the top of the runway executed a sharp turn and aimed at them.
It began barreling at the airplane. Too late to do any damage. The little aircraft kept pulling into the air, the ascent sharp. The plane left the ground with enough altitude that they skimmed over the car.
But that wasn’t why he white-knuckled the seat.
Stacey noticed and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I hate flying,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
“That makes no sense. Whampyrs have wings. Your kind can fly.”
“Different thing. When I’m in my whampyr shape, I’m flying, me and only me, not trusting some lunatic cat driving some oversized coffin with wings and propellers.”
“Pussy.”
“I am not a pussy.”
“So you won’t freak out if I do this?” By this she meant take her hands off the controls.
The plane didn’t suddenly go into a sharp dive, but he still yelled, “Drive the fucking plane, woman!”
“Calm down, sweetcheeks. This baby isn’t going to crash.” His shoulders dropped a little in relief at her confident tone. “Unless they hit something vital with their bullets.”
The tension came back with friends. “You are not funny.”
“Depends on who you ask. My biatches think I’m awesome. My enemies on the other hand…they know I mean business.”
Looking at her profile, the snub nose, the fine features, the sweet lilt of her lips, he couldn’t help but scoff. “Exactly how many enemies can you really have?”
“Too many to count. I am the scourge of the rodent population. The elegant death to those who might harm the pride. A soul crusher to those that would adore me and yet not meet my high standards.”
“And what are your standards?” He blamed the tension still riding him for asking. He had no interest. Who cared about this woman and what she liked in a man?
I sure as hell don’t. Yet, for some reason, he listened intently to her reply.
“I like a well-groomed man, suit and tie especially. Business oriented, the white collar, pencil-pushing kind. I am partial to smooth fingers.” She purred the words. “I want a gentleman, the kind who knows how to treat a lady in and out of the bedroom.”
“Sounds boring.”
“Only because you’re obviously not the type of man I’m looking for.”
“Good, because you’re not my type either.” Barked out at her mostly because, and surely this was wrong, he felt offended. Offended at her rejection? It was only rejection if he gave a fuck, which he didn’t. Not one bit.
“What kind of woman do you like?” she asked.
“The kind that doesn’t talk.”
“A guy into necrophilia. I guess with your boss being a necromancer that’s not too much of a stretch.”
“I don’t fuck the dead.”
“The mute?”
“No. I meant I don’t like women who yap all the time and waste the air around them.”
“So, in other words, just another guy who gets in and out as quick as he can, with no finesse.”
“I have plenty of finesse.” Again, why did he feel a need to reply?
“Says you, sweetcheeks. I’m going to need proof of that.”
Show her. Drag her out of that seat and shut her up.
No.
And not just because she was driving the plane. No getting involved with shifters. Especially not this one.
The very fact that she drew him was a warning sign to stay away.
The plane leveled off, and she clapped her hands. “Next stop, Caribbean destination. You may unbuckle and move around the cabin if you like.”
He did like. The interior of the cockpit was too small to avoid her. Her scent. Her smile. The fact that he knew under that dress she didn’t wear a single extra stitch. How easy it would be to slide his hand under the skirt of her dress and touch the pink folds she’d so brazenly displayed to him before.
I wouldn’t mind a lick…
He bolted from the front into the more comfortable passenger section with its leather couch and captain-style seats. JF sat down, closed his eyes, and sighed.
“Homesick already?” she asked, following him.
“What the fuck are you doing? Get back in there and drive the plane.” He jabbed a finger in the direction of the cockpit.
“Relax, sweetcheeks. I’ve got it on autopilot. We’re fine. If anything weird crops up, something will beep. Usually.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“There’s a parachute around here somewhere, I’m sure.”
“The right answer is nothing is going to happen.”
“Then where would the fun be? Lighten up.”
“I’ll lighten up when people aren’t trying to make me into bloody Swiss cheese. Who was that shooting at you back at the airstrip?” Because when he’d told Gaston about it, Gaston had sounded surprised at the attack.
“Good question.” She shrugged. “Could be any number of people, but it’s most likely my ex-boyfriend. He’s got a bit of a temper.”
“Nice taste in guys. What happened to dating pencil-pushing pansies?”
“A mistake, I’ll admit. Michael wasn’t who he said he was. He told me he was into imports and exports. Except what he forgot to say was those involved drugs. I don’t approve of drugs, and I hate liars. So I had him arrested and put in jail.”
“You put a drug dealer you were dating in jail?” He gaped at her.
“Him and a good chunk of his crew. I hear a judge let him out early for good behavior.”
“And now he’s trying to kill you.”
“Can you blame him? Because he chose a life of crime, he lost out on this.” She referred to her curves.
Don’t look.
He couldn’t help himself. She was like some evil idol carved to perfection, made to force a man to lust after something he didn’t want.
Lie. I want her. Want to grab her by the hair, bend her over, and do things to her that would feel so fucking good. But he wouldn’t. Because bestiality was against the law.
“I need a drink,” she stated. “I don’t suppose you’d fetch me one.”
“Not a chance, princess.”
“Figures,” she muttered as she headed to the back, only she didn’t make it far.
Did she intentionally trip on his lap? What happened to felines having exceptional balance and grace?
Whatever the case, she fell, right on top of him.
JF caught her but not before her bottom squished onto his lap.
“Oops. How clumsy of me. I hope I didn’t hurt you.” She smiled at him coyly.
He recognized the game. “You can stop trying.”
“Trying what?” She batted her lashes.
“To goad me. To flirt. I’ve been assigned to you as a guard. No more. I’m not your toy, nor am I at all interested in your charms.”
“Not even a little?” She squirmed on his lap, and he quickly set her away from him.
“Behave yourself, woman.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because ladies don’t throw themselves at virtual strangers.”
“Lighten up, sweetcheeks.”
“No. We should be discussing those men who were shooting at you and what to do in case they try again.�
� Not thinking of how easily he could pull her close and nuzzle her mound.
“What makes you think they were shooting at me?”
“You just told me it was your ex-convict ex-boyfriend.”
“No, I said it was a possibility. But that doesn’t mean it was him. After all, Michael really did enjoy himself with me. Why would he kill me when he could kidnap me and make me his sex slave?”
“You’d seriously go back to a drug dealer?”
“Of course not, but it would be romantic if he tried. As to shooting, who’s to say those guys weren’t after you? You are, after all, working for a necromancer. Which is seriously cool. Do you have an idea how many jealous biatches there are in the pride? Reba scored huge when she snared Gaston. Who doesn’t want a boyfriend who could raise the undead?”
“They weren’t shooting at me,” he growled. Surely not jealous that Stacey showed such admiration for Gaston. She’d obviously never seen the man’s taste in music.
“How can you be sure?” she asked.
“For one thing, no one knew I would be at the airstrip.”
“And what makes you think anyone knew I was? We lions are stealthy creatures.”
“You are not stealthy. People for miles around probably see you coming in that little red sports car.”
“You have a point. The attention that baby draws is totally worth the chunk off my paycheck.”
“It blew up.”
“No, it sacrificed itself that I might get a newer model courtesy of my insurance company. She smiled quite happily.
“Perhaps the shooters are related to whatever business you’ve got planned in the Caribbean.”
“That would be exciting if they were related.”
Much as he wanted to show disinterest, even JF knew when he was taking stubbornness too far. “What exactly are you going to this island for?”
“Ever watch The X-Files?”
“Isn’t that a fictional show with aliens?”
“Yes. About a duo of investigators, Mulder and Scully, hunting for clues to solve supernatural mysteries.”
“Did this Mulder solve crimes with the help of his cat?”
She gaped. “I thought you saw this show.”
“No.”
“There is no cat. I’m Scully in this scenario, the brains of the operation, and you’re Mulder, off doing his own thing. In this case, just stay out of my way so you don’t cramp my style.”
“Because God forbid anyone introduce rationality and a cautious approach to a situation.”
“See, already you’re trying to bring a level of boring to this. You’re just along for the ride because Arik said I couldn’t go alone. Some sort of concern I’d disappear like the other broads did.”
“What other broads?”
“I don’t know about all of them. But Shania was apparently kidnapped by a lion-headed man.”
He blinked at her. “Did you drug me?” Because surely he’d misunderstood.
“Why would you think I drugged you? Unless”—her expression brightened—“my very attractive pheromones are affecting you.”
“They’re not. But something must be in the air making me hear things because I could have sworn you said a woman was kidnapped by a lion-headed man.” Which made no sense.
“You heard me right. I’m supposed to find out what the deal is with the liotaur. Which is kind of like a minotaur but with a lion’s head.”
JF pressed his lips together rather than say anything about the made-up name. What the fuck had Gaston sent him into?
And why did a part of him look forward to the adventure—with her?
Chapter Five
The man didn’t know how to smile. Stacey was convinced of it, and the more she explained about the liotaur, the deeper the frown on his face got. So deep she wondered if it was a permanent affliction.
“So, in summary, sweetcheeks, my role is to dig up dirt and dangle myself as bait, while you, acting as my dopey older brother, stay out of the way.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to keep you from coming to harm.”
“You, act chivalrous?” She smiled. “I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” She patted his cheek. “But tell you what, if you really want to give chivalry a shot, then feel free to carry my bags and fetch me drinks.”
“I’m here as your bodyguard, not your personal butler.”
“I don’t require a guard. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, not to mention I don’t need you messing things up. How am I supposed to seem abductable if you’re always around scowling?”
“I don’t scowl.”
“You don’t smile either.”
“How’s this?” He showed a lot of teeth.
She recoiled. “Don’t do that. You’ll give people nightmares.”
“Funny, I would have said the same of you. When the pride comes around, it’s batten down the hatches and hide your fragile belongings.”
“Because we know how to have a good time. You should take lessons.”
“From who? You?” He snickered. “What makes you think you’re better than me?”
Did he really need an answer? “I’m a lion, so of course I’m better than you. I’m better than just about anyone other than another lion.” She rolled her eyes in a duh fashion.
“Felines have got to be the most exasperating animals to deal with,” he mumbled.
“Thank you. It’s on account we’re so regal and intelligent.”
“More like pea-brained and oblivious.”
“No wonder you’re single, sweetcheeks. That is not how you charm a lady.”
“I’m sorry, was there a lady around here?” He looked around, and she had to laugh.
“Naughty, naughty. You can pretend, but I have a hunch you like what you see.”
“I’d get your hunches checked out by a pro because I am going to state, right now, I have no interest in getting a house cat.”
“Not even if I told you I had a fetish for licking skin?”
“Not even if you cooked and cleaned.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Ugh. Why would I do that? You see these hands?” She held up her perfectly manicured fingers. “These hands aren’t made for hot soapy water or gross sponges.”
“Then what are you good for?”
“Many things.”
“Such as? What’s your job?”
“Event coordinator for the pride.”
He snorted. “So you’re a party girl. What a surprise.”
“I’ll have you know my position with the pride is complicated. It’s not easy getting large gatherings to go off without a hitch.”
“You mean you can’t just throw down a side of beef and ring a bell?”
Her lips twitched. “Depends on the occasion.”
“So, if this case is so serious, why send you? Don’t they have a security team better equipped for this?”
“Arik wants to keep this quiet until he knows what’s going on. He’s most perturbed that people have been keeping it a secret from him. This investigation is being done on the down-low. Which is where I come in. My job as event coordinator looking to put together a wedding is going to give me access at the resort to things we might not see as guests.”
“Seems awfully complicated. A woman is missing. Why not just hunt the fellow down and fetch her back?”
“Because no one has been able to find a trace. A rainfall wiped the place clean. Not a single scent has been located.”
“Bet you I could find one. Give me a day.”
“You want to go looking? Go ahead. It will at least keep you out of my path.”
“You’re really arrogant, you know.”
“And you’re not?” she said with a teasing smile.
“Not my fault I’m superior to you.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a lion.”
He shuddered. “Now that’s just being mean.”
“You’ll take offense at that, and yet you’re the one who’s be
en insulting me at every turn.”
“I don’t want to be here.”
“So you keep saying and yet…” She crouched down in front of him, placed her hands on his taut thighs, and smiled. “I can tell when a man is interested in me.”
His gaze met hers, the spark within a sign. “I’d have to be dead to not want to fuck you. But I don’t need to like you to do that. A pussy is a pussy.”
“But we’re not all made the same.”
“Turn off the lights and there’s no difference.”
“You’d know it was me. I guarantee it, sweetcheeks.”
“Doubtful. Women are all the same.” He didn’t say it as if it were a positive thing.
She’d have to change his mind. “Another challenge. What fun.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact you keep tossing down the gauntlet. Well, guess what, sweetcheeks, I am picking that gauntlet up. By the end of this trip, not only will we be lovers, you’ll like me. A lot.” Heck, if Mr. Cool and Arrogant played his cards right, she might even extend their fling past their sojourn on the island.
“I thought I wasn’t your type.” He held up his hands. “Callused fingers.”
“There’s manicures for that.”
“I don’t want to be your boyfriend.”
“I never said your lover status would be permanent. I doubt you’ll keep me entertained for long, which will suck for you when I move on.” She stood and walked toward the cockpit.
“Or, maybe, princess, you’ll be the one asking me to stay, and I’ll be the one leaving you high and dry.”
Her, fall for a man who thought she should carry her own luggage? Never.
“Strap in, sweetcheeks, we’re starting our descent.” And the game to see who would win started now.
Chapter Six
Despite all JF’s misgivings, they landed without mishap, the plane taxiing with barely a bump as it hit the tarmac, slowing to a stop as it reached the proper spot by the terminal.
Kind of disappointing really. He’d entertained a fantasy where he had to jump from the plane, soar on his big wings, and then made her beg to be saved.
But the flying tin can landed without mishap, if one ignored the state of his mind after spending a few hours with the feline.