The Jaguar Tycoon: Tales of the Were (Howls Romance)

by Bianca D'Arc

  “I hope you’re right,” was Nick’s only reply.

  Nick drank the rest of his beer in silence before turning in for the night. They had a big day tomorrow, and Nick had already assigned his best men to watch their unclaimed Alpha female. Her safety had to come before all else. She was the Alpha’s—and the Clan’s—future…if she gave them the chance.

  Everything now—the entire future of the Clan—was up to her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Shelly woke by slow degrees, stretching in the luxurious bed. The noises of the city below her window eventually clued her in to the fact that she wasn’t at home in her quiet suburban house. No, she was in a pricey hotel smack in the middle of midtown Manhattan. Traffic was picking up in the street below as the millions of people who made this city work began their day.

  It all came back in a rush. Thoughts of what had happened the night before made her gasp as she remembered the amazing feeling of Mark Pepard’s fur—fur!—under her fingertips. She’d laid awake most of the night, teetering between believing she must’ve been the victim of some kind of elaborate hoax and the startling thought that shapeshifters really did exist. Or maybe she was just going mad.

  Upset wasn’t the word for her state of mind. It didn’t even come close. She was in emotional and psychological turmoil. She was questioning all she thought she knew to be real.

  Her world had been turned upside down and inside out. And she couldn’t even discuss it with anyone. Nick had impressed upon her how dangerous it would be to talk about her discoveries with anyone other than him and Mark on the ride home last night. He’d personally escorted her back to her hotel, riding with her in the back of a chauffeured limousine.

  Mark had stayed behind at the old Customs House, leaving by some other route that would take him to wherever he was staying while he was in the city. Only Nick and one of the company drivers accompanied her back to her midtown hotel.

  She’d tried to look anywhere but at the disturbing bodyguard. His icy eyes set her off balance, and she’d decided to hate him just about the time he’d threatened to make her disappear. Subsequent interaction had made her wonder if maybe she’d judged him too harshly, but it would take a lot to get her to like him. He’d been too mean when he was questioning her, though she guessed he’d had his reasons. Perhaps he really had thought she was some kind of threat to Mark.

  It was clear the icy blond bodyguard held his employer in much higher esteem than a mere hired hand would usually have for his boss. This Clan Mark had alluded to sounded more like a family. Perhaps there were bonds that went deeper than mere business connections or even friendships. She had to admit, Nick had seemed almost human there for a few nanoseconds while he’d been talking to Mark. But, of course—if she hadn’t been hallucinating—he wasn’t exactly human, was he? None of them were.

  But after Mark had come in and calmed him down, Nick had seemed more reasonable. Maybe he wasn’t such a hard-ass, after all. Maybe he just liked scaring the bejeezus out of innocent women for kicks. The jerk.

  That thought had helped her ignore him on the ride back to her hotel, for the most part. She kept her anger around her like a shield, but when they neared the hotel, he touched her arm, making her jump. She’d looked at him then, and the way his gaze softened made her almost think he might’ve regretted being so mean to her before.

  Then, he’d gone on to deliver all sorts of dire warnings, admonishing her not to discuss the night’s events with anyone. Not even her father. And especially not by phone. He’d made her a little paranoid about possible listening devices too.

  He’d said his men had swept her hotel room for bugs when they’d gone in with Mark earlier, but that it was no guarantee. Whatever that meant. His people had to keep a low profile, he had gone on to explain, so they could avoid arousing further suspicion around her.

  Frankly, she had wanted to scoff at all his cloak-and-dagger warnings, but somehow, she hadn’t been able to dismiss them—or his handsome boss—from her mind. Nick’s worry about her security, or lack thereof, seemed just genuine enough to make her think twice before discounting it. For now, she would err on the side of caution and follow his advice. Much as it irked her to do so.

  There was a great deal to think about before Mark Pepard showed up for their scheduled meeting. If Mark had been serious. Many times throughout the night, she had doubted her own sanity. If Mark showed up at her home later this afternoon, she would have to rethink the late-night explanations she had come up with to soothe her troubled mind.

  Realizing she had slept late, Shelly got out of bed and headed for the shower. She had to be ready in case she wasn’t going crazy. She had to check out, drive home and be ready to confront the jaguar, if he came to call.

  *

  “You want to remind me why we’re doing this again?” Cassius grimaced as he ran his hand down the front of his uniform. That a mighty warrior had been reduced to parading as a bellhop was something his Pack mates would never let him live down, he was sure.

  “We’re doing it because your big brother promised the Alpha jaguar that he’d help protect the woman. Them jags are scary, man.” As usual, his best friend, Gene, summed up the situation with his typical eloquence. “They may be few in number, but they carry a lot of political weight. Not to mention they’re wild-ass fighters. I wouldn’t want to get on that Nick’s bad side. Dude gives me the shivers.”

  Gene was at least dressed like a normal person, in a designer suit. He was playing floor manager while some of their other male Pack mates were beefing up security and some of the ladies were wearing housekeeping uniforms. But nobody looked as silly as Cassius felt, all done up in gold braid and bright colors. The things he did for the Pack.

  “My brother’s going to owe me big time,” he muttered, hefting yet another piece of luggage onto a cart, helping one of the humans who’d been paid well not to question the influx of new staff.

  “Heads up,” came a voice in his ear, over the tiny hidden device that connected all the werewolves with the jaguars and other allies they’d pulled in on short notice for this duty. “Activity in the hall outside the lady’s room.” He knew the voice. It was Ben, one of the tech wizards in the Pack, who’d been sent to the security monitoring room and was watching all the camera feeds.

  *

  Shelly packed up her stuff and did a quick check around the hotel room to be certain she hadn’t left anything behind. She left a tip for the housekeeper on top of the dresser and headed out of her room. Time to face the music.

  She was in the hall, pocketing her key when a man came up behind her. He’d appeared from out of nowhere, it seemed, and she gasped as his sudden presence surprised her.

  He smiled, but it wasn’t a kind expression.

  “Forgive me. My name is Antony Mason,” he introduced himself, offering his hand. He said his name as if he expected her to know it, but she was drawing a blank.

  He seemed polite enough, so she took the offered hand without really thinking about it. She was taken off guard and realized quickly that the hotel hallway was empty, except for the two of them. Nerves began to jangle as she realized just how vulnerable she was at the moment. Sure, there were probably video cameras recording movement in the halls of the hotel, but it wasn’t likely anyone would rush to her rescue in time to prevent this man from harming her.

  “Pardon my forwardness,” he went on, still holding her hand. Something about his touch alarmed her. “I saw you leave last night in a cab with a business associate of mine. He has not returned to the hotel, and I am concerned. Do you know what happened to him?”

  She tugged her hand free, using a bit more force than was polite, but it didn’t seem to faze him. He just kept that unctuous half-grin on his face, probably trying to pretend he was harmless, when she got a whole other vibe from him. This guy gave her the creeps.

  “The man I left with in the cab?” she questioned, stalling for time as she gathered her wits.

  He nodded. “The very
same. I understood he was on his way to some sort of charity event.”

  “He was arrested. He had a gun, and I think he tried to shoot someone, though they kept it pretty quiet. Those private security men are very discreet.” She decided to stick with the publicly known version of events.

  “Aren’t they, though?” His half-smile remained as his eyes nearly bore holes into her skull, he was studying her so closely. This guy was not normal. “You say he was armed? I had no idea.”

  She wasn’t buying it. Shelly grabbed the raised handle of her rolling luggage and headed for the elevator. Maybe there would be someone inside the car. She didn’t want to be alone with this guy.

  “Did they question you about him? You did share a cab with him, after all.” His tone was pleasant, but she got the feeling he truly was anything but.

  “Of course they did. They thought I knew him, but after a while, they figured out I was telling the truth. We only shared a cab because the bellman put us together. It was raining, and taxis were scarce. We were both going to the same place. It was pure coincidence.”

  She knew her voice rose in agitation as she rolled her luggage behind her toward the distant elevator. The man who’d introduced himself as Antony Mason followed behind. She was grateful for the couple of feet of buffer provided by the luggage. She got the idea that, if not for the obstacle, he would be breathing down her neck—literally.

  *

  “Shit. There’s a man talking to her,” Ben reported to the team of shifters who were monitoring the situation. “He’s following her to the elevator, and she doesn’t look happy. Jimmy, get in the south elevator now, in case he follows her into the box.”

  “Roger,” came Jimmy’s disembodied reply in his ear. Everyone was on edge now. It was show time.

  Cassius waited what he thought was a reasonable amount of time, but Ben kept silent. Everyone kept silent, keeping the channel clear for orders and advisories.

  “Status!” Cassius barked, unwilling to wait.

  He wanted to know what was going on, and he wanted to know now. He was in charge of the wolves on this op—by far the largest contingent on scene. If things went south, it was his ass on the line.

  “Jimmy’s in the elevator with them. The dude followed her right into the box. Doesn’t she know better?” Ben’s voice in Cassius’s ear was both angry and dismayed.

  “She’s human, Ben. Cut her some slack. They don’t have our instincts,” Cassius said quickly. “How’s it look?”

  “Jimmy’s behind the male. He’s making a face. Something about the guy is off, I think, but we’ll have to wait until the box opens before Jim can report,” Ben said.

  “By that time, we’ll have them surrounded,” Cassius said with satisfaction. “What floor?”

  “She pushed the lobby button. The man didn’t countermand her. I’ve got control of that elevator, and I’m sending it directly to the lobby. No stops in between,” Ben reported.

  “Good man,” Cassius complimented the Pack’s tech expert. Ben was a very useful wolf to have around. “Okay, you heard the man. Everybody stationed on the lobby level, converge around the south elevator. Everybody else—I want to know who that guy is. I want his room and belongings searched. Beware possible magical traps. The jags are sideways with a lot of magic users. Be warned.”

  Cassius was on the move as he issued the orders. He took a full luggage cart and headed for the south elevator. He’d be waiting for the lady when the box opened. And heaven help the stranger if he meant to do her harm.

  *

  “So, they just let you go? I find that hard to believe.”

  “Really, Mr. Mason. I’m done with this conversation. Believe me or not. That’s what happened.” Shelly finally objected to the man’s continued questions.

  The guy had followed her right into the elevator and kept badgering her. Thank goodness there had been a man already on the elevator when it stopped on her floor. She would not have wanted to be stuck alone with this Mason character.

  Of course, the stranger’s presence hadn’t seemed to stop Mason from cross-examining her. However, she felt like it had stopped him from doing anything more drastic. Thank goodness for small favors.

  She’d had enough, though. It was time to go on the offensive. Maybe that would make him back down. It was a tactic she’d used in the past with some success. Maybe it would work now.

  “Just who the hell are you, anyway? We’ve never met before, have we?” She let some of her irritation show as she faced him and deliberately put her luggage between them.

  She watched his eyelids lower partially, as if assessing her. He didn’t move, but she could feel him take a figurative step back. Her ploy was working—at least a little.

  “I’m an investigative journalist. I’m researching a book on Pepard and Balam. I thought maybe you’d have some insider information on what happened last night.”

  It sounded plausible, but something about this guy gave her the creeps. He wasn’t telling her the whole truth. Or maybe none of it was true.

  “Well, you’re wasting your time. I didn’t get within ten feet of Mr. Pepard at the reception, and I have no idea who Balam is.”

  The first part of her statement was true as far as it went. She hadn’t gotten close to Mark at the reception at all. It was after that she’d gotten closer to him than she’d ever expected. And she really didn’t know who Balam was. The name was as unfamiliar as Antony Mason’s.

  “Balam is the head of security for Pepard Enterprises.” Mason gave out the information as if expecting her to know what he was talking about. He watched her so intensely. As if he was waiting for her to betray some secret knowledge.

  “Sorry. Doesn’t ring a bell. I did talk to some security people last night, but none of them were named Balam.”

  Reading Mason’s expression was hard, but he seemed to believe her. Thankfully, the elevator pinged, and the doors began to open. The conversation was over as far as she was concerned. She’d weathered the storm and hopefully had passed whatever test this Mason guy had been delivering. With any luck, that would be the end of it.

  The door to the elevator opened all the way, and she made a move to get off, but Mason grabbed her arm. He yanked her backward so hard, her arm hurt, and she knew she would be bruised tomorrow. She stumbled but managed to stay on her feet—and as far from Mason as she could manage, which, unfortunately, wasn’t far enough.

  “If you’re lying to me—” Mason hissed near her ear. But he didn’t get to finish his threat, because the man who’d been behind them in the elevator put one hand on Mason’s shoulder, tugging backward. At the same time, a big man in a bellman’s uniform stepped into the open doorway.

  “Is there a problem here?” the bellman asked in a deep voice, capturing Shelly’s attention.

  She looked up at Mason and saw the moment he decided to give in gracefully. He let go of her arm and glanced challengingly at the man behind him then at the bellman in front.

  “No problem. I was just helping the lady when she stumbled. Isn’t that right, Ms. Howell?”

  “No, that’s not right.” She stepped away, out of the elevator, past the giant bellman, pulling her luggage behind her. “You’re a creep, Mr. Mason, and I want nothing to do with you,” she added, over her shoulder.

  “That’s all right, miss. I’ll make sure he doesn’t give you any more trouble.” The bellman gave her a friendly wink as she made good her escape. If anyone could keep Mason away from her, it was the beefy bellman.

  “Thank you,” she said in a huffy tone, but really, she couldn’t help it. She was both scared and irritated, which wasn’t a good combination.

  Shelly made a beeline for the valet, handing her ticket to the woman behind the desk. She’d called down before she left her room, but she was a little nervous about possibly having to wait for her car to arrive. How long could the bellman really keep Mason at bay?

  “Your car is pulling up at the curb now,” the lady behind the small desk r
eported, much to Shelly’s surprise.

  “That was fast.”

  “We will delay the man from the elevator as long as possible. Please give the jaguar our best compliments.” The woman spoke in a low voice that only Shelly could hear. Nothing showed on the valet woman’s face as she took Shelly’s ticket and gestured toward her car, which had been driven up to the curb.

  A muscular young man was getting out of her driver’s seat. He winked at her as he waited for Shelly to join him at the open door. She realized these people were in on Mark’s secret. They were probably sent here by him—or Nick—to make sure she got out of here safely. After the encounter with Mason, Shelly was glad for their presence.

  “Is the bellman part of your group?” she asked in as quiet a voice as possible.

  The lady nodded, smiling. “He is our leader. The silent guy in the elevator with you was also one of ours. Please pass on our vigilance to your Alpha. We are glad to be of help to him.”

  Relief flooded through Shelly at the thought that what Nick had said last night was true. She was being guarded by Pepard’s people in case of repercussions from the night before. She’d resented the idea last night, but after the scary moments with Mason, Shelly was happy to have them around.

  “Thank you. I will.” Shelly was feeling a little overwhelmed. “Seriously, I can’t thank you enough.”

  The woman smiled at her. “Happy to help.” She kept her expression pleasantly bland, but Shelly saw the sparkle in her eye that said more than words. “Now, you best be on your way.”

  “Right.” Shelly straightened her backbone and realized she had to leave. She had to get on the road—away from the momentary safety these people provided. “Thanks again.”