Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Other Titles by Denise Golinowski
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Collector’s Item
by
Denise Golinowski
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Collector’s Item
COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Denise S. Golinowski
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Debbie Taylor
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Black Rose Edition, 2013
Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-745-8
Published in the United States of America
Other Titles by Denise Golinowski
THE FESTIVAL OF THE FLOWERS:
THE COURTESAN AND THE SCHOLAR
Both are available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Dedication
To my husband, who is the hero in my story.
To my family, who are the backbone of my life.
To my friends, who keep me positive.
To my writing friends, who keep me motivated.
To my readers, who are the icing on the cake.
Chapter One
With the smell of wet humans clogging her nostrils, KT Marant controlled the urge to snarl.
Mustn’t upset the mundanes.
Standing just inside the front door of the coffee shop, KT glared at the downpour outside. Shelter from the deluge barely outweighed her defensive need for personal space.
Perfect ending to a crummy day. Chasing down blind alleys and picking at loose ends!
Stale coffee, over-ripe fruit, and tuna fish just this side of turning floated over the pervasive scent and sound of too many humans crammed into too small a space. She shrugged her backpack higher on her shoulder. Why didn’t she buy one of those umbrellas the guy at the top of the subway stairs was hawking? Desperate to relieve her rising claustrophobia, she eyed the rain sheeting down the glass panel in front of her.
What made her think she could find Aunt Patricia on her own? Maybe her father was right. Maybe Patricia was shacked up with yet another struggling “artist” in a loft apartment somewhere. Neither the police nor KT had come up with any proof that the Collectors were involved in her aunt’s disappearance.
A taxi splashed up to the curb and blew its horn.
“‘Scuse me,” said a man as he pressed past her to the door.
The breath of fresh air reached KT, and she sighed with relief. A flash of light and clap of thunder was followed by someone’s nervous laughter.
Damn! She shoved her hair out of her eyes. Aunt Patricia’s a big girl and can take care of herself. However, KT couldn’t ignore the worry knot in her gut.
Patricia Tercelon’s erratic behavior had created headlines and headaches for the clan and the Alliance for years. KT suspected they were more relieved than concerned when Patricia disappeared from in front of the lenses of the paparazzi and the covers of the tabloids. Patricia’s little note about taking a little “me time” had everyone but KT convinced. Even at her most erratic, Patricia had always kept in touch with KT. This time—nothing.
Something didn’t feel right, and KT had come to New York City to find out for herself. After three months of searching, she had nothing, and finally her father, Anton Marant, was beginning to share KT’s concern.
Outside, the rain slowed to individual drops instead of streams. Her apartment building was only a couple of blocks away. It was now or never.
Clutching the strap of her backpack, KT darted out the door. She raced down the near empty sidewalks, skirted the worst of the puddles, and climbed the stairs to the door of her building, reaching into her pocket for her keys. When she came up empty, she did snarl. “Damn!”
She dug into her other pocket while drips from the roof three stories up pattered on her head and trickled down her collar. Andi, KT’s were-jaguar, cringed under KT’s skin, wanting to break through the glass panels on the door.
Quit being a baby! KT snapped. You like water.
This water smells funny. Feels funny, Andi growled. KT’s skin crawled with Andi’s urge to shake off the moisture.
Taking a calming breath, KT checked her back pockets—still nothing. Pressed under the doorway’s miniscule overhang, she swung her backpack forward to scrabble through three of the exterior pockets until pounding footsteps drew her head up.
A man headed toward her building, an umbrella held over his head. He started up the steps and then paused when he noticed her in the doorway.
“Can’t find my keys,” she explained, holding up her backpack.
He climbed the steps and held his umbrella over them both while he slid his key into the bolt. He grinned down at her. “Lousy day to forget your umbrella.”
She smiled into a pair of dark brown eyes. “Who believes the weather forecast?”
The bolt clicked and he shoved the door open. He stepped back. “Ladies first.”
KT smiled. “Ah, a gentleman.”
Her grandmother’s warning echoed through KT. Never let a stranger get the upper hand. She slipped through the doorway, her back against the doorjamb, her backpack between them.
His brilliant smile clouded a bit. She probably looked neurotic—terrified of strangers, and maybe she was, but not for the reasons he would expect.
Relieved to be inside at last, she stopped in front of the mailboxes. She shoved her hand into the last pocket of her backpack and her fingers hit cold metal—her keys. Of course!
Ignoring the heat in her cheeks, she pushed a key into the lock of the mailbox. Angled so she could keep track of the man, KT tried to ignore her grandmother’s voice still echoing warnings in her head. She pulled out the bundle of envelopes and advertisements and swung the little door shut.
He closed the front door and turned to her, his gaze a bit wary. Yeah, he thought she was paranoid.
She smiled. “Thank you. If you hadn’t come up just then, I’d probably be washed clear to the river by now.” She turned and headed for the stairs, wincing as her shoes squished.
He fell into step beside her. “No problem. Done it plenty of times myself. I’m Massey, Massey Landis. 3C. You’re the first neighbor I’ve met.”
As they crossed the lobby, she inched away to give herself more room. The scent of his spice-based cologne drifted over her and, deep down, her body responded, growing warmer. And you’re the only reasonably handsome heterose
xual man in the entire building.
At least she thought he was straight. Her gay-dar was usually pretty accurate and had made nary a beep. Massey Landis—tall, dark, and handsome—looked like just what she needed after a day like today.
She heaved her hormones out of the gutter and gathered her thoughts. “Most of the neighbors are actors. They’re usually either in rehearsals, auditions, or waiting tables.”
He slowed so they could walk side by side up the stairs. She squelched another of her grandmother’s instructions—maintain maneuvering room. In a crunch, she could always push him down the stairs.
Unaware of her violent thoughts, he chuckled. “That explains it.” She caught a flash of white when he grinned. “I should have guessed. I’ve only been in the city a few days.”
A hint of something else in his delicious scent tickled the back of her mind. Maybe something chemical, but a second careful sniff lost any trace.
“I’m KT, um, Katie Brown, 2A.” She bit her tongue at the slip. Per her father’s instruction, she’d chosen an easy to remember alias, but she kept slipping on it.
Massey didn’t seem to notice her verbal stumble. “Nice to meet you, Katie.”
As they climbed the stairs, she checked his black bomber jacket out the corner of her eye. Over a black T-shirt and worn jeans, the look was too relaxed to be business casual. Kind of artsy. Like the guys her aunt preferred.
Andi’s purr of interest startled KT. Andi usually ignored human males, but something about Massey piqued the jag’s interest.
Now is not the time, KT admonished.
Andi’s emphatic disagreement brought a tiny smile to KT’s lips. KT squashed her libido, and Andi, down as deep as she could. Grandmother Marant would be ashamed of how you’re behaving. He’s a man, not a cat toy.
When they reached the first landing, Massey broke the silence. “So, you like the Big Apple?”
She nodded. “Takes some getting used to, but yeah. How ’bout you?”
He glanced up the stairwell. “I move around a lot, so it all blends together. Lived in Big Sky country most recently.”
Big Sky. Images of open skies and wilderness pulled Andi back to the fore, and KT curled her fingers around the shoulder strap of her backpack. The overnight trips she made to the nearest state parks didn’t satisfy her or Andi, but they were the best she could do right now.
KT wondered what kind of work would require moving around so much. “Sales?”
Massey shook his head. “No, photography.”
So he was artsy, in a way. Maybe that faint chemical smell was developer? “Really? Sounds interesting.”
“Can be. But the stuff that pays the bills? Not so much.”
When they made the turn to the second floor landing, KT paused and looked up. The overhead light on the second floor landing had burned out again. “Crap! Why can’t that super buy decent light bulbs?”
She climbed up to the landing and glanced around. Shadows filled the hall. Light from the landings above and below lit the stairwell and immediate vicinity, but not much more. A few steps from the landing, her doorway lay well outside the faint pool of light.
She turned back to Massey and smiled. “Well, this is me. Thanks again for rescuing me out there. Guess I’ll see you around.”
Massey had stopped one step down from the landing, which brought his face level with hers. He glanced aside for a second and then back. “Listen, I know we just met, but I was thinking of heading over to that place around the corner. Malcolm’s? Would you like to go and have a drink?” He switched on that megawatt smile. “I hate to drink alone.”
KT paused. Her hormones, and Andi, leaped at the invitation. KT’d been in the city for months now without any male company and, though he was human, company was company. Besides, she could use a drink or two, to wash the growing taste of failure out of her mouth.
She nodded. “Sounds good. How about I just get myself dried out and meet you downstairs in about fifteen?”
Massey’s gaze flickered for a second before his smile got even brighter. “Fifteen? Sounds good.” He stepped up onto the landing, his hand resting on the newel post. His cologne floated toward her to tickle her senses and her imagination.
It had been a long, lonely three months and he smelled so good. Her nipples hardened to press against the fabric of her bra.
Whoa, down girl! KT kept her smile polite and nodded. “See you then.”
She walked to her door. Tucking her mail up under one arm, she flipped through her keys, searching for the one to the deadbolt on her door. Her shoulders itched.
Andi tensed. Someone’s watching.
He’s being a gentleman. Still, KT shifted position, again, just enough to give her maneuvering room. The heavy square head of the deadbolt key met her fingers and she slid the key into the lock, opened the door.
Behind her, she heard Massey take a step, but she sensed him moving toward her instead of around to the next flight. A shift in the air behind her—too close behind her—and KT’s instincts shifted into overdrive. She glanced over her shoulder.
Massey reached for her, his gaze flat and hard.
Collector! She drove a kick backward at his groin. His eyes narrowed as he tried to evade her move. Her foot impacted his hip and forced a grunt from his lips. KT ignored the jolt up her leg and dropped everything to free her hands. Envelopes scattered like confetti and her backpack hit the floor with a thud. She spun around, hands up, tensed for an attack that didn’t come.
Instead, a dark figure plowed into Massey. Shocked, KT watched a man in a duster wrestle Massey on the floor. A bedraggled fedora rolled to a stop against the wall beside KT’s feet.
“What the hell!” Massey landed a solid right that rocked the attacker back enough that Massey could roll aside and spring to his feet. “Son of a bitch.”
Andi roiled under KT’s skin, the jag’s fight or flight reflex making it difficult for KT to concentrate. For a dangerous second, KT’s knees threatened to buckle as the heat of transformation surged over her. Years of practice kicked into place and KT regained control of herself and Andi.
The attacker ignored KT and flowed to his feet, focused on Massey. Massey swung. His fist connected with the attacker’s jaw. The other man shook off the blow and followed with a lightning-fast jab that snapped Massey’s head backward.
Braced, KT watched the fight, trying to anticipate when it might shift in her direction. At the same time, she couldn’t quite understand what was happening. A mugging gone awry? Was the threat Massey or the stranger in the duster? Could either of them be Collectors?
Massey had a key to the building. A simple mugger would have taken her down at the door or in the lobby for a quick escape. Why come inside and escort her to her door?
The memory of his expression as he reached for her played across KT’s mind, raising the hair on her arms. No, whatever he was, he wasn’t one of the good guys.
As for the man in the duster—where had he come from, and why was he fighting with Massey? It made no sense, unless… A tiny thought niggled at the back of her mind, and she hated it. Had her father sent a bodyguard to protect her, against her wishes?
Well, she could defend herself. She snatched her backpack from the floor. With a prayer for her laptop, she swung it at the known threat, Massey. The backpack connected with a solid thunk.
“What the—” Massey turned, his face twisted with rage, and then staggered toward her.
“Damn!” KT pulled the pack back for another try, but the stranger blocked it mid-swing with one arm as Massey sank to the floor out cold.
“That’s enough,” the stranger said, his voice low and harsh, his eyes pale gold in the light from her open doorway. “Get inside!” The words came out in a growling snarl so like her father’s that she started to obey, and then turned back.
The unmistakable scent of musk and fur hit her. He’s a were. Not only a were but a were-jaguar. That earlier tiny suspicion began to blossom and her temper right al
ong with it.
“Who the hell are you?” she demanded.
“I’m the man who’s trying to keep your high-blood ass from becoming a Collector’s Item.” He bent and hauled Massey’s unconscious body off the floor. He grunted as he hefted Massey over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and turned toward her. Even bent under Massey’s weight, the stranger stood head and shoulders over her.
“I said get inside.” His words rushed at her in a violent whisper. “Do you want the neighbors calling the police?”
The police! KT started to reach for her cell, and the man glared at her, the planes of his face razor-sharp with suppressed fury.
“I don’t think you want to spend the next four or five hours explaining clan business to the police.”
KT glanced at Massey’s limp body. So, her instincts were right. Massey was a Collector—and after her. The final puzzle piece clicked into place, and she did not like the picture.
Her fingers tightened on the straps of her backpack while she matched his glare with one of her own. “My father sent you, didn’t he?”
“He didn’t send me. I was already here.” He shifted Massey’s weight on his shoulders and jerked his head toward the door of her apartment. “Inside. Before someone comes up the stairs.”
Furious, KT wanted to tell him to go to hell, but if he was right about Massey, then he had just saved her life. And he had a point—wherever possible, keep paranormal business private. She stepped back. He brushed past, and she leaned into him to sniff again. Definitely! The familiar musky scent of jaguar.
Andi’s interest sparkled along KT’s nerves. Alpha. A fighter.
KT huffed. Oh great! Him, too? She bent to scoop up her mail and the hat that lay against the wall.
She glanced at the opposite corner of the hall, nearly invisible in the gloom. With that dark-colored duster and his hat pulled low, no wonder she hadn’t seen him at first. Her cheeks warmed. She should have scented him. Her grandmother would have been so disappointed in her.
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