The Billionaire Shifter's Second Chance (Billionaire Shifters Club Book 3)

by Diana Seere

  Webb stuck his red face in hers. “What the hell are you smiling about, you stupid cow?”

  If she taunted and mocked him, he’d only hit her again, so she covered her face and put a convincing tremble in her voice. “I’m afraid. Please don’t hurt me.”

  He grunted and hit her again, but more softly this time.

  “Stop that, you fool,” Tomas said, “or I’ll have Florian cut off your balls and feed them to you in front of her. I don’t relish copulating with a corpse. Her skin is much too nice to bruise.”

  As much as Molly loathed Webb, she didn’t want to see that. Neither did Webb, apparently, for he quickly withdrew to his side of the car and glared out the window.

  She wasn’t surprised to hear what Tomas planned to do with her, but it was horrifying to hear him say it.

  The car sped out of the garage and tore down the street. She gave up trying to get out of the car and focused on staying calm for the fight ahead. She knew a few self-defense moves, but those wouldn’t work with a gun. She’d have to shout for help, or run, or get this driver guy to help her.

  But after watching the man’s cold eyes in the mirror for a few minutes, she gave up on the driver. His gaze was sadistic, cruel, and hungry, like Tomas. Maybe Tomas had promised him…

  No, she wouldn’t think about that now; it would only make her more upset. She needed to stay calm. Or at least try.

  She watched the streets go by, her fears growing with each block. They hadn’t blindfolded her or made any effort to disguise where they were taking her. It was if they weren’t afraid of what she would remember because they knew she wouldn’t be able to remember anything anyway.

  Molly, his voice said.

  Edward, she replied silently.

  He was closer, she could feel it, but what if he didn’t get there in time? What if it was his fate to be broken not once but twice in his life? What if to love him was to be cursed?

  No. She wouldn’t let herself think like that. She would fight, she would run, she would survive. She would do whatever it took.

  They turned into an alley and then into a narrow driveway blocked by a rusted metal gate. The driver hit a button, and it lifted automatically, creaking with age and neglect. The sedan drove through and down a ramp into a dark, empty underground garage, where it parked in a far corner.

  Molly’s pulse skipped. She was afraid of what would happen when they got out of the car.

  “I wouldn’t bother trying to get away,” Tomas said, stroking her thigh. “The opportunity for that has passed, Molly my love.”

  The sound of her name on his lips made her shudder even more than the feel of his hand sliding up and down her leg.

  “I’m not your…” She cut herself off, unable to say it in his presence. Love. He’d defiled the word when he’d spoken it.

  Tomas gently patted her knee, as if indulging her. “You’ll forget about the Stanton scum soon enough. And the reek of him will be washed away.”

  The driver stood aside as Webb and Tomas, each holding one of her arms, dragged her out of the car and through a scarred metal door into a surprisingly clean, luxurious foyer. A cream velvet sofa and carved walnut coffee table stood in the corner next to a bank of elevators.

  “Nice,” Webb said, looking around hungrily. “How many of these places do you shifters have?”

  Tomas punched the elevator call button. “None of your business.”

  “Hey, we have a deal.”

  “There are limits to our agreement,” Tomas said. “Nonnegotiable limits.”

  Obviously annoyed, Webb grunted but said nothing. The door slid open, and they pushed her inside. Tomas put his hand on a metal plate that reminded Molly of the service elevator at the Plat. How many places… This was another shifter building. Maybe Edward knew of it.

  Of course he knew. Or Derry or Gavin or even that asshole, Asher.

  Edward would find her.

  She didn’t know how many floors they went down because there were no numbers to mark their descent; after several long, silent moments, the elevator simply stopped and opened its doors. They stepped out into a narrow hallway and then through a paneled door into a large, vaulted room dotted with leather seating, wooden tables, cabinets, and lamps. Books, tapestries, and oil paintings lined the walls.

  Webb shoved her ahead of him so roughly that she fell to the floor on her hands and knees. Pain shot through her wrist, making her cry out.

  And then it was Webb who was crying. Tomas held him by the back of the neck, lifting him above the ground like a mother cat with a kitten—except Webb was slapping at Tomas’s hands, screaming. Tomas was not a tall man, but somehow he held Webb above the ground as if he weighed nothing.

  “I told you not to hurt her again,” Tomas said, his voice feral, teeth elongating, lips curled back in a snarl. Oh God—was he shifting? Here? He was bad enough as a human. Molly had no idea what she’d do with a full-grown mountain lion with Tomas’s temperament.

  And zeal.

  She shuddered.

  “It was an accident,” Webb shouted. “Believe me, it was an accident!”

  Tomas let go, and Webb fell to the ground next to Molly, who was already crawling away as fast as she could. The floor under her hands and knees was covered with thick wool carpeting. Using a chair for support, she got to her feet and spun around, looking for an exit.

  There was none. The only side of the room without built-in bookcases held a vast stone fireplace. And logs were burning on the grate.

  What was this place? A library underground?

  “Make us both a cocktail,” Tomas said. “The bar is in that cabinet over there.”

  “I’ll have a Wallbanger,” Webb said, staggering to his feet and brushing off his knees, shooting a hateful look at Molly.

  “You suffer under so many illusions,” Tomas said to Webb. “You will be the one preparing our drinks. What would you like, Molly? White wine? Or a margarita like the fairy bartender at the Plat makes for you on difficult days? Such a hard life you’ve had. No wonder you thought Edward Stanton was a palatable mate.” He sniffed. “As if he was ever good enough for my sister.”

  She glanced at the door, but Tomas sauntered over and stood in front of it, the gun in his hand.

  Right. The gun. She’d almost forgotten about it.

  Tomas smiled, pointing the gun at her. “She’ll have wine. I despise the taste of tequila, even secondhand.”

  “I’m not your slave,” Webb said.

  “Given her place of employment, it’s quite an insult to our guest to suggest that serving drinks makes you a slave,” Tomas said.

  “What, I’m not allowed to insult her either?” Webb asked. “I mean, sure, fuck her, but why pretend she’s anything other than a bag of blood?”

  Molly shuddered. Bag of blood. How horrible. How absolutely horrible. Legs trembling, she took several steps backward and got behind a wing-back leather chair.

  She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t lose it, not now.

  “You know nothing about her,” Tomas said.

  “I know she’s worth a lot, and I’m all for cashing in on every drop. But I’m not going to fix her a goddamn drink so you can pretend like you’re on some kind of romantic date before you have your way with her.”

  Tomas’s face turned red, and Molly could see a vein throbbing in his forehead. “What did you say?”

  “I said you want to fuck her, fine, you obviously have a thing for her, but don’t expect me to make you a drink first. Or her. Especially not her. I mean, come on, have some respect.”

  “Respect?” Tomas laughed, moving the muzzle of the gun to the left until it was aimed directly at Webb. “For you?”

  “Yes, me. I’m a major player. Don’t you forget it.”

  “A player?” Tomas scoffed. “With what? Your own genitals?”

  “In cutting-edge internet technologies,” Webb said. “Just because some rich werewolf with an overpriced titty bar is out to get me doesn’t mean shit. When I
get that serum, he’ll beg me for my forgiveness. He’ll beg me. On his knees.”

  This seemed to amuse Tomas. “That is an appealing image. I hope to see it very soon.”

  Webb’s eyes moved to the gun. “You will. Put that away, would you?”

  “As soon as you serve us our drinks.”

  “Not going to happen,” Webb said.

  “Then you won’t be getting what you came for.”

  Webb’s mouth dropped open in outrage. “No way, Tommy, that’s shit. I got you into LupiNex. I got you her. I get what I was promised.”

  “I’m thirsty,” Tomas said. “And so is Molly, aren’t you Molly?”

  She gripped the back of the chair, unblinking, unmoving.

  Tomas shook his head, looking aggrieved. “You’d be dead by now if it weren’t for me, darling.”

  “She knows it’s only a matter of time,” Webb said. “And from the looks of that boner you’ve got for her, I’m thinking it won’t be long. Not that it ever is, from what I’ve heard.”

  “Are you mad? I can kill you here with no consequences. Your life is in my hands. Your short, pitiful human life.” Tomas approached Webb with the gun aimed directly at his heart.

  His face twisted with hate, Webb spun away and walked to the drink cabinet. “Not for long,” he muttered, visibly shaking.

  “There,” Tomas said to Molly. “My apologies for the delay.” His lips were on hers before she could blink, the taste of pure evil remarkably sour. She went limp, but his hand went into her hair, yanking hard, as he bit her neck until she yelped.

  “Oh, this is going to be so much fun,” he cooed.

  Molly wished she were the fainting type.

  Edward, she thought, concentrating with all her might, holding her breath until her head began to spin, Tomas’s rough hands all over her, his breath tangy and hot against her neck. As her pulse climbed, blood crashing against the walls of arteries and veins, with increasing intensity she imagined herself a beacon.

  A beacon that sent a signal out to the only man who could save her.

  A beat.

  The Beat.

  There there there Edward thought, pulling hard to the right as he exited the big stone car cave, bright lights assaulting his eyes, all the scents confusing and harsh.

  And then: shockwave.

  Boom!

  Boom!

  Boom!

  The sound was not sound, neither noise nor music, but a beat like a sonic crash that only he could hear. Molly’s fear, her blood and the chaotic evil of Tomas and Webb all tangled into one vibration that he sought. Low to the ground, fur ruffled by the wind-tunnel blasts of a seaside city with tall skyscrapers, paws scratched by broken concrete, pockmarked asphalt and shards of broken bottle, he paused, forced to use scent.

  Closing his eyes, he heard Asher’s growl of warning, then felt his snout nudge his hindquarters.

  To the right. Over the bridge with the river below. Behind the skyscrapers, away from the cobblestoned courtyard and humans. Instinct took him down a series of long, dark alleys, the scent of rotting trash and human desperation filling his nose, but Molly’s signal was stronger. Racing past broken humans and alcohol and urine and too much too much, he found himself at a dead end, turning left at a graffiti-covered brick wall and then water.

  The sparkling waters of the bay caught his eye, the scent of salt and freedom, of wide spaces and no man. If he could read he would understand he’d moved from Cambridge to Boston, drawn to Derry’s loft building in the Seaport district.

  The blood slammed hard against his eyeballs, making vision ripple, and he streaked behind a thick set of brick buildings until a corner, then a bright, pounding light.

  Screams. Shrieks. A cluster of human women pushing baby carriages pointed as Asher bumped into Edward from behind, paws skittering against the broken black ground, his heart speeding up, muscles primed to sprint.

  Boom!

  He turned and ran.

  Asher followed.

  Over another bridge, under the bright glowing moons, between the legs of screaming humans, and then they were in the dark again, surrounded by metal ladders, rank garbage cans, and the scent of a rotting dog gone to maggots. In an alley, on their way to find her, deep in the bowels of the city.

  Screech!

  The glowing metal beast with white eyes and red ears turned, blocking their path as Edward felt Molly’s fear burn in his blood, so close so close so close. The sliver of humanness in him knew it was a car, long and black.

  Not a predator.

  He leapt onto the hood of the car as the back door opened and Derry’s human face appeared.

  He spoke in human words, but the meaning was clear: Get in. Follow us.

  Jess’s pale, scared face was behind him as he waited, then panicked, thick, dark hair splitting the suit Derry wore, Jessica’s panting and small whimpering sounds too much, too much. Her arm shot past the growing bear beside her, and she pointed.

  A door. A basement door to the building.

  Screams. Someone above, on a balcony. Edward looked up to see pale human faces, illuminated by the alley’s security lights, open mouths shaped by fear.

  A bright flash.

  More bright flashes. Cameras. No.

  CRASH!

  Edward tucked his chin down as glass shattered everywhere, gleaming off the flashes from above like a fireworks display in July.

  “Asher!” Jess gasped as Manny climbed out of the front seat, slammed the back door closed, and peeled out, Edward falling off the hood, leaving with Derry in bear form and Jessica trapped in the backseat with him as the car disappeared.

  Edward looked at the hole in the window, circled back a few feet, and with a great, kinetic force of power, ejected himself up, up, up in a magnificent arc and sailed through the window’s opening, landing with pain and splintering, finding Asher’s tail a blur as he turned left down a hall…

  And went down, curling around a metal railing as the stairs dropped lower and lower until they ended at another door, Asher up on his back paws, maneuvering the door open.

  EDWARD! Molly screamed in the Beat, his name a single sound, a single note, a strike. He was so close, but her fear had a new sound in it, the sound of defeat, of breathlessness. Of madness.

  Of death.

  No.

  NO!

  An ancient lift, complete with accordion doors and a padlock, greeted them. Asher sniffed the ground, knowing exactly where to turn until he found an old coal door, right by an exit, and nosed the heavy iron covering upward. Edward snaked past his brother, folding his bones in, slip-sliding through the narrow channel as it angled down, gaining speed, giving in to the loss of control as he sped through the blackened metal tube nose first in search of her ever-strengthening pulse.

  For the Beat got stronger as he moved faster.

  She was here.

  So close.

  He would not be too late.

  Not this time.

  Never again.

  He smelled her before he felt her, the terror palpable, the scent of disgust and pain—she’d been harmed—overpowering all, even the jumble of noise in his mind that formed syllables he could not recognize as his own name, but he discerned as her.

  Her.

  At the very last second the coal chute angled down, Asher’s warm, heavy body pressing into his back, gravity urging them forward into a thick metal door that halted them both. His nose smashed into the filthy iron, paws curled under him, hips stretched wide as Asher turned into liquid muscle and hard bone behind him.

  The creeeeeak of metal freed him, the chute’s door opening inch by inch until he could use paw and nose to pry it open, rolling pell-mell from the high ceiling onto the floor, landing on all fours, smelling everything he needed to be complete.

  Molly.

  In Tomas Nagy’s lap, with his hand up her skirt, his mouth on hers as her fists beat his shoulders, another man in the distance, ice cubes clinking.

  Edward lunged.<
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  Chapter 27

  Tomas Nagy’s creeper hand was all over Molly’s inner thigh, his tongue disgustingly rigid in her mouth, his arms like titanium as he kissed her, groped her, got ready to take her.

  Cold. He was so, so cold. Despair soaked into her like a sudden, chilled rain, the kind that takes weeks to shake off, only Molly feared she might not have the privilege of living a few more weeks.

  Oh, Edward, she thought.

  I’m here, he replied.

  Suddenly she felt a warmth and fur, then a heavy sharpness on her thigh. There was the blur of thick muscle, the hiss and grace of a cat.

  Tomas twisted under her, pulling her out of the chair with him, his teeth scraping her tongue and his fingers digging into her shoulders before an enormous, golden-brown mountain lion dragged him away.

  She fell hard on the floor, her shoulder and hip landing at a bad angle. As her face struck the carpet, she heard growling, shouting, roaring. Pain shooting through her cheekbone, she tasted her own blood in her mouth. She trembled with terror.

  But then she looked up, and her eyes met the bright blue orbs of a wolf that stared at her with the commanding presence of a protector.

  Asher. He was here too.

  Moving with painful slowness, she got to her hands and knees. There, just a few feet away, Edward’s mountain lion jaws were extended open to an unreal extent, about to bite a very human Tomas.

  But then Tomas shifted, turning inky black, matching Edward inch for inch in big cat grace. As the cats began circling one another, fangs exposed and hissing, the wolf placed himself in front of her, hackles raised, a low growl humming in his throat.

  Where had Webb gone?

  The cats began clawing one another, tumbling together, knocking over chairs and tables as they fought. Molly crawled over to the chair where Tomas had held her. It had been knocked over, pillows dislodged. Hands shaking, she shoved aside cushions and Tomas’s ripped clothing, searching for the gun. She’d never held a gun, never fired one, but she had to do something, she had to try to fight for Edward, for them.

  The sound of glass shattering froze everyone, human and shifter, in place.