One Down: Bayou Heat (Pantera Security League Book 1)

by Alexandra Ivy

  Nostrils flared, Hallie turned her head, her stomach clenching with pure hatred as she caught sight of the man she wished dead every time he descended the narrow flight of stairs into the basement.

  He was short and broad with a head that looked too big for his body. There was a small fringe of hair that grimly clung to his bald scalp, and he was wearing a blue suit that had once been perfectly tailored to him, but now strained at the seams. The asshole clearly refused to acknowledge he needed a larger size.

  Rick “the Dick” Donaldson.

  Meeting his icy blue gaze, Hallie released a low growl deep in her throat. It had taken a few years, but no longer was she afraid of him—no matter what he forced on her, in her. No matter that he kept her naked and seemingly vulnerable. Her hatred fueled her now; every breath, every thought, every plan she concocted late into the night to slice his throat and get the hell out of his cage of misery.

  And she would.

  Someday, she would.

  The man lifted his hand then and Hallie braced herself as he pressed the small device that sent another shock of pain through her body. He laughed his pig squeal laugh as she shuddered. Her hands formed fists and she gritted her teeth against the intensity. He’d get no scream from her.

  Fuck him.

  Strolling across the cement floor, the arrogant asshole glanced toward the uniformed guard who had risen from his desk in a shadowed corner to stand at attention.

  “I have company coming for dinner tonight, Carl. They’ll expect to be entertained,” he said, waving a hand toward the cage. “She needs a bath. Every nook and cranny, if you get my meaning. And put her in the harem clothes. Have you fed her?”

  Blinking through the unending waves of pain vibrating through her body, Hallie swallowed her fear. She could handle the guard and the bath and the goddamn nooks and crannies, but she knew what ‘entertaining’ Donaldson’s guests meant. And she knew if she fought back, bit, punched, spit, as she had in the beginning, he would kill her. Because he almost had. And she wasn’t going out like that.

  The guard moved forward with a shrug. “She hasn’t eaten today.”

  A snakelike smile curved Donaldson’s lips. “Good. I want her hungry. So hungry she’ll swallow just about anything.” He pressed his face between the bars of the cage. “Do you hear me, animal?” he taunted.

  Fury and disgust thundered through her. His neck was so close. Her fingers twitched with need. She had the strength to do it. Easily, in fact, if the collar she wore didn’t switch on with any presumed threat and squeeze the life right out of her. She’d tested it twice. So she knew.

  His eyes moved down her body, settling on her sex. “You’ll be a good girl and open wide. Let Carl get you nice and clean.”

  Her lip curled. She could practically taste his blood on her tongue. “Fuck. You.”

  Instead of being angered by her words, he was…excited by them, his watery eyes flickering with heat. “Oh, you will. But not until my guests have been satisfied,” he said, blowing her a kiss. “Save your strength, bitch. You’re going to need it.”

  Donaldson glanced toward the guard. “Since this is our last night, I intend to make it one to remember for my guests, but once she’s been brought up I want you to start getting things cleaned down here. I was warned there couldn’t be anything left that might give our enemies a clue to what makes our…guest so special.”

  The guard shrugged. “Once it’s been disposed of I can start scrubbing the place. No one will find a damned thing when I’m done.”

  Hallie frowned. What the hell were they talking about? Last night? Disposed of?

  Fear gripped her once again.

  An unending nightmare.

  Clearly satisfied with the guard’s assurances, Donaldson turned to walk away, a bounce in his step. The man who’d abducted her, hurt her, used and abused her with such deep pleasure was the sort of petty, small-dicked, insecure piece of shit who thrived on the misery of others. And the guard, Carl, who was studying her with a disgusted expression, wasn’t much better. She didn’t know what the man had done in his life to be condemned to spending his days and nights in the basement, but it must have been bad. Or who knew, maybe he got off on it.

  Either way, he had very little bite in his bark, and she relished their battles.

  Planting his meaty hands on his meatier waist, Carl gave her a look that was supposed to intimidate. “Are you going to behave yourself so I can get you in the shower, or do I need to get the hose?” he demanded.

  Hallie bared her teeth. The last time the idiot had come into the cage, she’d taken a small chunk out of his neck. The blood had tasted good, but in retaliation she’d been tied down and beaten black and blue.

  Still so worth it.

  “Fine.” With an impotent glare, he grabbed the nearby hose and turned it on full blast. He aimed the frigid water at Hallie, laughing as she tried to curl away from the ruthless spray. “You like that, bitch? Won’t stop until you open up. Get to all those nooks and crannies like the boss says.” He moved in closer. “Stupid animal. I could’ve treated you nice in the shower, but you’re the one who wanted to do it the hard way.”

  “I like the hard way.” A male voice echoed through the basement. “In fact, I prefer it.”

  The hose was abruptly shut off, allowing Hallie to blink away the water so she could catch sight of the stranger who was calmly walking down the stairs. Breath held and her gut clenched, she readied herself for whatever was coming. Who was he? This stranger with the long, silky black hair and eyes that seemed to glow in the shadows. He was tall and lean, and dressed in jeans and a long, leather duster that made him look like an outlaw. Or a pirate. Her skin hummed with cold, but she forced herself to think, assess. He was good-looking. Too good-looking, with a lean, bronzed face and sculpted features emphasized by a trimmed goatee.

  Unfazed by her wet, nude form, she crouched, eyes narrowed, ready for a fight. Was he one of Donaldson’s “guests”? Or maybe a new guard? Whoever he was, he’d get nothing from her—not if she was conscious and could use her teeth.

  All thoughts took a sharp left as her nostrils flared, and she caught the scent of something she’d never breathed into her lungs before now, but that her body instantly understood and welcomed.

  Musk. Raw. Male.

  Animal.

  It flooded her. Inside and out, and she straightened and then stepped back a foot. As she stared at him, an electric tingle of awareness crawled over her skin, shocking her with its intensity. She didn’t know how it was possible, but whatever he was, she was too.

  The cat. The puma.

  A hum of beautiful unease went through her. Her dreams, the ones she’d had every night for years, weren’t just a fantasy. Tears pricked her eyes and she rushed to the bars of the cage, wrapped her fingers around the steel.

  Seemingly unaware that he was facing the sort of carnivore that humans should flee from or risk being eaten, Carl tried to pretend he was some kind of dungeon badass. He dropped the hose and placed his hand on the gun holstered at his side.

  “Guests aren’t allowed down here.”

  The intruder reached the bottom of the stairs and strolled toward the guard, his movements liquid smooth. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not a guest.”

  The guard scowled, pulling his gun. “Who the hell are you?”

  The man’s steps never faltered, his smile taunting. “Hmm. Should I say ‘your worst nightmare’? It’s so clichéd.”

  Carl nervously swayed from side to side, belatedly feeling the danger that crackled in the air. “Stay back or I’ll shoot,” he threatened.

  “Ah.” The stranger lifted his hand to smother a fake yawn. “So we’ve decided to go with the whole cliché thing.”

  The guard’s pudgy face flushed with fury. “I swear. I’ll—”

  The words were cut off as the intruder moved with blinding speed. One minute he was standing in front of the guard, and the next he was behind him, his hand knocking away the we
apon even as he wrapped his arm around the man’s beefy neck. Then he squeezed. Hard.

  “Not so brave without the gun in your hand, are you?” he asked.

  Carl made a weird, whimpering sound. Like the air being let out of an overinflated balloon.

  Hallie didn’t know if it was from the lack of oxygen, or pure fear, but she relished it. How many times had he made her feel just as he was feeling now?

  “Please,” the guard at last managed to rasp. “Tell me what you want.”

  The stranger’s glowing gaze moved toward Hallie. It seemed to take in everything at once. Her long, bedraggled hair. Her exhaustion, her naked body. The bruises. The fierce refusal to show the gnawing terror that was her constant companion.

  “I want you to die,” the man said, his eyes still pinned to Hallie as he gave a sharp jerk of his arm. There was a loud snap, and just like that the guard’s neck was broken. Simple. Efficient. Bye-bye Carl. Then releasing his hold, the stranger allowed the limp body to tumble to the cement floor. “Good boy,” he murmured.

  Hallie’s eyes widened as the man calmly stepped over the dead guard and moved to stand at the door of the cage.

  “You’re the only prisoner here, correct?”

  A toxic combination of fear and a strange, sensual fascination thundered through Hallie. She made a feral noise in her throat, scrambling backward to fold herself in a tight ball. Yes, she felt as if she knew this man. No—her body, her insides, her nose sensed him, understood him. But as he came close, her mind still screamed, warned. Men and pain were too often combined in her world for her not to prepare herself for some new torture.

  A dark emotion flared through his eyes as he held up his hands in a gesture of peace.

  “Do you speak English?” He waited for her hesitant nod. “Good,” he murmured in soothing tones. “Can you walk?”

  “Yes,” she managed to croak, her eyes widening as he gave a sharp yank on the door of the cage, easily busting the metal lock. He moved forward, the soft leather of his duster rippling around his long legs. “No.” She bared her teeth in warning. “Don’t come in here.”

  “It’s all right.” He halted next to her, crouching down so they were eye to eye. “Easy, kitten. I would die before I harmed you.”

  Kitten, and the words, and the promise that followed, curled around her like a soft blanket. She didn’t know him, but the thing inside her, the cat from her dreams—if it truly existed—did.

  “Who are you?” she asked, her legs and hands starting to tremble. With fear? Hunger? She wasn’t sure. Maybe both.

  “Cerviel,” he said.

  “Cerviel?” Her brows drew together. She couldn’t remember ever hearing a name like that, but it suited him.

  “I’m going to get you out of here.”

  She sucked in a deep breath. Instantly her senses were overwhelmed with his warm male musk, which seemed to utterly permeate the air. Even with the panic thundering through her, she could detect that there was something deeply familiar about this stranger. That the creature inside him was speaking directly to what was inside her. As if it was trying to touch the most primitive part of her.

  “There’s something different about you,” she said. “Familiar. I don’t understand it.”

  “I’m a Pantera,” he told her, his nose flaring as he drew in a deep breath. “And I suspect you are as well. Or at least, you have our blood.”

  Pantera? She’d heard Donaldson and his guests discussing them—puma shifters, he’d said. She’d thought they were insane, but then the dreams had started. Over the years, they’d tried to sound mocking when they spoke of the Pantera, dismissing them as animals, but she hadn’t missed the underlying fear in their voices.

  She glanced at Carl’s lifeless body.

  Now she understood why.

  “I don’t know what I am,” she breathed, hissing as he reached out, clearly intending to touch her. “Stop,” she growled.

  “I need to get that collar off,” he said, holding her wary gaze.

  Her heart lurched. “You can do that?”

  He nodded. “If you’ll let me.”

  Trust had been an elusive bastard in the past five years. But this man was different. Whatever they shared made her defensive instincts ease slightly. She braced herself for his touch. The cringing pain her skin would feel. But as he held the collar in his hands and worked the bolts and locks with a tool he carried, he was shockingly gentle. It was strange, and made her chest tighten, made her eyes fill with tears, but when his fingers brushed her neck as he worked, she didn’t want to jerk away. Instead, she wanted to lean into him. Closer. Absorb his warmth, his protection. She wanted to…

  Purr.

  Not in a sexual way. No. This wave of feeling, of intimacy, was on a deeper, almost cellular level. Like ocean wave meeting warm sand. Meant to connect.

  A groan escaped her lips as the heavy, oppressive collar was lifted from her neck and tossed away.

  “We’d better go,” he said, moving back, crawling out of the cage.

  Hallie rubbed her throat, raw from being imprisoned for so long. “I need a sheet or a towel. I can’t go out like this. Anything will do.”

  “How’s this?” He grabbed a bag from the bottom of the stairs. She hadn’t seen him carrying it. Inside was a pair of sweats, a hoodie and wool-lined boots. “Might be a little big. Didn’t know your size.”

  “It’s perfect. Thank you.” She dressed quickly, then crawled out of the cage.

  On her own.

  For the first time in five years.

  4BCHAPTER 3

  Cradling the exhausted and far too thin female in his arms, Cerviel’s gaze swept the basement, assessing.

  “Hold tight, kitten, I’m going to get you out of here,” he said, eyeing the stairs.

  He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there. Longer than he’d intended, that was for sure. Not like him. Not like him at all.

  As if to prove the point he heard the sounds of muffled voices and doors opening and closing upstairs. No doubt Donaldson’s guests were arriving. Which meant the sooner he could get them out of there, the better.

  Crossing the cement floor, he was brought to a halt when Hallie stiffened in his arms.

  “Wait,” she whispered.

  He frowned down at her. “What?”

  She pointed toward a narrow door that he’d assumed was a storage closet.

  “Go out the service door,” she said. “No one ever uses it.”

  Flashing her a grateful smile, Cerviel spun on his heel and headed straight for the opposite end of the basement. The female was as resourceful as she was courageous.

  And beautiful.

  Exquisitely beautiful.

  Not that he should even be looking. She was an asset, nothing more. Not to mention she’d been through hell on earth, and what she required now was peace and protection.

  Moving with a silence no human could match, he reached the door and gave it a sharp yank. It swung open, revealing a narrow pathway that led toward a side road.

  Outside, night had descended, but the monstrous ranch house that was constructed almost entirely of glass allowed light to spill out in a circle that encompassed the entire yard. Not good. That meant they were going to be exposed for at least a hundred feet.

  Tucking Hallie even closer to his body, he focused his gaze on the long, wooden stables. If he could get to the outbuilding without being spotted, they might have a chance of escaping unnoticed.

  Again he heard voices, footfall. Darting forward, he took off, using the most direct route to the stables.

  Unfortunately, one of the numerous guards patrolling the grounds rounded the corner of the house just as he stepped into a pool of light. There was a shout of warning, then the loud crack of a rifle being fired.

  Cerviel hunched his shoulders, using his body to protect the female tucked against his chest. He thought he heard her mumble something about leaving her behind so he could escape. But he ignored it. He recalled Raphael’
s orders about lighting the place up if he couldn’t get to her, or something went down. Hours ago, he’d thought nothing of it. Would’ve followed through in a heartbeat—or the quick strike of a match. But now…this female… She’d changed things. In him, and in this situation. No matter what his direct orders had been, he was pretty motherfucking sure he couldn’t have possibly let her die with Donaldson.

  Not good.

  Ghosts weren’t supposed feel.

  Neither empathy, nor rage.

  Both of which he’d felt as he’d stood in the shadows at the top of the stairs, listening the onetime congressman talk about passing Hallie around to his guests like a party favor. It took everything he’d had to not rip the male apart right then. But Hallie was the mission, the priority.

  The next time Cerviel crossed paths with the human, however—he intended to gut him. A fact he wouldn’t be sharing with Raphael. Too bad he had no access to his puma outside the Wildlands. His cat would enjoy a good hunt to kill. He could feel the beast’s hunger vibrating beneath his skin even now.

  “Watch out,” the female called as a smattering of gunfire erupted around them.

  Running in a zigzag pattern, Cerviel hissed as one of the bullets sliced through the flesh of his upper arm. It wasn’t a serious injury, but it hurt like a bitch. And worse, the drops of blood that hit the dry, barren ground would allow the guards to follow their trail.

  At least they wouldn’t be able to scent him.

  Picking up speed, he hauled ass to the stables. Finally reaching them, he darted around the edge of the wooden structure and carefully lowered Hallie to the ground. She was exhausted, shivering, her hair still wet. Goddess knew how long it had been since she’d eaten anything. Any hope of a stealthy getaway was well and truly over. Now he needed a distraction so he wouldn’t have to deal with Donaldson’s considerable security staff.

  “Stay here,” he commanded, reaching into the pocket of his coat to pull out a small handgun. “Shoot anyone who isn’t me.”

  She bit her lower lip, her gaze moving to the tear in his leather duster. “You’re injured.”