“Now you wanna know about her personal life?” He could hear the surprise in Saul’s voice. Saul had done some digging into Emerson a week ago, but when he’d tried to relay the information, Clay hadn’t been interested in any information about her not directly related to Wilson Granger or Granger Shipping Inc.
So, why the change?
He ignored his inner voice. “Did I fucking stutter, Saul?”
“Christ, you’re a little bitch tonight. Did this Emerson chick refuse to fall for your charming personality?”
“Just tell me,” Clay said.
“Emerson Joyce. Twenty-eight years old. The oldest of three, she has a younger sister and brother. She’s lived in Eastbourne for the last six years. Married -”
“She’s married?” Clay’s stomach did this weird flip-flopping thing.
“Let me finish. Married but divorced after only six months. That’s gotta be some kind of record, right?”
“Who was she married to?”
“A cheetah shifter named Ira Joyce. He’s a lawyer over on the west side. Lives in the ritzy part of the city. Looks like he got the house in the divorce. Fuck,” Saul made a low whistle, “he’s doing pretty good in the money department. It’s no three million in an offshore account good, but he’s got some quid.”
“Is she still in contact with him?”
“Not according to her phone records. I guess she could be meeting up with him once a week or something for a divorce fuck. My parents did that for years after they divorced. No alimony payments from the ex. Fuck, she missed out on that opportunity. He makes like three times the amount she does. Also, considering all the fucking drug money Granger is raking in, you’d think he’d pay his assistant a better wage. Christ, how the fuck do civilians live on thirteen bucks an hour?”
“Anything else?”
“Uh, she volunteers with a senior home once a week, yoga three times a week, and shit… boxing classes twice a week. Why the fuck does a jaguar shifter need to know how to box?”
“I don’t know. I’m heading back to my hotel. I’ll take first shift watching tomorrow.”
“Sure,” Saul said. “You think we’ll get lucky, and she’ll go to Wilson’s house tomorrow?”
“Maybe,” Clay said.
“If she does, just make sure you don’t fucking teleport into the first room you see. Try to get a lay of the land first, so to speak,” Saul said.
“Wilson keeps Owen at his house when he doesn’t have him at the office,” Clay said. “The minute I can see inside that goddamn house, I’m moving in.”
“You’ll get yourself killed,” Saul said. “Just stop and think, Clay.”
Clay took a deep breath. Saul was right. Teleporting in as soon as he could see inside Wilson’s house was stupid. “Yeah, all right.”
“Again, Owen isn’t going anywhere. Once you know what Wilson’s house looks like on the inside, you can teleport into it in the middle of the night when there’s less chance of an army of Wilson’s men there to blow fucking holes in your gut.”
“I know,” Clay said. “I’ll be smart about this, Saul.”
“Will you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Also, don’t get any fucking ideas about teleporting into the office as soon as that Emerson chick gets to work. It’s a big fucking building probably full of a shitload of men with guns, and you have no idea where Owen is in it. You won’t make it out alive, Clay.”
“I know, Saul. Fuck, you think I don’t know going into the office building is a suicide mission? Why the hell do you think I planted the camera on Emerson? She’s one of the few staff members who have access to Wilson’s home.”
“And the one you could most easily seduce,” Saul said.
“Not so easily,” Clay muttered.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“Hey, you think she’s banging that asshole Wilson? She’s his type, right? Maybe that’s why her marriage didn’t last.”
“She’s not fucking him,” Clay said.
“How do you know?”
“She doesn’t fuck humans. I gotta go.”
He ended the call and studied the surveillance app as Emerson stepped out of her car. It was too dark for him to get a good look at her apartment building. She walked into the foyer of her building and grabbed her mail. It wasn’t a total dive of a building, but it wasn’t high-end either. She climbed the stairs to the fourth floor and walked down the hallway to her apartment.
His stomach tensed, and he was weirdly sweaty as he watched her flick the light on in her apartment. Now that he had a view of it, he could easily teleport into her place. He could wait until she was asleep, teleport in, and take a quick look around. If she kept her work computer at home, he could take it to Saul, have him set up some kind of surveillance on it as well, and then have it back in her home before she even woke.
She doesn’t take work home, asshole. You know that already. You teleport into her place, and that makes you a fucking asshole. Don’t be that guy.
Don’t be that guy? He was that guy. Always had been. It was what made him so fucking good at his job.
Yeah, well, maybe you don’t want to be that guy anymore. If you did, would you have saved Ronin’s life? You didn’t have to save him and his girlfriend, but you did.
Emerson took off her jacket. He had a view of the floor, the closet door, and then a quick view of her face as she placed the coat on the hanger. Fuck, she really was gorgeous. Her dark eyes and perfect pink lips were getting him hard again.
Too quickly, she hung the jacket in the closet and shut the door, and the video feed went dark. Clay set his phone on the seat and started the car. He needed to forget how good Emerson felt in his arms and remember she was a job and nothing more.
“Oh my God, this morning has been crazy.” Patty sank into the chair in the staff room and set her lunch bag on the table in front of her. “I don’t think I’ve stopped for a freaking second since I arrived.”
Emerson opened up her container of salad and poured some dressing into it. “The whole building seems kind of frantic for a Friday. Usually, it’s a little more laid back.”
“Tell me about it,” Patty said. She bit into her sandwich. “How did -”
“Good morning, Emerson and Patricia.”
Emerson turned and smiled at the dark-haired man who’d walked into the break room. He carried a coffee mug in one tanned hand. “Hi, Owen. How are you?”
“Good, and you?” Owen poured some coffee and joined them at the table.
“Good, thanks. Have a seat.” Emerson patted the chair beside her, ignoring Patty’s sigh of annoyance.
Patty thought Owen was strange, and she mostly avoided him, but Emerson liked him. He was quiet, and sometimes he said odd things, but she’d discovered that he had a wicked sense of humour, and she suspected that he might be an actual genius. He knew a little about everything, and while Patty considered him a know-it-all, Emerson found his knowledge fascinating.
“How are you, Patricia?” Owen said.
“It’s Patty, and I’m fine.” Patty picked up her phone and scrolled through it while she ate her sandwich one-handed.
Emerson smiled at Owen. “How is Jonathan?”
“He’s good,” Owen said. “He’s away for work right now, but I’ll be video chatting with him tonight. I’m looking forward to it.”
“That’s nice,” Emerson said.
A strange and almost melancholy look crossed Owen’s face. “Yes. The place he’s staying at is beautiful. I’ve only seen out the window behind him, but it has lots of trees and a lake.”
“What does your boyfriend do for work again?” Patty looked up from her phone. “You’ve never really said.”
“He’s a consultant,” Owen said.
“Right. A consultant. Like you are for Mr. Granger.”
“That’s right,” Owen said.
Patty rolled her eyes and returned to her phone.
“Do you hav
e any plans for the weekend, Emerson?” Owen said.
“Not really. Cleaning out my bedroom closet,” Emerson said. “Maybe I’ll get really crazy and put together the IKEA side table that’s been sitting in my guest bedroom for two months.”
Owen grinned. “Jonathan and I once tried to put together a bed frame from IKEA. It almost ended the relationship.”
Emerson laughed. “IKEA furniture building is not for the faint of heart. Hey, will Jonathan be back by next Friday? It’s our monthly employee movie night. You and Jonathan should come. It’s at Jason’s house this month.”
“Thank you for the invite, but he won’t be back by then,” Owen said.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Emerson said. “You’re more than welcome to come on your own. It’s not couple specific or anything.”
“Thank you, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.” Owen stood and patted Emerson’s shoulder awkwardly. “It’s good to see you again, Emerson. Have a wonderful weekend. You as well, Patricia.”
“It’s Patty,” Patty said.
Owen nodded and then wandered out of the staff room.
“God, that guy is so weird, Em. Why do you keep inviting him to staff shit?”
“Because he’s part of the staff, and I think he’s lonely. His boyfriend works out of town a lot,” Emerson said.
“His boyfriend… girl, if you believe for a hot minute that he has an actual boyfriend, I have a bridge to sell you. He’s single.”
“Why do you say that?” Emerson said.
“He’s worked here for how long, and no one has ever seen this mysterious boyfriend, have they?”
“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t exist,” Emerson said. “Why would Owen make that up?”
“So, he doesn’t appear quite so ‘I’m a serial killer who hides bodies in my basement-ish’?”
Emerson ate a bite of her salad. “He is not a serial killer.”
“You don’t know that. God, I don’t get why you can’t see how weird he is. You’re the only one in the damn building who likes him, you know.”
“That isn’t true,” Emerson said. “Just because he’s not someone you want to hang out with doesn’t make him weird or dangerous.”
“Whatever. Owen’s annoying as hell. He, like, always calls me Patricia instead of Patty – it’s like he’s my damn mother or something - and one time I caught him muttering to himself in the hallway outside of the men’s room.”
“So? I’ve been known to talk to myself from time to time.”
“Yeah, but it was real fucking creepy the way he was doing it.”
“How was it creepy?”
Patty bit into her apple and chewed noisily. “It just was all right? Why are we even talking about that creepo when we could be talking about what you did with that tall and delicious human last night?”
“I didn’t do anything with him,” Emerson lied.
Patty’s face fell. “Are you serious? Em, he was so into you. Like, even Peter could smell the dude’s lust for you. You’re telling me you didn’t take him home and bang him?”
“He’s a human, Patty.”
“So what?”
“So, I can’t sleep with a human. I’d hurt them.”
“You’re all slashy-slashy with your claws, huh?” Patty eyed Emerson’s fingernails.
Emerson just shrugged, and Patty pointed her half-eaten apple at her. “Look, I get that you need to be careful not to hurt the fragile humans, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t have at least let him eat your pussy.”
Emerson dropped her fork into her salad container before glancing around. Thankfully, the breakroom was empty despite it being lunchtime. “Could you say pussy any louder, Patty?”
Patty laughed. “You need to live your life a little, Em. Be a little impulsive from time to time.”
“Patricia Mascatone,” Emerson said, “you know damn well that I’ve spent most of my life being impulsive. And where did that get me? A string of failed relationships culminating in a marriage to a guy who I caught banging the housekeeper in our bed six months after our wedding.”
Patty flinched. “Okay, okay, my bad. Sorry, Em. But what Ira did was a real dick move that had nothing to do with you and everything to do with him. You know that, right?”
Emerson stared at her salad, hating that familiar feeling of shame and failure that rose to life inside of her. “I was too demanding in bed.”
“Oh, that is such a load of bullshit he fed you,” Patty said. “It’s called a heat, and it’s not like it’s a surprise to him. He’s a cheetah shifter, for God’s sake. So he knew what he was in for when he married you. Besides, it’s not like you two weren’t having sex before you got married.”
“I was taking the heat suppressant drugs,” Emerson said. “I’d never had a heat with him before.”
“Dude is still an asshole for making you go back on them because he couldn’t handle it.”
“You don’t understand,” Em said. “It’s bad, all right? Really bad. And I know that guys who haven’t been with a female cat shifter before think that a heat is some kind of free for all sex-a-thon every month, but it isn’t like that. It requires stamina and understanding and being willing to accept that for two days, I see them as nothing more than an object to slake my need.”
Emerson poked at her now wilted salad. “I don’t even care about their pleasure. It’s all about me. I can’t blame Ira for not understanding just how bad my heat would be. I’m… more demanding than most cat shifters during their heat. I should have gone off the drugs before we got married, so he knew what to expect.”
“Or, he could have taken his marriage vows of for better and for worse seriously, and figured out how to help you through your heat, even if he couldn’t get his tiny dick up for the entire forty-eight hours,” Patty said.
Emerson couldn’t help but laugh. “Ira’s dick wasn’t tiny.”
“Average though, am I right?” Patty said.
“Nothing wrong with average,” Emerson said.
Patty just snorted. “Peter was only average last night. Which means he’s not getting a second date.”
“Seriously? That’s your only criteria for dating a guy?” Emerson said.
Patty wrinkled her nose at her. “It’s my main one, but also, my guy needs to have the ability to hold a somewhat intelligent conversation and Peter, bless him, is not that guy.”
A few of the admin staff and some warehouse shipping guys walked into the breakroom. The last guy through the door was rubbing his arm and looking decidedly annoyed. He wore a royal blue turban, and his long dark beard was lush and full looking.
“Who’s the guy rubbing his arm?” Emerson said. “I don’t recognize him.”
“New guy. He started yesterday. He’s pretty cool. I spent most of the morning with him going over the computer system, and he caught on super quick. Hey, Amarpal! Over here.” Patty waved at him, and Amarpal joined them, sinking into the chair beside Emerson.
“Hey, Patty.”
“Hey. This is Emerson. She’s Mr. Granger’s personal assistant. Emerson, this is Amarpal. He just joined the warehouse team.”
Emerson shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Amarpal.”
“You as well.”
“How’s your second day going?” Patty said.
“Fine.” Amarpal rubbed his arm again. “Other than being given a flu shot for no reason.”
Patty grinned at him. “Hey, the flu shot thing was in the contract that you signed.”
“I know,” Amarpal said, “but I’m an ostrich shifter. What do I need the flu shot for? Shifters don’t get the human flu.”
“It’s just one of the company’s policies,” Patty said. “Human or shifter, you have to get the flu shot. Think of it as Mr. Granger showing how much he cares about us.”
Amarpal laughed. “Yeah, okay.”
Emerson glanced at her watch. “Shoot. I need to get back to my desk. Mr. Granger left a ton of work that he needs before three. I’l
l see you guys later.”
Chapter 3
When the phone rang at her desk, Emerson scooped it up. “Hey, Jacqueline. What’s up?”
“Hi, Em. Mr. Tridell is here to see Mr. Granger.”
“Really?” Emerson checked the time on her computer. “It’s only ten minutes until the office closes.”
“I know,” Jacqueline said. Her voice lowered. “Maybe check the calendar and make sure he actually has an appointment.”
Emerson checked Mr. Granger’s calendar with a few clicks of her mouse. “It’s there. He must have booked it himself earlier this afternoon. I’ll be right there.” Emerson hung up the phone and stood. Fridays were casual day at the office, so she was wearing jeans with a simple soft pink shirt. She slipped into her heels, wincing at the way they cut into her flesh. Shit, she hated wearing heels, and by the end of the day, she’d usually given up on them.
Granger Shipping was a sprawling steel building with a massive warehouse on the south side of the building and reception and offices on the north side. Several different access doors connected the warehouse and the offices.
Emerson made her way through the maze of offices and cubicles to reception. The client was standing near the door like he was considering bolting from the building. She glanced at Jacqueline, who shrugged before answering another call. Emerson held out her hand to the short and pudgy man. “Mr. Tridell? I’m Mr. Granger’s assistant, Emerson. If you follow me, I’ll show you to his office.”
Mr. Tridell’s face was bright red, and sweat streamed down his forehead. He wore a baggy winter jacket and mud-splattered work boots. He stared at her outstretched hand before giving it a quick shake. He glanced at Jacqueline and then the door again. For a moment, Emerson was convinced he was simply going to run out the door, sweat flying and jacket flapping.
“Mr. Tridell? Is everything all right?” Emerson said.
He cleared his throat and wiped at the sweat seeping into the collar of his jacket. “Uh, yes, just fine.”
“Great. If you’re ready then…”
He followed her to Wilson Granger’s office. Emerson’s desk was tucked into a medium-sized nook in the wall just outside of the office. She turned to face Mr. Tridell, alarm washing over her at the way he’d gone from bright red to a pale white. “Mr. Tridell, do you need to sit down for a moment?”
Rise of the Jaguar Page 3