Cat's Lair

by Christine Feehan

  Catarina swept past them like a queen. She'd been raised in Rafe Cordeau's home. All those years growing up his soldiers had treated her differently than they had other women. She'd learned to be composed at all times and that composure saved her now.

  She swept by the desks without looking at any of them. Glancing at the exit sign above a stairwell, she headed for that, ignoring the elevators. She had an aversion to elevators, and she needed to move anyway. Her gaze swept the offices and she stopped dead. Froze. Everything in her stilled.

  She found herself staring into golden eyes. He was watching her through the glass. Ridley Cromer. Her Ridley. Dressed as he'd been the night before when he'd laid in her bed. When he'd kissed her. A kiss she'd asked him for. When she laid her soul bare before him. When she'd trusted him.

  She couldn't move for a moment. She couldn't think. Her stomach heaved and she found herself vomiting all over the floor. She didn't care. Nothing mattered. Along with his faded blue jeans and tight tee, he wore a badge. A big, fat shiny badge.

  The sense of betrayal, the hurt, was worse than when her mother had sold her to Rafe. Something inside her shattered, broke apart. She felt it go. She felt the knife twisting in her heart. She'd let him in. She'd trusted him. She'd given everything she could to him. She would have traded her life for his.

  She vomited again and wiped her mouth after she spit several times, and then she tossed the cell phone and Tuttle's card right in the middle of the vomit. Let the DEA deal with that. Silence surrounded her, but in her head, she could hear screaming. Raw, terrible screaming that rose up like a wail from the dead. She hadn't known another human being could hurt her so deeply.

  She sensed movement and she turned and walked straight for the stairs. She didn't run. She refused to give him that satisfaction.

  Behind her, she heard Ridley's voice. "She can't leave. What the hell, Frank? She needs to be in protective custody. You know he'll kill her. And what happened to her face? Her wrists? Damn it, I'm fucking going to kill you with my bare hands."

  She let the door swing closed behind her and then she ran, taking the stairs two at a time, and then three. She was fast, faster than she'd ever been as if that being inside of her aided her now, aided her when she was no longer Catarina. Ridley had torn out her guts. Her heart. He'd left nothing at all but an empty shell.

  "Cat. Stop."

  She heard his voice and it only spurred her onward. She burst from the building and ran to the line of taxis at the end of the street. She had no money with her, but hopefully the police had left her stash behind. She could barely speak to give the driver the address. God. God. She'd been such a fool.

  There was no way his name was Ridley Cromer. She should have known he wouldn't be interested in a woman who had never been kissed in her life. She'd said it herself, he was a player, and he'd played her beautifully. She'd kissed a man for the first time and she didn't even know his real name.

  He had to have disconnected her security system. He'd taken her gun. He'd left her defenseless. He had tried to get information about Rafe from her, and when his gentle probing didn't work, he'd told the others she was going to run. She buried her face in her hands and kept breathing in and out. She had to keep breathing to keep the terrible black void inside of her from swallowing her.

  For the first time in her life she wished she were back with Rafe. He'd never lied, not once. He'd never tried to use her own emotions against her. He didn't hide who he was or what he was. She didn't know how to think. Or function. She didn't know how to be Catarina anymore.

  6

  THE moment Catarina paid the driver and returned to the warehouse, she realized the front door was intact. Ridley knew the combination to get in. He'd observed her unlocking the door many times, and he must have given it to the police so that they made no noise on entry.

  Pressure built and built in her chest. So much pressure. Her heart hurt. Her soul hurt. Her eyes burned and her throat swelled. She heard screaming. Real screaming. Raw. Vocal cord-shredding screaming. She screamed for her dead mother. For April and her family. For Marcel who had slapped her face. For the terrible price she'd paid for trying to escape when she was seventeen.

  Mostly she screamed to try to find a release from the terrible hurt that cut through her like a knife. She found herself on her knees, her throat so raw she was afraid it was bleeding. She crawled through the darkness to her bedroom on her hands and knees with the vague idea she'd gather her clothes and leave.

  She knew she was in shock, her body refusing to function, when she couldn't find the strength or desire to push herself from the floor and get to work. She crawled to the corner and wedged herself there, drew up her knees and wrapped both arms around them, rocking back and forth. And she wept.

  The tears weren't silent at all--they were full body-wracking sobs--soul-wrenching, agonizing sobs. It hurt to cry. Her abused throat protested, swelling so that she had to cough between the choking cries. She couldn't stop once she'd started. She had twenty-one years worth of tears to cry and she shed them all.

  *

  ELI Perez slipped into the warehouse. The moment he pushed open the door he heard her. The screams dying away to be replaced by a woman crying. He couldn't even call it crying. He had never heard such anguished screams or such broken-hearted, soul-destroying sobbing. He had caused that. There was no doubt in his mind.

  Swearing under his breath, he made his way unerringly through the warehouse to the bedroom. He had the eyes of a cat and could see easily in the dark. He moved quickly to the open side of the room.

  His first glance took in the bed. The sheets and blankets had been ripped to pieces, shredded the way he'd shredded Catarina's heart. He swung around, carefully scanning the warehouse. She hadn't had time to rip those sheets and blankets, to tear the mattress to shreds. He'd been one step behind her and had heard her anguished screams and then the sobbing. She hadn't touched those blankets. That could only mean one thing. Rafe Cordeau had already found Catarina, and the problem that was Rafe Cordeau was much worse than any of them ever suspected.

  He didn't spot her at first in the corner. She was hidden partially by the old dresser. She was so small pressed against the wall, in a little protective ball, it broke his heart. He'd done that to her. He knew he had. He swore again.

  "Cat."

  Her body jerked as if he'd struck her. He winced and crossed the distance separating them to crouch down in front of her.

  "Cat. Baby. It isn't safe here. He's been here."

  She didn't look up or acknowledge that she heard him. She stayed exactly where she was. He knew her now, knew she could maintain silence for long periods of time, and they didn't have a long time.

  "He's a leopard. A shifter. Isn't he?" He wanted to shock her. Get some response from her--any kind of response.

  Catarina lifted her head, and his heart stuttered. Her eyes were absolutely blank. Dead. Devoid of all warmth or feeling. "Go away, whoever you are."

  "Eli, my name is Eli Perez," he said, giving her the truth. "You know I can't let you stay here," he added gently. "Look at your bed. He's been here. He's leopard, and that means he can follow your scent--but you already know that, don't you?"

  "I knew he'd been here the moment I walked in," she admitted.

  Her voice was strained and she kept clearing her throat. She'd done some damage screaming out her anguish. He wanted to pull her into his arms, but she had shrunk away from him, not moved toward him. He kept himself locked down, under control. He needed to handle the situation without emotion if he was going to get her the hell to safety. Clearly she was waiting for Rafe to find her. She wasn't going to run after all.

  "I'll wait for him here. He'll come back for me. He always comes for me." She confirmed his suspicions, rubbing her chin on top of her knees. "He's probably out looking for you."

  That much, Eli was certain, was the truth. If he'd been in Rafe's place, he would have been out looking for the man who slept in his woman's bed.
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  "You have to come with me now, Cat," he reiterated.

  "Go to hell."

  She wasn't going to hear reason and honestly, he couldn't blame her, but he sure as hell wasn't going to leave her there. Sweet didn't work. Gentle didn't work. He reached out and snagged her hand, jerking her body toward his.

  She exploded into action, driving toward him with her head. She planted the top of her skull hard in his gut, using the strength in her legs to knock the wind out of him as she took him down. Straddling him, she punched and she punched hard. Three wicked blows to his face. One to his jaw. She rolled off when he went to snag her wrists, and she kicked him as she rolled away, a hard heel to his thigh.

  He caught her ankle and twisted, rolling her over to her stomach. He didn't want to hurt her, but she was wild, trying to lunge up. He pinned her down with his weight, caught one of her wrists and snapped cuffs around it.

  "Settle down, Cat. I'm not leaving you here for him to find. You're coming with me."

  "You have nothing on me. You can't arrest me."

  "I'm not arresting you, I'm taking you out of here. Stop struggling or I'm going to have to knock your ass out."

  That only served to make her struggle harder. He clipped the other bracelet to his own wrist, caught her free arm and dragged it behind her back, locking it high.

  "You keep this up and you'll break your own fucking arm. Be smart," he snapped, using his toughest no-nonsense voice. He was deliberately rough with her. She expected gentle from him and he wasn't going to give that to her. It was imperative he got her moving fast and the only way to do that was to be himself.

  He'd never been kind and gentle in his life until Catarina. It wasn't in his nature. He was rough around the edges, used to getting his way, and when he said move, people moved. She wasn't doing any of that, and she still looked at him with blank eyes as if she were totally dead inside.

  He yanked her to her feet, dragged her to the other side of the bed, where he scooped up her clothes and stuffed them into her travel bag. "Anything else important to you?" he snapped.

  She didn't answer. He left the cash behind and dragged her through the dark warehouse toward the door. She tried kicking him twice so he lifted her, one-armed, and tossed her over his shoulder. She sank her teeth into him. It hurt like hell, but he kept walking straight out to his truck.

  He dumped her in the cab, unlocked his bracelet, hooked her seat belt and locked her free hand with the other cuff. He then locked the handcuffs to the small bolt he'd installed in his dash. She was forced to lean forward, her head down so she couldn't be seen. He scanned the rooftops and high places as he hurried around to the driver's seat.

  A leopard could track his truck. He knew because he was a shifter and he could track almost anything, including vehicles. He should have guessed. He slammed the flat of his palm against the steering wheel. Rafe Cordeau had to be a shifter.

  Eli glanced over at Catarina, his gaze narrowing. Focused. He didn't have reactions to women like he'd had to her. His leopard didn't tolerate a woman for more than a night or two, but Catarina had been different. When he'd been with her, his leopard had been content. A time or two it had even risen close to the surface as if wanting to be near her. The fact that his leopard recognized her meant Cat's leopard had to be close to emerging.

  What did Rafe Cordeau want with her? He already knew, he'd figured it out, but he wanted confirmation. "He took you when you were eleven years old. Had you had your first period?"

  She shot him a single look. That blank stare. He wanted to shake her.

  "Damn it, answer me. Do you think I'm asking for my health?" He spat the question at her, allowing his anger to fill the cab. She couldn't know that his anger was at himself, at the damage he'd done to her, and at Rafe, for what he'd done to her. She was an innocent caught between two powerful men who played for keeps. He had a very bad feeling she would continue to be caught between them.

  "I'm not going to ask you again. Answer me now."

  She didn't look scared. She looked . . . broken, and he felt like a damn fucking bully, kicking the little kid that was down right there in the play yard.

  "Yes. I had my first period at eleven. But Rafe couldn't have known that. My mother was a junkie and she took me to him and offered me to him."

  He shook his head. "Think back. It didn't happen that way. He had to have come to your house when you were younger. He had to have looked you over. Decided on you. He was the one who first made the approach. There's a reason he wants you."

  He had taken his eyes off the road long enough to watch her face when he told her the truth. He saw he'd scored. She swallowed and looked away from him. He hated that he couldn't comfort her. He hated that he'd cuffed her to his truck and her wrists were already bruised. She had a bruise on her cheek and her face was swollen from crying. He couldn't pull her into his arms and just hold her. First, he had to get them to safety, and it didn't matter to him whether or not she wanted to be safe. He had to make her safe. Not only because he helped put her in this position, but because it was a compulsion and damn it to hell, she'd gotten under his skin.

  He waited, hoping curiosity would win out and she'd ask him questions, but she didn't. She didn't look at him again either. She kept her gaze on the floor. Her head had been down the same way, her hair everywhere when she'd bent to vomit in the police station. That was on him too. That had nearly killed him. He wanted to beat the hell out of Frank with his bare fists. He wanted to beat the hell out of Rafe Cordeau. Mostly he wanted to take back everything that had happened and play it all another way.

  He pulled into the automatic car wash. He wanted a thorough wash and that meant going through twice. He had no doubt that Rafe had followed Catarina's scent to the police department. He was grateful, at least, that the warehouse had been raided. Rafe would know she hadn't gone voluntarily. If what he suspected were true, Rafe would never kill Catarina. He might hurt her, but he'd never kill her.

  "What do you know about shifters?" he asked.

  She stared at the floor, but her shoulders shrugged. Her hair covered her face, and her cuffed hands.

  "You know Rafe is a leopard. So am I. And I suspect you are as well."

  That got him a head turn. Her blue eyes were so dark they looked violet, but again there was no real life in them. Not even the interest he'd hoped for.

  "That's why he waited to claim you, Cat. A female shifter doesn't necessarily feel her leopard right away the way a male does. She can't emerge until both the human and the leopard enter the same cycle together." He kept his eyes on hers. "A heat. You both have to be fertile at the same time. When she emerges, both of you are going to need sex. It's hot and wild and not for an innocent."

  She blinked, but again, there was no response in her eyes. She turned her head away again.

  "Did he mark you? Did you see his leopard? Did he bite you or rake you with his claws?"

  She sat up fast, swinging both fists together at his face, slamming into his jaw, snapping his head back. One hand disengaged her seat belt while the other dropped to the truck door and yanked, trying to open it. He'd been smart enough to engage the locks and that second cost her. He gripped her hair in his fist and yanked her hard back to him, so that she fell sideways, her body sprawling across his, her head facedown in his lap.

  She cried out and both hands went to his. He didn't loosen his grip, but he did quit pulling so hard. "Are you serious right now, Cat?" he spat out.

  He was fairly certain from her reaction that no one had ever manhandled her before, not like this, and he could see the shock on her face. Fear edging in. Good. He was finally getting to her. He'd take fear over . . . nothing. "I'm bigger and stronger. I know your every move." He was secretly proud of her for getting out of the handcuffs. He saw the broken pen on the floor mat.

  She went very still, her blue eyes searching his face. He detested the bruise on her cheek. He really hated the bruises circling her wrists. He loosened his grip on her hair,
his fingers sliding deeper, massaging her scalp, trying to ease the pain he'd caused when he'd yanked her across the truck to him.

  She didn't move. She hardly breathed. She just stared at him like he was a total stranger, not the man who had given her that all important first kiss. The one he could still taste in his mouth.

  "Kitten," he said softly.

  That got a rise out of her. Her eyes had held just a hint of fear, pushing that blank, dead look--distant. The moment he'd uttered his chosen endearment for her, the name he called her when he was soft inside and wanted to pull her close and hold her forever, the look went from nearly blank to pure fury.

  He felt her cat rise and his cat rose to meet hers, clawing and raking at his belly for freedom. He saw the telltale shine in her eyes, felt her body heat. His reacted, going hard, the male cat in him rising to the challenge of a female refusing to submit.

  She gasped and pressed both hands to her stomach, dropping her head to breathe deep. He knew what she was doing and why. Catarina Benoit was terrified of her leopard. She was petrified. She didn't want that gift and she was doing everything in her power to keep it at bay.

  Eli smoothed his hand over her hair and helped her to sit up, all the while breathing his leopard back under control.

  "Don't call me that. Not ever again. You aren't sweet and kind. Don't use that voice, that lying voice. This is who you are. Violent. Rough. And a killer. You think I can't see it in your eyes? Leopards are killing machines. That's what they do. They hunt and they kill and that's it."

  His leopard was far too close for a conversation like this one. Worse, she came close to the truth of it and that made him angry as well. "You left out fucking, Cat," he snarled. "Leopards have lots and lots of sex."

  He set her back in the passenger seat and caught up the cuffs. She had gone very pale and shrank back against the seat, her eyes ringed with dark circles. She still looked broken and vulnerable in spite of her sudden fury. Her anger was gone completely. She looked defeated. Completely defeated. He hadn't been going for that reaction either.

  She put both hands in the air. "Please. Not again." She didn't look at him.