by A. C. Arthur
Now, true to its meaning, it seemed her curious nature had gotten her into another mess she wished she’d never laid eyes on. Only, this six-foot-plus, built like a quarterback, smooth as the buttery tone of his skin, and sexy as … well, sexy as in had her nipples so hard they now hurt, man wasn’t precisely the same as finding her mother’s stash of crack cocaine.
She’d seen him before, earlier tonight at the reception for President Wilson Reed, in the ballroom. Up close and personal he was even more handsome than he had been from two tables away. His skin tone was light, hair wavy and dark, his face was clean-shaven with a strong nose and jawline. And his eyes, they weren’t the smoky-gray color she’d originally surmised. Stormy would be the better word as he glared at her with what she thought could pass as either barely masked contempt or intense sexual desire—she wasn’t really in the mood for either at the moment.
“Look, there’s been some type of misunderstanding,” she tried to tell him, the final word coming as a partial whisper after deciding to ignore his “you can fuck me” remark. That may have been a little cowardly, which was out of character for Priya, but she figured it was a smart move considering she was actually thinking of doing just that with him.
He looked at her as if he could tell she was lying or ready to tell the lie before the words could even escape. She felt like clamping her lips shut and keeping them that way, until he did that thing he’d done with his tongue again—oh, she’d definitely open her mouth the next time he did that.
Right, because sexual arousal was exactly what she should be thinking about in lieu of the e-mails she’d been receiving that threatened the lives of all the people she loved and cherished in this world. Thinking about taking this man up on his oh-so-enticing offer—especially since the self-imposed celibacy she’d endured for the last year was about to take its toll—was definitely more important than following her blackmailer’s orders and saving her family. In some crazy twisted world, she thought with an inward sigh. She knew she had no choice here and for the billionth time tonight wondered how she was going to do what needed to be done, when the people involved were reputedly more powerful than the president himself.
“I’m a reporter from the Washington Post. I wanted to get a comment from Mr. Reynolds about President Reed’s campaign,” she blurted out. “There, satisfied now that you know why I’m here?”
He looked like he was anything but, still he’d released his hold on her, physically, that is. His eyes still bore into her as if he were performing some type of perverted X-ray of her body right in this hallway.
“You waited all night, the entire three and a half hours that Mr. Reynolds was downstairs in that ballroom to follow him to his room to ask for a statement?”
He lifted a brow in disbelief as he spoke. The slight rasp of his deep voice echoing around her as if forever planting itself in her memory, like she’d really forget being felt up by this guy, which was definitely not going to happen.
“It’s my job,” she told him with a shrug. “And since I’m assuming you’re some type of bodyguard and not going to let me get that statement, I’ll just be going.”
Priya was more than shocked that he hadn’t reached out to grab her again, to try and stop her from leaving. Instead, she’d walked about three very uncomfortable steps because she knew he was staring at her ass as she did, before his voice stopped her.
“Have a drink with me?”
She turned. “What?”
He closed the space between them, taking her by her elbow, much more gently than he had touched her before, yet still sending electrifying spikes up her arm.
“We’ll go down to the bar since having you in my room might lead us to other things besides a nice cordial drink.” He continued as if she’d already accepted, walking them to the elevators at the far end of the hall that had brought her up here about fifteen minutes before.
Once they were inside the elevator and she felt like she needed to stop this impending train wreck, Priya turned to him and announced, “I’m not the reporter who sleeps with someone for a story.”
He looked at her then, an amused grin on his face—amused and way too cocky for her, but still sexy as hell.
“Good, because I don’t sleep with reporters. I do, however, take beautiful women to bed and give them a night they’ll never forget. Tonight, however, I’ll settle for a glass of wine.”
Rebuffed and not sure whether or not she disliked it or felt relief, Priya kept her mouth shut. It wasn’t an easy task since she’d always been inclined to ask questions, always searching for answers. Sometimes, however, the answers she found were more than she’d bargained for. That was part of the reason she was here tonight, on this foolhardy mission to uncover something she wasn’t sure she believed herself.
Still, it was apparent that this man knew Reynolds personally. In the last two weeks Priya had interviewed everyone from a receptionist in Reynolds’s office to the manager of the detail shop where his SUV was dropped off every Friday afternoon. Her file on the man was almost an inch thick with one glowing remark after another. He appeared so squeaky clean she’d felt sick each time she flipped through her notes. So, if having a glass of wine with this new person she’d seen with Reynolds could help get this task completed sooner, rather than later, she’d do it, and whatever else she had to, if it would save her family’s life.
Chapter 2
She took another sip of her wine, her glass almost empty. Bas was on his second glass, sitting in the circular booth toward the back of the hotel’s bar at well past midnight.
He should be upstairs in his room, probably in bed since he knew there would be meetings tomorrow before his scheduled return to Sedona. All of the Faction Leaders had come for the meetings, to talk about what the Assembly’s plan of action would be against the rogues and the killer drug they were filtering through the streets. Since that drug had claimed its first human lives here in D.C. and this was where the Assembly Leader lived, it was logical that they start here. The beginning was always a good place to start, he thought as he watched her take yet another sip, looking out the window toward the fading D.C. nightlife.
“How long have you been a reporter?” he asked her.
She’d already told him her name was Priya Drake and that she’d lived in D.C. all her life. Bas admitted, even if only to himself, he wanted to know more.
“A while,” was her roundabout answer. “How long have you worked for Reynolds?”
So this was what they were going to do. He almost chuckled. Asking her to come down here for drinks had been a twofold mission for Bas. She’d admitted that she’d been coming to see Rome, but Bas hadn’t believed her reason why. The stale stench of lies in the hallway as she’d spoken was the first giveaway and the way her eyes kept darting between him and the door to Rome’s room was another. She needed to speak to Rome, like Bas had felt he needed to touch her, to get just a sample taste of her. That was a strong need that he figured went beyond wanting to know who a man was backing politically.
“I’ve known him for the better part of twenty years,” Bas replied.
“I hear he’s a bitch to work for, a perfectionist with a quick temper.” She’d set her glass down on the black napkin, sitting back and letting her hands fall into her lap.
“On the contrary, he has a very mild temperament as long as you stay on his good side.” As did some of the shifters who lived among the humans. They almost had no other choice but to be that way, it helped to keep their secret.
“And you stay on his good side, don’t you?”
“I stay on my side,” was Bas’s instant response. “Why do you care who he backs politically? He’s in the private sector so it doesn’t matter who he decides to put his money behind.”
“It matters,” she said quickly, too quickly for this to be a simple political story, as he’d already surmised. There was a passion behind her words, an urgency that only continued to pique his interest.
He sat forward, placing bot
h palms on the table and looked directly at her. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re really after?”
She opened her mouth to speak and Bas held up a hand to stop her.
“Tell me the truth and I’ll see if there’s a way I can help you. Lie to me again and this evening doesn’t end as well as we both hope. Take your choice.”
She didn’t frown, but arched an elegant eyebrow and nodded. Right now she was probably thinking that she had an inside lead, that since she believed Bas worked for Rome, she could get him to provide the real information she wanted from Rome. That was not remotely possible, but Bas was enjoying the little light of excitement in her eyes at the possibility.
“I don’t usually bow to threats,” she replied after a short pause, and then immediately faltered.
It was quick, a blink of her eyes, a look toward the window, then back at him with her composure firmly in place. Fear, with its tangy citrus-like scent, filtered between them, and Bas was immediately concerned. Had someone else threatened her? Shadows possessed a very protective nature where females were concerned. That’s why the feel of his cat pressing firmly against his human form was no surprise. It was rearing up, ready to defend if need be.
“At any rate,” she began again with a sigh. “There’ve been some incidents in the past few months, the gruesome murder of Senator Baines and his daughter, a huge bank heist by supposed masked robbers, and the grisly and still unexplained death of a stripper at Athena’s. All crimes unsolved.”
Bas nodded. “It’s a shame how much violence is still present in the world.”
She tilted her head then, staring at him as if that remark had changed something in her mind. Then, with an almost imperceptible shrug, she continued. “There have been rumors, maybe you’ve heard them.”
“I don’t usually listen to rumors. They’re rarely true,” he told her.
She sat forward then, pushing her wineglass to the side and folding her arms on the table. Her voice lowered as she spoke. “Some say the bank robbers stood and walked tall like men, but had the looks of big cats. Eyes, sharp teeth, everything except walking on all fours and wagging a long tail.”
Through their monthly and sometimes weekly conference calls, Bas had learned of the incidents that had taken place in D.C. even though he lived across the country. Each incident that she’d mentioned had been a concern for the Assembly as it threatened the exposure they wanted so desperately to avoid. Still, he kept his composure. “Some say I have cat’s eyes,” he replied lightly. “Are you accusing me of being a cat?”
She contemplated his words before replying. “That’s not what I said. The way the senator and his daughter’s bodies were mangled definitely leads toward a nonhuman killing except the bodies weren’t found in an alley or in a wooded area, for that matter. And that stripper, she was just about ripped to pieces.”
Bas didn’t like to raise his voice or show much emotion. It gave the other person the upper hand, he thought. If someone knew what button to push to get a reaction out of him, they’d likely push it all the time. That act would surely get someone killed, there was no doubt. His cat teetered on the brink of rage and painful hunger.
“I thought the stripper was filled with some type of drug that may have actually been the cause of death.”
She was instantly shaking her head. “There’s no drug that will shred human skin like that. Something sharp and something vicious had to be involved. I saw the body myself! It was horrible,” she exclaimed.
He wondered how she’d managed to see that body but remembered she was a reporter. The lengths to which the press went to get a story these days had long since ceased to amaze Bas—disgusted him, yes, but not amaze.
“And just how does this relate to Roman Reynolds and his political views?” Because that was the real question Bas wanted an answer to. The rest he would leave for her inquisitive mind to try and figure out, hoping that she never really would.
That’s when she did it again, faltered. He had a feeling she didn’t do that often, or at least tried not to. She didn’t seem to like it judging from how fast she tried to rebound. This time it was with a slight shake of her head as if she were trying to clear it of some thought she’d rather not have. Bas was beyond intrigued now, he’d almost venture to say he was vested somehow in this female he’d just met and was insanely attracted to.
She cleared her throat before looking at him again. This time there was something missing in her eyes. The glow of excitement that had been there when she’d spoken of those murders, the tinge of outrage in her tone as she’d talked about the stripper, was now replaced by a sullen look that spoke of uncertainty.
“Some say Rome’s friend Xavier is the one who killed the stripper. The FBI even investigated him for it. They didn’t prove it but Xavier left the FBI. They say he was seen with one of the cat people in the alley behind Athena’s one night,” she told him in an even more hushed tone. Then she squared her shoulders and said with a little more clarity, a bit more force, “I want to know what Reynolds knows about the murders and the cat people.”
And there it was, the dreaded ax that Bas had been praying wouldn’t drop. The scenario the Elders of their tribe back in the Gungi Rainforest hundreds and hundreds of years ago had feared. It was one of the reasons some of the Elders refused to leave their jungle in Brazil—exposure.
“You should find another story to pursue. This one sounds preposterous and is most definitely a waste of your time. Does your editor know you’re working on this? Why hasn’t he tried to show you how far-fetched it is?” Why hasn’t someone tried to stop her before she gets herself killed? His teeth clenched at that unspoken question.
“He doesn’t know,” she replied almost instantly. “I mean, I’ll tell him when I have more to go on.”
Bas didn’t like that response any more than he liked the quick flash of lust that speared through him as his gaze dropped to the smooth mocha-toned skin between the mounds of her breasts.
“Come, I’ll take you home,” he said, standing. Reaching into his pocket he removed some bills from their gold clip and dropped them onto the table. He needed to get away from her before he did something he somehow knew he would regret.
She looked startled, then deflated. “I don’t need you to take me home. I can get there on my own.”
“I’m sure you can,” Bas said, once again taking her elbow as she stood and moved from the booth. It was a mistake to touch her, the searing heat at the connection a stark reminder of that fact. Bas frowned. “But I’ll take you anyway.”
He liked touching her, a lot. She wasn’t pulling away physically but was holding herself just out of reach mentally. He didn’t know why that appealed to him.
Once outside she turned to him, a slight temper surfacing. “Look, thank you for the drink and thank you for not doing whatever it is you do with people who try to contact Mr. Reynolds that maybe shouldn’t. I even appreciate you listening to my ramblings about work. But really, I don’t know you well enough to let you take me home and as I stated before I’m not interested in having sex with you.”
After a nod of his head to the valet who had immediately come into view as they’d exited the hotel, Bas returned his attention to Priya.
“First, you know my name is Sebastian Perry and that if I really meant you some harm I would have done it while I had you in that hallway alone. Second, by your synopsis of the current violence going on in this city, you know it’s a lot safer to have me escort you home at this time of night than it is for you to hop in a cab and get there on your own. And third, you didn’t say you weren’t interested in having sex with me, you said you didn’t sleep with men for a story.”
As she opened her mouth to reply an SUV pulled up to the curb. Bas opened the back door for her and waited for her to get in.
“You think you’re so smooth,” she quipped, coming closer to the door.
“What do you think?” he asked, loving the way that red dress hugged every one of her delectable
curves, the material blowing alluringly against her bare legs in the slight night breeze.
She stood right in front of him then, her high heels almost bringing them eye to eye. “I think you may have a slightly overinflated ego,” she stated decisively. Then added, “But that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”
Bas smiled and watched as she climbed into the car. Her ass was firm and plump and he remembered with startling clarity how it felt pressed against his still burgeoning arousal. “No, that’s not a bad thing at all,” he mumbled as he climbed into the backseat after her. “Not bad at all.”
Forty-five minutes later, after Bas had warned Priya one more time to drop the foolish story of cat men, he was back in his suite. Rome, who was formerly the East Coast Faction Leader but had recently been elected the Assembly Leader, had rented him a suite. Actually he’d rented each of the three Faction Leaders a suite in the hotel where the fund-raiser for President Reed was being held. As a whole, the Assembly had agreed that this human was the best presidential candidate. Not only had he made terrific strides in his first four years in office, but they were confident that the next four years would prove even more effective. President Reed’s grandmother was from Colombia, a fact that Rome also thought could work to their advantage should they ever need backup in the human world. Bas wasn’t 100 percent certain the president would take their side based on that connection alone, but he stood behind the Assembly Leader wholeheartedly.
He’d known Rome much too long not to stand behind him. At some point in their lives all of the Faction Leaders had shown their loyalty to one another as well as to the Assembly. They weren’t about to stop now.
That’s why Bas now stood at the window looking out onto the D.C. night, holding his cell phone to his ear. A second later there was an answer on the other end and Bas spoke a simple phrase. “We may have a problem.”
Chapter 3
Pain seared through her so intensely Priya was jerked from her sleep, sitting up straight in the center of her bed. Her breathing was erratic, sweat drenching her forehead as she lifted a hand to her chest and slid the other between her legs.