Growl

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Growl Page 7

by Eve Langlais


  The satisfaction of hitting something somewhat mollified his jealousy and rage. He might even say he was having a grand ol’ time, too, hitting the bastard. That was until Gavin caught the sound of steps running away. While he showed Megan she could count on him to protect her, she escaped.

  Dropping his blubbering victim, Gavin loped after her. He hit the hall and stopped. Which way did she go, down the stairs or toward the elevator? He sniffed and turned just in time to spot her in the elevator as the door shut. As for his demand she return? Yeah. She didn’t quite give him the middle finger salute. However, the are-you-kidding expression on her face said it all.

  For a moment, he debated taking to the stairs and beating her to the ground floor. Then he looked down, noted his hairy, naked, wolfy frame, which, for the curious, was very anatomically correct—and large. Oh, and let’s not forget noticeable.

  Only seconds before a curious hotel patron peeked in to the hall, Gavin ducked into his room and closed the door—but couldn’t quite latch it, given the splintered doorjamb.

  The thug still inside lunged at Gavin. Stupid human. Gavin knocked him out and then leaned against the portal so he could furiously think. He needed to get to Megan, not only so he could explain but also to keep her safe. However, at the same time …

  I can’t go out like this. He’d draw a little too much attention. Not to mention he couldn’t leave the unconscious man here because eventually the intruder would awake. Gavin didn’t fear the idiot blabbing to the police. A thug like this wouldn’t go to the cops, and if he talked he’d soon see Gavin wasn’t the only Lycan he needed to fear. No, Gavin’s reasons for keeping the intruder weren’t to protect him but because he had questions.

  Big questions. Such as, why was the guy sent to kill Megan? Did Fabian orchestrate the attempts? And more important …

  Who. Was. Megan?!

  It didn’t take a genius like Gavin—he had the Mensa score to prove it—to realize she wasn’t the delicate secretary and little rabbit he’d taken her for. More like a vixen, wily and beautiful.

  A vixen who ran, which called for a chase.

  What fun.

  Before he could sniff out her trail, he first needed to flip back into his human skin and locate some pants—and a tie, because anything less just wasn’t civilized.

  Closing his eyes, he concentrated, willing his humanity to take charge again. For some reason, shedding his wolf exterior hurt a lot less than putting it on. He could almost hear the teasing thoughts of his wolf say, Because I’m tougher.

  “Let’s see how tough you are if we get something waxed while we’re furry.”

  On second thought, he’d probably never resort to that because even just the threat made him wince. Yet he faced down a thug wielding a gun without flinching. So sue him for being inconsistent. He’d defend himself and win.

  Apparently, though, he’d lost the first round to his mate. “What happened to her accepting my wolf side?” he muttered as he washed the wound in his shoulder, which, luckily for him, had already stopped bleeding. While he didn’t heal instantly, he did enjoy quicker-than-human regeneration power. In a few days, the bullet hole would be nothing but a scar.

  As he dressed, he pondered the recent events. More specifically what happened with Megan.

  He’d claimed her last night. Marked her as his, even if he’d yet to tell her. Yet she still panicked when she encountered his beast. What happened to her accepting his wolf side? Were the rumors about mating wrong?

  Only one way to find out, but that involved confronting her. A task that would prove easier if she’d not taken his keys

  “Bloody fucking hell!” Before he could call for a ride, the busted hotel room door opened. Gavin didn’t bother to turn around.

  A Lycan should never deign to acknowledge a feline as a threat. The one lesson of Fabian’s that Gavin remembered and adhered to—mostly to drive the arrogant cats he knew yeowly.

  “Damn, Gavin. Another body?” Broderick sauntered in, only slightly flushed. He must have jumped in his car and raced all eight blocks from his place when Gavin abruptly ended their call, then, knowing his penchant for small places, jogged up the stairs. “One body you might explain to the cops, but two?”

  “This one isn’t dead.”

  “I thought the rule was don’t play with your food.”

  “Ha. Ha. Aren’t you just a comedian?” was Gavin’s mocking reply. “The guy attacked us.”

  “Because he obviously didn’t know what a stupid idea that was. Boy, did he choose the wrong room.”

  “You don’t say, especially given it wasn’t my wolf who actually took him down but a certain little secretary.”

  “Megan?” Broderick snorted. “She couldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “And yet she pinned an almost-three-hundred-pound thug to the floor. Is there something about her that you’re not telling me?”

  “No. Not quite. That is…”

  The more Gavin fixed Broderick with a hard stare, the more the feline pretended disinterest in him. Instead, his friend crouched by the snoring thug and hoisted him onto a shoulder.

  “Let’s get this fellow somewhere a little less likely to get a visit from the cops. I don’t think your antics went entirely unnoticed.”

  Not so fast. “Spill what you know, or I am going to turn you into a bobtailed cat.”

  “Not the tail! Don’t ever threaten the tail!” Broderick exclaimed. “Talk about sacrilege.”

  “Talk and you won’t have to worry about it.”

  “Swear you won’t freak.”

  Not exactly promising words. Gavin arched a brow. “How about I promise not to kill you?”

  Broderick pretended to think on it. “Fair enough. If you insist. Fabian asked me to ask you to defend Megan.”

  “He what?”

  “He’s also the one who put up the bail money, or so I hear.”

  “How the hell is she connected to him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Gavin growled, and Broderick, in the process of peeking in the hall for observers, took a second to peer back and say, “Seriously, dude. I don’t know. I’d never met her before I not-so-accidentally bumped into her.”

  “And yet Fabian knew about her.” He lied to my face. Sly fucking wolf.

  As Broderick jogged for the stairs, Gavin close behind, he said, “I really do think she’s innocent, though. I mean, look at everything that’s happened and the shit that is still happening. Somebody wants her out of the picture.”

  Indeed. Someone did. And there was only one name Gavin could think of. Someone who probably wanted to cover his tracks.

  Fabian.

  CHAPTER 14

  Such a nice bedroom, decorated in light blues and grays. Very tastefully appointed. What a shame it was about to get messy.

  From the comfortable club chair she sat in, Megan aimed the gun she’d taken off the guard she’d assaulted in the garden at Fabian’s forehead.

  It was highly doubtful she’d taken him by surprise. The man was a renowned mob lord for a reason, but his cocky self-assuredness meant he took his time acknowledging her presence.

  She couldn’t help a grudging admiration. It took a set of megaballs to act as if he didn’t fear her and to ignore the gun she held pointed at him with unwavering hands. He knew for a fact that she never missed.

  “Megan. Darling. To what do I owe this lovely crack-of-dawn visit?”

  “I was in the area and thought I’d pop in.”

  “Did you make my guards look incompetent again?”

  “Just the one guy. He’s out cold in the garden. The others don’t even know I’m here.”

  Fabian blew out a breath of disgust. “Bloody hell. I’d really like to know your tricks.”

  “And give away my mystique?”

  “Don’t you mean give away your advantage?”

  She smiled in reply.

  “I’m sure you’re not just here for a friendly chat and reminder that my staff need more
training. I thought we’d agreed to keep our relationship on the down low until certain matters were settled.”

  “Certain information came to light, so the plan has changed.”

  “You mean the murder charges?”

  A scoffing noise came out of her. “Annoying but not the end of the world. While I’d prefer to not have murder charges hanging over me, in the event of a conviction I would have escaped and ditched this identity.”

  “Only you would blow off murder charges as nothing. So if that’s not what has you in a tizzy, then what is so momentous you just had to pay me a visit?”

  She blurted it out. “Gavin is a wolf.”

  Not by one iota did Fabian’s eyes widen. He already knew. Then again, considering Fabian bore the title of alpha wolf leader for the Lycans in this city, it didn’t surprise her.

  “Yes, he’s a wolf.”

  “And my lawyer.”

  “You forgot to also add your ‘lover.’”

  The fact that Fabian could scent her lingering passion with Gavin didn’t surprise her, but his next words did.

  “When I told Broderick to convince him to take your case, I didn’t expect that to happen.”

  “You maneuvered this?” she queried, waving her gun around, not averting her gaze when Fabian slid from bed—a bull of a man with a wide chest, defined pecs, and more muscle and size than any red-blooded woman would look away from.

  Just because Megan didn’t like the older man—who, in his forties, was just a touch too old for her—didn’t mean she didn’t admire him.

  With a lack of modesty, Fabian strode past her and snagged a robe from a chair. He slung it around his body only moments before the door to his room flung open.

  A scowling Gavin entered, dragging an unconscious man behind him. The same thug she’d taken down in their hotel room.

  “And here I thought it was only cats who dragged in prizes to show off,” was Fabian’s response to his bedroom invasion.

  “Why waste my energy dragging when I can get him to be the muscle?” Broderick quipped as he entered on Gavin’s heels. He smiled in her direction. “Hey, Megan. Fancy finding you here.”

  The situation still didn’t make much sense, but one thing was becoming clear. Her meeting with Broderick and Gavin wasn’t by happenstance. Heads would roll. She shot Broderick a teasing smile and mouthed, You’re dead.

  “Now, now, Megan. No killing the help. The cat is rather useful to me. I’d prefer we not use up any of his lives.”

  “Fine, he lives.” Because he probably only followed orders, but as for Gavin … She turned her sights on him next. “But that one.” She waved her gun Gavin’s way. “Him I want to maim.” Now if only when she imagined him trussed to her bed she wasn’t also inching her way up his body torturing him with her tongue. I’m going soft. Probably because she was already addicted to a certain hard part of his anatomy.

  Dumping the body on the floor first, Gavin stared at her as he straightened his tie—what psycho lawyer wolf stopped to put on a tie when involved in a kidnapping of a thug? He ran a hand through his already perfectly coiffed hair and brushed imaginary lint from his suit. Holy hell, he’s a neat freak.

  “I think maiming is a little harsh, don’t you, little rabbit? On what grounds do you think you’re owed such violent restitution?” Trust a lawyer to couch a rebuttal in fancy words.

  “Grounds? You want grounds? I’ll give you grounds. You work for Fabian and didn’t tell me.” In other words, Gavin hadn’t taken her on because he’d truly wanted to help her or liked her. He did what he was told.

  “I do not work for the man. I abhor him as a matter of fact. So much that I plan to celebrate the day they finally toss his mangy ass behind bars.”

  “He would, you know,” Fabian said, turning from the coffeemaker he kept stashed behind a panel in his bedroom wall. “He’s the most ungrateful pup I’ve created.”

  Created? And the plot thickened. Gavin might claim to not like Fabian, but that didn’t sever his ties to him. “Thanks for pointing out yet another strike against you. You’re a wolf.” Yet she’d never spotted it, even if she suspected something was off about him.

  How could I have missed it? It seemed so obvious now. From his arrogant self-assuredness to the lanky and smooth way he moved. Not to mention all the other subtle verbal hints. Hell, he’d even told her he was a wolf when she’d accused him of being a dog.

  But what sane person would have taken his words literally?

  I should have.

  “Yeah, I’m a wolf. So?”

  How like Gavin to act so blasé about the admission. “You didn’t tell me.” She managed to stifle the petulant note.

  “Nope. I didn’t tell you.”

  Said with absolutely no sign of repentance. “Didn’t you feel like this was information I should have?”

  “I would have eventually gotten around to it.”

  Eventually? She blinked in disbelief. Never mind she knew the first rule Lycans learned was “tell no one,” for some reason she felt he should have divulged the truth. “And exactly when was that going to be?” Because it sure as hell wasn’t before they’d jumped into bed.

  “Probably about the same time you told me that you were working for Fabian. Because you are, aren’t you, as a spy on Pierre? Only Fabian double-crossed you, had Pierre killed, and then framed you to take the fall.”

  Not quite. “The whole Pierre assassination was my job.” She flung that at Gavin with a cocky smirk and waited for his reaction.

  While Gavin’s face went through a myriad of emotions, Fabian exuded only one, mirth. “Oh, this was so worth waking up early for. Broderick, why aren’t you taping this? I swear, I’ve not been so amused in ages.”

  Broderick held up empty hands. “Sorry, boss. I left my phone in the car in case I had to suddenly shift. Things were a little tense between me and my best bud on the way over.”

  “Thing still are tense,” Gavin growled. “But I’ll deal with you later. I’m kind of busy right now trying to wrap my head around the fact my client did indeed kill the victim. You lied to me.”

  Draping a leg casually over the armrest of the chair, she waved her gun, which she’d yet to tuck away. “Not quite. I said his death was my job. I was hired by him”—she jerked a thumb at Fabian, who raised his coffee cup in acknowledgment—“to keep an eye on Pierre and feed him certain information. As his secretary, I had access to files and codes, which allowed me to discreetly shuffle a few business interests. Once the moves were done, Pierre was to have an unfortunate accident.”

  “But he caught you fucking with his shit, and you killed him.”

  “Bzzt. Wrong. I said I was supposed to, but someone got to him first and framed me.” She couldn’t help the incredulity in her tone. It still galled her that someone had dared screw with her like that—and scoop her job from under her.

  “Framed?” Gavin snorted. “That’s priceless coming from an assassin.”

  “Says the guy who turns into a freaking wolf.”

  He glared at her, and she arched a brow and smiled.

  Strange and tense as the moment was, oddly enough she enjoyed herself. Something about Gavin truly brought her alive. She found his alpha tendencies and uptight attitude highly entertaining. What a shame about his howl-at-the-moon condition.

  The silence stretched, Fabian and Broderick steering clear of the conversation but avidly watching.

  Widening her grin, which only deepened his scowl, Gavin broke the standoff. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Did you agree to kill Pierre, of course?”

  Fabian replied. “You mean other than the fact it’s her job and she’s good at it?”

  Oh, way to make her sound mercenary. The fact that it was true didn’t mean she liked it bandied about. Megan tossed Fabian a glare that screamed, Zip it!

  As if he’d listen to her. He grinned, completely unrepentant. The jerk knew she wouldn’t kill him.

  Stupid family.
He might only be a distant cousin on her dad’s side, but it still made him someone she couldn’t kill—and hope to make it out alive at Grandpa’s Thanksgiving dinner. Unusual were the extremely rare times when their clan gathered and things didn’t get a little hairy. Grandma said it wasn’t a true family reunion unless some blood was shed.

  One hundred percent human or not, no one messed with Grandma. The most excellent cook went everywhere with a knife. And food. Megan was pretty sure Grandma could probably pull the ingredients to make a gourmet seven-course meal—for fifty—from her large canvas purse covered in tropical flowers.

  It was a talent Megan, sadly, didn’t inherit. But Grandma forgave her since her only granddaughter, who was also human, could at least wield a knife and a gun, plus a myriad of other weapons.

  However, Gavin knew nothing of her history, and the arrogant wolf snapped at her cousin, “Do you mind? I was talking to Megan.” He practically snarled the words.

  Despite Megan having grown up around a father and other male relatives who could do the same thing, having Gavin do it took it to a whole new level. A sexy one.

  But his primal wolf attitude was also silly, and she rolled her eyes. “Why else would anyone do it? For the money, of course. It’s not the first time either.”

  “Megan here has been working for the family for quite some years now. Mostly on the West Coast, but she recently moved to the big city to take a more active part in my empire.”

  “Actually, I did it to drive my dad nuts. He’s a touch overprotective,” she warned Gavin. As a matter of fact, if dear old dad knew that Gavin had seduced her things could get hairy. Especially if her other cousins got involved. And her uncles. And Grandpa. As for Grandma, she’d probably cackle, pull a cow from the walk-in freezer, and start cooking a feast for when they were done playing with Gavin.

  And he wondered why she’d become an assassin—other than because of the money. She came from a family of somewhat psychotic wolves. And before anyone began assuming they’d been born that way, it should be made clear that Lycanthropy was given, usually intentionally. It was triggered by a bite, several of them, while a male was in wolfman form, not human or full wolf—which usually happened only during full moons. Only when a Lycan stood with one foot in both camps was his bite contagious. Yet the chomping didn’t always turn a man.

 

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