by Bianca D'Arc
Nick would play along and let the guys clear the condo before he brought Sal inside. It was procedure, he knew. It would make Linelli happy. And even though Nick would bet his last dime that the stalker wouldn’t have figured out where they were going so quickly, it couldn’t hurt to check things out.
“We’ll just wait here a moment while they clear the rooms,” he told her. It was the first moment they had alone when he wasn’t on the phone since their kiss in her bedroom. He wasn’t sure what to say to her, but he felt like he should say something.
“It’s all right,” she answered in a soft voice, and he wondered if she meant more than just the obvious with her words. Was she referring to their kiss and the awkwardness he felt now? Damn.
“Look…” He turned to talk to her, but at that exact moment, one of the guys stepped into view and waved them into the condo. Nick sighed heavily and ran a hand over the stubble on his jaw in frustration. He changed his mind about opening a can of worms in front of the troops and gestured for Sal to precede him. “After you, milady.”
She gave him a quirky look that was almost a smile, but went ahead, into the condo. Nick closed the door behind himself, checking with the guys to see what they had to report. A quick hand signal told him what he’d suspected. The condo was clear.
Nick thanked the men on their way out then closed and locked the door behind them. Finally. He was alone with Sal. In his territory, temporary though it might be. It was still his for the duration of his stay here. He turned to watch her progress through the living room. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but he had to make sure she was okay with their kiss first.
“Sal…” he started, then his phone rang. For a moment, he fantasized about crushing the infernal device in his fist and flinging the little pieces against the wall, but he knew he couldn’t do that. Taking a deep breath for calm, he lifted the phone from its holster on his belt and picked up the call.
It was Linelli, wanting a sit rep and final report before closing down the operation for the night. He went over the plans he’d made to station guards on the condo while she was there, but since there was only the express elevator or the emergency stairs to get to that floor, it was relatively easy to cover. Nick listened impatiently while Linelli went over the details, knowing it was necessary to maintaining his cover that he worked with the humans on this.
He answered the necessary questions and responded in the places he was expected to say something. He went into the kitchen area and got a couple of cold bottles of water out of the fridge, intending to bring one to Sal. He could just see her, sitting on the plush couch in the living room. The poor woman had been through a lot tonight. He talked quietly, giving her a moment of peace, to herself.
By the time he turned back to the living room, carrying the cold water bottles, she was fast asleep, curled into the corner of the wide sofa. He would have left her there, but her neck was resting at a funny angle that was sure to cause pain when she woke up. Coming to a decision on his next course of action, Nick went quietly into the spare bedroom and cleared it of his extra gear, turning down the bed and making it ready for her.
Then, he returned to the living room to find her still in that same uncomfortable-looking position. As gently as he could, Nick lifted her into his arms and walked down the hallway to the bedroom he’d prepared. When he lay her on the red silk sheets, in keeping with the Asian theme of the so-called Chrysanthemum Bedroom, he found it hard to let her go.
But he must. Sal was dead to the world. It wasn’t fair to paw her while she was the next best thing to unconscious.
Feeling noble, Nick leaned close to place a chaste kiss on her forehead as he tucked her in. It was hard—scratch that, he was hard—but he left the room, pulling the door almost closed but leaving it enough ajar that some of the soft hallway illumination would spill into the room in case she should wake up and not recognize her surroundings. He didn’t want her to be disoriented by darkness on top of being in a room she’d never seen before.
If she’d been a jaguar with superior night vision, he wouldn’t have worried. Of course, if she’d been a jaguar, she wouldn’t have been his mate. The Goddess knew he’d searched for years to find a mate among his own people, but after too many disappointments, he’d just about given up on ever finding the one female meant for him.
Until now. When he’d least expected it, there she was. A human, no less. He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that, but he was a great believer in the wisdom of the Mother of All. If the Goddess meant for him to be mated with a human, then who was he to question it?
Nick put in an early morning call to Collin Hastings, hoping the man would be able to move up their planned meeting. Sure enough, hearing of the escalation in the situation and the fact that a possibly feral shifter was involved, Hastings didn’t wait for conventional transportation. Instead, he came by air.
In the darkness before dawn, a giant hawk—larger than any natural bird of prey—landed gently on the penthouse patio. Nick was waiting with a set of spare clothing—gym shorts, a new pair of socks and a sweatshirt—for the hawk shifter when he took his human form.
Nick left the folded clothing on the patio table with a nod to the giant hawk and went back inside, leaving the glass door open. They’d both been in the army. They were acquainted, but not close. Still, they had more in common than most, both being shifters trying to coexist with the human world. Even so, Nick gave the man a moment to gather himself and shift in private, just in case birds were ticklish about such things.
They might both be shifters, but cats and birds weren’t natural buddies. Werehawks and jaguar shifters, though, had come to a sort of mutual respect over the years. This would be the first time they worked closely together, and Nick hoped to create better understanding between their two Clans. Nick knew his Alpha would appreciate strong allies like the raptors, if Nick could somehow gain that sort of trust between them. Time would tell.
Nick made breakfast while waiting for Hastings to come in from the balcony. He’d flown all the way, due to the urgency of the situation and the cooperative night-dark sky. He’d probably be hungry. The least Nick could do was feed the man.
Besides, it was close enough to dawn, and normal breakfast time, that Nick was feeling more than a bit peckish himself.
He heard the door to the balcony close and then the padding of sock feet across the plush carpet. Hawks weren’t as stealthy in their human forms as the land-based predators, Nick had heard. Or maybe that was just an old wives’ tale and Hastings was deliberately making noise that a shifter would pick up. Maybe he was just being polite. Who knew with bird shifters?
Regardless, Nick looked up to meet the other man’s gaze. “Breakfast, Captain?”
“Thank you, Master Sergeant,” Hastings said, taking the high seat at the kitchen island that Nick nodded toward.
“The last time our paths crossed,” Nick said as he plated the mountain of pancakes, bacon and sausages he’d made for his guest, “we were both still in uniform.”
“Fun times,” Hastings replied, smiling fondly as Nick set one of the plates in front of him. “This looks great. Thanks. I’m a little hungry after the long flight.”
“Again, I appreciate your haste. I told you a bit about what happened last night, but I need to get the rest of the information to you before my guest wakes up.” Nick could hear Sal’s slow, even breathing. She was definitely still asleep, but that could change any time, and if she was around, they couldn’t speak as freely.
“She in the guest room?” Hastings asked, shoveling a forkful of pancake into his mouth.
“Yeah. She practically passed out on the couch. I put her in the other room, but I don’t know how long she’ll sleep. So, we should probably get the sit rep out of the way first.”
“Go,” Hastings said, eating while listening attentively.
Nick filled him in on what he had seen, heard, and smelled the night before at the mansion. He also gave Hastings his impressi
ons of the situation, including the file Linelli had put together that had police reports, photos and diagrams of the animal mutilation crimes.
“Nasty stuff,” Hastings observed, looking at the photos of the decapitated squirrels. “Rodents are more my people’s thing, but I guess some land-based shifters hunt them, too, right?”
“Wolves, foxes, some of the smaller cat breeds, and a few others, I guess,” Nick replied. “I hadn’t really thought about the perp being a flight shifter, though. That would cause a whole new set of problems.”
“Which I can handle,” Hastings was quick to say. “I wouldn’t be happy hunting my own kind, but if he’s gone over to the dark side, he’s got to be put down, regardless.”
Nick sighed and sat back, stuffing the gruesome photos back into the paper folder. He didn’t want to leave them lying around, just in case Sal came out of the guest room.
“He didn’t scent like a bird,” Nick mused, placing the folder back in his laptop bag and digging into his own breakfast. “The scent was wild. Unwashed. Hard to place because of the stench, but I’d go with canine, if I had to pick a species. Wolf, probably. Or maybe fox…but I’d bet on wolf.” Nick chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “Whatever he was, he didn’t smell sane. Nobody lets themselves get that rank—and the worst odor was from his human side. I don’t think he’s shifted in a long time.”
“Or maybe just to battle form and no further,” Hastings commented, naming the in-between form where a shifter was still upright like a man, but with the animal’s attributes. It was painful for shifters to hold the battle form, and only the strongest Alphas could manage it for any length of time. “Stopping the shift halfway every time—or getting stuck, for some reason—could drive the animal half-mad.”
“Could it be some kind of magical attack on the perp? Someone made it so he couldn’t complete the shift?” Nick asked, frowning.
Hastings shrugged. “Anything is possible, I guess. But we have to deal with the problem we’re faced with. A feral shifter with a jones for Sullivan Lane.” Hastings sat back and sighed. “Well, at least he has good taste. Sullivan Lane is a babe.”
Nick growled. He couldn’t help it. The sound just came out. A challenge, and an expression of acute displeasure. Hastings looked at him sharply.
“Sorry, Captain. She’s my babe,” Nick admitted, his inner cat wanting to yowl in triumph as his human side admitted it out loud for the first time. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”
“Yikes,” Hastings said, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “I don’t know whether to congratulate you or offer condolences. I will, however, wish you luck.” Hastings extended his hand across the table, and Nick took it for a strong shake, and a sign of Hastings’ good wishes.
“Thanks, Captain,” Nick replied, grinning.
“Call me Collin,” Hastings said offhandedly. “We’re out of the army now.”
“Then, I’m Nick,” he told the werehawk in just as friendly a tone.
It looked like they were going to be able to work well together, and Nick was relieved. Sometimes, officers were asses, and Nick hadn’t really been around Hastings enough to know whether he was a jerk or not. So far, it looked like he definitely wasn’t a jerk, which boded well for their mission.
They spent the next thirty minutes discussing the particulars of the security coverage. Nick went into detail about Sal’s schedule, and what they had planned to keep her safe while she made her public appearances. Nick didn’t, however, tell Hastings about the fact that Sal might still have damaging evidence of a jaguar shifter transforming on video. No, that was a secret he could not share with just anyone. Not yet.
If he managed to defuse the situation, then okay. If it turned out she didn’t have video, or if she had no intention of talking to anyone about what she had seen, then fine. He could chalk up the incident as a non-problem, and they could all get on with their lives. If, however, she managed to somehow make the alleged video public, then he was up shit’s creek already anyway, and it didn’t matter if he’d told Hastings or not.
For now, Nick was just going to keep that particular problem to himself. He’d either find the video and erase it or have a heart-to-heart with Sal about her intentions. Of course, if she was as attracted to him as he was to her, and she agreed to be his mate, then it wouldn’t matter if she had video evidence or not.
Human mates were allowed to know the secret. Their love for their mate and children would keep their silence on the subject, as it had for millennia. The mate bond was stronger than anything humans had, or felt, for each other. It was sacred. Special. Soul-deep.
If Sal was his mate, she wouldn’t expose his people. She couldn’t do that and truly be his mate. It was…unthinkable.
CHAPTER FIVE
When Sal woke, she didn’t know where she was. The room was beautiful in an Asian-opulence sort of way, but it was definitely one she had never seen before.
Nick’s place. That’s where she was. She remembered now. The horror of the night before made her sit up in bed.
She was still wearing the same loose clothing she had put on the night before. It slithered against the red silk of the sheets. She really looked around at the room and took in the design.
It was a little ostentatious for her tastes, but the red silk didn’t look tawdry in this setting. It fit beautifully with the Asian-inspired chrysanthemum motif. Big pink flowers were on the walls, with red and black accents. The furniture was high quality. Black lacquer cabinets and bed frame with red fabrics, like the silk sheets. The curtains were the same bold chrysanthemum pattern as on the walls, bordered with red and hanging on black lacquer rods with decorative finials. The pink was a shade that somehow worked perfectly with the bright red.
Professional design. It had to be. No way had Nick decorated this place himself. She just couldn’t picture the rough-and-tumble bodyguard choosing giant chrysanthemums as the basis for a guest room—and definitely not for his master bedroom. She found herself smiling at the mere thought.
Pushing the soft covers back, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and discovered her shoes, put neatly under the bed, just the heels sticking out, so she could readily see them. Nick must be a neatnik, if he’d done that. Her suspicions were confirmed when she also noted her overnight bag on top of the chest at the foot of the bed. It was unopened, but perfectly centered and sitting up straight on the chest, where she could easily find it.
Nick must have brought her in here. The last thing she remembered was sitting down on the plush couch. It had been super comfortable, and she must have fallen asleep, feeling safe at last. Something about Nick gave her that feeling. The other guards were great, but only with Nick did she feel safe enough to sleep without worry.
Of course, last night, that had almost been her undoing. Someone had gotten past all the men stationed in the grounds around her rented house. The man had somehow gotten into her bedroom.
Fear engulfed her once again—less than it had the night before, but still very potent—as she remembered waking up to find a huge form standing mere feet from her bed, looming over her in the dark. She’d seen something flash. A knife? Claws?
Claws? Crap.
Could this have something to do with those kids she’d seen at the director’s party? She still wasn’t one hundred percent certain she’d seen a boy transformed into a leopard. Maybe the one drink she’d allowed herself at the party had been spiked with something. People didn’t really turn into vicious animals, did they?
Then again, she had seen stranger things in her time. She’d heard stories, myths and legends about shapeshifters. Her mother’s people had always had such tales. But she hadn’t believed them. Not really. She just thought they were stories shared around a campfire or a hearth. Stories to tell children and give them something to fear besides the harsh realities of life.
Few people realized Sullivan Lane was part Navajo. Her mother had distanced herself from her Indian heritage. She’d turned her back on superstition
. Or so she’d told Sal during the sane times. The times when her wild magic wasn’t causing her to act out in ways the human world found unacceptable.
Sal had often thought that perhaps a Native American shaman could help her mother, but Sal didn’t have any connections in the community, and her mother was adamantly against having anything to do with that side of her heritage. Sal had never really understood why, but any time she brought up the idea, it provoked a violent episode, so she’d stopped talking about it.
She hadn’t stopped thinking about it, though. Getting help for her mom was still very important to her, but Sal didn’t quite know where to turn. She’d hoped that maybe now that she had real money coming in, she might be able to use some of it to track down real help for her mother, but she didn’t quite know where to start.
Sal had asked around a bit about the boy from the valet service, but she hadn’t been able to learn anything useful. Not even his name. She wasn’t even sure what she would do if she found him. How could a kid help her find help for her mother? Even if she wasn’t hallucinating and the kid really was a mythical skinwalker?
That’s what they called shapeshifters of Navajo legend. Sal had heard her mother use the term, but always with great fear. Sal had looked it up on the internet and what she’d found had left her feeling a bit of trepidation. Skinwalkers were said to have committed truly evil deeds in order to gain the power of shapeshifting. It wasn’t a benevolent thing, so if she really had seen the kid turn into a giant spotted cat, she probably should steer clear. She’d arrived at that conclusion after her web search and was glad she hadn’t been able to track down any information on the young man. Better to let sleeping dogs—or cats, in this case—lie.