Tiger’s Trap

by Susan Hayes

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2014 Susan Hayes

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-792-5

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: Laurie Temple

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  For Karen, who got me into this crazy business.

  For my parents, who always support me no matter what.

  And for my readers, who take my stories and breathe life into the words I've written.

  Thank you

  TIGER TRAP

  Finders Keepers, 1

  Susan Hayes

  Copyright © 2014

  Chapter One

  Doyle Frost was in a vile mood, and it was getting worse with every snowflake that fell outside. “Why is it that none of Rafe’s clients ever want something retrieved from Tahiti or Bora Bora, somewhere with blue water, women in bikinis and copious amounts of rum? Instead he sends me to the fucking arctic, where the people are blue with cold and there’s a copious amount of snow. Snow! I’m a tiger, not a fucking yeti.”

  “Dude, you’re a white tiger. You want to be sent to the tropics? Dye your fur.” Seth grinned at him from his seat behind the wheel of the cube van they had acquired for this job.

  Doyle was in the passenger seat, watching the snow fall as they waited for sunset. Behind them, Seth’s twin brother, Sean was already tinkering with his surveillance set up, activating feeds and carefully tapping into the security systems they’d need to bypass to pull off their mission. The painting they were re-acquiring for their client was well guarded against theft, which was not a surprise given that the current owner had hired someone to steal it for him.

  Maya and Alan, Rafe’s other surveillance team, had done the preliminary setup already. They left town yesterday, leaving everything the second team would need at the drop point in Calgary.

  “You two pups are sure you’ve got this sussed out?” Doyle cocked a white-blond brow at Seth, who flicked a chunk of dark hair out of his eyes with his middle finger before answering him. “I’m insulted. We have this handled. It’s our job, remember?”

  Sean chimed in, letting his wolf come out enough to add a rough growl to his words. “And who are you calling a pup? We’re only a few years younger than you.”

  Doyle straightened his shoulders and slipped into the Irish brogue that he rarely let anyone hear. “Not even close, lad. I was a man grown before you two were more ‘n a gleam in your Da’s eyes. You should know better ‘n to judge a shifter’s age by his face. We don’t age the same as humans.”

  Both wolf shifters stared at him for a minute, and Doyle enjoyed the momentary silence. He knew it wouldn’t last. The twins had talked most of the flight north to Canada, filling the cabin of their private jet with incessant chatter. Then they’d proceeded to talk and bicker all the way from Calgary to Banff. If they tried that on the drive back, he might just kill them both and bury the bodies at the side of the road.

  It hadn’t been easy to drive by the elegant resorts, knowing that they wouldn’t be staying a single night. Banff was a world class playground for the rich, and Doyle would have liked to stay and play for a while in one of the luxurious hotels they passed. Safely out of the godforsaken snow and foul weather of course, preferably in a hot tub with room service, brandy and a willing woman to pass the time.

  Doyle’s boss, Rafe, had made it clear that there would be no time for indulgences. No wine, no women, and no gourmet meals. The lion shifter who owned F.K. Incorporated was loyal and devoted to his cause, but he absolutely had no appreciation for the finer things in life.

  “This is as dark as it’s going to get,” Sean said.

  Doyle glanced out the window and nodded in agreement. It was time to go. He stood and made his way to the back of the van, easing himself through the cramped space.

  “Everything you need is in the pack. The earpiece is in the front pocket, don’t forget to use it,” Sean’s expression was completely serious as he set the pack near the back doors. “We’ll be watching, and if anything comes up, we’ll let you know.”

  Doyle frowned. He’d forgotten that the twins weren’t old enough to have developed the talent for speaking mind-to-mind with shifters outside their immediate family. That meant he’d have to rely on technology to communicate. He preferred not to trust his freedom to gadgets. They had a tendency to fail at the worst possible moment.

  Resigning himself to the situation, Doyle removed his shoes and then stripped out of his clothing, carefully folding each piece. He set his shirt down atop his jeans and then looked to the pups. “That’s a four-hundred dollar shirt. If either of you so much as breathe on it I will break one of you in half and make the grief-stricken survivor buy me a new one.”

  Seth’s eyes widened, but he nodded silently and reached out to grab a half-devoured bag of chips, putting down a safe distance from the neatly folded garments.

  Smart pup.

  Doyle stepped over to the doors and braced himself for the cold.

  “Good luck,” both twins spoke at the same time and he couldn’t help but smile a little. Not that he let them see it.

  “You make sure you keep a sharp eye out. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” With that, he threw open the doors, letting the icy chill wash over him. Doyle jumped into the snow and swore in three different languages as his bare feet vanished into a drift that came up to his knees and his balls shriveled and tried to retreat back into his body where it was still warm.

  Fucking hell, it’s freezing out here!

  The sooner he got this over with, the faster he could be thawing out on the flight back home to Washington State. He summoned his tiger, and the shift brought with it the familiar flash of heat as bone and muscle reconfigured themselves from man to animal.

  He welcomed the warmth.

  The moment it was done his tiger expressed its joy at being free with a low roar that rumbled across the snow. He turned, gripped the bag in his teeth and set off toward the house. It was over a mile away, but his tiger would make the run in minutes. Once he was there, he would have to shift again, and then again on the way out. As Doyle bounded through the twilight, he started making a list of all the ways Rafe was going to make this up to him when he got home. Freezing his balls off four times in one day was not part of his fucking contract.

  ****

  The gods seemed to be smiling on her, and Tessa Banks wasn’t sure whether to be happy or nervous that things were going so well. All she knew was that when she’d forced open the front door and rushed to deactivate the alarm system, she’d discovered it was already in standby mode. It didn’t seem possible that the bastard who owned this place would be stupid enough to forget to set the alarm, but why else wouldn’t it be on? Well, there was one other possibility, but what were the odds that someone else was breaking in at the same time she was? Tessa dismissed the idea with a near soundless chuckle.

  I’m more likely to get attacked by a great white shark right here in the hallway.

  She’d met the owner of this house only once, the day he’d hired her to steal the painting she was now here to steal back. It was the only way she was ever going to see the money he owed her. The son of a bitch had happily paid her in cash, as per her request. She’d checked to confirm the money was accounted for, but she hadn�
�t looked close enough, and she missed the fact that nearly half the payment was in counterfeit bills. When Tessa had tried to contact him, the bastard had simply dropped off the radar. It had taken some serious digging to track him down.

  It cost her dearly to gain the details of this place’s security setup and a basic blueprint, but now she had a decent chance of finding the Monet in this massive mansion. There was a void in the plans, a large space that took up the center of the second floor. There were no markings or notes as to what the room was intended for, and Tessa was betting that would be where she would find her painting, on display with the rest of Christophe’s most beloved, ill-gotten treasures.

  Tessa shook her blonde bangs out of her face and punched in the code that would deactivate the sensors that guarded the interior of the house. She watched as more green lights appeared on the security panel. It looked like her luck was holding. Tessa slung her pack onto her shoulder and headed for the stairs at a jog. Fate was a fickle bitch, and Tessa had no intention of staying long enough for something to go wrong.

  Halfway up the stairs the hairs on the back of her neck stood up and a strange new sensation sent her senses into overdrive. Somewhere deep inside her, the leopard half of her soul stirred and chuffed softly as she drew in a mouthful of air and sampled it, looking for … what the fuck was she looking for anyway? Tessa shook her head and forced the leopard to the back of her mind. Whatever her cat was looking for, she was going to have to wait. The painting came first.

  By the time she reached the second floor, Tessa’s leopard was snarling and demanding her attention. Something was off, but Tessa couldn’t understand what it was. There was no danger that she could sense, no threat she could detect, and yet her leopard was yowling incessantly, demanding that she do something.

  When you figure it out, let me know, will you? Until then, shut up and let me focus.

  Three deep, cleansing breaths helped to quiet the noise inside her mind, and Tessa jogged down the main hallway, ignoring the fortune in paintings that lined the walls and the artfully lit recesses that contained relics and artifacts from every corner of the globe. Her footsteps were completely muffled by the deep pile carpet beneath her boots, the black and bronze pattern strangely hypnotic.

  The door at the end of the corridor was hammered bronze, framed on both sides by pillars of black marble that made it seem as if one was approaching a mythical treasure room. Her painting had to be locked away behind it.

  She dropped to a crouch in front of the door and began checking for alarms and other security measures. It would suck to get this close and then set off an alarm that wasn’t in the plans. Only when she was certain the door was clear did she stand up and slowly crack it open. Beyond it was an art lover’s idea of heaven.

  Chapter Two

  The first whiff of her scent hit him as he left the treeline. Doyle’s stride lengthened, going from an effortless lope to a sprint as he chased that elusive fragrance right up to the door of the estate.

  Mate.

  Of all the times to find his mate, it had to be now? Doyle raised his muzzle to the falling snow and snarled in frustration. Somewhere in that house was his mate, and the Monet he’d been sent to retrieve. For the first time in his career, Doyle was going off target. Nothing would stop him from finding his mate. Nothing, and no one.

  He wanted to charge in, to seek her out and claim her. His mate’s scent was rich, tantalizing enough to cloud his human mind and allow his tiger to dominate. It was only by sheer will that he reined the beast in, reminding it that there were still security measures in place. He had to speak to the wolves, get them to deactivate the barriers so he could find his mate.

  He shifted to human and the bitter chill helped him focus. Made him more human, but even then Doyle could feel the beast pacing just beneath the surface of his mind. In this form his sense of smell was lessened, but he could still taste her perfume lingering on the air. His cock surged to life despite the cold, hard enough he could have battered the door with it. Not that he needed to. Someone had left the goddamned door open. Doyle tore open the pack, the biting cold numbing his fingers and slowing him down as he fumbled for the Bluetooth style earpiece. He got it into his ear at last and flicked it on with a shaking hand.

  “I’m here. Deactivate everything, right fucking now!” he snarled, the tiger coming through in every word he uttered. His mate’s scent was everywhere. He needed to find her. Fuck her. Claim her for his own.

  “Calm down, dude. We’re on it,” one of them replied, he couldn’t tell which one.

  “You don’t understand. My mate. She’s here. Now. I have to find her.” Doyle was hauling clothing out of the pack as he spoke, dressing as quickly as he could in the black jogging pants and T-shirt that he found inside.

  “Holy fuck. Did you say your mate is there?”

  “Did I stutter, pup? She’s here. Now get me the fuck inside.”

  “Uh, yeah. About that. Someone’s already deactivated the sensors from the main panel.”

  Fuck. So either his mate was another thief, or she was involved with the owner. After more than a hundred years, the gods had picked a hell of a day to go screwing with not only his sex life, but his career. He stamped his feet into the cheap shoes he’d found at the bottom of the bag and sprinted into the house. His mate’s scent was stronger here, saturating the air and showing him the way.

  Doyle took the stairs two at a time, then three, ignoring the twins’ questions as he tore through the ornately decorated house. He hit the landing at the top of the stairs and followed the alluring fragrance of his woman down the long corridor, fighting to keep his tiger in check with every step he took. He wanted to know her name and her taste. What she would sound like when she laughed? When she cried out his name in pleasure? He wanted to know everything about the woman he’d never expected to find. Above all else, though, he wanted to feel her body beneath his as he took her and claimed her for his own.

  Barely slowing, he passed the doorway to what his intel indicated would be the main display area for Christophe Heinz’s collection of stolen goods. Normally, Doyle would have paused to reflect on the beauty all around him, but not this time. This time he only had eyes for the captivating creature who was staring at him from the far side of the room.

  Fucking hell, she was gorgeous. Petite and curvy, with a tumbling mane of golden blonde hair that framed her face and set off the startling green of her eyes. Eyes that were currently wide with shock.

  Mate.

  The word bounced around the inside of his skull as lust seared his veins. He snarled, baring his fangs. She curled her lip in answer, her eyes widening as her nostrils flared and understanding dawned in those beautiful eyes. “No!”

  Well, that wasn’t a word Doyle heard very often.

  His beautiful mate hurriedly crammed something into a bag and set it down by her feet. A quick scan of the walls showed him exactly what was in the bag, one of a series of paintings of water lilies. His mate was a thief, and she was stealing the same damned thing he was here to retrieve.

  As far as he was concerned, there was only one possible explanation for this state of affairs. Fate was a fickle bitch with a wicked sense of humor.

  “My name is Doyle Frost, and I believe you have two things that belong to me, love.” His brogue was back, proof that his control was slipping, badly.

  “And what might that be?” she asked, her voice somehow managing to be both sensual and full of challenge at the same time.

  “Well, for one thing, that’s my client’s painting you have in your bag. I’ll be having it back, if you don’t mind.”

  Her eyes darkened and she shook her head in denial. “It’s mine. You can’t have it. Not the painting, and not anything else you might be thinking to claim.”

  “Is that so?” he challenged and prowled across the room, doing his best to ignore the steel rod that had replaced his cock and the demanding roar of his tiger who wanted nothing but to take what was his.

>   She held her ground until he was only two feet in front of her, but then her gaze lowered to his very obvious erection and she took a step back. “No.”

  “You keep saying that word as if it’s going to change anything, my beauty. It won’t.” He lunged for her, grabbing her and hauling her roughly into his arms. He couldn’t wait any longer.

  “You’re mine.”

  ****

  “Like hell I am!” Tessa summoned her claws and raked them down Doyle’s chest, which merely shredded the fabric to reveal his muscled torso. What god had she pissed off that they would present her mate to her now? She was in the middle of a job … and apparently so was he.

  The same job.

  She snarled again, but the scent of her mate was making it hard to hold onto her anger. All she wanted was to rub up against him, lick him, bite him and fuck him hard.

  Shit.

  Her leopard was completely enthralled, the traitorous cat howling inside her head, insisting she accept her mate. Doyle gripped her hair, tugging her head back sharply so that she was looking up into his face.

  Holy shit, he’s gorgeous.

  He had ice-blue eyes and the chiselled features of a model, masked by a close cropped beard that was only a few shades darker than his hair. He was tall and powerfully built, like most cat shifters, but she couldn’t tell what species he was. Not that she’d had a lot of experience with her own kind.

  “Your name, mate. Tell me your name.”

  “Tessa. I’m Tessa Banks.”

  “Hello, Tessa.” The way he whispered her name made her heart do a slow somersault in her chest. She opened her mouth to answer, but his lips crashed down her hers, fierce, feral, and demanding. Her resistance crumbled in an instant as the full force of the mating fever hit her. There was no fighting it. No stopping the inevitable. This was her mate, and she needed him to claim her. Here. Now.