What’s up with that?
“Mr Larousse.” Bea prodded him gently. “I don’t know where your home is.”
He scrambled up to sit. Bea helped him stand. He staggered.
“Where’s your car?” His voice was hoarse.
“I’ve parked over there.”
“Show me.”
Bea held him, half supporting his weight as he trudged towards her van. He sunk onto the passenger seat and immediately passed out.
Oh, Jesus. Bea sighed in frustration. Now what am I going to do?
She couldn’t call nine-one-one. He had forbidden her. But Alex seriously needed medical attention. Bea scurried to the other side and climbed in, rummaging for something she could use to stop the bleeding. She had her clothes in plastic bags in the back of the van. She began pulling at random. Shorts. No. Dress. No. Blazer. Hell no. She didn’t have many decent clothes to wear for work. An oversized Hello Kitty T-shirt that she usually wore to sleep. Hmm.
Bea pondered for two seconds. Fine. She could sacrifice it.
She got into the driver’s seat and yanked open Alex’s shirt. The wound still oozed blood. She balled the shirt and pressed hard on it to suppress the bleeding. Alex jerked and flailed. Bea yelped in surprise. She was thrown out from the driver’s seat. Tawny fur and something with paws flashed across her vision.
Her ass landed on cold, wet ground. Her back hit a rock. “Shit!” she wailed.
For a moment, she couldn’t believe what had just happened.
As a matter of fact, what had just happened?
Bea hoisted herself off the ground and froze.
A huge, male lion covered in tattered pieces of Alex’s clothes growled.
“Mr Larousse?” Bea called, unsure.
A pair of luminous yellow eyes cut to her direction.
Fuck. That’s a stupid move, idiot!
Bea thought the lion was going to pounce on her and eat her as a snack. To her relief, the big beast leapt away and disappeared into the bushes.
Bea numbly put her hand on her chest. Yep, her heart was still pumping. No, she hadn’t died from a heart attack.
She blinked.
What the hell was that?
Was that lion Alex?
Impossible.
Then, how could she explain where he had gone?
Forcing her legs to cooperate, she dragged herself to walk around to the passenger side. She found torn pieces of fabric. White. Light blue cotton. Black Italian wool that used to be Alex’s expensive suit. Torn black leather of his shoes. Alex had gone totally Incredible Hulk on her. Only, he hadn’t turned into a green giant with a terrible temper. He had gone lion.
It just didn’t make sense. A man didn’t just transform into a lion. It was scientifically impossible. That lion must have weighed roughly about six or seven hundred pounds. He was way bigger than any lion she had seen in the zoo. Alex weighed roughly one hundred and ninety pounds. He was tall and very well-muscled. A two-hundred-pound mass couldn’t just shift into a six-hundred mass without gaining it from somewhere. Like those Transformers movies. Cars morphed into huge robots. Didn’t make sense.
She must have been having one hell of an hallucination. She’d got high on Harlem River water.
But how about this evidence?
Alex’s blood was smeared over the passenger seat and some had got onto the dashboard as well. Bea noticed something on the ground near the front tyre. She bent down to pick it up. It was Alex’s wallet—a brown leather Gucci. Bea found his driver’s licence, credit cards and insurance cards in it. Money. A few hundred dollars, it seemed.
Bea slowly exhaled her breath through her clenched teeth. She was cold, wet and bewildered.
Alex, where are you?
What are you?
She trudged back into the other side of the van to change into dry clothes.
Alex didn’t remember exactly how he had gained entrance into Cat’s office. The next thing he knew, an irritated female voice was snapping him out of his lucid dream.
“Alexandre Larousse! How many times must I tell you, I don’t like seeing your naked butt.”
Ah, shit. He had heard his sister-in-law’s voice. Catherine. Gabe’s mate. She grumbled unhappily and fetched a blanket from somewhere then hastily draped it over his naked body.
Alex found himself slumped against the wall, near the reception desk. A vicious headache pounded his head. He felt as if he had been run over by a Mack truck. Dull pain began to form in his chest. Alex instinctively groped it and found the wound had completely mended. The bullet had torn his flesh but it had made a clear exit.
Someone had saved him from the river. A woman.
Bea.
Beatrice. His new receptionist. The woman he had tried to protect.
He remembered the man in a trench coat. Bullets. Water. And Bea. She’d tried to wake him.
Had Bea saved him from drowning? Fuck. How the hell had she done that?
And what had she been doing by the Harlem River?
He sat straight and checked himself. He was dirty. Smelt like a mouldy and damp closet that hadn’t been cleaned for years. Not a single thread covered his body. He had lost his gun, clothes, shoes and wallet. A dry leaf was stuck to his knee. Alex smelt coffee. His stomach suddenly gave a nudge of hunger. “You got coffee?”
“Yeah. And doughnuts.” Cat crouched next to him. She looked fresh, with minimal makeup. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail. Her conservative clothes made her look younger than she really was.
“Can I have some?”
“Sure. Just do something about your nude habit first. I know it’s natural for lions to prance around bare-assed in the wild. Just not in Jersey. We’ve seen enough weirdoes. Thank you.”
Alex got up and made himself decent with the ratty old blanket Cat had given him. Where did she get this stuff? He wondered if Cat used to have a dog. The blanket smelt like one. Or a cat. How nice. “Happy?”
“Very,” Cat replied blandly.
He sank on the chair in front of the receptionist desk. Cat got two mugs and divided the Venti Starbucks cappuccino between them. She pushed one mug in his direction. He drank it with delight as Cat opened a bag of doughnuts she’d got from De Sals, a bakery two blocks down from the agency’s office.
The coffee was good, but the doughnuts were excellent. He had already eaten two when he eyed Cat’s share. “Can I have that one?” he asked. The glazed doughnuts were practically melting in his mouth.
“What? You go get yourself some if you still want more.” Cat guarded her doughnuts.
“I would, but I’m naked and got no money.”
Cat rolled her eyes and gave him the one doughnut left.
Alex demolished it in three bites. God. It felt so good to have something in his stomach. Especially after shifting. And especially after being shot. Healing took a lot of energy. He drank the rest of the coffee in several large gulps, not caring that it was scalding his tongue.
His sister-in-law studied him. “Wanna tell me what happened to you? You busted the front door. I’m going to bill you for that.”
Alex turned around. The door she had mentioned was clinging on one sorry-looking hinge. He cringed. “Don’t remember doing that. I went to meet someone. Got shot. Fell into a river. Went lion.” He shrugged. “That’s about it.”
Cat’s eyebrow arched. “I want to ask if you’re okay…” Her gaze slid to the scar on his right shoulder. After what had happened in Africa a few months ago, nothing seemed to surprise her at this point. His work as a CSO for the firm had him skating around danger often. “I assume you’re okay. Was it top secret?” she asked.
Of course it was top secret. The blackmails. The threat. Bea. He wanted to sort out one thing at a time. The firm was worth billions. Some miscreants always looked for a way to profit from them. It was his responsibility to weed out those scumbags. His job. Ren’s job was to make the company more profitable. Gabe’s was to run the ship. Was. Gabe had talked about making him t
he CEO so he could spend more time with Cat to start a family. “For now, yes. Where’s Gabe?”
“He has a meeting with the lawyers. Company business. Did you get shot on behalf of company business, too?”
“Curiosity killed the cat, Cat.”
“Hey, my nickname is Kitty. It’s my nature to be curious.”
“Stay out of this one.”
“Uh-oh. Sure.”
“I mean it.”
“Yeah, yeah. Geez, mister, have you got a bug in your ass?”
“No. You tend to nose around where you don’t belong. I just don’t want to rescue you from a trunk of car. Again.”
Her lips tightened. Ever since he’d known her—the past few months—Cat had shown she had knack of being kidnapped or ending up in a foreign country. She wriggled her hand exasperatedly.
“Fine. I thought as your sister-in-law, I’m entitled to know what happened to you after I found you naked in my office. You know, family bond thing? Since I married your brother?”
“All I can say right now is that I’m doing damage control.” Alex wiped his mouth with the paper napkin. “I need to borrow your car.”
Cat reached into her purse and fished out her keys. “That must be one hell of a damage control.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“You know, since you don’t have your wallet with you, technically, you’ll be driving without your licence. And that would be illegal. Maybe I should take you home and…”
“No. I don’t think so. Stay put, Cat.”
“I’m hurt.”
“Don’t call Gabe about this. I’m going to tell him myself.” Alex snatched the keys from her hand and got up.
“Fine. You owe me the door.”
“Send me the bill.”
“It’s going to cost you an arm and a leg.”
“Let my accountant worry about it.”
“I hate your accountant.”
Alex snorted a laugh as he walked past the ruined door. He cocked a finger in her direction one more time. “Like I said, stay put.”
Chapter Two
Her boss hadn’t gone to work today.
Bea had tried his cell phone, several times, but it had gone straight to voicemail. She had asked Ms Krueger if she knew why he was absent and Ms Krueger had said Mr Larousse was simply indisposed at the moment. Bea should reschedule all Alex’s meetings until further notice.
Alex was in trouble. She knew it. Her boss had never gone away without informing her where he would be and what he would be doing. He was a stickler for his appointments. What had happened last night wasn’t only her imagination. She had proof. Alexandre Larousse could shift into a lion, absurd as it sounded. And someone had shot him.
Was he hurt?
Not knowing if he was okay was driving her nuts. She couldn’t concentrate at work. Every ten minutes she itched to dial his cell phone, hoping he would pick it up. Did Gabriel and Renaud even know their brother had been shot? She knew Renaud was in London right now and Gabriel was in some kind of important meeting where he couldn’t be bothered even if an earthquake shook the entire city. Ms Krueger had said so. Bea wondered if Ms Krueger knew the very nature of her boss.
Since she had left her father’s house, Bea preferred to stay late in the office where she could surf the Internet and use the break room for free coffee and snacks. Today, she couldn’t wait to get out of work fast enough.
In her van, Bea took out Alex’s wallet from her purse and stared at it for a while, thinking about what she should do.
It just didn’t make sense. Her boss had got shot and had missed work and nobody had seemed to miss him. Well, she’d missed him. Arrogant jerk as he was. He never said thank you, was snappish and always glowered at her. Even when she didn’t do anything wrong. Granted, she had only been working for him less than a month and she hadn’t absorbed the dynamic pace under his direct supervision, but she felt she didn’t do that bad a job. He’d hired her to screen his calls, take care of his mail and bring him coffee every morning. It wasn’t a brain surgeon’s gig. Still, it made her wonder why on earth she’d got the job in the first place if he didn’t like her.
Bea wanted to not like him.
She couldn’t. She’d had the hots for him ever since she had met him that day. Her crush had got worse after she had become his receptionist. Pathetic, indeed. Alex was a rich man. Educated. Very good-looking. And ten years older than her. Meanwhile, she was broke. College dropout and now homeless. He was so far out of her league, but Bea couldn’t help it. Each time they locked gaze, she wanted to melt under his sharp stare. Whenever he talked in his deep, authoritative voice, her body shimmered with need. The man possessed a certain animalistic power that drew her to him. God only knew how many other women had fallen for him. Half the city, perhaps. Maybe she was nothing but his fan girl. She could live with that. She shouldn’t be ashamed. Alexandre Larousse was really something.
But now, he was in trouble.
She opened Alex’s wallet and pulled out his driver’s licence. Her heart gave a quick stir. Even in his DMV photo Alex looked good. Copper hair. Lush eyebrows. Intelligent eyes. They were an unusual shade of amber. Feline amber. Like when he was a lion. His expression was as serious as ever.
Her gaze darted to the address beside the photo. The building Alex lived in was only five blocks away from the office. And she had heard from Ms Krueger that he lived on the sixtieth floor or something.
Hmm.
Technically, she had a solid reason to visit him at home to return his wallet. He might need it. All of his important IDs were in it. He couldn’t drive around without his licence. Or buy stuff without his credit cards. What if he needed to go to the hospital from the gunshot wound he’d suffered? He would need his Blue Cross insurance card.
Bea tucked Alex’s driver’s licence back into the wallet and shoved the whole thing into her purse. That was it. She decided to give Alex a visit. He might be at home and sick. And she simply needed to know what had happened to him.
She started the engine then drove out of the parking lot.
It took her fifteen minutes to get into Alex’s building. Bea’s hand trembled as she emerged from the parking elevator to the grand lobby. The place was a mix between commercial and residential. There were cafés, restaurants and gift shops on the ground base. Offices and a boutique hotel were on the upper levels. She sauntered across the atrium as if she belonged in the place and headed into another elevator near to the reception area. The elevator from the basement lot didn’t reach the sixtieth floor.
The elevator door closed. Bea was secretly glad she was wearing her best business suit. Her other clothes needed cleaning and she had reserved this one for special occasions. She didn’t feel she stuck out like a sore thumb among the people in this building. The black pantsuit with the pink silk blouse she was wearing had cost her a week’s wage. And a pair of black, four-inch-heel pumps that she’d got on sale in J.C. Penney made her taller than her five-foot-three-inch frame. She looked proper. Like a low-paid administrative employee. The truth wasn’t far from that.
She clutched her cheap, imitation leather purse, feeling self-conscious when her gaze drifted to the businesswoman who was standing next to her. Her handbag was genuine Birkin. How nice. It would probably cost a year of her salary. Bea directed her gaze down and studied the tips of her shoes as the elevator brought her to Alex’s floor.
Bea didn’t know that the sixtieth floor was a private storey. As soon as the elevator doors opened, she was greeted by the view of a large, marble-plastered reception room that was manned with men packing guns. They weren’t typical building guards in uniform. These men were dressed in impeccable suits, their weapons bulging from under their jackets. She stepped out with uncertainty. One of the security men spotted her. He slipped out from his desk, holding some kind of metal wand. It was a portable metal detector, the same as the ones they used in the federal buildings. The device beeped at her purse. Before she knew it,
the man had her surrendering her bag. He checked the contents before he even said a word. Nothing alarming. Her set of keys had made the metal detector whine. Another guy flawlessly gave her a pat down.
Jesus on Crackpot. She wouldn’t have guessed the security in her boss’ floor would be tighter than the airport.
“Your name?” the first guy demanded.
“Beatrice Summer. I’m Mr Alex Larousse’s receptionist.”
“Let me see some ID.”
Bea snatched her wallet from the upturned contents of her purse. “Here.” She showed him her driver’s licence.
The guy seemed satisfied. “What’s the purpose of your visit?”
“Work related.”
He shot her a laser beam kind of look.
“It’s an important message that I must give Mr Larousse in person.” If she’d said she was going to return Alex’s wallet, the man would have demanded it instantly. And she would have no reason to meet Alex.
The man checked his computer screen. “Mr Alex Larousse isn’t in his apartment at present. Try later.”
“Do you know when he’ll be home?”
“No, I don’t. Do you want to leave a message?”
She pondered. “I think I’ll try his cell again.”
The man helped her put back the contents of her purse. Bea shouldered it cautiously and threw him a weak smile. He didn’t return it. His face was stony.
“Thank you.” Bea said it anyway just to be polite.
He didn’t respond.
What an ass.
The elevator door opened. Gabriel Larousse and several men stepped out. Mr Cold Security Guy snapped straight at the sight of his boss. “Good evening, sir,” he greeted. His tone changed. Totally kiss-ass mode.
Bea mumbled the same. She had seen Gabriel Larousse several times in Alex’s office. He was nice and friendlier than her own boss. He looked just like Alex, handsome and authoritative, only he was a couple of years older. He had recently married a detective called Cat Kovac. The wedding had caused the whole office to buzz for weeks.
Maiden and the Lion Page 2