Shifter Secrets: Shifter Romance Collection

by Juniper Hart

  “I am just mentioning it—”

  “I wish you wouldn’t!” Ansel snapped. “And leave me be.”

  Louis threw up his hands.

  “It is my job to look out for you,” he replied. “And I don’t want to see you fail.”

  “You mean you don’t want to see yourself fail,” Ansel retorted. “God knows you live vicariously through me.”

  It was a cheap shot, but Ansel didn’t care; Louis clammed up, folding his arms over his chest in silence.

  Thank God. I can’t deal with him right now.

  He pushed down the guilt he felt in his gut. After all, Louis was not entirely wrong.

  When the trainer had first discovered him, Ansel had still been licking his wounds and pining for Nora. He had been uprooted from his home and separated from his brothers. Alcohol had been a welcome distraction, but it had also deterred him from his budding career.

  Louis had weaned him off the sauce and into a celebrity, but Ansel had grown overconfident. After he had began to gain notoriety, he had found himself partying harder than he should have. It had taken Louis a long while to get Ansel back on track, and he had every right to worry about his investment.

  Just not today, Ansel thought firmly. He wished that Louis had stayed back in the States, but for some inexplicable reason, he had decided to travel back to Ansel’s townhouse in London with him.

  “I’m resting for a month,” Ansel warned him when they boarded the United Airlines flight to Heathrow Airport. “I am not training heavily until March.”

  “I know,” Louis quickly replied. “I’m not expecting you to do anything until after Easter.”

  Ansel sighed.

  “Then why are you coming home with me?” he demanded, hating that he sounded so rude in his bluntness.

  Louis stared at the floor as Ansel continued to gaze at him, like there was something remarkable on the tiles beneath their feet. They shuffled toward the first-class gate, and Louis still seemed to be grappling for the right answer.

  “I thought maybe we could…” He didn’t finish his sentence.

  “You thought we could what?” Ansel pressed on, and Louis let a sigh escape his lips.

  “I met a girl,” he confessed.

  “What?” Ansel asked in disbelief, chuckling. “When?”

  “At that mixer for the lightweights in Liverpool,” Louis answered. “She lives in London, and we’ve been emailing…”

  “Well, why didn’t you say so!” Ansel cried jovially, clapping his mentor on his back. “I can’t wait to meet her!”

  But as Ansel sat restlessly on the flight over the Atlantic, he wished he had left Louis at the airport in Vegas.

  I hope his girlfriend in London works out, because I don’t have time to babysit him, he thought grimly. And I sure as hell don’t have any patience for mending a broken heart.

  He didn’t remind himself that Louis had spent more time babysitting him than any grown man should.

  The flight attendant dropped his scotch and soda on the tray before him, offering Ansel an alluring smile.

  “Anything else for you, Mr. Williams?” she asked coyly, and Ansel shook his head curtly.

  “No. Thank you.”

  “Very well,” said the flight attendant, walking away.

  Ansel could feel Louis’ eyes on him, and he closed his own lids to avoid further conversation.

  Come to me, Nora, he thought, his mind reaching out for her. Tell me where you are exactly.

  But there was no response. He tried to retrace their last encounter, to imagine where she might have gone from the time she had stormed off. The world was at her fingertips, though, and he knew it. If she had wanted to put as much distance between them as possible, a few hours were enough time for her to have gone anywhere.

  The shame inside him threatened to bubble over as he realized she may have been in danger for years.

  In the last decade, she did not visit me in dreams like she used to, and that wasn’t enough to clue you in that something was wrong, he scolded himself. You are fated to one another, and yet you never questioned her absence.

  Ansel could not change the past, and he needed to remind himself of that. All he could do was act in the present and hope he was not too late to bring her home to him, where she belonged.

  A tiny blonde girl jumped from a waiting Mercedes and ran toward them, her face twisted in a smile of happiness.

  “There is Tanya,” Louis muttered, and Ansel nodded.

  “Good,” he mumbled. “You have a ride.”

  “Darling!” Tanya cried, throwing her arms around Louis and kissing him on the mouth, her green eyes glinting with happiness. “You’re finally here!”

  Ansel stared at the duo and idly wondered how long Louis had been seeing this girl. It was clear there was a level of comfort between them that couldn’t have grown in only a few days, and Ansel tried to recall a time that Louis had ever had a girlfriend.

  He could not.

  “Tanya Simmons,” Louis said, “this is my dear friend—”

  “Oh, Louie, everyone with eyes and ears knows Ansel Williams!” she squealed, embracing Ansel without any warning. “I am so thrilled to finally meet you! Louie talks about you all the time!”

  Ansel glanced at Louis, whose face had turned crimson with embarrassment.

  “Lovely to meet you,” he replied. “You will see that Louie gets where he’s going then?”

  The couple gaped at him in surprise.

  “I can drop you at your flat,” Tanya replied. “It was all part of the plan.”

  “No, thank you,” Ansel said. “I will just hail a taxi.”

  Louis scowled slightly.

  “Where are you going?” he demanded. “You need to rest after your flight.”

  “And I will rest,” Ansel assured him. “After I return from taking care of something important.”

  “It is no trouble,” Tanya hurriedly added. “If that is your concern. I had already intended to drive you home. I am surprised that Louis did not prepare you.”

  “I am not going with you,” Ansel said flatly. “But I would appreciate it if you take my bags to my townhouse. My man, James, should still be awake, but if he does not answer, just use your key.”

  Louis snickered. “Oh, no,” he snapped. “I am not your servant. You can take your bags with you, or you can come with us. It’s your decision.”

  Ansel gritted his teeth in annoyance. He could not bring his luggage with him to Switzerland, and if Louis was going to be stubborn… He was obviously still annoyed at Ansel because of what he’d said in the flight.

  There is no point in fighting with him, Ansel thought with a sigh. We’re both exhausted. I will simply leave from my house.

  “Very well,” Ansel agreed. “I will go with you.”

  Tanya visibly exhaled, as if she had been expecting a brawl.

  “Wonderful!” she exclaimed with too much enthusiasm, and Ansel glared at his trainer. Louis didn’t seem to notice. “Where do you live, love?” Tanya asked cheerfully after they had climbed into her vehicle.

  “He lives in Chelsea,” Louis volunteered.

  “As do I!” she squealed. “What part?”

  Ansel cringed inwardly. The thought of having this woman for a neighbor was excruciating. Luckily for him, he could always avoid any potential friendship with her under the guise of training. Ansel gave her his address, and Tanya maintained a happy babbling all the way from the airport to their borough.

  In ten minutes, Ansel thought between her yapping, I will be in my front door, and in half an hour, I will be heading out of the country again.

  As they pulled onto Beaufont Street, heading toward the River Thames, Ansel was struck by a sense of déjà vu, like he had driven by the Thames before—or at least walked by it. He remembered that Nora had always loved to stand by the river and think.

  Ansel wondered if maybe he had captured Nora’s memory, rather than recall his own.

  “Is this yours the
n, love?” Tanya asked as she pulled toward his townhouse.

  Ansel nodded, but his brow furrowed when he noticed the police vehicles parked at the curb.

  “What’s going on?” he wondered aloud.

  “We left them back in Vegas and they followed us home,” Louis chuckled, but Ansel did not smile as he slowly got out of Tanya’s car.

  When they had left the Bellagio that morning, there had been half a dozen law enforcement cars parked in the lot, including a crime scene van. Louis had made a glib comment about them, but Ansel had barely paid him any attention. After all, they were in America. It was hardly an uncommon sight.

  But there was something unnerving about what seemed to be the entirety of Scotland Yard waiting for him as he pulled his luggage from the trunk of the car.

  Louis stepped from the passenger seat, and they looked up as a man and a woman slowly descended the steps leading to Ansel’s front door.

  “Good evening,” the woman called. “Do you live here?”

  “Yes,” Ansel said. “My name is Ansel Williams. What can I do for you?”

  The man’s face lit up. “You really are The Dragon, aren’t ya?’

  Ansel nodded, his eyes narrowing as he dropped the bags to his side.

  “I am. What is this about?”

  “I am Inspector Watkins, and this is Inspector Valentino,” the woman explained. “We have a few questions for you about Carolyn Halpstern.”

  Louis and Ansel exchanged a glance.

  “I’m sorry,” Ansel replied. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”

  Louis shrugged to confirm his ignorance. “Who is she?”

  “I’m sorry, you are?” asked the man.

  “Louis Brandt. I am Ansel’s trainer. We were in Las Vegas together.”

  They inspectors looked at one another.

  “And you’re certain you don’t know Carolyn Halpstern?” asked Inspector Watkins.

  Again, Louis and Ansel peered at one another blankly.

  “I am afraid it doesn’t ring a bell. Have you a photograph? We meet a lot of people day to day,” Ansel explained.

  Who is this woman? he thought, wracking his brain. He still came up empty-handed.

  “That is very interesting, Mr. Williams, because we have witnesses who saw you together in Las Vegas, at the bar of the Bellagio,” Inspector Watkins supplied, handing him a picture.

  Again, Ansel shook his head, reaching to look at the picture.

  “I have no idea—” His sentence trailed off as he recognized the woman from the photo. “Oh! Carrie?” he realized, laughing slightly and returning the picture to the inspector. “Yes, of course. I didn’t know that was her name, she just introduced herself as Carrie. Sorry. What about her?”

  The police officers did not smile, and Ansel felt a slight chill of apprehension flow through him.

  “So you do know her?” Inspector Valentino pressed. “How well would you say you were acquainted?”

  Ansel did not like the implication of his tone, and he was suddenly very aware that they were in the middle of his street.

  “If you’re asking me if we’re sexually acquainted,” he said, “then yes. Yes, we are. Why, what is she saying I did?” He gestured towards his home. “Shall we go inside?”

  He couldn’t imagine that the passionate brunette had turned on him after their experiences together, but unfortunately, it didn’t surprise him. After he had risen in the world of boxing, he had expected a day like this to come.

  If she’s looking for a payout, she is going to have about as much luck as Tony Valducci, Ansel thought grimly. It was a shame—he was not looking forward to burning Carrie’s house down.

  “She is not saying anything, Mr. Williams,” Inspector Watkins said flatly. “She’s been murdered.”

  Ansel had no chance to react to the news before Inspector Valentino interceded.

  “Perhaps we should continue this conversation inside after all, sir.”

  10

  I must not drink the tea, Nora thought when she woke that morning, her brain a fog of confusion. I must stay alert and hidden from the staff. I must get out of here before Jerome returns.

  She had lost a day, swimming in and out of consciousness as Collette kept a close eye on her.

  Ansel had not returned to her in her dreams, and she began to wonder if she had lost him forever. But that was not something she could afford to dwell on. She needed to devise a plan, and it began with leaving the tea.

  It proved to be harder than she anticipated.

  Collette was at her side more often than Nora ever remembered. She had to keep her wits about her and run from the prison she was being kept in. How long would it take her to reach Lucerne on foot if she simply slipped out the door? She had no idea, and in the bitter February temperatures, there was no guarantee that she would make it.

  That left stealing one of the cars parked in the garage.

  Can I even drive? Nora asked herself in despair. She could not recall the semantics of handling a vehicle, but that didn’t mean she would not remember them once she got inside a car. It didn’t matter; it was the only way she could assure she put some distance between herself and her captors.

  Nora hadn’t completely forsaken the idea of enlisting an ally, but it wasn’t Collette she had in mind. Alex was newer to the household. She might believe Nora if only the brunette could get her alone and away from Collette.

  “Mademoiselle Nora, I have your breakfast,” Collette called from the sitting room. “May I enter?”

  Though question was rhetorical—she was going to walk in anyway—Nora responded anyway.

  “Oui, Collette.”

  The housekeeper appeared in the bedroom, smiling, but Nora could read the tension beneath her calm façade.

  Has she always known something was amiss in this house? she thought to herself. Or has she always believed what Jerome has told her, the same way I have?

  “Collette, may I borrow Alex today?” she asked sweetly, reaching for her tea. She was careful to purse her lips as she pretended to drink.

  Collette peered at her, narrowing her eyes.

  “You know we are all at your disposal, mademoiselle,” Collette said. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  Nora laughed nervously.

  “It is terribly vain, but Jerome returns today, and I wish to look my best for him,” she explained. “I would like Alex to help me with my make-up. You know, make me look like a princess.”

  Collette shook her head.

  “Monsieur Charpentier will not return for two days, mademoiselle,” she replied, a pitying note to her words. Nora exhaled silently.

  Good. I have not completely wasted my chance to leave.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Won’t he? I could’ve sworn it was today.”

  Collette seemed to relax, taking comfort in the fact that Nora was apparently delusional. “Would you still like Alex to visit you?”

  Nora sighed and nodded.

  “I did have my heart set on having my hair styled today,” she explained, pouting slightly. “Even if Jerome will not see it.”

  “Well, mademoiselle, I am sure that Marc will stare at you admiringly as he always does,” Collette chuckled. “I will send Alex in after you have finished your morning nap.”

  Nora remembered that she was supposed to be falling asleep.

  “Très bien,” she mumbled, feigning a yawn. “Merci.”

  She allowed herself to settle back into the pillows, and Collette hurried forward to take her cup of tea and keep it from spilling as Nora closed her eyes, listening for the housekeeper to leave the room.

  Her mind was whirling.

  Does Marc really stare at me admiringly? she thought, her pulse racing. Perhaps I will have an ally in this house after all.

  She lay still for a long while, ensuring that she had been left alone. When she was certain that no one would come inside the room, she leapt to her feet and hurried to the ensuite to brush her teeth. She gaze
d at her reflection in the glass, examining the sleepy expression critically.

  Am I beautiful? she wondered. If so, am I beautiful enough to pull this off?

  She was going to find out.

  Spitting into the sink, Nora found a silk robe hanging on the back of the door and slipped it around her lean frame, gritting her teeth with nervousness. She glanced out the window of her bedroom and saw it was snowing again. She silently hoped that her plan would work… if only she could make it out of the house undetected.

  Slowly, Nora pried open the door to her suite and peered down the hallway. Just below, she could hear Collette and Alex talking, and she crept into the corridor to listen to their conversation better.

  “I worry about giving her so much, but you remember what happened the last time,” Collette said. “And that trip to town was just a sign of bad things to come.”

  “I was so scared that we would be fired, but I did not know how to stop her without upsetting her!” Alex confessed. “The last time, she broke two windows, and I swear I saw smoke coming out of her nostrils!”

  “I have seen that, too! She is like a toddler throwing a wicked tantrum when she is incensed, and there is no reasoning with her,” Collette sighed. “I do know what you mean. I feel like she has some… superhuman power, and it will take us all down with her.”

  I do not recall any of that, Nora thought, her brow furrowing. Did I do that or did Jerome convince them I have? She continued to listen to their conversation, hoping to learn more about herself.

  “She is like a lost child,” Alex agreed. “Monsieur Charpentier is a saint for dealing with her in her mental state. I don’t know why he doesn’t just lock her up. There are so many good facilities, and with his money…”

  “Well, he is a psychiatrist,” Collette explained. “That is why he knows what is best for her. And she is his wife. In sickness and in health, I suppose.”

  He’s a psychiatrist? Nora thought, her head swimming. He is my husband? Bile rose to her throat, but she forced it down. She did not want to explain the vomit along the floor runner.

  “Still,” Alex insisted. “He deals with insanity all day long. Who wants to come home to a hysterical woman?”