Shifter Secrets: Shifter Romance Collection

by Juniper Hart

  “You have three minutes,” he said, spinning to leave the room. “Don’t try anything stupid.”

  Ansel bit back a snarky remark until he was left alone with Louis.

  “Something stupid like arrest the wrong man?” he snarled. “What’s going on here?”

  “I tried to warn you that this was going to happen, Ansel,” Louis told him. “This is what they do. Famous hotel, famous boxer, pretty brunette white girl? This is what they get paid to do.”

  “This is insane!” Ansel snapped at Louis. “How can they arrest me?”

  “You are the last person who was seen with her,” Louis sighed. “And you admitted to being in her room.”

  “I was not the last person to see her alive!” Ansel protested, pulling open his wardrobe for an outfit fitting for a trip overseas.

  “I never suggested you were,” Louis insisted. “We will get to the bottom of this.”

  I am going to get to the bottom of this, he thought grimly. Then he took a deep breath and reminded himself that Louis was on his side. He had to take his trainer’s help—he was going to need it. This was no time for the two of them to be fighting one another.

  When Ansel got back to Nevada, he was going to hunt down Tony Valducci again and rid himself of that problem once and for all.

  And then he would finally be free to find Nora.

  12

  Nora sat back on the bed and casually looked around the tiny loft apartment, curling her toes beneath her. Marc grinned at her nervously, wrapping his terrycloth robe closer to his body.

  “I can’t tell you how long I have wanted to do that,” he murmured, his eyes light and happy. “From the first minute I saw you in the kitchen at the chalet, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Monsieur Charpentier is the luckiest man in the world.”

  Nora smiled faintly.

  “You are so sweet,” she told him. She wondered, if the circumstances were different, would she find that complimentary and endearing? Well, it didn’t matter—she would never know.

  “But if Monsieur Charpentier ever finds out—” Marc continued.

  “Shh!” Nora insisted. “You do not need to ruin a wonderful moment by speaking about him. This is about us, Marc.”

  His eyes widened in surprise. He stalked toward her and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I have always thought you loved him. But I hate the way he treats you.”

  A flutter of hope twisted through Nora’s chest.

  “What do you mean?” she whispered, staring at him with wide eyes.

  “He locks you away like you are a delicate doll who should not be touched,” Marc said, “someone only he can see. It is not fair. Your beauty should be shared with the world.”

  Nora decided that she may have found Marc very dear in another life.

  “Why haven’t you done anything?” she asked. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

  He scoffed lightly. “What was I going to say? And to whom? My job is to drive and mind my own business. If you were happy, who am I to question anything? I said to myself, perhaps you like being treated as a china doll.”

  Nora tipped her head to the side and studied the young man’s face.

  “What if I told you I was very unhappy?” she whispered. “What if I told you that I would like to leave? Would you help me?”

  Marc’s face turned pale and uncertain, and Nora bit her lip.

  I pushed him too hard, too fast, she realized, swallowing the lump in her throat. I may still have to go with my original plan.

  “Oh, I don’t know, Mademoiselle Nora,” he said. “If I was ever caught—”

  “I am not a child!” Nora snapped angrily. “If I wish to leave here, I should be free to do so without incident. Instead, I am being held prisoner, as if I cannot be trusted!”

  Marc bit on his lower lip and lowered his eyes. “I do not know, mademoiselle—”

  Nora willed herself to remain calm. She smiled kindly at him. “I think you can call me Nora now, don’t you?”

  She glanced away from him for a second, and her eyes bugged when she saw a laptop perched upon a coffee table. She pulled her gaze away and focused on Marc’s pink cheeks instead.

  “What has he told you about me?” Nora asked, willing herself not to look at the device that might lead to her freedom. “Has he told you that I am insane?”

  Marc’s color turned crimson, and he shook his head.

  “No, mademoiselle!” he insisted. “Monsieur Charpentier does not speak to me about such things. I only know what Collette has told—”

  He abruptly stopped speaking, probably realizing he had said too much, but Nora smiled encouragingly.

  “I have heard,” she replied. “But what if I told you that everything she knows is a lie?”

  Marc stared at her, and Nora could read the doubt on his face. She fell onto all fours, crawling toward him to kiss him sweetly on the lips.

  “I must get back to my room before I am missed,” she murmured, and she noted the disappointment on his face. She touched his face with her fingertips, feeling him quiver slightly.

  There is still a chance he can help you, she thought. I just can’t press too hard, despite my limited time.

  “May I return tomorrow?” she asked quietly, and Marc nodded eagerly. Nora exhaled slowly and rose from the bed, seeking out her discarded nightgown and robe.

  “I should see you back to the house,” Marc said nervously.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “You can’t risk being seen. As you said, if you are caught…” She allowed the words to hang in the air. To her satisfaction, his face turned embarrassed.

  “Mademoiselle—”

  “Nora,” she interjected, slipping the gown over her slim frame.

  “Nora,” Marc continued in a rushed breath. “I will help you leave this place if that is what you want, but—”

  Nora put her index finger to his lips.

  “I have put you in an awkward position,” she told him tenderly. “Do not give it a second thought. I will return tomorrow.”

  She turned to leave, feeling his eyes on her as she disappeared down the stairs into the garage. Her pulse raced as she crunched through the snow toward the house, her eyes darting toward the windows of the chalet. She did not see anyone, but when she knew there were eyes everywhere, that did not mean much.

  Nora peeked her head through the front door before slipping inside. She kicked off her slippers so that she would not track wetness onto the pristine floors, and then she stole back up the floating staircase toward her suite.

  As she opened the door, she swallowed back a gasp.

  “Where were you?” Collette screeched, her face pale as she ran to Nora. “I have searched the entire house for you!”

  Nora stared at her, her mind whirling. She swallowed again to calm her racing heartbeat before responding.

  “A-and I was looking for you! Where were you?”

  Collette gaped at her. “I—” She paused, shaking her head to herself. “Mademoiselle, what do you need?”

  “I wanted Alex to do my hair,” Nora answered, feeling faint as she trudged into the room. Her slippers dripped along the heated tile floor, and she knew that the housekeeper had seen them. “I even looked outside for you!” Nora explained angrily. “Why is it so difficult to find decent help around here?”

  She purposely avoided Collette’s gaze, but she could still feel the woman’s eyes burning into hers.

  “I don’t know how we missed you, mademoiselle,” Collette said slowly. “Alex is in the kitchen, and I have been cleaning this floor.”

  “I find that difficult to believe,” Nora retorted. “I will ensure that Jerome knows about this upon his return. Unless you intend to call him now with an update, in which case I will tell him myself!”

  “I will find Alex,” Collette said, exiting the suite.

  Panic flooded Nora as she realized how close she was to being caught. Would Collette go to Marc and ask him if he
had seen her? What would happen to her if she was discovered? What would happen to Marc?

  She had no personal attachment to the young man, not really, but she did not want to see anything bad happen to him, especially not because of her. After all, if she played her cards right, he was going to be her ticket out of this prison.

  Maybe I am going about this the wrong way, she thought. Perhaps I should ask him to run off with me instead of helping me to escape. He may go for that. And he can drive…

  “Mademoiselle Nora?” Alex called from the hallway. “May I come in?”

  “Oui,” Nora said. She crossed her arms and glared at Alex as the girl walked through the door. She might as well keep up her charade. “Where were you?”

  “Collette said you were looking for me,” Alex answered, “but I assure you, I was in the kitchen.”

  “Are you calling me a liar?” Nora demanded.

  Alex shook her blonde head vehemently.

  “No, of course not, mademoiselle! Perhaps I was in the pantry when you came,” she offered.

  “Or perhaps you were off watching soap operas!” Nora exclaimed melodramatically.

  Alex’s face twisted into a look of bemusement.

  “Mademoiselle, I do not even have a computer in my room,” she replied. “I cannot watch anything. You know that.”

  So Marc is the only one with a laptop, Nora thought. I must get my hands on that device. She just hoped she remembered how to use it after all that time. How long had it been since she had touched a keyboard?

  A strange flash crossed her mind, a fleeting memory of herself encircled in a pair of strong calves, naked on a bed. She was laughing, and so was the man she was with as they watched a ridiculous video on the screen before them.

  A feeling of warmth comforted Nora as she clung to the wispy recollection.

  “Mademoiselle?” Alex timidly asked. “Would you like me to run you a bath?”

  “Yes!” Nora snapped, angry that the girl had shattered her reverie. Alex hurried into the bedroom, and Nora closed her eyes. She had been watching that video with Ansel. He was the one she had to find.

  One way or another, she thought, I am getting out of here. Ansel may not be coming for me, no matter what those dreams tell me, but I am not helpless.

  Another shadow crossed her mind as a memory fought to make its way through the lies Jerome had filled her head with. Something about Ansel again… and flying. They were together, but they weren’t… them. They were beasts in the clouds, a clash of tails and scales as they raced through the atmosphere like children engaged in a game of tag.

  The freedom and happiness she felt was unparalleled, and as she dove toward Ansel’s massive green frame, he leapt gracefully away, the tip of his tail tickling her nose.

  Nora laughed aloud.

  “Mademoiselle?” Alex called her. “Your bath is ready.”

  Nora nodded her head and stepped into the bathroom, Alex following behind her. “Get the scissors. I want to cut off my hair.”

  Alex’s mouth parted, but no sound escaped.

  “What are you waiting for?” Nora demanded. “I have waited enough for you today!”

  Alex nodded and spun to rush from the bathroom. Nora disrobed and fell into the perfectly warmed tub.

  If Alex happened to be careless with the scissors, Nora might be able to swipe them as a weapon. It was a long shot, but it was still something she should try. Besides, she really did need a haircut—her hair was too long and noticeable. If she made it far, she had to change her appearance, just in case Jerome went looking after her.

  She closed her eyes and tried to recapture the image of herself as a dragon, but it was gone in an instant. In its place was merely the image of herself crying by the River Thames, her heart breaking.

  I was crying for Ansel that day, she thought, dipping her mess of dark waves into the water, closing out the sounds of the house. Although she could not picture him, she could feel him inside her, a sensation that seemed to grow with each day.

  I was someone else before this, she told herself firmly. I am not Nora from Nice. I am Nora from London, and I have a man out there searching for me. We are fated to each other from another life, and we can communicate with each other in dreams.

  She exhaled and raised her head out of the water as Alex reappeared at the door, Collette at her side. They eyed her warily, as if they expected her to rise from the water in a mass of hysteria. Nora did everything in her power to stop herself from actually doing so. They were the ones who had made her that way. They had led her to believe that she was unstable, insane, but she wasn’t. She was loved, and she had abilities they would never be able to understand.

  A part of her wanted to scream out the truth to them, but she knew she would only make things worse for herself. She needed to keep her head down and bide her time until tomorrow—the moment of truth.

  I will discover if I am the victim of a psychopath, Nora thought, or if I am merely crazy, as everyone has always believed.

  She wasn’t sure which answer was worse.

  13

  “I have already told you everything I know,” Ansel said. He was growing tired of repeating himself.

  “You realize how bad this looks for you, I assume,” George, his barrister, sighed. “I am fighting extradition, but it looks like you fled the country immediately following the murder of Ms. Halpstern.”

  “Fled the country?” Ansel choked. “I had the flight booked for weeks! What the hell kind of barrister are you if you can’t even prove that?”

  George ignored the slight and focussed on the notes before him, adjusting his spectacles. “The fact that you left directly after the murder is more inflammatory than the date when your tickets were booked.”

  “How many other people left Vegas or even the Bellagio that day?” Ansel demanded. “What a crock of bollocks!”

  George grunted in agreement and rubbed his forehead. “Let’s go through the day in question again. Where were you before you visited Ms. Halpstern’s hotel room?”

  Ansel’s mind instantly went to Tony Valducci’s fire-eaten home in Surprise.

  “I went out for a stroll,” he answered evenly, pushing his true crime from his head.

  “Can anyone verify that?”

  Ansel swallowed a smirk as he envisioned Valducci’s bodyguard, Luca, and the dog.

  “I’m certain many people saw me, but I did not take any names,” he grunted. “If I had known I needed an alibi, I would have worked it out. Anyway, what difference does it make what I did before I went to see her?”

  “Your demeanor beforehand can be relevant,” George said. “If you seemed nervous or irate, for example.”

  “I was neither nervous nor irate,” Ansel assured him. “If I had been, I would not have visited Miss Halpstern for an afternoon treat. I don’t perform well under stress.”

  George’s green eyes narrowed. “I would suggest you do not use language like that when speaking to the prosecutor or jury.”

  “Jury?” Ansel coughed. “It can’t go that far! I have done nothing wrong! I don’t even own a gun!”

  George scoffed lightly. “You were in America, Ansel. You belong to an elite world where money is no object. If you wanted a gun, I should not have to spell out for you how easy it would be for you to acquire one and then get rid of it.”

  “Their case is weak,” Ansel snapped, but George shook his balding head.

  “I have seen men convicted for much less than this, Ansel,” he began, “and I am sure you have, too. I believe that, in America, they talk of the ability to indict a ham sandwich, as if the justice system is a comedy club to be mocked and trivialized.”

  Ansel gritted his teeth. Truly, he had no fear. After all, there was not a cage in the world that could hold him. Then again, he did not want to spend his life running, nor did he want a criminal conviction. He finally had a chance to be with Nora again, away from his father’s clutches, wealthy in his own right. He didn’t wish to start anew,
much less on the run. It wasn’t fair to him, and it wouldn’t be fair to Nora, either. He had to solve this.

  “What happened when you arrived at her room?” George urged. “What did she say to you and vice versa?”

  Ansel lowered his eyes slightly.

  “There was very little talking,” he confessed. “I believe she said, ‘you came.’”

  George waited. “And what did you say?”

  “I said she was going to do the same,” Ansel said. “It wasn’t my finest work, I admit,” he rushed on, humiliation at having to relive his intimate moments with the girl more devastating than he had anticipated.

  “And then what did you do?”

  “Oh, come on, mate, do I have to spell it out? We shagged, all right?”

  “Did you use anything else? Was there any bondage or—?”

  “No! Nothing like that!” Ansel groaned. “It was simply a fun romp in the hay, and then I was on my way.”

  George studied him for a long moment. “How long were you there?”

  Ansel shrugged. “Forty-five minutes, maybe?”

  “How was her mood when you left? Was she upset?”

  “Of course not!” Ansel snapped, annoyed. “She was grinning, and she said she hoped to see me again before I left, but I knew it was impossible because I was leaving in the morning.”

  “Did you tell her that?”

  “No. I said, ‘you never know.’ There is no motive for me to have killed her,” Ansel insisted. “They need a better theory than this.”

  “I am trying to give them one, Ansel, but you must work with me here,” George explained. “Let me earn my wage, will you?”

  “I wish you would!” Ansel snapped. “I have other things to do.”

  “Was she expecting anyone after you?” George continued, and Ansel felt like pounding his fists against the table in frustration.

  “If she was, I am sure she wouldn’t have told me about it,” he said. “What are the chances they will extradite me?”

  “I don’t know. That depends on what kind of evidence they have.”

  Ansel felt like they were getting nowhere, and he rose from the sterile chair to pace around the interrogation room.