Shifter Secrets: Shifter Romance Collection

by Juniper Hart

  “I am a world-renowned boxer,” he grumbled. “I shouldn’t be like treated like a common criminal.”

  “We will get you out of here,” George assured him, but Ansel wasn’t sure how much faith he had in his words. Maybe it would be better if he was extradited. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on Tony Valducci—he was sure that the man had planned this, and he was probably sitting with Luca right now, toasting his incarceration.

  Ansel didn’t want to admit he may have underestimated the greedy gangster, but he didn’t want to give him too much credit, either.

  There was a knock on the door, and Detective Carlsberg appeared, a smirk on his face.

  “Good news, Mr. Williams,” he announced happily. Ansel had a feeling that it would not be good news for him. “Your extradition papers have come through. You are flying out on the red eye.”

  Ansel glared at his attorney.

  “I thought you were fighting this!” he exploded, slapping his palm against the table.

  “Is that what happened with Carrie Halpstern?” the detective asked, cuffing Ansel’s hands behind his back. “You lost your temper and killed her?”

  “You don’t have jurisdiction here, Detective,” George said coldly. “Kindly step away from my client unless you would like me to file a formal complaint with your CO. From what I’ve read, you don’t have the most stellar track record on the force. I would hate to see what another mark against you might do.”

  Detective Carlsberg tensed, but he stepped back as instructed, glowering.

  “It’s just going to be someone else slapping the cuffs on him,” he retorted. “I just thought I would help.”

  “Your giving nature is duly noted,” George remarked dryly. “But in Britain, we treat our national treasures with respect, not disdain.”

  “Maybe that’s why your national treasures think they can get away with murder,” Carlsberg replied.

  “Uncuff him at once!” George snapped. “And do not come back until you are accompanied by an adult.”

  Carlsberg scowled furiously. Against Ansel’s expectations, he did as he was told before storming from the room.

  Ansel turned his anger back toward his lawyer, rubbing his wrists. “You have to stop this. I am not going back to Las Vegas to stand trial for this.”

  “You will likely be granted bail—”

  “No!” Ansel snarled. “I am not going! Find a way out of this or suffer the consequences.”

  “You need to control your temper,” George growled, narrowing his eyes. “If you are threatening your own attorney, no one is going to believe you didn’t kill that girl.”

  Ansel snorted derisively. “I am not threatening you. I am telling you that you are going to deal with the aftermath of a disaster if you don’t stop this from happening.”

  “I suggest you return with Detective Carlsberg to America, and we will work on our end to bring you home.”

  Ansel laughed mirthlessly.

  “Forgive me if I no longer have any faith in your ability to do that,” he snapped. He banged on the door, and a constable appeared. “I need to use the toilet,” he announced.

  The young officer only stared at him, but Ansel held his gaze.

  “Ansel!” George called out. “Do not do anything stupid!” What was that, the mantra of Scotland Yard? They were the only ones who seemed to be basking in stupidity.

  “Toilet?” Ansel demanded again. “Where is it?”

  Sighing, the constable led him from the room, and Ansel’s mind began to work furiously. He had one opportunity to leave the stationhouse, but at what cost would it be? He couldn’t return to the States—who knew how long it would take to get this mess sorted out? His attorney was completely useless.

  Ansel went into the washroom, slamming the door behind him.

  “Hurry up in there! People are going to be looking for you!” the copper yelled. Ansel ignored him, even though he heeded the warning. He had a very small window of opportunity to get out of the police station; both literally and figuratively.

  If he slipped from the high window, he could leave for Switzerland and forsake the entire ordeal in minutes. But what would he return to?

  I can worry about that after I find Nora, he thought. And together, we can sort this mess out.

  Something held him back. If he fled, it would only ensure that he was guilty, and he would commit Nora to an uncertain future. What was the point of finding her if they wouldn’t be able to relax and just live their lives together? They had already been running for years, and they finally had a chance to do it right.

  Consternation and fury filled Ansel, and he butted his head against the door of the bathroom stall.

  Think, he willed himself. What is the right thing to do?

  His instinct told him to fly away, but his sense of righteousness kept him rooted in place. If he wanted to find Nora, he had to clear his name first. He had already caused her enough heartache for a hundred lifetimes. Besides, if Nora desperately needed his help—if she was in some kind of danger she couldn’t get out of on her own—she would have called out to him again, and yet she hadn’t.

  “What are you doing in there?” the constable demanded, throwing open the bathroom door. “Did you fall in?”

  Make your decision, he urged himself. Do it now.

  “Williams? Are you still in there?”

  Ansel cleared his throat and unlocked the door, stifling the desire to shift with stunning force.

  “I’m here, mate,” he replied shortly. “Where else would I be?”

  Relief colored the young cop’s face, as if he had been worried that he had lost the prized inmate. To be fair, he almost had.

  “I have to take you to holding before your flight. Your barrister says he’ll be in touch, but I think he was in a big rush to get out of here,” he explained almost confidentially, and Ansel nodded at him.

  “Fine,” he said, washing his hands. As they walked back toward the elevators, the officer leaned forward to press the button.

  “I’m your biggest fan,” he whispered. “If you need anything while you’re in here, mate, let me know. I’m Andy.”

  Ansel glanced at him through his peripheral vision and nodded slowly.

  “Thanks, mate,” he replied slowly. “I may just take you up on that.”

  I may have bought myself a few hours to reach out to Nora, he thought.

  He just hoped he could reach her.

  14

  They had believed her asleep for hours by the time the household retired for the night. Nora was shocked to learn how many times either Alex or Collette had come to check in on her, to ensure she was in bed.

  They won’t wake in the middle of the night, too, will they? Do they set their alarms to check in on me or something? she wondered, hoping that wasn’t the case. Well, even if they did, it was a risk she had to take.

  There were no clocks for her to gauge how much time had passed, but Nora had stolen into the hallway several times to listen for sounds in the household, well after night had fallen. After what she thought was a few hours, the checks finally stopped, and Nora dumped the rest of the tea Collette had brought her in her bathroom sink to make it appear as if she had woken and drunk it, therefore rendering her unconscious again.

  She rushed over to her bed and piled the pillows to portray a sleeping frame beneath the covers before rushing down the stairs and toward Marc’s apartment. By the time she realized she was without footwear, it was too late to return, and she braved the cold quickly and entered the frigid garage shivering.

  Marc had not heard her enter, and Nora stood watching him sleep for a long moment. She had not anticipated that he might be asleep, but then she realized that it might work out better for her if he did not see her there. Cautiously, she crept toward the computer, one eye on his snoring frame as she did so.

  Nora pried the laptop open and blinked at the sudden brightness of the screen, her hands trembling as she stared at the home screen.

  A
flush of excitement rushed to her face.

  I remember what to do, she thought, swallowing as she stared at the icons before her. She clicked on the web browser and waited for the screen to load, again shifting her eyes toward the slumbering form only a few feet away. But what was she looking for?

  With two fingers, gnawing on her lower lip, she began to type.

  A-N-S-E-L.

  To her shock, several headlines immediately popped on the webpage, and Nora’s jaw dropped with each one she read.

  Heavyweight Champion Arrested for Murder of Lover.

  Williams Charged with Shooting Death in Vegas Hotel.

  Boxer Kills Girlfriend in Hotel Room.

  Nora slowly shook her head, a wave of confusion sweeping through her as she stared at the articles, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man who had visited her in dreams.

  No, she thought firmly. My Ansel would never hurt anyone. He is going to come for me, he… he would never do something like this… would he?

  Nora’s hand flew to her mouth as her eyes settled on a photo of the man, and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

  No, she repeated to herself. He and I have known each other forever. He is not a murderer. He is someone else. I am sure of it. He is loving and kind and he would never hurt anyone…

  Nora closed her eyes, trying to suffocate the tears burning behind her lids. She couldn’t cry. She had to figure out what had happened with Ansel, but she could not break down and cry now. She couldn’t.

  “What are you doing?”

  Nora snapped the computer lid shut and slowly rose. Marc was sitting up on the bed, staring at her with his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed.

  “I came to see you,” she whispered, trying to hide the emotion from her voice. “I needed to be with you, but you looked so peaceful sleeping, I did not wish to wake you.”

  She saw his eyes widen in the dark as she approached, and Nora slipped into the bed beside him, allowing him to wrap his arms around her.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he murmured into her ear. Then he started to kiss her neck. “What were you looking at on the computer?”

  “I was reading about a boxer who was arrested for murder,” she replied before she could stop herself. Although she knew she shouldn’t have said that, a part of her also knew that she needed to find out everything she could about Ansel. There was so little she truly remembered about him…

  “Yes, I read about him. Heavyweight champion, three years in a row,” Marc chuckled. “Apparently, he shot his lover in a hotel room in the States after a match.”

  “Why?” Nora asked, hoping he couldn’t feel the pounding of her heart.

  “I wouldn’t be able to say,” he answered. “He is denying he did it, of course, but boxers are a strange breed. They take too many blows to the head, and they don’t think straight anymore. It wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened to an athlete in competitive sports.”

  His kisses grew more urgent, but Nora could not bring her body to relax.

  Ansel hasn’t come for me because he is in trouble, she realized. I must reach out to him again. I must get out of here and help him.

  “You’re right, I shouldn’t be here,” Nora muttered, pushing him away. “I am worried they will come looking here, if I were to fall asleep.”

  “Oh,” Marc purred. “Don’t leave yet. I won’t let you fall asleep.”

  “I was thinking,” Nora murmured, quickly continuing the conversation. Marc let out a pensive hum. “Perhaps you and I should leave here together.”

  He propped himself up on his hand and peered into her face, his expression filled with excitement.

  “I was hoping you would say that,” he whispered, kissing her squarely on the mouth. “Yes! Of course! We can hit the road and make love everywhere we stop.”

  Nora smiled weakly, even though the thought of Marc touching her again made her sick to her stomach. She had seduced him once to acquire an ally, but she did not need to touch him again. Now that she knew Ansel was real and not a product of her mind, she had to find a way back to him, since he seemed unable to find his way to her given his current situation.

  Suddenly, Adrienne’s terrified face flashed through her mind, and Nora almost sobbed aloud. There was so much at stake, so much weight on her shoulders. There couldn’t be any more second-guessing—she had to make her move tomorrow, just as she had planned.

  “I will return later,” she promised, wriggling out of Marc’s grasp and slipping away. “May I borrow a pair of shoes? I came in bare feet.”

  Marc sat up, a disappointed look on his face.

  “Of course,” he murmured. “You can have anything of mine.”

  Nora smiled at him, her dark hair illuminated by a halo of moonlight.

  “I may take you up on that,” she whispered, kissing his cheek. “We will discuss our plans more when I get back.” She grabbed a pair of his work shoes and scampered down the stairs. Pausing at the doorway, she looked up at the loft to see if Marc was watching her, but he was not.

  I can’t take him with me, she thought. Then I will have to find a way to escape him, too. I will be leaving one terrible situation and entering a bad one. No, I must do this alone.

  Exhaling, Nora snatched a set of keys from the ring and dropped them in the toe of Marc’s shoes before stuffing her own feet into them. It was until she was back in her suite that she could breathe normally again, and she dug the keys to the BMW Marc drove out of the shoe.

  Tomorrow evening, she would make her escape under the cloak of darkness. She would do it after dinner and before anyone noticed she was gone. Marc might notice the absence of the car, but he wouldn’t be the messenger of such news. After all, he would realize Nora had taken it, and he would most likely want to keep that information to himself.

  With the utmost confidence in her plan, Nora lay on the bed and tried to relax.

  She was far too excited to sleep, but she still closed her eyes, hoping she would still be able to see Ansel.

  “Ansel? Are you there?” Nora called out. “I think I remember you now!” She waited for him to appear, for his mellifluous voice to fill her ears, but he did not seem to be anywhere.

  “Ansel!” she cried again. “Please don’t forsake me now! I am going to escape tomorrow. I will come for you!”

  There was a faint whooshing, and from far away, Nora heard him call her name. “Nora…”

  “I am here, my love!” she yelled happily. “I am beginning to remember!”

  “Nora…”

  She looked around in the darkness, her brow knitted, but he was not close by—he was only a whisper in a non-existent wind.

  “Ansel?” Nora’s voice was filled with uncertainty. “Are you there?”

  “Nora… Nora, fly!”

  Strong arms pulled her up, and Nora’s eyes flew open, gaping as Jerome’s face loomed in front of hers.

  “Where did you go?” he roared. Nora stared at him in stunned surprise.

  “Nowhere!” she screamed. “You’re home!”

  When he slapped her across the face, Nora realized she still had the keys to the BMW clenched in her palm. The gray light of dawn was beginning to crack through the skylights, and Nora tried to turn away, slipping the keys beneath the pillows.

  “Whose shoes are those?” Jerome snarled. “Where did you get them?”

  Nora only shook her head, silently calling out for Ansel. His words still reverberated in her mind.

  Nora, fly!

  “I don’t know,” she mumbled, shifting her eyes downward. “Why are you home already?”

  “You cannot lie to me, chérie, I know you better than you know yourself,” Jerome hissed, pulling her upward to face him. “You are becoming more problems than you are worth!”

  Nora saw the needle in his hand too late. He plunged it into her neck as she gaped at him with disbelieving eyes. She had been so close, she had been so close…!

  She fell into unconsciousness as Jerome furiously fled the
room.

  Ansel, she thought. Ansel…

  As the world went dark around him, she heard his voice again.

  I am coming.

  The sun was bright in the sky, its rays glinting almost maliciously across the snow. Nora gazed into the countryside, trying to gather her bearings. Even though she realized that she was in the back of Jerome’s car, she couldn’t move.

  I am too heavily drugged, was her initial thought, but as her eyes travelled lower, she saw that she was bound in ropes at her wrists and ankles.

  “What are you doing?” Nora croaked out. “Why am I tied up?”

  “Shut up!” Jerome snarled. “Not another word out of you!”

  “Please, Jerome, I didn’t do anything wrong!” she begged him. “Untie me! I will behave, I swear it!”

  “I thought you were going to be perfect. You lasted longer than any of the others,” he muttered, and Nora had to strain to hear him. “You forgot like you were supposed to. You acted properly. I tried to make you happy, and this is how you repay me?”

  “I didn’t do—”

  “I said shut up!” His voice was like whiplash, and she dared not argue again. “I would have kept you forever if you hadn’t pulled that stupid stunt, going into town without me! Didn’t I give you everything you ever wanted? How could you be so ungrateful?”

  Nora closed her eyes, a myriad of powerful emotions overtaking her.

  I am not crazy, she reminded herself. I am brainwashed by a psychopath. And he is taking me somewhere to kill me.

  “I am grateful!” she squealed, her eyes tearing around the backseat for some form of weapon. Unfortunately for her, she could not see anything that would suffice. Even if she could get a swing in, it was highly unlikely that it would do him any harm. She was half his size and still bound.

  “No,” Jerome sighed, pain in his voice. “You are not grateful. And you have caused a lot of trouble at the house.”

  Fear prickled through Nora.

  “What do you mean?” she whispered. “Trouble for whom?”

  Jerome snorted angrily. “What did you think was going to happen, Nora? Did you think Marc wouldn’t be punished for your actions? You betray me under my own roof, and you think I will simply sit back and let it happen?”