Leopard's Rage

by Christine Feehan

  She heard the anxiety in Sevastyan’s voice. He would come to her. He would blow the entire operation just because she was in tears. She wiped her face with her palms and shook her head. Nothing. Being silly. I get things in my head, she texted him.

  She kept her eyes on Shanty, knowing just texting Sevestyan that much was enough for him to figure out what she was thinking. He knew her that well. It was their connection through the ropes. The way he read her.

  Ambroise has an address. The boys are close. Tell Shanty to end the call.

  Triumph burst through her. Flambé immediately signaled Shanty, who reluctantly allowed whoever was talking to her to dictate to her what she had to do. She kept nodding her head and sobbing. Abruptly she ended the call and returned to the table.

  “They’re on their way to rescue him,” Flambé whispered to Shanty and indicated the water bottle. “Are the children okay?” she asked aloud for the sake of anyone listening.

  “Yes. They’re very happy. Playing.” Shanty gave a little sniff. “I wanted you to meet me in South Africa for a reason. I wasn’t being silly. It’s my husband.” She lowered her voice even more. “He’s very abusive. When the poachers came, I took the opportunity to run with the children to try to get away from him. Most of the lair went in one direction, but I hid in all the chaos and he was fighting back with the men and I was able to get out with the children without him seeing us.”

  Flambé frowned and leaned forward, dropping her chin onto the heel of her hand, her gaze on Shanty as if entirely riveted. Whoever was listening and watching would definitely think that Flambé was taking the bait. They needed to give the rescue team as much time as possible to get to her husband.

  “Your mate’s name is Reiner?” Flambé interjected just for something to say, to slow time down.

  Shanty got the hint and took another drink of water, nodding. “Yes. He’s horrible. He likes to beat me. It excites him. That’s what he does before he . . .” She broke off and looked down at the wooden beams running under her feet. “He’s very violent when he touches me after he beats me.”

  Flambé would have known she was lying even if she couldn’t hear lies. Shanty sounded as if she’d rehearsed a written script. Someone had made her repeat the words over and over until they were memorized verbatim.

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?” she asked, sitting up straight as if she couldn’t believe her ears.

  “He’s horrible. He likes to beat me. It excites him. That’s what he does before he . . .” She broke off, but this time she looked down at her hands, fingers twisted together in her lap. “He’s very violent when he touches me after he beats me.”

  Definitely scripted and memorized. She’d repeated it verbatim down to the exact way she had acted. No one did that unless they were lying. Shanty put her hands back on the table and looked up at Flambé, almost afraid to breathe.

  Flambé reached across the table sympathetically and laid her hand over Shanty’s. “I’m so sorry. That must be so awful for you. The extraction team got you out fast. He couldn’t have followed you here.”

  “No, but he’ll know. He’ll find me. You know it’s impossible to hide from a leopard. No one can do it. No one. He said if I ever ran from him, he’d beat me to death. He promised me he would do it.” Shanty put her head down on the table and cried like her heart was breaking. The sobbing was genuine, a reaction to the terror of knowing men were trying to get her husband free of those holding him hostage.

  “There are agencies in the United States that protect women,” Flambé said gently.

  In her mind she was urging the rescue team to hurry. Every time she looked up, she could see that Blaise was inching closer to them. He couldn’t get too close. The moment the rescue team signaled they had Reiner, she was to make a break for the front door with Shanty. It was unlocked. She had only to fling the door open, get inside and slam it closed. Once inside, Blaise and Matherson couldn’t get to them. Unfortunately, that would leave Jet and Terry to the enemy, and that didn’t sit well with her.

  “How are those agencies going to protect me against a shifter?” Shanty demanded, sitting up straight and dashing at her tears. “I watch enough news to know that your protection orders didn’t stop stalkers if they wanted to really hurt someone or kill them. It happens all the time. Judges throw out cases due to lack of evidence and cops don’t listen.”

  Flambé sighed. “Well, that much is true. I have a man stalking me and I called the cops. I even own a very respected business and that hasn’t helped at all. They told me he hadn’t really done anything to warrant them arresting him. I felt threatened by him. He showed up everywhere I was, but until he ran me off the road and assaulted me, which I didn’t have proof of because it took place where no one was around, he hadn’t really done anything the cops considered to be dangerous.”

  She rubbed her hairline where the swelling had been. “We can move you out of state, Shanty. We’ve got other businesses set up where you can work and make money. I can have my people watch the airports to see if he enters the country. There’s a man named Drake Donovan who owns a security company. I’m sure you’ve heard of him. He might be able to help. I can reach out to him on your behalf as well.”

  She wanted to text Sevastyan that the team had to hurry. What if something was going wrong? She could see panic beginning to gather in Shanty’s eyes. She was beginning to feel it in the pit of her stomach. How long did a rescue take? How many men were holding Shanty’s husband hostage? Did Ambroise have that information? She should have asked. She had to keep calm so Shanty would.

  She lifted the water bottle to her mouth and took a long, deliberate drink, giving herself time to mark Blaise’s position. He was a few feet closer to them, but still several yards away. He was certain Shanty was doing her job, convincing Flambé she was an abused woman.

  Shanty shook her head with a little moan of fear. “He’ll find me. You know he will. You have to help me, Flambé. I know you can. I heard that you can.”

  Flambé drummed her fingers on the tabletop. It would be risky to capitulate this soon. She wouldn’t do that. “I’m trying to help you, Shanty. You’re not willing to take any of the avenues I’ve got open for you. I will admit, running from a shifter isn’t the easiest thing, especially with three little ones in tow, but if he’s as bad as you say, I don’t think you have a choice. If it was me, I’d opt to make a run for it. I’d go to Donovan for help. He’s got an entire security force and he knows all kinds of places he can put you where your husband would have a difficult time finding you.”

  Shanty was silent for a long time. “Have you sent other women to Donovan before?” she finally asked, her voice very low, but she made certain the sound carried enough that Blaise, the way he’d inched closer, couldn’t fail to hear, nor could anyone else who was listening through the bug that had been planted on her.

  Flambé shrugged. “Once or twice it was necessary. He’s very good at making people disappear. I had considered availing myself of his services at one point. I was waiting for you.”

  Technically, there was no lie there either. Blaise would hear the ring of truth. Matherson was on the other end of Shanty’s wire. He would hear it as well. Both men would think that Basil Andino’s mate, Karisa, had gone to Drake Donovan and he’d protected her by sending her to some undisclosed location. In truth, Karisa was very safe, long gone in the route Flambé had established and used very sparingly and only when absolutely necessary. Only four women aided her with that route and she used a special scent blocker perfected just for her by Charisse Mercier from New Orleans.

  For the first time, Flambé felt just a little amused. She could see a hint of frustration on Blaise’s face. He believed her. He wanted the entire mess over with, almost more than she did. Terry was casting little warning glances over his shoulder, which meant his gut was telling him something wasn’t right. He’d always had good instinc
ts. He wanted them finished so he could get Shanty out of there.

  “Will Donovan be able to hide me from Reiner?” There was real desperation in Shanty’s voice. Real panic welling up in her eyes. On her face. She was going to lose it in another minute.

  Flambé instinctively took a deep breath to try to breathe for both of them.

  They’ve got Reiner Jacobs safe. He is with the rescue team. He is safe and unharmed. Sevastyan’s voice was calm and oh-so-welcoming in her ear. I repeat, Jacobs is safe and with the rescue team. Get inside with Shanty now, Flambé.

  That was a clear order and one she would have no trouble obeying. A smile broke out on her face. She leaned close to Shanty, caught her hand and squeezed hard. “Safe. Unharmed. They have him.” She stood up and tugged Shanty to her feet. “Run.”

  Flambé was already in motion, running for the front door. It was already wide open, Kirill and Matvei stepping outside with automatic weapons to protect them as the two women sprinted across the porch.

  Blaise flung himself down on the ground, using the corner of the verandah column as cover, aiming his gun at Shanty. Flambé paused just long enough to allow Shanty to get in front of her, her body blocking the woman from Blaise’s aim just as Kirill and Matvei laid down covering fire.

  Terry and Jet had no idea what was going on or who the enemy was. Both men had weapons out, but as exposed as they were, they had the presence of mind to go down to the ground with their hands out in a sign of surrender.

  Blaise rolled under the corner of the verandah, kicked off his shoes, stripped fast, and shifted. His leopard crawled under the house to the other side and ran full out to where two SUVs with Matherson and the crews of ten shifters waited on an old little-used dirt back road behind the property.

  All of the shifters were out of the vehicles, weapons ready, prowling around, looking as if they were in a high state of awareness. Blaise shifted, uncaring of his nudity. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  “Where is she?” Matherson demanded. “What happened?”

  “She ran. She and that fucking woman ran into the house. It was some kind of setup. I thought you had it covered,” Blaise snapped.

  Matherson immediately whipped out his phone and texted. “They can kill her husband now, that lying, double-crossing bitch.” He stared down at his phone. Blinked. Stared. Texted repeatedly. Swore.

  “We gotta go now,” Blaise repeated. “Right now.”

  Matherson shot him between the eyes and watched the body drop to the ground. “Let’s go get that little bitch. Both of them,” he shouted, waving his gun. He signaled his crew toward the house in the distance.

  Like wraiths emerging from shadows high up in the trees, ghostly men dressed in combat gear appeared, guns aimed at those on the ground. “Drop your weapons.” Sevastyan gave the order in his usual calm, very quiet manner.

  “Fuck you,” Matherson yelled and lifted his automatic, spraying the trees.

  Immediately chaos broke out as for the next three minutes hell reigned. There was nowhere for those on the ground to hide from the barrage of return bullets coming at them and Matherson had made it impossible to surrender. Within three minutes it was once again quiet and those on the ground were either dead or dying.

  Sevastyan leapt from the tree, Zinoviy and Vikenti flanking him, while Zakhar stayed close, making it clear he was acting as a bodyguard. Sevastyan gave him an annoyed warning look, but as usual, Zakhar ignored him.

  The other team members came out of the trees as well, checking the downed shifters for any signs of life while Sevastyan went straight to Matherson.

  “You really could be the devil, Matherson,” Sevastyan greeted, seeing he was alive.

  Franco Matherson had been shot in both his shoulder and leg. The shoulder was shattered, but the leg wound looked no more than superficial. No one could be that lucky. His weapon had been flung some distance from him and he’d lain as if dead among the bodies, probably hoping no one would notice he was alive so he could slink off.

  Matherson groaned but didn’t respond.

  “Sevastyan,” Zakhar warned.

  Sevastyan had scented the two strange shifters coming up behind them. In spite of many guns trained on them, they kept walking toward the group with easy, ground-covering strides. Both men were tall and dark-skinned. They had the roped muscles and easy fluid, flowing movements of the shifters. They were very much at ease as they walked right up to Sevastyan and bowed slightly to him.

  “I am Luan. This is my brother, Arno. We’ve come a long way to find this man and bring him to justice. He has committed many crimes against our people. He has brought disgrace to our lair. I ask that you allow us to administer the final justice to him. We have to answer to the elders and our lair.”

  Matherson shook his head. “I stayed away from the lair. I didn’t go near any of the women.”

  Sevastyan ignored him. Luan and Arno ignored him.

  “It is important for the honor of our lair,” Arno continued, as if Matherson hadn’t interrupted his brother.

  “Of course. I understand completely. We have plenty of cleanup to do, but the man has to go. He’s been stalking my woman,” Sevastyan said.

  Luan nodded. “I am aware of his crimes.” For the first time he looked down at Matherson, his dark eyes settling on the man. There was no malice. No personal animosity. “You betrayed every sacred law of the lair, Franco Matherson.”

  “I have money. So much,” Matherson cried, thinking to bribe them.

  “You failed to protect and hold sacred our women or protect and treasure our children,” Arno intoned.

  “You committed crimes against the outside world and humanity,” Luan continued.

  “You hunted and killed others of our species knowing they were near extinction,” Arno added to the list of crimes.

  “You risked exposing all of us to outsiders,” Luan said.

  “You hunted and murdered other shifters, men and women, for the sole purpose of your pleasure. You have been sentenced by the elders of the lair to die as an abomination,” Arno pronounced.

  There was no waiting. No hesitation. Luan plunged a sharp blade directly through Matherson’s throat while simultaneously Arno’s blade went through the man’s heart. Sevastyan regarded the open, shocked eyes as they stared, horrified and unbelieving that anyone would dare take his life. He had too much money. Too much power. People did what he ordered. He bought and sold people. No one would dare kill him.

  “I heard his good friend Basil Andino disappeared recently,” Luan said matter-of-factly. He pulled his knife free and casually wiped blood from the ceremonial knife onto Matherson’s shirt. “He was last seen drinking in a bar with a young Russian woman. They left together and no one has seen either of them since.”

  Sevastyan raised an eyebrow. “I thought Andino was a married man. What would he be doing in a bar with a woman?”

  Luan nodded. “That is so. Perhaps the rumor is not true.” He bowed. “Thank you again. My lair owes you a favor.”

  20

  SEVASTYAN woke in the middle of the night the way he often did. The moon was high, a silver ball shining through the wall of glass, and stars scattered like diamonds across a dark sky. It was a perfect night. He turned his head to look down at the woman lying so still beside him.

  Flambé rarely moved in her sleep. She always curled up, her bright red hair a splash of crimson against the black sheets. The artist in him loved that picture, the contrast of red and black. It was why he often used those colors of ropes on her.

  She slept nude, the way he liked, and he was tempted to wake her. He would, but not yet. It was rare that he got the chance to touch her so gently, when her nerve endings allowed it, and he had taken full advantage. He’d made love to her as tenderly as possible the night before. Slowly. Making them both wait. His fingers threaded through hers. Looking into her eyes
. Seeing into her heart. Her soul. Giving her his. God, but he loved her.

  He began to untangle his body slowly from Flambé’s. He liked to sleep with his arm locked around her waist. One thigh over hers. Sometimes her breast cupped in his palm. His cheek on top of her head. He wrapped himself around her. He knew it was because oftentimes it still felt as if she had one foot out the door. She would suddenly, inexplicably withdraw from him, and he knew she was second-guessing herself, becoming fearful again. He had a fear that she might try to run and instinctively, he held her closer.

  At first, whenever Flambé became afraid, Sevastyan would try to step up his tenderness, being thoughtful, making certain he spent more time with her and being more attentive. Over time, he realized those things backfired. She associated the niceties that shifters did for their women with setting them up for the bigger fall later. Once he realized she didn’t respond well to his sweetness, he would fall back on his rope art and the connection they had through that. Eventually, she would talk to him and after, when he held her, she would relax into him and be able to let go of her insecurities.

  The fact that she had those trust issues upset her more than it did him. He reached down and caught at her silky hair, letting it slide through his fingers the way he always slid the ropes through his fingers, feeling protective of her. She had worked hard on their property, more so on the outside than the inside of their home. She’d made few changes to the interior, but the outside was already so transformed he barely recognized the property. Ania had been shocked, admitting the landscaping was unbelievably beautiful and should be written up in a magazine.

  Very slowly, so as not to disturb his woman, Sevastyan slid from the bed and padded across the room to the long, thick glass wall. Ordinarily, he would have lowered the privacy screens so Flambé could sleep in going into the weekend, but he liked full moons, and so did she. Most full moons, he kept the screens up so when he woke, he spent time absorbing the beauty of the night.