Spotting His Leopard (Shifters, Inc.) (3 page)

                “This isn’t a goddamn party,” Corran said curtly. “We’ve got until tomorrow night. Let’s sit down and draw up our plans.”

                Gwenneth shrugged. It wouldn’t be much of a party with him in that kind of mood.  “Fine. We’ll go out back and find a nice, quiet spot.”

                “Oh, what’s the hurry, you old woman?” Now Nadette was her charming, sparkling self again. “It’s a beautiful night. I want to flirt.” She spun around in a circle and her skirt swirled around her slim, toned legs.

                Gwenneth let out a snort of derision. “There’s a tragic lack of single men here, if you hadn’t noticed. This is the land of married couples wanting to get knocked up.”

                Nadette made a gagging gesture, shoving two fingers into her mouth.  “Ugh. Babies. Disgusting little parasites.”  Then she glanced over at the bar. “But you’re giving up too easily.  That bartender’s hot. So is the bellhop.   Fancy going native?” she said to Gwenneth with a wink.  A faint trace of her French accent could be discerned.   She and her uncle had grown up in Paris before things had gotten too hot for them there and they’d been forced to relocate to Los Angeles, where they’d met Gwenneth and Rhonwen and the other gang members.

                “No. No screwing around. While we’re here, we’re concentrating on the job,” Corran said irritably.

                “Why, Corran, are you jealous?” Nadette purred, leaning up against him. He stepped back, his expression annoyed.

                Her face fell. “Fine,” she bit out. “Let’s get this over with.”

                As Gwenneth followed them out back, the face of that wolf flashed through her mind once again, and she knew she was going to have to do something about him.   He suspected her of something, she was sure of it. It was too much of a coincidence that he’d showed up outside that alleyway.   

                She was itching for an internet connection to look him up.  Damn this island.  He moved like law enforcement or military.  She suspected he was a cop on vacation and she’d somehow given herself away at the museum. That must be why her body had reacted so strongly to him – it was warning her of potential danger.

                It was odd that her body’s reaction to danger apparently included being incredibly turned on; that had never happened before. Maybe it had something to do with this island’s weird mojo. It didn’t matter; what she needed to do was make sure he didn’t interfere with their plans. And she couldn’t tell Nadette and Corran about it, because they were already freaked out enough.

                She had an idea of how to distract him. She’d need to find out where he was staying, but it shouldn’t be hard. The tourist area of the island wasn’t that big and there were only half a dozen hotels catering to tourists.  She could recruit the little girl from the Thieves’ Guild to help track the guy down.

                “Ronny.” Corran fell back and let Nadette walk ahead. His forehead was creased in a frown. “I need to talk to you alone. Seriously. I need to know what the hell you’re playing at these days.”

                Nadette slowed down and glanced back at them suspiciously. At the same time, Gwenneth stepped away from him. “I’m not going to be alone with either one of you,” she said firmly. For all she knew, they both were planning on double-crossing her. Or Corran might want to double-cross both of them and take the spoils for himself.  The Eye of the Jaguar was an enormous prize.

                She also didn’t want to get into any in-depth conversations with him that might give her away.  She hadn’t seen her sister, or any of them, for five years; anything she said might reveal her deception.

                He stared at her for a long moment, and she could see the rage boiling deep inside him. “Fine.” He turned and walked ahead, long legs slashing impatiently. 

                Gwenneth reminded herself not to turn her back on him for an instant.

                “Slow down. I’m not young and spry like you are.” Gwenneth was breathing hard, jogging to keep up with the fast-moving little girl and struggling to hold on to the cloth-wrapped bundle in her arms.

                They were winding their way through the heart of the slums.  Homes there were lashed together out of sheets of plywood and corrugated tin, stacked on top of each other in seemingly haphazard fashion.  One strong monsoon would send this whole neighborhood crashing to the ground.  The stench of rotting garbage and sewage hung in the air, and goats and chickens and dogs wandered listlessly through the narrow pathways which served as streets.

                “We’re almost there!” The girl dashed around a corner and Gwenneth followed her.  A group of children and teenagers sat on cinder blocks in front of a corrugated-tin shanty.  She counted eight of them. 

The shanty was streaked with rust. A sheet of plastic served as a door, and several more sheets of plastic were draped over cut-out squares that served as makeshift windows.

                The children were drinking out of plastic cups when she walked up, but they set down their food and ran over to hug her.

                “Rhonny! You’re home!” they cried joyfully.

                Gwenneth reminded herself again to smack her sister upside the head, really hard, when she found her.  What the hell had she been playing at with these kids?  They were like any kids – they wanted a mother, someone to take care of them. Why make them think they had one, and then run off?

Gwenneth and Rhonwen had been abandoned by their alcoholic mother as cubs when she’d wandered off after one of her drinking binges and never come back, so Rhonwen knew what abandonment felt like. It was one reason Rhonwen had always avoided children like a contagious disease – her childhood had been so painful that she didn’t like to be around them because it gave her unpleasant flashbacks.

                Gwenneth set down the bundle on the ground and unwrapped it. She’d bought them new sandals, shorts, shirts, and dresses in various sizes, as well as fresh, hot pastries.  She’d also bought cans of soup and boxes of granola bars.  She knew there would be no electricity or refrigeration here.

                “It’s been so long!” she said to the children as they eagerly seized the wrapped pastries. “How long has it been, again? It feels like forever since I’ve seen you!”

                “One year,” the girl who’d taken her there said promptly.  So. Her sister had been here a year ago.

                “What a good memory you have.” The girl’s face beamed at the praise.
Oh, let me take you home with me,
Gwenneth thought.
You don’t need to grow up like this.
She felt anger and contempt for the local head of the Thieves’ Guild. She knew how this worked;  the children paid him a tribute out of the money they hustled, and in exchange he bribed law enforcement to stay out of the shanty town and probably had the garbage picked up occasionally. That was it. No school. No hope of a better life. Later in life, they’d end up as prostitutes or drug addicts, and then in jail. This was the side of the island the tourists never saw.

                But she couldn’t take this child with her, or all these other children, she knew.  For one thing, this was the child’s family, her home, all she’d ever known, and for another, Gwenneth could hardly offer her a safe and stable life.

                She could hear Rhonwen’s voice echoing through her head again.
You can’t save the world.

                “I can’t stay for long, so I want you to tell me everything that’s been happening with each one of you,” she said as she sat down and began handing out pastries to the children. 

                She pulled out a packet of hand wipes from her purse. “Wipe your hands and faces first,” she said to them.

                The little girl made a face. “You and your hand-washing,” she complained, but she pulled a hand wipe out of the packet and handed the packet to the next child. She scrubbed at her hands and face, grimacing as she did so.

                Rhonwen had made these children wash their hands?

                She sighed, sitting down on a concrete block. A little boy wearing ragged shorts crawled into her lap, chewing on one of the pastries she’d bought.  He held out his arm, showing off a scar. “See, all better now!” he said to her happily.  This must be Hiro.

                “Tell me all about what you’ve been up to,” she prompted them again.  They all started talking at once, and by listening carefully, she managed to get all their names.  The girl who’d brought her there was Tana. 

              The one who seemed to be in charge of them was a boy named Pern who appeared to be about 13 or 14.  He was barefoot, and a rope served as a belt holding up the shorts which hung off his thin frame.

                “So you’ve been getting the money that I send every month?” she asked. 
Where is Rhonwen sending that money from? And why?

                “Yes, the guild leader delivers it to us.  It’s still Farruki. He’s never late,” Tana said, nodding.

                Of course. The local guild leader have his filthy fingers in all shantytown business. 

                “There he is.” Hiro pointed. A skinny jaguar shifter in his thirties was strolling towards them.  His glossy black hair was slicked back, and a pencil thin mustache curved along his top lip.  He wore a nicely tailored blue linen suit, paired ridiculously with flashy orange sneakers.  A couple of big, hulking thugs trailed behind him, draped in gold chain necklaces.

                “Excuse me a second,” Gwenneth said. She set the little boy down and walked over to where Farruki and his men were standing.

                “Hello, gorgeous.  Miss me?” He smirked at her.

                “Like a bad rash.” She smiled back without warmth, and his smirk twisted into a scowl. “Hello, Farruki. I see you’ve been helping yourself to quite a large portion of my monthly gifts.” Here he was, decked head to toe in nice new clothes, and half the kids didn’t even have shoes.  He probably left them barely enough money to eat.  That was why they still had to steal.

                He shrugged. “As per our agreement.”

                “No, you’re taking more than we agreed.” It was a guess, but from the angry, defensive look on his face, she knew it was an accurate guess.

                “You challenging me?” He puffed himself up and black hair rippled on his face.  His claws extended, and he pretended to examine them closely.  His thugs let out growls that she supposed were meant to be menacing.

                She smiled. There were aspects of her old life that she’d hated – but this wasn’t one of them. She loved facing down bullies.

                “I assume you’re still a member in good standing of the guild?” Not that she was still a guild member, but she hadn’t lost her ability to bluff.

                “Of course I am.” His eyes shuttled around, fearful and defensive, as if there were Guild Enforcers crouched in the doorways. “Who says I’m not?”

                “We don’t steal from each other.” She didn’t need to remind him of the code. It was also bullshit. They were thieves! They stole from each other all the time, but if one member of the Thieves’ Guild actually got caught stealing from a fellow guild member, an Enforcer would snuff them out in a very painful and public fashion, to make sure all the other guild members got the point. It generally happened at least once a year, and news of it always travelled to guild members throughout the world.

                He went pale and swallowed hard. “I’m not stealing from anyone in the guild.”

                “When I send money to these kids and you take more of it than we agreed, you’re stealing from me.” She met his gaze unwaveringly, and after a few seconds he looked away. “Of course, we can take it off the island if needs be. I don’t mind taking it up to the next level.”

                “Fine, fine. Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he whined.

                “I can’t blame a guy for taking money out of the pockets of hungry kids? Fuck you. You’re going to pay them back all the extra you stole, and you’re going to give them everything I send from now on. I’ll be back to check up on you.” She didn’t know if she would really be able to come back here, but he didn’t know that.

                Muttering obscenities, he stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He peeled off a few bills from a thick sheaf, handed them to her, and stomped off, with his thugs following him. Unfortunately, she didn’t know exactly how much he owed the kids, but this was better than nothing.

                She walked back to the kids and handed the money to Pern, and settled back down on the cement block. Now she needed to talk business. As much as she hated to do it,  there were some things she definitely needed their help with.

                Tyler paced the room, kicking at the remnants of the lamp he’d hurled against the wall.  His mood had been foul yesterday, but today it was a dark black cloud.  He’d found what he’d been looking for after he’d flown to the mainland. Part of him wished he hadn’t.

                Because what he’d found out was that his fated mate was not just a thief – he could have worked with that, somehow. He could have found her a new job, probably invited her to work for Shifters, Inc. They had plenty of former criminals working for them, including his ex-girlfriend.  He could have found ways to make restitution to anyone she’d stolen from.

                But the one thing he couldn’t do was bring someone back from the dead.   And she was a killer.

               
How did this happen?
he wondered as he paced in his hotel room.  Was fate playing some kind of terrible, cosmic joke on him? He’d always wondered if he even had a fated mate. His father was human, which meant he was only half shifter. It had been a toss-up whether his mother would have human babies or shifter cubs.

                And since he was half human, he’d never known if there was a fated mate for him.  It wasn’t as if anyone had done a scientific study on it. Human-shifter hybrids weren’t unheard of, but they were rare.  He’d asked his parents when he was younger, and they’d assured him that since he’d been born a wolf shifter, he definitely had a fated mate, but of course they’d say that.

                Humans just seemed to stumble along and hope that the person that they married was the right one for them – although a fifty percent divorce rate suggested that this method was far from perfect.  Shifters were supposed to
know
.  

                When he’d first laid eyes on the leopard shifter – hell, even before he’d laid eyes on her – he’d felt as if he knew.  He’d felt a strong attraction. A magnetic pull.

                He’d liked her even more after what he’d seen when he’d followed her out of the museum. She was strong. She was feisty. She didn’t take any crap, and she had jumped right in when that A-hole had been bullying the kid.

                Still, facts didn’t lie. Facial recognition had revealed her to be Rhonwen Morgan, leopard shifter, a suspect in too many high-end heists for it to be a coincidence and, more
recently
, a killer.

                Not just once – twice
recently
.  She’d broken into a company called Aerodyne and shot two security guards who’d come rushing in when she tripped a security alarm.

                A couple of months later, she’d broken into the home of a very wealthy family known for their art collection and murdered them – a mother, a father, a teenager. She’d taken several priceless paintings with her, leaving their bodies sprawled in pools of blood. 

                She’d been in Interpol’s sights for several years now, but up until recently she’d been a shadow on their radar.  They didn’t have definitive proof; they’d just been dealing in rumors, and info from a couple of informants.  On two separate jobs
recently
they’d found physical evidence.  They’d found one hair, with a root attached, enough for a DNA sample, draped across one of the dead security guard’s faces at Aerodyne.  And several of her hairs had been found clutched in the hand of the father from the murdered family. Although she’d shot the wife and son, she’d slashed the father’s throat, so she’d obviously gotten close enough for him to grab her.

                So in the past year she’d grown sloppy. And vicious. Why was that? Boredom? Arrogance? Drug addiction? He hadn’t spotted any signs of drug use at the museum.  Hadn’t scented it on her either.

                He kicked at another lamp shard, sending it flying.  Then, with an angry sigh, he knelt down and began picking up the pieces and dumping them into a trash can. He was compulsively tidy, even when he was pissed off. Whenever he’d had a temper tantrum and thrown his toys around the room as a child, he’d rushed around afterwards, picking them back up and putting them back where they belonged.

                His mind was still racing, searching for answers, as he cleaned up.  From a strictly practical point of view, her behavior didn’t make sense.  Burglary was a business.  Murder was bad for business.

                He finished cleaning up, set the wastebasket down and contemplated his next move.  The parade didn’t start for several hours, but he’d found out where she was staying and was going to head over to her hotel. He hadn’t decided if he’d turn her over to the local police directly, or follow her and see what she was up to.

                He’d dismissed Maji for the day; he didn’t want the kid involved in anything dangerous.

                He knew he should have alerted the authorities when he’d first found out who she was, instead of heading back to the island. He couldn’t even come up with a good reason why he hadn’t.  Something about the idea of strangers swarming over her, grabbing her…would they hurt her?

               
As if it matters
, he scolded himself.

                He obviously wasn’t going to let her go, so he’d have to take her into custody himself.  He couldn’t let a murderess go unpunished. He couldn’t let her kill again. Who knew what her plans for tonight were, how many innocent guards or bystanders she’d take out?

                He exited the ancient, creaking elevator that opened into the lobby.  Then he paused, feeling that odd tingling sensation again, and he searched the crowd, looking for her.  It had to be his leopard. Only she conjured up that feeling.

                After a few minutes, he spotted her. The back half of the lobby featured a bar.  She was perched on a bar stool, holding a bottled water, and she was casually looking around the room. Looking for him, he was sure of it.

                And she was dressed to kill. 

* * *

                “Well, well, fancy meeting you here.” Tyler slid up next to her at the bar, and instantly her mouth went dry. She grabbed her water bottle and took a big gulp.
Not sexy
, she scolded herself.

                He didn’t seem to notice or care. His gaze roved appreciatively over her body, and a warm flush spread from her head to her toes.  Now she wanted to dump the water on her head to cool herself down. Instead she took another sip and tried to summon up a seductive smile.

                Up until now she’d dressed to blend in, but this afternoon she’d dressed to attract attention. She wore a white halter-top dress with cleavage slashed nearly to her bellybutton.  She still wore the fake glasses, but she’d slathered on the makeup, giving herself smoky, smoldering eyes and shiny red lips.

                “I know, right? What an amazing coincidence.” She set down her bottle of water. “Are you here to buy me a drink?”

                “That could happen,” he said, and nodded at the bartender, who hurried over. 

                “I’ll have a margarita on the rocks,” she said to the bartender.

                “The same,” Tyler said, and returned his attention to her. He leaned against the bar and favored her with a slow, lazy grin. She breathed in his scent, a mixture of his own animal musk and a cologne with hints of cedar.

                “So, I assume that you came here to find me. I must say I’m flattered.”

                She laughed. “And very self-confident.”

               “I take it this means you’re rethinking your no-socializing policy?” The light from outdoors glinted off his brown hair, picking up hints of caramel.  His lips were soft and sensual; she imagined herself nibbling on them gently. What would he taste like if she kissed him?

                She moved restlessly in her seat, leaning back away from him.  “Maybe,” she said, avoiding his gaze.  She had a terrible feeling that he saw right through her. Was he buying any of this? She couldn’t read him at all.

                She cleared her throat and tried again. “I mean, here we are, two single people on vacation, in this beautiful city. It seems a shame to spend all this time alone.”

                He nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”

                She stared out across the bar. “I wonder how that taxi driver kid is doing.” Then she could have kicked herself.  She was supposed to be seducing this guy, and that was hardly a seductive topic.

                He looked surprised by her question. “Maji? I hired him to be my personal driver for the rest of my stay here. Two weeks.  How long are you staying?”

                “Oh, a while. I didn’t book my return yet.” Was he subtly hinting that he wanted to spend more time with her, more than just today? God, she wished she could. He was so damn sexy. She liked just sitting next to him, staring into his whiskey-colored eyes, admiring the curve of his upper lip.  He had a musky smell to him.  She breathed it in.

                “It’s nice of you to do that for him. I know you’ll treat him well,” she added, and she meant it. And sincerely regretted what she was about to do.
For Rhonwen
, she reminded herself. The only family she had in the world.

                The bartender set the drinks in front of them, and Tyler lifted his margarita and clinked it against hers in a toast. “To making new friends,” he said.

                “To making new friends,” she agreed.  She didn’t want to have too much to drink; she needed to keep her head clear. And the more time she spent with him, the more distracted she was getting.
Best to wrap it up,
she thought regretfully. “Should we finish our drinks in your room?”

                She saw a flash of surprise in his eyes. Was she moving too fast? Had she already blown it? Damn it, she felt so awkward. She’d never been thrilled with deception – that was one of the reasons she’d got out of the business years ago.  She was a thief with a conscience – a major hindrance for that kind of field.

                But the flash vanished instantly, replaced by a slow, warm smile.

                “Let’s do that,” he said, nodding. He slapped a handful of bills on the bar and slid out of his seat.

                She followed him to the elevator and they headed upstairs.

                As they went up, she briefly indulged herself in a fantasy. Maybe she could actually let him seduce her.  Would she have time? And exactly how trampy was this vacation making her? Two sips of a margarita and she was ready to hump a stranger. Not just a stranger, but a man who could pose considerable danger to her.

                Hell, if she believed that fate was kind, she’d think he was her fated mate or something ridiculous like that.  But she didn’t believe that such a fairy tale was really true. Her mother had told her and her sister stories like that, and her mother had been the biggest liar she’d ever met.  Her mother had also claimed she’d met her fated mate every time she brought a new man home from the bar. Half the time, the guy would try to molest her or her sister, and they’d have to stab him.

                Tyler held the door open for her, and she strolled in.  The room was decorated in a tropical theme with bamboo furniture, a sisal mat, and palms in huge ceramic pots.  There was a wooden statue of GuRa, the fertility goddess, in the corner; she had enormous breasts and a hugely swollen pregnant belly.

                Palmed in Gwenneth’s hand was a tiny capsule of a highly powerful knockout drug, designed specifically for shifters. It was her own concoction.  She had concealed it in a bottle of Vitamin E capsules, but she’d replaced each capsule with various mixtures – knockout pills, wakeup pills, truth serum.  She’d never been able to go to school for chemistry, but she was very good at it nonetheless.

                As they entered the room, she transformed ever so slightly, just the claw of her index finger, and pierced the capsule. Then she squeezed it into her margarita.

                They set their drinks on the coffee table. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “Just going to freshen up.”

                It was like he was begging her to swap their drinks
. He really should be more careful, walking away from his drink like that,
she thought.
He doesn’t even know me. I could be a serial killer for all he knows.

               
She knew how utterly absurd it was for her to be concerned about him, she just couldn’t help herself.

                He went into the bathroom and she heard water running.  She quickly switched their drinks, and he strolled out a minute later.

                “I’m so glad you changed your mind,” he said, settling down on the couch next to her.  His nearness was like some strange energy field, setting her body ablaze with desire. 

                She found herself wondering what his game was. He knew she was up to something, she was sure of it. So was he planning on seducing the truth out of her? Going through her purse when she was distracted?

                Then he leaned forward, cupped her chin in his hand, and kissed her, and for a few brief, glorious moments she was swept away in a dizzying storm of passion.  His lips were soft and tender, but his kiss was commanding. His tongue swept through her mouth, tangling with hers, leading it in an intimate duet.  He kissed her with a hunger that couldn’t be a lie, with a deep-seated need that perfectly mirrored her own.