To Lie With Lions: A BBW Shifter Romance (Wolf Rock Shifters Book 4) (13 page)

“But you don’t need him. You’re an educated, beautiful woman. You can look after yourself. In the meantime, have that lion man look after you.”

“I don’t know if I can. I mean, I don’t know if he’s willing. We didn’t part on the best of terms.”

“You still want him, though, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

“So go get him. I can see in you that you’ve found your man, and there’s no point in denying it. You’re in love, or what we shifters call love, which is a whole other scale from people-love. They don’t even begin to know the torture we go through.”

“No,” said Cecile. “I think you’re right. I used to think that movies and books were full of ridiculous stories of love that seemed to spring up overnight. But it does sometimes, doesn’t it?”

“Oh yes, it does, honey,” Susannah continued, “And remember this above all else, all that character assessing and his honesty and sense of humour and all that crap: what it comes down to is that the only thing that matters is how he is with his tongue.”

“You think? Not his personality
, his intelligence or how he treats others?”

“Hell no, lady. And
while we’re on it, here’s another thing: always keep that mouth of his occupied. Otherwise he’ll waste your time by talkin’.”

“You are a
hell of a cynic, Susannah.”

“I
’m just bein’ straight with ya. I know men. They get boring. It’s important that we keep ‘em screwing and licking. Otherwise what good are they, other than to wire light fixtures and attack stray bears?”

“I’ll admit this: y
ou raise a good point.” Cecile laughed. She knew that she would happily endure years of getting to know Nash before she could ever grow bored of him. He was too delicious; too mysterious. Too appealing.

“Great,” said Susannah. “I’m glad we’ve had this chat.
Now go talk to that jackass of a tiger daddy of yours.”

When she’d left Susannah to her endless chores, Cecile
sat down to a breakfast of bacon and eggs with her father. She’d made the meal herself, knowing that it was his favourite and that the smell of bacon always managed to put him into a good mood. On this particular day, she knew that the best that she could hope for was a temporary one.

“Dad,” she said when he’d had enough mouthfuls that the frown lines on his face had slightly faded.

“Yes, honey?” This was a good start. He never called her “honey” unless something within him had reverted to the days of her youth, when his wife was alive and all was well.

“I need to say a few things.”

Malcolm looked at her, his jaw slowing in its chewing motion as he swallowed the last of his crisp bacon.

“I’m all ears,” he said, though Cecile knew perfectly well that at his best he was all claws and teeth. Why the fuck couldn’t he have been a jackrabbit shifter?

“I’m an adult. I think you’re well aware of that by now. I’m also self-sufficient.”

“I won’t deny either statement.”

“You and mom…” she looked at him now with hesitancy. It was rare that she brought up her mother. “You and mom met when you were young. You were fated for each other. You know how that feels.”

“Fate does not mean infallibility,” said her father quietly. Cecile felt as though she were witnessing the calm before a typhoon.

“No, I suppose nothing does. But I have met my mate. I know it in my bones. My tiger knows it. I’ve never felt so restless and out of control. And what’s in me is not willing to submit to your iron-fisted rule.” The last sentence had not been intended to come out with such a directly accusatory tone, and yet it was too late by the time the words had passed her lips.

“I see,” said her father. “Well, you do what you need to do.”

Cecile had both palms flat on the table in front of her in preparation for the altercation that never came. But these words from her father led her to utter simply, “What?”

“I’ve thought about it a good deal. You’re a grown woman. It’s your life. I’ve been too controlling, too possessive. I’ve forgotten myself and my place as a father.”

“Well…thank you,” Cecile said. “I’m really glad we had this talk.”

With
that, she rose to leave the room, still a little shocked.

“Oh,” said her father as she approached the door. “It might interest you to know that your ‘friend’ Nash has joined the group of extortionists, and in fact has been threatening the locals alongside them. He’s even attacked a couple.”

Cecile turned on her heel, fur attempting to push itself through the flesh on her back as she bristled.

“That isn’t possible,” she said.

“Isn’t it? Ah, well. I suppose you would know. He is your mate, after all. Isn’t that what you said?”

In that moment she hated her father. Without guilt or remorse, she felt nothing but pure hatred.

It was after several days of threatening strangers and friends that Nash was “promoted” to the next phase of his tenure. This wasn’t so much a reward for his good behaviour as a result of an injury that Larry had sustained while coming through on one of his threats. While attempting to ransack a local sporting goods store, the owner, who’d sat in wait in the storage room, came at him.

The owner was a grizzly.

Larry hadn’t shifted in time and was now the proud owner of several fresh and not-very-attractive wounds that had required stitches, a few of which were on his face. He bore a resemblance to something out of a poorly-made Frankenstein film, which Nash thought was an improvement.

It was Fargo who had called him
in the morning when things had changed.

“We have a new assignment. Boss has been in touch.”

“Oh?” Nash’s mind reeled a little. He wondered if he could simply swipe Fargo’s phone and learn the boss’s identity via the texts, but the cell that the guy used probably wasn’t linked to an official residence. More excruciating patience would be necessary.

“
We’re going after one of the big dogs. So to speak.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? The wolf pack?”

“No. Conrad Malcolm.”

Nash stood erect, his mind racing. He would have to confront and lie to Cecile’s father; possibly even Cecile. Though he had no doubt by now that she knew what he was up to.

“I…” he began.

“Is there a problem?”

“No. No problem. I’m just wondering what we’re expected to do. The guy’s got the place locked up like Buckingham fucking Palace. We can’t just waltz in.”

“You’ll find us a way, won’t you? You’re a resourceful kid.”

“I see. So I’m graduating from thug to cunning villain.”

“Something like that. Find us a way in or
you’ll find yourself out of a job, and your ranch won’t be much of a ranch anymore. Oh, and do it while Malcolm is out of town. He’s gone for a few days.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I want to surprise the old tiger bastard. Get into his fortress while it’s vulnerable.”

Nash spent the next day working out a plan.
He knew, of course, that he was perfectly capable of scaling the wall around what essentially was the compound surrounding the chalet. But getting inside the house itself was another matter.

There was only one thing to be done, he thought.

But he didn’t like it.

The following morning, with the “boss” issuing the command that they move, Nash and Fargo were to drive out to the chalet. It hadn’t taken much effort to discover that Malcolm was to be in New York at a conference, delivering a speech that day. So at the very least that aspect of the plan was on solid footing. The issue now was whether Cecile would be present. Nash was relying on her.

They hadn’t spoken since before she’d left town. In his mind she had discarded him, having learned what a monster he was. Here he had wanted to protect her, and he was doing no such thing. He was about to invade her home, her fortress.

His desire had never waned. If anything it grew stronger each day as he contemplated the time when perhaps he’d be instrumental in taking down the kingpin of the extortion racket. Maybe he could prove himself worthy to Cecile, even to her father.

When Nash went to meet Fargo, he discovered that the shifter wasn’t alone. A man was with him who seemed new
to the group.

“And this is?” Nash asked, perturbed that things were changing.

“This is Brick,” said Fargo, the name nearly making Nash laugh. “He’s Larry’s cousin.”

The man was bu
ilt like a brick wall, so his name was comically suitable. Thick, broad and muscular, he reminded Nash of a bomb shelter. He looked like a bear shifter; his lower lip even had the sort of drooling looseness of a lot of grizzlies’ lips. And he didn’t do much other than grunt. A grizzly for sure.

“Brick’s going to be helping us today in case of trouble. I figure we can use more help. You never know what kind of security this guy has.”

“All right,” said Nash.

“So what’s the plan, genius boy?” asked Fargo.

Nash looked at Brick, who stood motionless, his eyes fixed on something in the distance. “Oh,” he said. “You’re talking to me. I figured that ol’ Brick over here was the genius.”

“Don’t get all witty on me, you little
asshat,” said Fargo. “I’m in no mood.”

The weasel seemed more irritable even than usual, and Nash wondered if he was frightened at the prospect of what could go wrong in the next hour or so.

“I think the best thing is to drive up and go in that way,” said Nash.

“Oh, superb. So we just march
in like we own the place.”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“And what the hell makes you think they’ll let us in? I thought you said it was locked up like the freakin’ Queen of England owned it.”

“I know Cecile. The daughter. I can persuade her to open the gate.”

“And if that fails?”

“If that fails, we fail. The next step is to go over the wall and then to break down some doors or crash through some windows. Which would inevitably set off
alarms. I don’t doubt that Malcolm has his own security force ready to spring into action.”

“Fine. We’ll try it your way. I didn’t realize you and the daughter were tight.”

Nash wanted to wince at the choice of adjectives. Cecile was tight, all right. He could almost feel himself inside her, being held and squeezed, enveloped by warmth, wetness and passion.

“We had a bit of a falling out,” he said. “But let me handle it. She’s a woman and there are ways of dealing with women.”

“I’m sure there are, Romeo,” said Fargo. “Work your magic.”

The three drove in Fargo’s SUV, which Nash assumed belonged to someone far more respectable than the weasel, given that it didn’t smell of fish and old socks. No doubt it was a loaner from the big boss to do his bidding. Nash was by now growing used to Fargo’s erratic driving and instincts which were completely counter to his own; it was no wonder the guy needed larger shifters around for protection. He was fairly useless on his own.

When they arrived at the entry gate to the chalet, Nash got out of the car and hit the buzzer.

Cecile answered, which made something in his chest leap.

“Cecile,” he said. “It’s Nash. I’m wondering if I could talk to you.”

“I don’t see what you could possibly want to talk to me about. I’ve been told what you’re up to. And, like every other man in my life, you’ve managed to let me down.”

“Maybe if I could explain…”

“Fine. This is the last time I’m inviting you in to ‘explain’ anything though. Is that clear?”

“Clear.”

The gate opened up and Nash got back into the passenger’s seat. He wondered if Cecile had watched the monitor; it seemed too much to hope that she was aware that he was coming in with two other men. He wanted her to be prepared.

“So what are you two going to do when we get to the house?” he asked.

“You’ll see, nosey Parker,” said Fargo.

“Nosey Parker? Are you my grandmother?”

“Shut your food hole,” replied the weasel.

“That’s better,” said Nash.

Brick remained as silent as his name implied he’d be.

Nash led the other two up to the house and Cecile opened the door.

“So these are your new colleagues, I suppose?” she asked. She was dressed in a striped sweater and jeans, and her signature tall boots. She looked good enough to make Nash’s body react in spite of his nerves.

“They are. But I had to see you. And they apparently have a proposal for you.”

“Oh, do they?” she asked. Nash could see her face redden with anger. So this wasn’t about them so much as a stunt to fuck
with her father, she thought. “And what about you, Nash? Do you have a proposal?”

“I…”

As Nash tried to come up with the words to convey what he really wanted, Brick walked around her. He was a large oaf of a man, but surprisingly quick. In a flash he’d grabbed Cecile’s wrist and clasped something on to it.