The Jaguar Tycoon: Tales of the Were (Howls Romance) Page 4

  Shelly walked over to the car, and the young man took her bag, stowing it in the trunk for her. She handed him a tip, but when she pulled back her hand, he’d replaced the folded dollar bills with a piece of brown paper. A note.

  “Thanks. Drive safe now, ma’am,” he said, smiling at her as he waited to close her door after she’d sat down.

  She’d never gotten such attentive treatment before in her life, even sporting the Howell name. But she couldn’t really enjoy it. She faced a long drive ahead of her, and Mason might have friends on the road. She wanted to get home fast. Back to the place she felt safest.

  Shelly took off, palming the note until she got to a red light where she could glance down and read the short message.

  Drive normally. You have an escort home.

  It was signed simply, Mark.

  Shelly felt her stomach clench in a way that wasn’t altogether unpleasant. Far from it.

  He had provided for her safety. She’d found Mark Pepard attractive from the moment she laid eyes on him from afar at the dinner, but then, everything had gotten so weird. His people had threatened her. Berated her. Questioned her like she was the bad guy.

  There was something about him. Something compelling. Something that wouldn’t let her not think about him. She didn’t know why, but that’s just the way it was.

  Shelly got out of the city, feeling much better about her drive, knowing there were some folks on the road whose job it was to see she made it home safely. She hadn’t really believed the worry Mark had hinted at over possible repercussions from last night, but after that jerk Mason cornered her, and the way he’d tried to grab her when she left the elevator—she was glad of the escort.

  It might be ridiculous to think someone would try to harm her on the road, but she’d also thought anyone questioning her about last night had been ridiculous. She’d already been proven very wrong this morning. She didn’t want to try for a second round.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “She’s safely away,” Troy reported in Cassius’s earpiece. The lady was in her car and on the road.

  That was their cue to release the man from the elevator. With the Pack’s help and Jimmy’s theatrical skills, they’d managed to delay the guy long enough for the human woman to make her getaway. Cassius had blocked the elevator door while Jimmy lit into the guy with indignant outrage about the way he’d manhandled the lady.

  Jimmy was in his element, pretending to be some kind of self-righteous Midwestern preacher, condemning the man and his big-city ways. Jim was about to launch into something that Cassius was sure would rival the Sermon on the Mount when they got the all clear. Thank goodness.

  “Look, gentlemen,” Cassius said in the most docile bellman tone he could cultivate. “Can we just agree to leave pretty young ladies alone and leave it at that?” He made a show of looking around. “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble with my boss. He loves calling the cops, and I don’t want to do that to anyone.” He looked at the creep with a knowing expression. “I’m willing to forget this ever happened.” Cassius held out one hand—a clear signal that he’d forget it if the man was willing to grease his palm with a hefty tip.

  Personally, Cassius thought that was a masterful touch. No self-respecting bellman would let a guest go without at least trying to milk him for some pocket change.

  The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a fat wallet. His gaze seemed to lose some of its suspicion as he forked over a small wad of cash.

  Cassius smiled and moved aside for the elevator creep while Jimmy began tsking at him like the outraged preacher character he was playing. He kept it up until the guy left the building. Jimmy left the elevator shortly after, maintaining his persona as Cassius got into the elevator with his luggage cart. They had to maintain the façade in case elevator guy had friends.

  As soon as the elevator doors closed, Cassius began relaying orders. “I want that guy followed.”

  “On it, boss,” came the feminine reply. Jilly was on her motorcycle. She’d be great at tracking the lone human through the crowded city streets.

  They also had multiple people set up at varying distances from the hotel for just this sort of mission. Jilly would follow for a while then hand off to the next Pack member. They had a big Pack. They could follow the guy for miles and miles.

  “Backup team, make him your first priority. We need to know everything we can about him. The jags have a big problem, and we need to give them as much information as possible.” Cassius frowned as he thought about what he’d seen when the man was fiddling with his wallet. “What floor was his room on?”

  “Eleven,” Ben replied over the earpiece. Cassius bent to hit the number and moved upward in the big hotel. He’d thought their job would be over as soon as the lady left, but now, it was looking like it might have only just begun.

  “Seal it off, guys. Ben, call Emily and ask her if she can come here right away.”

  “Emily?” Cassius heard Ben’s gulp over the earpiece. Shifters didn’t much like magic users, but as witches went, Emily was one of the nicer ones.

  She did spell work for the Midtown Pack from time to time. And the fact that she was Cassius’s aunt didn’t hurt. She was loyal to him, if not to the entire Pack. Her sister had been his sire’s second wife. Unfortunately, they’d both died together, years ago.

  “You heard me. We need her to go over the room,” Cassius confirmed.

  “Why?” Ben asked. He shouldn’t have questioned Cassius, but he let it slide for now. It was rare that any member of the wolf Pack would involve a witch in their affairs, but he knew he had to do it this time. And he knew the rest of the Pack that was in range was listening…waiting for his reply.

  “Because that guy had a tattoo on his inner wrist. The one we’ve been warned about. It glowed with magic,” Cassius replied, dread filling his heart at what he had just seen.

  “I didn’t see any tattoo,” Jimmy piped in. Cassius would have to deal with the younger wolf’s challenge later.

  “You wouldn’t. Your magic sense is about as good as your acting.” The insult helped Cassius deal with his anger about being questioned. Jimmy was a professional actor. He took a lot of pride in his craft, so belittling it was a grave insult. If they’d been on the street or in the wild, Cassius would have knocked him down a peg or two until he submitted to Cassius’s dominance, but the verbal assault would have to do…for now. “Just make the call, Ben. Better yet, send someone to escort her here. Tell her we’ve got a Venifucus situation. That’ll bring her.”

  “Venifucus?” Ben gulped again, his voice shaking. He was such a beta.

  “That’s the tattoo I saw. Elevator Creep was one of them. I want every one of his moves accounted for and in a written report transmitted to my phone hourly. Sooner if he does something suspicious. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jilly replied. “So far, he’s just sitting in the back of a taxi. They’re not going anywhere fast. Stuck in traffic,” she replied. “I’ll hand off to Luke in another block or two then send you my report.”

  “Well done, Jilly.” Cassius believed in giving praise where it was due among the younger members of the Pack, even if they sometimes questioned him because of his impure lineage. His mother had been a witch. He was only half-wolf, but his wolf was Alpha all the way, and he demanded respect.

  In this particular case, though, the magical inheritance from his mother’s side of the family had paid off in spades. He’d seen the magical mark when other members of the Pack had been oblivious to it. Forewarned is forearmed, Cassius believed. His being able to spot what the man truly was might have been a fortuitous break.

  And in the ongoing battle with the ancient, evil Venifucus organization, those on the side of Light could use all the help they could get.

  *

  Shelly pulled into her driveway an hour or two later. Traffic hadn’t been that bad, and she hadn’t noticed anyone following her. Then again, she probably wouldn’t see them unless there was a pr
oblem. That’s what Nick had said. And after the scene at the hotel, she believed him.

  Problem free, she had made her drive in peace.

  She entered her beloved home and turned off the alarm system. Everything here was peaceful and secure, the way she’d left it. The house—one of her own designs—welcomed her as it had for the past several years, and she enjoyed the feeling of security that enveloped her as she kicked off her shoes and sank her toes into the thick carpet of the living room.

  She puttered around for about an hour, cleaning areas she had left spotless. She was nervous, expecting Mark at any minute. He hadn’t been specific as to what time he intended to show up, and waiting wasn’t something she was good at. So, she fidgeted. Trying to work was useless. She ended up doodling and found, after twenty minutes, she’d come up with a stunning likeness of Mark on her sketch pad.

  Silly girl. Doodling her latest crush in the margins of her notebook like a lovesick teenager. Shelly laughed at herself as she turned the paper over so that the blank back side faced up. She got up and made herself a cup of tea, deciding to relax as best she could while being on edge, waiting for a multi-billionaire not-quite-human to show up on her doorstep.

  At one o’clock sharp, the doorbell chimed. Shelly jumped off the stool in front of her drafting table and took the stairs down two at a time. It had to be Mark. She felt it in her bones.

  Sure enough, when she threw open the door, there he was. He was every bit as handsome as she remembered. Perhaps even more so in the crisp light of day. Damn.

  “Hi.” She cursed her breathless whisper.

  “Have you eaten lunch yet?” Mark asked, the smile on his face speaking of much more than just lunch plans.

  “No.” She tried for a firmer tone, but the man stole all her air. That had to be why she sounded breathy and…aroused? Oh, boy.

  “Excellent.” Mark’s smile widened. “I took the precaution of bringing something for us to enjoy while we talk. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Mind?” Why couldn’t she seem to speak more than one syllable at a time? She tried again. “No, I don’t mind. Thank you.” Better. She held the door open and stepped back. “Please come in.”

  Mark filled the doorway. She tried to get out of his way as he stepped into the house, but he trapped her in his arms, nearly overwhelming her as he propelled her backward. She was almost lifted off her feet by his quick maneuver.

  Nick entered the house behind Mark, and then, she heard the door shut and lock.

  “Entry’s secure.” Nick’s voice came to her as he passed by on his way farther into the house. Attila the Bodyguard was traipsing around her home like he owned the place, but she couldn’t seem to find the wherewithal to object out loud.

  She heard the rustling of paper bags right before Mark pinned her against the wall and kissed her senseless. Good golly, Miss Molly! The man sure could kiss.

  There were no sweet words. No preliminaries. Just possession. Passion. And the pounding of her heart as her blood heated from zero to a hundred and twenty in one second flat.

  He lifted her upward, using the wall and his big hard body to keep her in place. She was soft where he was hard, and she began to appreciate just how well they fit together.

  The sexiest sounds came from his chest. It was a sort of purring growl, but deep and rumbly, vibrating through her wherever they touched.

  Her hands went to his shoulders, encountering the soft leather of his jacket. It was smooth and buttery under her fingers, and it radiated the heat of the man beneath. She wanted it out of the way. She wanted to feel his skin, to run her hands over him and learn his contours and shapes.

  She pushed at the leather, and it moved as he shrugged, helping her rid him of the jacket. First, one shoulder, then, the other was relieved of the jacket, and she was able to feel his warmth through the thin fabric of his shirt.

  A sound registered, just barely, in the back of Shelly’s mind as Mark drew back slightly. She didn’t want his lips to leave hers and tried to follow, but he moved out of her reach, leaving her…yearning toward him.

  And then, sanity returned.

  What the hell had just happened?

  The loud sound of a throat clearing finally penetrated her fogged brain. She slid away from Mark and moved to put a good five feet between them. Looking around, she saw Attila the Bodyguard eyeing them both with exasperation, his mouth in a tight, grim line.

  “Lunch is ready and waiting in the kitchen,” Nick said in his gruff voice. “I’ll be outside with the rest of the security detail. Try to remember to eat, okay?” He stalked his way back to the front door and let himself out with one last significant look at his boss that Shelly found hard to interpret, though she suspected Nick wasn’t happy for some reason.

  He probably didn’t like her as much as she didn’t like him. Fine with her. She didn’t have to put up with his bad attitude. If she took the job, she’d be working for Mark, not his rude friend. Right?

  She tried to placate herself with that thought as she led the way into the kitchen. She was curious to see what they’d brought. Since Mark was some kind of big cat, did he eat raw meat or something equally repulsive? She wanted to giggle nervously at that thought but kept silent as the wafting scents and aromas finally penetrated her senses.

  It smelled like meat, but definitely not raw. No, this smelled more like some kind of roasted chicken with savory herbs. Her mouth started to water as she drew closer to the steaming platters Nick must’ve laid out for them.

  “Wow.” She didn’t seem to be able to filter her thoughts or words around Mark. She’d have to work on that. She didn’t like sounding like a moron.

  Mark didn’t hesitate. He went right over to the island that separated the kitchen from the dining space. There were comfy stools on the dining room side of the island, and Nick had set the platters of food out on the service side. There was a roasted chicken, as she had suspected, but also a dish of crisp green salad and a selection of vegetables. All gourmet quality and as far from the rubber chicken of last night’s event as it was possible to get.

  “This looks delicious,” she said, just staring at the platters of food. There was a lot there. “I just usually grab a bowl of cereal. This is way more elaborate than I can manage on my own. I’m not much of a cook.”

  And now, she was babbling. Great. What was it about Mark Pepard that turned her into a ninny?

  “I had my chef prepare this for us. She’s good with packing things up picnic style, because I move around a lot and eat on the go often. She ends up catering most of my business meals.” Mark grabbed a plate—something Nick had also laid out from the bags he’d brought in—and started filling it. “Nick usually insists we bring our own food, since there was an incident a few years back with an attempt at poisoning me. I smelled the poison right off, so there was never any real danger, but Nick does worry that my enemies will find something I can’t detect. He says it’s safer to just have Marie cook all my meals since she’s a trusted member of the Clan. I don’t argue because I love her cooking.”

  The idea of Mark having enemies was real to Shelly after last night’s adventure, but it still appalled her to think someone had tried to poison him. That just seemed…low, somehow. It was one thing to come after someone with a knife or a gun, face to face. It was another to poison their food like some sort of ambush. The sneakiness of it disgusted her, but she tried not to let her reaction show as she picked up the second plate Nick had set out.

  “I can see why,” she answered his statement, firmly not saying the thoughts foremost in her mind this time. “This smells divine.”

  Mark was everything charming and urbane while they shared the gourmet meal in her kitchen. He complimented the design of the open-concept floor plan she’d devised for this part of her home. He also proved that he’d done his homework overnight and learned more about her past projects and clientele.

  Some of the things she’d worked on had been declared private—not for public di
scussion—by her clients, and Mark even knew about those. His sources for information seemed to be top notch, and he even had photos of some of her more elaborate jobs on his phone. He showed them to her as he referenced architectural points, and she realized he knew a lot more about design than she’d expected.

  They could actually have a fairly high-level conversation about the nuts and bolts of her work. He’d asked her about some of the calculations she’d made on certain structures, and she remembered vaguely hearing that he had some kind of engineering background. Apparently, that hadn’t just been something to study in college, but rather, it seemed, a passion of his. Huh. The billionaire playboy had hidden depths.

  “Everyone I spoke to this morning sang your praises, and after looking more closely at your work and talking it over with you, I can see why,” Mark said as the technical side of the conversation wound down. “I admit it was an impulse to ask you to do design work for me last night, but I’ve learned to trust my instincts, and after a little due diligence, I can see they led me in the right direction once again.”

  “Then, you were serious about hiring me?” She had thought about it all night long, wondering if maybe the claim hadn’t been some kind of ploy.

  “I was serious when the offer was made, and I’m even more serious now. I need a series of buildings planned for a new property I recently purchased. It’s for the Clan. It will be built by, and for, my people, so their dual nature should be taken into consideration from the very beginning—in the design stage.”

  “You want me to create a number of buildings with people who can turn into big cats in mind?”

  It sounded so ludicrous when she said it out loud, but she could no longer doubt the evidence she’d seen last night. He’d been a cat. A jaguar. They came from South America, didn’t they? She wasn’t sure what they called a person who could turn into a jaguar. She’d never in a million years imagined such a thing could exist in the world she knew.

  “Shifters,” he told her. “In general, anyone who can go from human to another form—usually an animal form—is called a shifter. Here in North America, and in Western Europe, they’re also known as were.”