Spy Snow Leopard (Protection, Inc. Book 6)

by Zoe Chant

  “Well,” Fiona said after a pause in which he was sure she was trying not to laugh. “That’s what happens when you choose job security over a more varied workplace environment.”

  Their boarding announcement cut the conversation short, but he was still smiling to himself as they joined the line. He’d never get tired of talking to her, even when they had to maintain their characters and couldn’t speak freely. Her sense of humor was so sly and unexpected. But he couldn’t wait till they were alone together, so he could learn more about her.

  He wanted to know everything: not just crucial life events like where she’d grown up, why she’d become a bodyguard, and whether she’d been born a shifter or made into one, but little everyday things like what she liked to read, what her secret junk food cravings were, and whether she followed sports. If she didn’t, maybe he could convert her. He’d love to take her to a ball game, share a beer and a bag of peanuts, and see what she looked like in a baseball cap. (Mind-meltingly sexy, he bet.) She’d literally let down her hair when they’d had breakfast together, but he was dying to see her do it metaphorically.

  Stop it, he ordered his own treacherous imagination. You’re not taking her to any ball games.

  We’ll see about that, purred his snow leopard.

  Justin shook his head in disbelief as they boarded the airplane. Ever since he’d met Fiona, his inner cat had done a complete turnaround from its usual mode of snarling and hissing in fury or panic, to purring with what Justin could swear was satisfied smugness. It was so bizarre that he didn’t even know how to argue with it.

  “Window or aisle?” Fiona asked.

  “Aisle,” he said instantly. He didn’t expect anything to happen on the flight, but on the off chance that it did, he wanted his body between her and any attackers.

  They took their seats. He would have bought economy tickets, out of sheer habit if nothing else. But Fiona had done the booking and she’d gone business-class. The seats were unexpectedly comfortable.

  “This sure beats...” Military transports, he thought, but substituted, “Economy.”

  Once again, Fiona gave him that bewitching smile that told him that she knew the truth behind the words. “It does. Look, they tilt all the way back.”

  She tipped his seat back until he was lying nearly flat. “Get some sleep, honey. You’ve had a rough week.”

  “I took the aisle seat to make sure no one bothered you,” he protested.

  Smoothly, she replied, “And no one will, if you’re in it. Any flight attendants try to reach over you to hand me snacks I don’t want, you’ll wake up in a flash and stop them. Right?”

  He considered it. No matter how exhausted he was—and he was still tired—he couldn’t imagine sleeping through an attempted attack on Fiona. And she was right that any attackers would have to reach over him. “Yeah. No unwelcome packets of peanuts will get by me.”

  “Then go to sleep. You don’t want to still be worn out in Venice and miss your vacation.”

  She was right that he’d be less efficient—and less able to protect her—if he was still sleep-deprived when he arrived. But the thought of sleeping in a public place filled with strangers unsettled him, even knowing that he’d wake if there was any danger.

  Justin chewed on his lower lip, trying to figure out how to convey that. “I’d hate to miss the in-flight movie. Might be something exciting.”

  He reached for the seat controls.

  Fiona caught his hand. “I’ll keep a lookout. If something comes on that I know you’d want to see, I’ll wake you up.”

  He, too, understood her perfectly: Go to sleep. I’ll stand guard so you can feel safe.

  It was the sort of thing PJs did for each other. It required absolute trust. But he did trust her.

  “Thanks.” He let go of the seat controls and curled his fingers around hers, trying to convey with his clasp and eyes alone how much that meant to him. “I’ll do the same for you, any time. You’ll never miss a movie you’ve been looking forward to. Not while I’m around.”

  Fiona’s green eyes glistened. With tears? Then she blinked, and they were gone. “I’ll hold you to it.”

  He closed his eyes, and drifted off to the comforting warmth of her hand holding his, the familiar vibration of jet engines, and the unfamiliar sound of his snow leopard purring.

  Justin was awakened by the increased air pressure as the plane came in for a landing. It was hours later, but her hand was still wrapped around his. He blinked up at her. “Are we there yet?”

  She gave a distinctly unladylike snort. “Almost. And if you don’t stop asking, I’m going to turn this plane around.”

  He raised the seat. To his regret, that made her disengage her hand. “No movies I wanted to see, huh?”

  “Nothing with gun fights or martial arts battles or explosions.” With a slight edge to her voice, she said, “Just people talking about their feelings. And kissing. Getting naked. Nothing you’d be interested in.”

  “Getting naked on an in-flight movie?” Justin inquired. “That’s different.”

  Fiona stealthily kicked his ankle. “Naked with sheets covering the R-rated parts.”

  “If they ever get naked for real, wake me up.”

  She kicked him again. He kept a straight face and looked past her, out the window. It was night. Venice was an island of sparkling lights in the middle of a dark sea. As the plane touched down, he felt as if he wasn’t only entering an unfamiliar country, but stepping into an unfamiliar life. His snow leopard, purring. Fiona, guarding his sleep.

  Himself, with someone to protect.

  They collected their checked bags from the luggage carousel. Justin immediately grabbed his duffel bag and headed for the bathroom, where he could take out his gun and strap it on without alarming anyone. As he did so, he saw Fiona take her small suitcase to the ladies’ room, presumably for the same reason. That too felt surreal. The last time he’d been in company with someone who also always carried a weapon, he’d been a PJ. It was as if he’d traveled back to a better time.

  The sense of strangeness increased when they left the airport and, instead of catching a cab, caught a vaporetto—a motorboat the size of a bus. It sailed along, engine humming, and deposited them in a city of old buildings with water lapping at the thresholds of the front doors. Moonlight sparkled on the water of the canals, the flowers growing in the houses’ window boxes perfumed the air, and night birds sang.

  Justin felt like he was still in a dream—a very pleasant one, for once—as he and Fiona walked along the canals. But he woke up in a hurry when she pulled out her phone and programmed the address he’d given her into its GPS. Venice was such a small island that everything was walking distance—including Bianchi’s house.

  They headed toward it. Once they were alone in a dark alley, he caught her arm. “Hold on.”

  He closed his eyes. But before he could summon the ice, she grabbed him by the shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered fiercely.

  He opened his eyes. “It takes me a minute or two to become invincible.”

  “What? Why would you do that?”

  “I know we said we were just going to check it out when we arrived. But we might see an opportunity to go in now. Or someone could spot us and attack. So I thought I’d better do it now. It takes time and focus, and I don’t want to miss my chance.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Why are you doing it at all?”

  Justin thought back to when he’d explained it to her, and decided that he must have been so shaken up by having to tell her about Apex that his explanation of his power had made no sense to her. “When I’m invincible, I can’t feel pain.”

  “So?” she demanded. “You’re a PJ. What do you care about pain?”

  “It’s not just pain. It’s the effects of damage. Wounds don’t always hurt right away, but if you get shot, it’ll drop you whether it hurts or not. If I’m invincible, it won’t.”

  “If you get sh
ot, we’ve got bigger problems than whether or not you collapse on the spot,” she said drily. “Don’t do it.”

  She is right, his snow leopard hissed.

  Justin ignored him. His leopard always voted against his power. “Why not?”

  “Why not?” Her eyebrows rose. “Have you looked in the mirror lately? For your information, you look like you just got out of a war zone.”

  “It’ll be for a couple hours at most,” he pointed out. “And it’s not as if I’d be eating or sleeping then anyway. I’ll take it off as soon as we’re done.”

  “Hmm.” She didn’t look happy, but clearly didn’t have a good argument against it.

  She doesn’t know you can’t shift when you’re invincible, hissed his snow leopard. If she thinks you can, she may take actions based on that. You cannot let her walk into danger believing a lie that could harm her!

  Justin had forgotten about that. Reluctantly, he said, “I can’t shift when I’m invincible. Just so you know.”

  “WHA—” Fiona lowered her voice. “Then forget about it! It’s not worth it.”

  “It is!” Justin insisted, then remembered to lower his voice too. “It’s not like we want to turn into snow leopards in Venice. Talk about conspicuous!”

  She folded her arms. “I want to have that option. For both of us. Look, this is supposed to be reconnaissance. Let’s just go and check the place out. If it looks like we can get in, we can revisit this discussion then.”

  Justin glanced around uneasily. They’d been standing in the alley arguing, and not always in whispers, for minutes now. “Fine. Let’s get out of here.”

  They slipped out of the alley and continued toward Bianchi’s house in silence. Justin no longer noticed Venice as a beautiful place, but merely observed all the areas where assassins could be hiding and the places where they could take cover if attacked. Fiona moved beside him like a cat, her feet soundless.

  When they neared Bianchi’s mansion, he felt his vulnerability like a gun to his head. How was he supposed to protect her when all it would take to put him down was a dart or a bullet or even a knife? He edged closer to her, his senses on high alert, ready to throw himself in front of her.

  “Stop crowding me,” she whispered. “I feel like I’m going to trip over your feet.”

  Reluctantly, he moved aside.

  We can protect our mate better this way, his snow leopard hissed. If anyone attacks, we can pounce and rip out their throats!

  His leopard’s ferocity reassured him as they slipped into a shadowy gap between buildings to observe Bianchi’s home. It was patrolled by a whole lot of armed security guards, all of them alert and professional. Justin watched unseen from the shadows, looking for gaps in the security, but saw none. He glanced at Fiona in case she’d spotted something he’d missed, but she shook her head. They left as stealthily as they’d come.

  Once they were in another empty alley, she said, “I might be able to go undercover and get into his house as a maid or assistant or something like that.”

  “Alone?” Justin hated that idea.

  “He knows what you look like,” she pointed out. “He even knows you’re after him. There’s no way you’re getting inside. Or we could wait for him to leave and catch him outside. Unless you have a better idea.”

  “No...” He considered a third possibility, then shook his head. “No.”

  “What were you thinking just now?”

  “Well, I could kill the guards. But I’m not sure I could get all of them before one could sound an alarm. And even if I could, they’re probably just hired security, not Apex workers. They’re innocent.”

  The look she gave him made him feel like she could see every person he’d ever killed for Apex. Her gaze was unblinking, her eyes colorless in the moonlight.

  “I’m not Subject Seven any more,” he said. “At least—I’m trying not to be.”

  “Oh, Justin.” Her expression changed so completely that he wondered if he’d misinterpreted it the first time. She caught his hand in hers. “I know you’re not. I don’t think you ever have been, really.”

  “You don’t—” The words stuck in his throat. He swallowed and went on, “You don’t know what happened there. The people who died because of me.”

  “I know it wasn’t your choice.”

  He wanted to tell her that didn’t matter, but all he could focus on was the warmth of her hands, the touch of her skin like an electric current, and the sympathy written all over her face. And not just sympathy, but empathy. As if she not only felt bad for him for being torn up inside with guilt, but felt the same thing herself.

  Which made no sense. She hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d seen into her soul, and it shone bright as the sun. He was the one with only darkness inside of him.

  “I...” His hands closed tight over hers. Even as he held her hand, it was breaking his heart that he knew he’d have to let it go. “Thank you.”

  She didn’t reply, but simply stood there, looking into his eyes. She was so beautiful. And kind. In the cool night air, he could feel the heat coming off her body. Her head was tilted upward, her eyes half-closed, her lips parted. It would be so easy to bend down and taste the velvet sweetness of her lips, pull her close and feel her body mold itself into his...

  ...and take her down with me, like a drowning man pulling his rescuer under.

  Justin straightened up with a jerk. At the same time, Fiona yanked her hands out of his grip like she’d been burned. She ducked, avoiding his eyes, and tapped at the GPS coordinates on her phone.

  “We’re not far from our apartment,” she said. “Let’s get some sleep and figure out a plan in the morning.”

  “Right.”

  They walked along the canals to the place they’d be staying. They’d booked an apartment at the airport, but because it was peak tourist season and last minute, they hadn’t had a lot of choices. The apartment they’d gotten had been selected more for security than comfort, up a narrow flight of stairs that would be impossible to climb up without being heard, and with a nice view of the canals that also meant they could jump out the window if they had to.

  They used the code the owner had given them to open the mailbox to get the key, unlocked the door, and carried their luggage upstairs. The apartment consisted of a small bathroom, an even smaller kitchenette with a mini-fridge and a hot plate, and a medium-sized bedroom with a bedside table and chair, but no sofa.

  It also had only one bed. Again.

  Fiona sat down on it, avoiding his eyes, and took her laptop out of her small suitcase. “Let me do some research on Bianchi. See if I can figure out where we can ambush him.”

  “Sounds good.”

  To avoid staring at that damn bed, Justin went to the balcony and stood looking out at the canals. Moonlight transformed the still waters to liquid silver and the arched bridges to glowing ivory. The full moon was reflected in the water like an immense pearl. He’d never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life, except for Fiona’s eyes.

  If he’d been invincible, he wouldn’t have thought it worth a second glance.

  “Justin?”

  He went back inside and sat on the bed, a prudent distance away from her. “Find something?”

  “I did. Bianchi seems to be a homebody. He throws lavish parties and entertains guests, but he doesn’t leave home much. He gets most of what he needs delivered. If we stake out his house and wait for him to leave, we could literally be waiting for weeks.”

  “It’s not like I have somewhere I need to be,” Justin pointed out. “But if you do...”

  “Oh, wait.” Fiona bent over her laptop. “There’s one time he does leave. He’s a big fan of Carnival.”

  “He goes to carnivals?” Justin had a hard time picturing the cold Apex manager cheering on a demolition derby or throwing golf balls into goldfish bowls.

  “Not carnivals. The Carnival of Venice. It’s an ancient festival they still celebrate here. Back then, kings and queens would mingl
e with commoners, but everyone wore masks so no one knew who was who. And the masks gave people permission to do things that they never could if they were their real selves.”

  She turned the laptop around. He examined the photos of people posing on the streets and plazas of Venice in elaborate costumes and masks. Some wore lace-covered ball gowns, some sweeping black cloaks, Some masks were white and sad, some looked hammered out of gold, and some had long bird beaks.

  “It’s next week,” Fiona said. “It’s why we had such a hard time finding a place to stay—it’s a peak time for tourists. And apparently Bianchi likes dressing up in incredibly fancy, show-offy outfits to show everyone how rich he is. Like, masks made with real gold. And Carnival happens on the streets, not inside.”

  “Ah-ha. We could nab him while he’s wandering around and weighed down with gold.”

  “Exactly. And we’d be in masks too, so he wouldn’t see you coming. We’ll have to get costumes too, of course.”

  Justin looked dubiously at the outfits, which tended toward the enormous, elaborate, and puffy. “Are there any we can move in?”

  “I’m sure we’ll be able to find something. It’ll be expensive, though, since it’s so last-minute.”

  “My million dollars is going fast. I feel bad for the charity I was planning to give it to.”

  “Think of it as supporting local craftspeople,” she advised. “That’s a good cause.”

  “True. Well, maybe this is for the best. We’re here anyway, so we can take a week and see the sights. If Bianchi’s a shut-in, we don’t have to worry about him spotting me. Could be fun.”

  Fiona’s eyes sparkled with delight. “Oh, it’ll be more than fun. I’ve wanted to come here for years. We can see the Doge’s Palace, and St. Mark’s Basilica, and the Bridge of Sighs, and—”

  “The Bridge of Sighs?” Justin repeated.

  “It’s because convicts would be marched over it on their way to prison. They’d sigh at their last view of the beauty of Venice before they were locked up in their windowless cells.”