“Damn it, Evangeline. She could be anyone. What did she do? Just wander in off the street?”
“That’s how most people come in. And she is someone,” Evangeline sounded more defiant than sorry. “I need the help.”
“You could have told us and we’d have found you someone. Fuck. Her name is a joke. Ashe Bronte? That’s ridiculous. No one is named that. Maybe a fucking porn star.”
“Keep making fun of my name and every time you order a drink, I’m going to put something in it you aren’t going to like,” Ashe muttered under her breath.
She said it softly enough he knew she didn’t think he could hear. He hadn’t bothered to speak that low, but still, she had good hearing. Her jeans were tight enough that he could see she wasn’t hiding a weapon, but her breasts were generous enough that she might conceal a knife there. A garrote could be sewn into clothing, and she wore boots that had room for a gun.
“That isn’t very nice, Timur,” Evangeline pointed out. She lowered her voice even more. “Is she a porn star? Have you seen her in movies? She’s gorgeous enough.”
“How the fuck would I know? You think I spend my time looking at porn movies and jacking off? Why is it that I always get into very inappropriate conversations with you? Sweet God in heaven, woman, you’re the bane of my life.”
Abruptly he spun around and hurried out of the shop, swearing again under his breath when Evangeline’s soft laughter followed him. He looked right and left, and then studied the rooftops before he opened the door to allow his brother out onto the sidewalk. The moment he did, Gorya slid out and flanked Fyodor, covering his back. They walked in step and Timur noted that Fyodor was getting used to having bodyguards. He was much more in sync with them then he had been.
They’d already gone through an attack on their family. Evangeline had been targeted. Mitya, a cousin, had been badly wounded when those targeting her tried to kill Fyodor. Timur knew Fyodor felt responsible for that. He had been a little more cooperative ever since. All of them knew it was a matter of time before the real enemy discovered where they were—hiding out in the open.
Fyodor had been living as Alonzo Massi, but after the attack that had nearly killed Mitya, he took his real name back. Timur was grateful for that. He was Russian and proud of who he was, but he was also a bodyguard; chances were, by taking his real identity back, Fyodor was going to have some serious enemies coming after him. They would be coming for all of them.
Timur opened the door for his brother, but stepped inside while doing so. He wanted to keep an eye on the newcomer. If she went for a weapon, she was dead. The idea of killing her didn’t sit well with him and he kept his body between the new barista and Fyodor at all times. It was easy enough when Fyodor had eyes only for Evangeline.
She came to him immediately, no hesitation. Timur knew better than to look at them. He kept his gaze sweeping the sidewalks through the glass and then back to the new woman. She was looking at Evangeline and Fyodor, and color had swept over her face.
Gorya wandered over to the counter, pretending he wanted a coffee, but clearly what he really wanted to do was flirt. Timur stepped closer to her. At once his leopard settled, curling up contentedly and leaving him the hell alone. Even so, he could feel the leopard snarling, head up alertly. He might be content to be close to the woman he dubbed the leopard whisperer, but his cat didn’t like her near his cousin.
“Baby, who is this woman you’ve hired? You know this is dangerous, not only to us, but to what we do,” Fyodor whispered to Evangeline. “You said nothing about this woman to me, or to Timur. He’s responsible for our lives. Can you imagine how he would feel if he failed in his job and you were killed? Or I was? Evangeline, you know better than this.”
Timur nearly fell down he was so shocked. It was all he could do to keep his mouth from dropping open. Fyodor had never once indicated to him that he knew his personal security was a nightmare for Timur, especially since the attempt on his life as well as Evangeline’s. His brother never reprimanded Evangeline, let alone in public.
He glanced up and met Ashe’s eyes. The impact was just like a bullet through his heart. That intense. That visceral. She’d heard, and Fyodor and Evangeline were clear across the room, huddled together in a little corner while Ashe was behind the counter. Her hearing was more than excellent. She looked away first, ducking her head and concentrating on making Gorya’s drink.
“I’m sorry, Fyodor,” Evangeline whispered. “I really, really need the help, and none of the men you had working for me worked out. They drop things. They ruin the machines. Do you have any idea how much those cost?”
“Baby.” There was a sigh in Fyodor’s voice. “We can afford a new coffee machine. We can’t afford a new you.”
“She isn’t a threat to me. Or to you. Please, honey, just let this one go.”
Something in Evangeline’s voice alerted him. Timur moved closer to the counter. Evangeline knew Ashe. There was some connection between them. He watched as Ashe handed Gorya his coffee and took his money. Her hands appeared steady enough, but they were trembling. Just slightly, but they were trembling all the same.
Timur didn’t like puzzles, especially when it came to Fyodor’s safety. Gorya signaled to him. His cousin had been raised as a sibling with him, and they had continued to be close as adults, although if he kept flirting with Ashe, that closeness might end. Timur was a little shocked that the thought went through his head.
He joined Gorya at the table his cousin chose. It was always the same one. It was small, a table for two, and it was positioned so that Gorya had his back protected and yet could see the front door and the sidewalks through the window, and still keep the counter in sight. Rather than take the chair opposite him that would put his back to the wall, Timur toed one around and sat straddling it, facing the door as well.
“She’s scared,” Gorya mouthed around his coffee cup. “My leopard went quiet, just the way it does when Evangeline is close.”
“Maybe it’s Evangeline,” Timur pointed out, but he knew it wasn’t. He knew it was Ashe. His leopard was practically purring.
“She has to be leopard.”
Timur had to agree with that, and if they were both suspicious, that meant she was close to the emerging—a time when the female leopard’s cycle and the woman’s cycle synchronized together. “Where’s she from?”
Gorya shrugged. “I asked, but she didn’t answer. She didn’t answer any of my questions.”
The bakery was beginning to fill up. Fyodor slipped behind the counter to the back room he used as his office. Gorya went with him. They took turns, one up front, one in the back. Two more patrolled the alley behind the bakery, and two were on the front walkway. One was on the roof above the shop and another was across the street on the roof.
Timur watched Evangeline and Ashe work together. They were fast and efficient. They moved in sync as if they’d been doing so for years. They laughed occasionally, and when they did, Ashe’s laughter seemed to move through his body, teasing every one of his senses. Again, that was so unusual that he didn’t trust it.
His cat hated everyone. The leopard had been raised in violence, just as he’d been. His father had lived to control the world around him. He’d done so through fear. He’d liked everyone to be afraid of him. He’d needed that. Timur and Gorya, a few years younger than Fyodor, had been afraid. They hadn’t dared befriend anyone because their father would have been very likely to force them to kill that person. It wouldn’t have mattered if it had been a child, a woman or a man responsible for providing for his family, Timur’s father would have laughed when he forced them to kill.
It had been impossible to be with a woman. Well, not impossible, but the risk had made it very difficult. When his need had become too great, Timur had found a willing woman in a bar, had sex with her and then left before his raging leopard could get loose and kill her. He’d talked to Fyodor, and his brother had the same problem with his leopard. Gorya had as well. Timur had suspecte
d his other cousins Mitya and Sevastyan had the same difficulties when it came to women.
The leopards had been subjected to too much violence, too many killings at a young age. Timur’s leopard had been forced to come out, to shift against Timur’s will in order to stop the brutal beatings Timur had suffered at the hands of his father. The moment the leopard had come out, he’d been forced to participate in his father’s cruel, sick games, training the cat to kill for pleasure. For blood. Human blood.
He tapped the table, watching the sidewalk. He wanted a home, just like any other man might want, but he knew that was impossible for him. Fyodor had found Evangeline, but they were still in a kind of prison and always would be. There was really no place anyone could hide anymore without being found. They’d all known it was a matter of time before their crimes caught up with them. Timur wasn’t going to have a wife and children. He would never have a home or feel a woman’s touch on his skin. Not again. Not when they were hunted like animals.
“Can I get you anything?” Evangeline offered during the next lull.
He’d been aware of her approach and knew she would attempt to fix things between them. He was upset with her for hiring Ashe without consulting with him. He needed a background check. He needed to know everything there was to know about the woman before he allowed her close to Evangeline or Fyodor. By hiring the woman herself, and then going to Fyodor, Evangeline had made certain that wasn’t going to happen.
She slipped into the seat opposite him the moment he straightened with a small shake of his head. Ashe was watching them. She held herself a little too stiff, the smile fading.
“You don’t want to do this with me right now,” Timur said, his voice gruff. He couldn’t control the rasp in his voice, the near growl. He wanted to shake some sense into her. “I’m angry with you, Evangeline.”
“I know. I’m sorry. You have every right to be.”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it. You could get my brother killed. Or, you could be killed, and then what would he do? I don’t want to hear your excuses right now. We’re not in a place of privacy.”
That should tell her he had a lot to say, things she wasn’t going to like. As it was, she’d winced at the lash in his voice, especially when he’d rightly pointed out that it was Fyodor who could pay the price for her willfulness.
“I really am sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“I’m sure it won’t. You can’t know that many women who worked with you in a coffee shop.” He kept his eyes on her face, although he really wanted to see Ashe’s reaction.
Evangeline blushed. She glanced over her shoulder to look at Ashe.
“Don’t bother to deny it, mladshaya sestra , that would just piss me off more. I don’t like lies, and you’re not very good at them.”
“I don’t want to lie to you,” Evangeline admitted. “I just can’t say anything. I’m really, really sorry, Timur, but she isn’t a threat to us at all.”
“You don’t get to make that call and you know it. When you married my brother, that went right out the window. I make the call, not you. You want your friend to stay, you come clean with me. Make this right, because if you don’t, she could disappear.”
Evangeline’s face went pale. “Timur …”
“Don’t.” He snapped the order at her, leaning across the table, staring her in the eye so she knew he meant what he said. “I’m responsible for you both. For your lives. I’ve spent a lifetime shaping myself into a weapon to ensure Fyodor’s safety. And now yours and those of any children you have. That’s my sole purpose in life. You don’t get exceptions. You can talk to Fyodor, insist he fire me, it won’t do you any good. I’ll still watch over you both. Come clean about your friend or send her on her way.”
The thought of Ashe leaving hurt. His cat protested with a mean snarl and a vicious swipe to his gut. That didn’t matter. He’d meant every word he’d said, and Evangeline had better take him seriously.
“I’ll talk to her. If she gives me permission, I’ll tell you everything. If she doesn’t, I’ll tell her she has to leave. I promise, Timur, you’ll either have that information by the end of the day or she’ll leave.”
Timur sat back in his chair and gave her a slight nod. She knew him well enough to know he meant what he said. His gaze was on the sidewalk outside. He noticed the two men approaching and a small sigh escaped. Cops. He knew them; they knew him. One, Jeff Myers, had been undercover as Brice Addler, and had tried to steal Evangeline out from under Fyodor’s nose. His partner had gone by Reeve Hawkins. His real name was Ray Harding.
“I never noticed before, but you’re actually further gone than Fyodor was, aren’t you, Timur?” Evangeline said softly, compassion in her voice.
He didn’t want her sympathy. He didn’t want anything from her that might somehow change who he was, because then he might not be as sharp, and his brother—or Evangeline—would pay the price for his weakness. He waved her back to work, jerking his chin toward the door. He didn’t want Ashe serving either of the cops. They’d hit on her. Both were like that and he didn’t want the woman telling them a single thing about his family.
Jeff strolled in like he owned the shop, Ray beside him, both in plain clothes. Timur kept his mask in place as they stared at him. It was impossible for either cop to win in a stare down and they knew it from experience, so they didn’t try. They barely acknowledged his existence before they were at the counter, flirting outrageously with Evangeline.
Evangeline had wisely told Ashe to take a break in the back room. That allowed Timur to breathe easier. The last thing he wanted was for his leopard to make him any edgier or moodier than he’d felt the moment he’d seen the cops. They didn’t like him, and he sure as hell didn’t like them.
He kept his gaze on the street, but always had the cops in his vision. Hopefully, Gorya was standing in front of the door to Fyodor’s office just in case Ashe took it in her head to be friendly and go talk to his brother, or worse, decide this was a great time to kill him, if she was an assassin. He nearly groaned aloud. Now he was worried.
“Keep your eyes on the new girl, Gorya, ” he ordered, talking softly into his radio.
“Eyes are on her, ” Gorya confirmed with a little too much enthusiasm for Timur’s liking.
“I said eyes, not hands or mouth or any other part of your anatomy that I might have to cut off if you disobey that very direct order.”
Gorya’s laughter was offensive. Not because Timur didn’t understand it, but because his attraction to Evangeline’s friend burned through his body, making him so uncomfortable he felt surly and edgy even without the help of his leopard. He didn’t trust himself to address Jeff and Ray and the way they flirted with Evangeline. Another time, he might have gotten up and broken up the flirt-fest, but right then it was far more important to sit in his chair, legs sprawled in front of him, and contemplate ways to kill them. He had already thought of at least fifteen and that was without really trying.
He breathed a sigh of relief when they left and told his leopard to calm down and stop making an ass out of himself. The cat answered with a snarl, a show of teeth and a pithy attitude, stating that was all Timur and not him. For once, Timur knew the leopard was right. Still, that didn’t stop him from stalking to the counter and glaring at Evangeline.
“Have they seen or talked to her?” he demanded.
Evangeline didn’t pretend not to know who he was talking about. She shook her head. “Not yet. If they caught a glimpse of her when they were walking through the door before I sent her into the back, they didn’t say, and I think they would have.”
“Try to keep it that way.”
She nodded abruptly, and then the door between the kitchen and the main shop opened and Ashe stepped through. It was easy enough to see why her parents had given her that name. Her hair was a thick mass, colored ash and platinum with a little gold thrown in. He turned his back on her, but watched her in the mirrors he’d installed in strategic places throughout the larg
e room. She didn’t take her eyes off him until he was once again settled in his seat. There was some satisfaction in that.
The next hour saw a steady stream of customers. He took the opportunity to walk around, stretching his legs, keeping his muscles loose. He knew they needed a larger security force around Fyodor, but he wanted leopards and there were only so many. Shifters were faster, and if push came to shove, they could call on their animal counterparts to aid them. Every sense was far more acute and a leopard sensed danger and knew when other leopards were close—with one exception—females whose leopards haven’t yet emerged.
He sank back into his chair, his gaze fixed on Ashe. She was making drinks and handing out pastries. There was always a smile on her face, but he didn’t quite believe it. Each time the little bell tinkled over the entrance, signaling another customer, her eyes jumped to the door. She was worried. Scared. That presented an entirely new set of dangers.
If she was leopard—and he was certain she was—and her leopard hadn’t emerged, it would be like his uncles to send her in to assassinate Fyodor. His uncles were reputed to be even crueler and much more vicious than Timur’s father had been, and they had sworn to see Fyodor dead for killing their brother. It didn’t matter to them that the kill had been justified.
Fyodor had walked in on a bloodbath. Their father had already brutally murdered their mother and had been beating Timur and Gorya to death because the two boys had tried to stop him. Fyodor had killed him and then gone after the senior members of his father’s lair in order to stop them from killing the women. Now, their uncles were out for their blood. They’d put bounties on their nephews’ heads, and now that Fyodor and his brother were no longer hiding behind false identities, the assassins would come to collect. It would make sense to send a female.
Timur studied Ashe as she worked. She was fast. Really fast. Sometimes he thought she would make a mistake, but she never did. Her handoff was smooth, and she moved with a fluid grace that seemed too honed to be entirely natural. As if she were in complete control of every muscle, every movement.
Leopard's Run Page 2
