Leopard's Run

by Christine Feehan

  “Moran?”

  Timur nodded. “He was in charge. They were fishing. Lipin must have already identified the hit squad for them. They have their names. Damn that kid for leaving anything behind. I told him to be thorough. To double-check every pocket. To wear gloves. To make certain he wasn’t caught on camera.” He paced away from his brother and halfway across the great room. It was a large room and still, his leopard didn’t ease up. Something wasn’t right.

  “I don’t like any of this, Fyodor,” he admitted. “They dressed their boss up in a uniform and brought an expert with them. What are the odds the expert showed up? Have Drake find out everything he can about this man. Is he local? I doubt that. Is he a Fed? Interpol? That seems more likely.”

  Fyodor already had his phone out and was texting Drake. “We’ll get replies fast.”

  “He’s dirty,” Timur said. “He’s in Lazar’s pocket.”

  Fyodor spun around. “Why do you think that?”

  “I just have a gut feeling. My gut hasn’t been wrong yet. He didn’t want to shake my hand. I put it out there deliberately and tried to make him talk. He didn’t want to speak and he didn’t want to touch me.”

  “Cops think we’re dirty, and we are. We have been our entire lives. He might be a good cop with an aversion to the bratya .”

  Timur shook his head. “No, not like this. I was unclean to him. A traitor. He also wore gloves. My guess?” He looked at the tattoos on his fingers, the ones proclaiming he was part of a lair, part of something big. The bratya . “I think he’s wearing Lazar’s tattoos.”

  “The Feds or Interpol would know.”

  “Not if he says he was a cop in Russia and went undercover. That’s what I’d do,” Timur declared.

  He glanced down at his phone. “Gorya found three bugs. One in the seat where the bastard was sitting. One on the mantel and one on the lamp in the front room, just by the door.”

  “Have him go over it again. Then do every room.”

  “Do you want him to destroy them?”

  “Hell yes. We’re not going to pretend we didn’t suspect them. Fucking cops come to our home, pretend to be concerned for our women and then take the opportunity to leave behind bugs. How would they even get permission for that?” Fyodor was on his phone, texting Gorya again. “On second thought, let’s keep them in evidence. We can turn them over to our lawyer.”

  “He was supposed to be here,” Timur snapped.

  “He got stopped by a cop. Cop said he cruised through a stop sign. It turned into some kind of huge thing.”

  “Fuckin’ cops,” Timur said. “I actually felt sorry for Jeff. I know he genuinely cares for Evangeline. Ray is an asshole. He acts like he already owned Ashe and she owed him, but Jeff is an upfront kind of man.”

  “No one upfront tries to steal another man’s wife. I’ve got to tell Evangeline that we have to be careful. If they were given a warrant to bug the house, he could come by for a visit and try it.”

  “We sweep every day, and when I asked Gorya about Jeff’s visit,” Timur said, seeing his brother was getting worked up at the thought of the cop using Evangeline, “he told me he swept immediately after the man left.”

  Fyodor looked as if he wanted to hit something. Timur couldn’t blame him. “Are you certain you got every single one of Lazar’s squad?”

  “I have no way of knowing that, but we have to find out who gave them the layout of your home, Fyodor. That means we need to talk to Evangeline’s brother. He visited her and she gave him a tour of the house. Her father and uncle were inside the house. Who knows whether or not she gave them a tour as well? Women do that shit and don’t think anything of it. Someone wants to see their home and they show it off.”

  Fyodor swore under his breath. “She said they were playing pool. Damn it, Timur, this is going to break her heart. If her brother is guilty …”

  “I’ll kill him quietly and he’ll just disappear.”

  “She’ll know.”

  “She won’t know. She might suspect, but she won’t know and she won’t want to know.”

  “It will change your relationship with her, because she’ll know,” Fyodor insisted. “She’s smart. She thinks things through.”

  “Better my relationship with her than yours.” Timur sighed and pushed his hand through his hair, wishing his woman was close. Right then, knowing he might have to kill Evangeline’s brother to protect the ones he loved, he needed the comfort of her body.

  Fyodor swore again. “I’ll message him to come to the house.”

  Timur nodded. “Do it for dinner. Tonight. My leopard is getting anxious. He wants his mate. I’ve got to take care of things on the home front and then we’ll join you.”

  “Evangeline might not be up to it.”

  “Her brother doesn’t need to know that until he’s here. She doesn’t need to know he’s coming if she’s too ill. The point is to catch him off guard. I’ll talk to him, not you.”

  Fyodor looked around, his fist doubled, as if he might hit the wall. “Evangeline’s had enough of all of this, and your woman is just beginning to get to know us. We’re going to have to put both of them under guard and keep them close. When do you think you’ll interrogate the prisoner? Maybe he’ll shed some light on this mess. And don’t forget to ask about our new cop—Anton Lipin. It will be interesting to see what our hit man has to say about him.”

  “He probably runs the squad.”

  “It’s a distinct possibility. Any man who would come into my home like that, if he is dirty or runs the hit teams for Lazar, has balls of steel.”

  Timur was inclined to agree with his brother. “What are your thoughts on Evangeline’s family? Would they betray her? Sell her out for their own gain?”

  “Her father and uncle distributed opium, although to this day, they say their father got them into it and they couldn’t get out.”

  “They blame everyone but themselves,” Timur said.

  “That’s right. They have never taken responsibility for what they did. Evangeline’s father refuses to admit in any way that he should have stood up to his father so his daughter could have an actual home, not live in the swamp, mostly alone.”

  “The boys were kids, but they knew she was all alone out in that swamp,” Timur pointed out. “They knew, and they didn’t do anything to help her.”

  Fyodor nodded. “That’s right.” He glanced in the direction of the bedroom. “I hate that I can’t just wipe all that out for her.”

  “She wouldn’t want you to. She’s strong, Fyodor. Those early days are why she can live with you. With us. With what we do. We’ve got to keep Drake apprised. He’s leader of that fucked-up lair he inherited. Evangeline’s family falls to him.”

  Fyodor nodded. “Good call. I should have been on that all along.” He glanced again toward the master bedroom. “What about Ashe? You’re certain she’s yours? Not just your leopard’s, but yours?”

  “She’s mine.” He said it firmly. Irrevocably. “She can’t make up her mind whether or not to run. She’s leaning toward trying, but she has it in her head she has a choice.”

  “It’s best to let her think that, Timur.”

  “I got that impression.” Timur moved through the house on silent feet, making certain everything was in place. Leopards were cunning, stealthy creatures, capable of going into a house, choosing a target and then dragging the body out right under the noses of anyone else in the house. They were never seen. The last thing he wanted was for one of the hit squad to still be in the house, waiting, scent-blocker hiding them.

  Timur didn’t trust everything to his leopard. He used his leopard senses, but he also used his brain. He spent a great deal of time working out strategies for making his brother’s home and vehicles safe. He changed routes regularly, and he especially covered the bakery and Fyodor’s office there.

  The cops, as enemies, were a new twist. He didn’t mind playing cat and mouse with them, but when he thought one or more might be on Lazar’s
payroll, that changed things significantly. A dirty cop had powers a hit man might not have. A cop could get in and out of places using his badge. He could persuade others to help him and could hide behind that badge. If Lipin was dirty, Timur needed to know and he needed to take him out quietly and very fast.

  “I’m not going to let her go, Fyodor, even if she wants to try to run. I can’t. My life has been so fucked-up and it will continue to be—” Timur broke off and shook his head. What was there to say? What could he say?

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t want this for you,” Fyodor said immediately.

  Timur shrugged. “It’s my choice. I’m suited to the work. I hate to admit that, but I am. Our father broke something in me and it can’t be fixed. I didn’t think anything could overcome it, but Ashe seems to be able to. When I’m with her, I feel. Not just feel—the intensity is like nothing I ever imagined. I can’t have that and then let it go, not when I thought I’d never have anything or anyone for myself.”

  Fyodor sighed. “We put a lot on our women.”

  The two moved down the hall toward the master bedroom. The hallway was wide enough for them to walk side by side, even with their broad shoulders.

  “Do you think Lipin was looking for signs that his hit squad had been here?”

  Timur shrugged again. “We’re already thinking he’s a dirty cop and head of Lazar’s hit team. I’m not sure of anything yet, Fyodor, but I’ll find out. I’ll step up the interrogation of the prisoner, but the more time he has to think about how cut off he is from the rest of the world, the more information I’ll extract quicker.” He didn’t like to think what he would have to do if the man wasn’t going to give him information easily.

  Fyodor sighed again. “I hate this life for you. When we were kids, I thought maybe I could get you out.”

  “This is my choice, it always has been,” Timur said. “What else could I do?”

  Soft laughter slid from beneath the door of the bedroom. He put his hand on the heavy wood and absorbed those notes. They were real, the genuine thing. Laughter tugged at his heartstrings. Gave him a joy he hadn’t known he could feel. To hear both women, Evangeline and Ashe, laughing together made his world right. Made everything he had to do worth it.

  He pushed open the door and stepped back to allow his brother through first. Evangeline was on the bed, back against several pillows, her legs stretched out in front of her. Ashe had pulled a chair to the side of the bed and was sitting with her legs in the air, nearly upside down, bunching the material of her dress around her hips to pretend a semblance of modesty.

  “I shouldn’t ask, but what are you doing?” Whatever explanation his woman had wasn’t going to erase the sight of her, head hanging off the side, hair a wild mess, feet waving in the air.

  Both women turned their heads toward the door and then burst out laughing again. Ashe righted herself, dragging the hem of the dress she wore to her ankles. “Hi. I didn’t expect you so soon.”

  Her cheeks were bright red. Timur went straight to her, tipped back her chin to study her face and then bent his head and brushed her mouth gently with his. “I can see that. Was there a particular reason you were upside down?”

  She snuck a quick peek at Evangeline and then both women were laughing again. “If I told you, you’d think we were a little crazy.”

  “I know you’re both a little crazy,” he pointed out. He couldn’t help smiling. Just looking at her made him happy, but when she was like this, flushed, smiling, mischievous, her eyes bright and especially when she was sharing some private joke with Evangeline, his world was right. Perfectly right.

  “There was this woman we both worked with,” Ashe said. “At the little café.”

  “She thought she was a perfect little sexpot,” Evangeline added. “She was certain every man who came into the café wanted her.”

  “They kinda did,” Ashe said.

  Evangeline nodded. “That’s true. Because she wore these little skirts. Tiny skirts.”

  “Teeny- tiny,” Ashe reiterated. “Micro-mini. If I tried to wear something like that …” She trailed off.

  Evangeline laughed. “We had a miniskirt day, in honor of her. Her name was Sophie, and she squealed a lot when men were around. So that meant she squealed all the time. She flipped her hair …”

  Both women provided a demonstration, flipping their hair this way and that. Both erupted into giggles.

  “She liked to bend over a lot,” Ashe added. “As in all the time. She dropped things just so she could bend over.”

  She stood up and faced away from Timur. She bent over, straight-legged, hiked up her skirt, giving him a good view of her bare bottom and her sweet little pussy. His cock jerked hard when she smiled at him from between her legs. “Like this. And she didn’t wear panties.”

  “She said it was a complete waste of money and time,” Evangeline explained. “Money, because men tore panties off, and time because it was one more article of clothing to get off when she was in a hurry. She didn’t have a lot of time during her breaks or lunch and she took men into the backroom often.”

  “It sounds as if she led a colorful life.”

  Fyodor skirted around the end of the bed and came up on the other side so he could perch next to his wife. He leaned down and brushed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I see you were in here resting.”

  “I was entertaining her,” Ashe said. “With colorful tales of our past.”

  Timur sank into the chair she had vacated when she came to her feet. He tugged at her until she sank down onto his lap. He liked her there. She wasn’t yet comfortable with being on his lap, his cock pressed tight to her bottom, but she was getting there. In fact, she wiggled. The friction sent a jolt, much like a lightning bolt running through him.

  Her skin was hot. Too hot. The skirt had ridden up to her thighs. He tugged up the back so her bare bottom rested on him, only the thin material of his trousers separating them. He scraped his teeth over her neck and she shivered.

  “We’re going to have to go, Evangeline,” Timur said. “But we’ll be back tonight for dinner.” Ashe’s fingers were driving him mad where she stroked the pads of her fingers against the bare skin on his neck.

  His male roared and pushed against the human frame trapping him as he sensed his mate close. Timur nipped Ashe with strong teeth, just on her chin. Her entire body shuddered. They’d almost left it until too late. The female’s rise was fast this time, not unexpected, but fast.

  He set her on the floor and stood, waving at his brother and sister-in-law as he tugged on Ashe’s hand. “I’m sorry, malen’kiy smerch , I should have been paying more attention.”

  “It’s not your fault.” She dismissed his crime immediately, defending him when he knew there was no defense. She had to be his priority when she was in heat like this. One never neglected one’s mate, and he had no intention of ever neglecting Ashe.

  He used his longer legs to take wider strides, so she was practically running, but it gave her female something else to concentrate on for a few minutes. He wanted to put as much distance as possible between them and the house. Cursing himself for not taking better care of her, he kept his gaze fixed on the guesthouse, which was a good distance away.

  “You’re muttering.”

  The soft laughter in her voice stroked sensual awareness right through his body. She sounded happy. She also sounded in need. Hungry for him. That took his body to an entirely different place.

  “I should have been paying attention to you. I’m your damn mate and I neglected you,” he reiterated. Every muscle was tight. Aching now. What was her body like? Her skin glowed with heat, need pouring off her in pheromones.

  “I’m not certain I can make it back to the house,” Ashe admitted, stopping. When he turned toward her to scoop her up, she wound her arms around his neck, going up on her toes to kiss him over and over.

  He lost himself in her mouth, in the way he did the moment he touched her. His cock hurt like a son of a bit
ch, so hard he was afraid any movement would make him shatter. He slid his arms down the curve of her spine, kissing her, his mouth demanding. The roaring in his ears increased.

  With her arms circling his neck, the skirt had ridden up and his hands bunched the material until he found her bare bottom. He caught at her perfect cheeks, fingers digging deep, claiming her. He walked her backward toward the small garden at the side of the house. Flowers climbed archways and ran along a short white fence. He barely noticed his surroundings. He could only feel flames licking over his skin and fire burning hot in his belly.

  He did his best to be gentle, but needs were riding him hard. His needs, hers. He tasted her hunger. Tasted the taste that would always be his. Only his. She was practically purring as he devoured her mouth and stroked her tongue with his. He wanted to crawl inside her, share her skin, share her body, put his marks on her so it was clear to every other male in the vicinity that she belonged to him.

  He needed rough. He wanted to be gentle. He needed to own her. He wanted her to feel his love for her. Her hand crept down and slid over his hard length, stroked, and then gripped.

  “I want to feel you in my mouth,” she whispered. “I love how heavy you are. How you feel like velvet and steel at the same time. I like the way you stretch my lips so wide. It makes me know how you’re going to stretch me deep inside.”

  Her soft voice nearly was the end of his strength. Just when he was certain there was no way to love her more, she did something like that. She made him feel as if he was everything to her. He’d never been everything to anyone. Not even that first day he was born. He knew, because his male had been aware. His mother had felt not love, but trepidation, fear that her husband would choose that time to kill her now that she’d given him more than one son.

  Ashe looked up at him with pleading eyes. Her hands slipped inside his drawstring pants and found him hot and ready. Her thumb slid over the crown, smearing the drops of his need before she fisted him.

  “What is it you want, baby?” He whispered the question, needing to hear her say it one more time. Wanting her to look at him while she asked.