Leopard's Run

by Christine Feehan

  Timur could have told Ulisse that a shifter like Lazar would never keep his bargains and his loyalty was only to himself. He’d given Gavyn much-needed water and let him rest for a few minutes, had let him think that there would be no more. When he’d approached again, he’d asked how they knew the layout of Fyodor’s house.

  Gavyn hadn’t known where the information had come from. There’d been no reason for him to lie about that or hold back, and his voice had held the ring of truth. Timur had asked about opium. Yes, Ulisse dealt in opium and it was good product and plenty of it. Ulisse had finally revealed his source, after Lazar had refused to do business with him. The source was the Mercier Perfume factory in New Orleans.

  How many snipers had Lazar sent with the hit squad? Gavyn had been adamant that there were no snipers sent. Lazar wanted them all alive. The orders had changed, and they weren’t to kill any of them. Hurt them, yes, but not kill them. As soon as they had them secure, Lazar would come, but he wouldn’t set one foot in the country until he knew all of them were scooped up.

  There had been something in Gavyn’s voice that told Timur he hadn’t been lying, but knew more than he had said. Timur had let it go for the moment. He had to ask the right questions. There had been things Gavyn hadn’t admitted.

  Lazar had seen what Fyodor had done to the lair, and he was leery of them. Fyodor was a force to be reckoned with. He’d killed his own father, Lazar’s brother, and then the other members of the bratya that had followed his father. Lazar had reason to be leery. He had helped to create the monsters, and now those monsters had turned on him.

  Timur pressed both palms to the wall of the shower and watched the red blood turn pink as it flowed into the drain. He had spent the day before, as well as the night, with his woman and her warm, soft body. It was like sliding against satin, her skin amazing when he held her against him, or covered her with his own, heavier much harder body. The difference in the way their bodies felt amazed him. He knew he would always want to wake up next to her, his body tangled with hers.

  When he was inside her, she surrounded him with the tightest silken fist imaginable. Scorching hot. A vise of sheer pleasure. She gripped and milked his cock until he thought he’d go out of his mind. There was no walking away from something that intense and overwhelming. When he touched her, when he fucked her, when he made love to her with every breath in his body, it was always perfect. Every time.

  He forced himself to keep his eyes open, to watch that blood slowly be swallowed by the drain. He needed to know what he did. To own it. In some ways, watching the blood swirling at his feet, mixed with water, was a tribute to the dead man. Gavyn Zherdev was now another ghost to haunt him. To keep him awake.

  Could Ashe’s soft skin and hot pussy combat a fresh kill? What about the haven of her mouth? He loved when her lips were stretched around his girth and she was kneeling in front of him, eyes on his, while he fed her his cock—while he watched it disappear down her throat. That might make him forget temporarily.

  He shook his head and moved his hands down several inches, measuring her height. Holding both palms that height, he let the water finish washing what was left of Gavyn off of him. She had to save him, because without her, there was only this. Hell. He lived in hell. He had all his life and Ashe had given him a glimpse of paradise.

  It wasn’t the fucking. It wasn’t her mouth, or her pussy or her soft skin. It was the laughter she shared with him. The way she looked at him, that softness in her eyes. More. She looked at him as if he were more than a killer. More than a machine. She looked at him as if he were a man and a good one at that. She gave him something no woman should ever give a man like him—her trust. All of it. Everything. He tasted trust in her kisses. It was there in her eyes when she knelt before him. When she offered him her body.

  Timur groaned and his fingers curled into two tight fists. He hit the wall of the shower. A loud thud of protest. He was going back to her with Gavyn’s blood on him. The water wasn’t going to take it away, no matter how long he stayed in the shower. He had his answers, the truth of the large team of hit men, the truth he hadn’t needed confirmed because he knew, not only in his gut but in his soul, Lazar had found them and that it was Ulisse who had betrayed them. Still, it had to be confirmed, and Gavyn had held out a long, long time.

  Why? Timur turned toward the water spraying at him from every direction. Most gave up within the first fifteen minutes when Timur started on them. Gavyn had chosen his loyalties and he’d remained true to them, prolonging his life when his suffering could have been over in minutes. Just minutes.

  It had taken far longer to find out about the man named Anton Lipin. The man was one of Lazar’s most trusted men. He infiltrated every law enforcement agency with ease by using his Interpol identity that had been carefully constructed over the years. He’d been sent as soon as word had come in that Mitya and the others had been sighted. He’d taken over running the hit team. He had direct orders from Lazar and only he knew what they were. No one dared disobey him. Lipin was ruthless and thought nothing of killing one of his own men.

  It had taken some time to get the information that Anton Lipin had served as a sniper in the military and was one of the most decorated soldiers among the leopards in Lazar’s lair. He was responsible for more kills than any other.

  Gavyn had been adamant that Anton would not have gone against Lazar’s orders. Anton had served him faithfully for years. It was said that if you were talking to Anton, you were talking to Lazar. He wouldn’t go against Lazar’s orders.

  The question nagged at Timur. Why would Anton try to kill Timur when Lazar had specifically ordered otherwise? He’d returned to the subject over and over, and Gavyn had remained certain that Anton wouldn’t. Yet he had. Unless … if orders had changed in the short time between when the first hit team had been sent for to kill Ashe and when the second team was dispatched, could they have been changed again?

  If Lazar had put out a hit specifically on Timur, Gavyn had known nothing about it, although the general consensus was if Timur was dead, it would be easier to get to Fyodor.

  Cursing, Timur stepped from the shower, caught up a towel and wiped the droplets of water from his body. Naked, he drew on gloves and finished stuffing his blood-covered clothes and shoes in the bag lying on a narrow bench. The room was cement with several drains in the floor. Even the inside of those drains was cleaned after each use. Few people knew about the rooms below the house, but just in case, every precaution was taken.

  Timur dressed and waved his hand toward Kyanite and Rodion. He didn’t envy either man on cleanup duty. What was virtually a crematorium was located down there as well. The body and the clothes of anyone attending the interrogation would be burned and then every ash collected until not a single particle was left behind. Those ashes were then taken far from the estate and disposed of where no one was likely to find them, or if they did, have a clue what they’d discovered.

  He climbed the narrow staircase to the hidden hallway leading behind the walls of the estate. Fyodor hadn’t been the one to install those rooms beneath the house, that had been Antonio Arnotto. He’d had secret hallways and hidden rooms scattered throughout the mansion. He’d lived his life in the spotlight, appearing to be a shrewd businessman, but no criminal. There had been countless bloodstains in the room long before Timur even brought his first prisoner down those stairs.

  It was interesting to him that Ambroise had immediately noticed the discrepancy in the measurement of the walls and that he’d told his brother about it. He’d drawn the entire layout of the house, and if he knew there were hidden passageways, he could have easily guessed where they were and where they led. All four of the Tregres were tied to the perfume business and the opium in some way. Christophe had worked there as a teenager, and Ambroise worked designing labels for them. Beau and Gilbert worked in distribution. All of them knew Charisse and Armande, the owners. There were ties.

  Gavyn hadn’t been able to tell him anything
about that family or the opium other than that Ulisse was a distributor. Timur used the door in Fyodor’s master bedroom rather than chancing stepping out where the others attending the meeting might see him and know where the hidden doors were. They were allies, but he didn’t believe in taking chances with his brother’s life.

  Fyodor and the others were waiting for him. Jake Bannaconni and Drake Donovan were bent over a table, looking at a drawing. Joshua Tregre and Mitya Amurov sat in armchairs near the fireplace. Elijah Lospostos and Eli Perez stood talking together, just to the right of the fireplace. They all looked up when he walked into the room. Most of the bodyguards were absent, but Gorya and Sevastyan, as members of Fyodor’s and Mitya’s families, were also present. They looked Timur over quickly, knowing the kind of toll interrogating leopard prisoners took on a man.

  Fyodor sat in a chair by the fireplace and didn’t turn as his brother walked in. He just stared into the flames, his broad shoulders slumped.

  “He found us at last, didn’t he?” he asked in a soft voice.

  Timur took the ice-cold bottle of water Gorya handed him. There was a wealth of a buffet spread out on a long narrow table at one end of the room, but his stomach wasn’t up to eating.

  “Yes. Apostol Delov was not the man who gave us up. He fished, but he didn’t tell Lazar, afraid he wouldn’t get the reward. Just by fishing, it confirmed what Lazar had been told. We knew it was coming, Fyodor. We wanted it to come. That was the entire reason for using your real name. You could have stayed Alonzo Massi and that would have bought us more time—maybe. Most likely not though, because you’re easily recognizable. Your picture has been in newspapers, on television, even a time or two in a magazine because of Siena. He would have found you. This way, we know he’s coming at us.” Timur looked at his cousins. “At all of us. He particularly wants the two of you.”

  Mitya looked completely impassive. Sevastyan shrugged. They had known, just as Fyodor had, that Lazar would never rest until he found them.

  “It didn’t occur to me Evangeline would get pregnant so soon and if she did, there might be complications.” Fyodor didn’t look up.

  Timur wished he had an answer. He stood in the middle of the room knowing he couldn’t offer comfort to his brother, because the answer was, they surrounded their women with danger from every front. They held things back from them. They weren’t good men and never had been, yet they refused to give up the women they loved. He wanted to believe that had everything to do with his leopard, but he was always honest with himself. Ashe was his. Born for him. Made for him. He’d lie. He’d steal. He’d kill over and over to keep her.

  “We started down this path,” Drake said, “with good intentions, having no idea how complicated it would get. We knew shifters indulging in criminal activity also became severely twisted. They had to be removed, and only we could do that. We’re shifters and we have to police our own.”

  Timur didn’t say anything. What was there to say? He knew he would never walk away and leave his brother to face the kind of danger he did every day without the best security possible—and Timur was that security. They were locked on to the path they’d chosen. They couldn’t stop because it suddenly got rough. Nor, even if they tried to walk away, would they ever be free. They would be hunted for the rest of their lives.

  “What of Evangeline’s family?” Fyodor asked. “Are they in any way connected to Lazar?”

  “Through Ulisse most likely, but that isn’t confirmed,” Timur admitted. “Ulisse is distributing opium, and Lazar wants his source. Apparently, the opium is sought after, a very good product. Lazar forced Ulisse to tell him where he got the product. Our raid on the convoy needs to be cancelled.”

  “I can get the evidence against Ulisse to the cops,” Jake volunteered.

  It was understood that an enemy like Ulisse, despite being human, couldn’t be left to claw at their backs.

  “Ashe and I were shot at in the grove just beyond the vineyard. He used the scent-blocker but left behind fur in the tree. Amur leopard. Definitely Anton Lipin.”

  Fyodor nearly came out of his chair. “You didn’t tell me. What the hell, Timur? I would have sent men to help you.”

  “I didn’t need help.” Timur shrugged his shoulders. “I handled it.”

  “Like hell you handle it next time. You let me know what’s happening immediately . I’m just as concerned for your safety as you are for mine,” Fyodor hissed, his eyes nearly glowing.

  Timur hid the sudden desire to smile. His brother rarely expressed his affection for anyone but Evangeline, but it was there in that spurt of anger. He nodded his head, not daring to use his voice because Fyodor would have heard the lie. No way would he contact his brother for help. If Timur was in danger, what kind of head of security would he be if he couldn’t handle it himself?

  “Anton Lipin was sent by Lazar?” Elijah asked. “He’s Interpol?”

  “He’s running the team Lazar sent here. That also gives him access to the scent-blocker,” Timur pointed out. The question still nagged at him. Why would Anton Lipin decide to deviate from Lazar’s orders not to kill any of them? It made no sense for Lazar to change the orders at the last moment again.

  Drake drummed his fingers on the table and then straightened up, facing them. “I took over the lair after I claimed Saria. It was a mess, and I mean a real mess. Most of the leopards were out of control. At that time, several of the men, instead of challenging me, came after me with rifles. If any of them are working with the Tregres …”

  Joshua turned and looked at him impassively.

  Drake waved a hand in his direction. “Sorry, Joshua. I keep forgetting you’re a Tregre. Your uncles then, are up to no good. There’s no question, and they’re looking at Evangeline’s bakery to add to their distribution. You can’t let them near that place.”

  “That would happen over my dead body,” Fyodor snapped.

  “I think that’s the point,” Timur said. “Kill you. Kill me. They very well could convince Evangeline to allow them to work for her. She’s a sucker for a sob story. She took in Ashe knowing we were both going to be angry with her.”

  “She knows better than to do something like that again,” Fyodor assured.

  “Lipin arrived to run the hit team,” Timur continued. “He gave orders that instead of killing Ashe, they were to take both women prisoners. We were to be taken, but not killed. Lazar has something special in mind for us. On the other hand, then Lipin takes a shot at me.” He was missing something important. His mind kept circling back to the fact that Lipin, for the first time, according to Gavyn, had disobeyed a direct order. Why?

  “Lipin has to have recruited other leopards,” Mitya said. “Leopards are a valuable asset they can’t just afford to keep throwing at us. You’ve killed how many now?”

  Timur nodded his agreement. “Not all the leopards waiting for us in our home were Amur. There were definitely some from other lairs.”

  “Local?” Drake asked. “The Tregres have been in the swamp for years and know all the families. It was Charisse Mercier who developed the scent-blocker. Her mother originally was the one to extract opium and use the perfumes being sent out to distribute. Everyone was cleared.”

  “Maybe they were,” Eli said. He was out of his chair now and perched instead on the arm. “But everything seems to lead back to this perfume maker and her factory.”

  “Her brother, Armande, tried using a firearm against me back before I took over,” Drake said. “He’s leopard, and that’s a killing offense.”

  “Great,” Timur said. “Who else might join Lazar’s cause, given enough money, because I’m betting his recruits are local. I’ve never met these men from your lair, Drake. I wouldn’t recognize their scent. We disposed of them before you arrived. So, who else?”

  “There were two brothers in that lair, both friends with Armande Mercier. Robert Lenoux, along with Armande, came after me with a rifle. I sent Robert to Borneo, hoping it would make him a better man. He di
dn’t go and in fact, disappeared not so long ago. His younger brother, Dion, is convinced that someone killed him and hid the body. Robert was traced here, to San Antonio. Dion has been drinking a bit and he definitely can shoot. If he became convinced that Timur had anything to do with Robert’s disappearance, he would go after Timur and never hesitate.” Drake looked pointedly at Timur.

  “You’re looking at the wrong man,” Timur said truthfully. He didn’t so much as glance at his brother.

  “Does he work for this Charisse?” Eli asked. “Is there a connection?”

  “Just about everyone in the lair has someone in their family working for Charisse. It’s a poor parish, without too much in the way of good solid work. Her company offers not only fair wages, but also benefits,” Drake admitted.

  “So that answer would be yes,” Eli confirmed.

  Drake nodded. “I believe the Tregres got Dion his job.”

  Timur frowned. There were so many connections to the perfume factory and the opium. “Joshua, what do you actually know about your uncles?” He was Evangeline’s first cousin but had been raised in Borneo by his mother.

  Joshua shrugged. “Not much. I do know they betrayed my father by telling my grandfather that he was running off with his wife and child. My grandfather killed my father. I also know, from my mother, that Evangeline’s mother didn’t die in childbirth or run off the way they tell the story.”

  “What happened to her?”

  Joshua shook his head. “I don’t know. My mother would never say. They were exchanging letters and a few weeks after Evangeline’s birth, the letters stopped. She just cautioned me to stay away from the family, and I always have. Any family with that many secrets has too many skeletons. Probably real ones.”

  “I don’t like Evangeline having anything to do with them,” Fyodor said. “On the other hand, if she was my sister, I wouldn’t want her to have anything to do with us, so that makes me a hypocrite.”