“No, no, I’m good. I’m just very,” he pulled at the collar of his jacket again, “warm.”
“May I take your jacket?” she said.
“Uh, yes, sure, okay.” He handed over the jacket, and she hung it on the coat tree next to hers. “Would you care for a glass of water or cup of coffee?”
He shook his head, his eyes darting back and forth, his forehead even sweatier than it was previously.
“I’ll be right back,” She knocked on Mr. Granger’s office door before she opened it and stepped inside, closing the door behind her.
Her boss was standing next to the floor-to-ceiling wall of windows that dominated his office. Wilson Granger was on the shorter side. If he were 5’7”, she’d be surprised, but he was lean and fit. She knew for a fact that he practiced jiu-jitsu every morning, and while he looked harmless with his short grey hair and round baby face, he was not the kindly old grandfather that his appearance projected.
He had a reputation for being ruthless. While she didn’t doubt that it was true, he’d always been perfectly polite to her. Of course, she’d never given him any reason to be upset with her. She was good at her job, she liked her job, and she took pride in being quick and efficient. She and Wilson Granger got along just fine, and despite how nervous he seemed to make a lot of his clients and employees, she’d never felt anxious around him.
Now, the giant of a man standing next to her boss… he made her human side want to pee her pants, and her jaguar hiss and retreat.
Dax Morris, tiger shifter, owner of the coldest grey eyes she’d ever seen, and Mr. Granger’s… truthfully, she wasn’t entirely sure what Dax did for Mr. Granger. If pressed, she’d say a combination of personal driver and bodyguard, but why did the owner of a shipping company whose main export was office furniture need personal protection?
“Is Mr. Tridell here?” Wilson said.
Emerson nodded. “He is. Would you like some water brought in for the meeting?”
“No.” Wilson glanced at Dax. The big tiger shifter’s face was as stoic as ever, but Emerson could smell his anger. She was mostly confident he wasn’t angry with her – why would he be - but it still brought on a wave of anxiety. Her jaguar hissed at him, a sound that Emerson was careful not to let escape. Although there was no way Dax could have heard it, his gaze turned to her anyway.
She backed up a step and then was immediately annoyed with herself. She wasn’t used to being nervous around any man – human or shifter – and she hated that Dax scared her. But it didn’t stop the dump of adrenaline into her system whenever she was around him, or the urge to drop her gaze to the floor in uncharacteristic submission.
“Emerson, did you add next week’s schedule to my phone calendar?” Wilson said. “I didn’t see it on there.”
His phone was face down on the desk. Ignoring the way Dax watched her every move, Emerson reached for the phone. “I did. But let me check it, maybe it didn’t -”
“Not that one.” Wilson’s voice sharpened, and he picked up the phone before her fingers could even graze it.
“Sorry,” she said.
Wilson had two work phones, and while he had no problem giving her the password and handing off the first phone to her for adding contacts and updating his calendar, the other phone was strictly off-limits. She had no clue why Wilson was so cagey about his second phone and why he freaked out if she even touched it. Maybe he had a porn addiction and used that phone to watch it at the office.
Her jaguar made a low grumble of disgust, and Emerson had to hide her grin. Not that she loved the idea of her boss sitting in his office and watching porn on his phone, but sometimes her jaguar could be a real prude, and it never failed to amuse Emerson.
“You can show Mr. Tridell into my office,” Wilson said as he tucked the phone into his inside jacket pocket. He glanced at the watch around his wrist that probably cost more than her car. “Go ahead and leave. I won’t need your assistance after the meeting.”
“Thank you, Mr. Granger. Have a good weekend. I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Oh, on your way out,” Wilson reached for a file folder on his desk, “can you drop these signed requisites with Sang-hoon?”
“Of course.” She took the folder from Wilson. Then, avoiding looking in Dax’s direction, she left the office.
She smiled at Mr. Tridell. She wasn’t sure how it was possible, but he looked even sweatier than he did before. “Mr. Granger will see you now. Are you sure I can’t offer you a glass of water?”
“No, no, I’m fine.” Mr. Tridell followed her to Wilson’s office door. He hesitated in the doorway, and she smiled encouragingly.
“Damien, come in,” Mr. Granger said.
Mr. Tridell’s face returned to its beet red colour. Before she could ask him if he was all right, Dax took the man’s arm and pulled him into the office, then shut the door in Emerson’s face.
She muttered ‘rude’ under her breath before shutting off her computer, switching from her heels to her boots, and putting her coat on. She zipped it up and then grabbed her purse. Holding the file folder in one hand, she walked down the hallway to the door that led to the warehouse.
She walked through the huge and, at this close to the end of a Friday, primarily empty warehouse. The warehouse manager’s office was at the far end of the warehouse. A pallet of plastic wrapped office chairs half blocked the office door. She ducked around them and knocked on the open door.
“Ronald, swear to fucking God, if you’re gonna tell me one more fucking time that you can’t move that pallet of chairs until Monday, I will force you to shift and pluck out every one of your fucking feathers. You hear me, you assho… shit, you’re not Ronald.”
Emerson laughed and leaned against the doorframe. “Hey, Sang-hoon. How are you?”
The middle-aged Korean man stood up from behind his desk. “Other than having a pallet of chairs blocking my office, I’m fine. How are you, Em?”
“Pretty good. Do you and Cho-Hee have fun plans for the weekend?”
“Taking our grandkids to the zoo,” Sang-hoon said. “Which considering it’s already started to snow and is supposed to snow for the entire weekend, seems like a bad idea to me. But what do I know? How about yourself?”
“Nothing major planned. Mr. Granger asked me to drop off these signed requisites before I left for the day.”
She stepped into his office and handed them over. Relief crossed Sang-hoon’s face. “Thank you. I need these to get the next shipment… aw, shit.”
“What’s wrong?” Emerson said.
“Mr. Granger missed signing one of the recs.” Sang-hoon thumbed through the pages. “I need it before I can send the last truck out.”
He glanced at the clock on the wall as one of the warehouse workers stuck his head into the office. “Boss? We got a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” Sang-hoon said.
“Milt’s on the phone. He says he’s missing two desks and a credenza in his truck. Says we forgot to load them.”
“Oh, for the love of God,” Sang-hoon said. He glanced at the file folder and then at the phone on his desk with the blinking red light. “Shit, tell Milt to hang tight, I gotta get something signed from Mr. Granger before he leaves for the day, or we’re really fucked. That shipment was supposed to leave twenty minutes ago.”
“I’ll take it back to him.” Emerson held out her hand. “Once he’s signed it, I’ll bring it back.”
“You sure?” Sang-hoon said. “You’d be doing me a real favour, Em. I’ll owe you one.”
“I’m sure,” she said. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”
She took the file folder and made her way back through the warehouse to the office side. It was after five now, and the office was empty. Even Jacqueline at reception had left for the day. She walked down the hallway toward Mr. Granger’s office. Mr. Tridell’s coat was gone from the coat tree near her desk. Emerson knocked briskly on Wilson’s door and then opened it.
“Mr. Gra
nger, you forgot -”
There was a muffled bang, like a heavy book dropped onto a desk, and she stared in mute surprise at Mr. Tridell. He was on his knees in front of Mr. Granger with his coat spread out behind him like a blanket.
Wilson Granger lowered the gun pressed against Mr. Tridell’s forehead. As Mr. Tridell fell backward onto his coat, Emerson stared wide-eyed at the spray of blood and brains covering the formerly pristine white office wall.
“Emerson.”
Her shell-shocked gaze slipped to Wilson. He was staring at her with a combination of regret and annoyance. “You were supposed to go home, Emerson.”
“Folder… forgot to sign…” She stared at the folder in her hand before her gaze returned to the blood and brain splattered wall, to Mr. Tridell’s still body, to the blood darkening the light grey of his jacket.
The blood would soak through to the hardwood, she thought numbly. It would soak through and be a bitch to clean up.
Emerson, move!
Her jaguar hissed and growled, and Emerson stared at Wilson when he said, “Dax, grab her, please.”
Dax was almost on her. He would pull her into the office, and her boss would put a gun to her head and blow out her brains too. She’d be buried in the same shallow grave as poor Mr. Tridell.
Go right now, Em! You’re faster than him. Run!
She dropped the file folder and ran for her life.
“What the fuck?” Clay sat up straight in his car, his phone clenched in one hand. The building that housed Granger Shipping was in the vast industrial area on the city's east side. He was parked behind a building that created custom signs and just happened to be directly across the road from Granger Shipping.
Clay stared in blank shock at the video feed on his phone. There was still no sound, but he didn’t need sound to know that Wilson Granger had just shot a fucking man in the head right in front of his personal assistant.
He stared at Wilson Granger through the camera on Emerson’s pin, and, even in his shock and confusion, he still scanned the part of the office he could see for Owen. There was no sign of his brother, and Clay squinted at Granger when he said something to Emerson. He was too far away for Clay to read his lips, but whatever the fuck he was saying couldn’t be good news for Emerson.
“Emerson, run,” he muttered. Why the fuck was she still standing there? She needed to run before Wilson killed her too.
“Run,” he repeated. “Get the fuck out of there.”
She’s in shock. You need to help her. You can teleport in. You’ve seen enough of Wilson’s office now. Help her, Clay.
He couldn’t. It didn’t matter how fast he was. If he teleported in and took Emerson, Wilson would know it was him. If he knew Clay was here, he’d immediately move Owen to another location. It had taken him two years to find his brother. He wouldn’t throw away his only chance to save him.
Emerson is about to die. Is that what you want? For her to die when you could have helped her?
“Owen is what matters,” he said. “Move, goddammit, Emerson!” A familiar form stepped in front of the camera, and Clay groaned. “Fuck, there’s that dickweed Dax.”
Christ, he couldn’t sit here and watch as Emerson was shot in the fucking head.
“I’m sorry, Owen,” he murmured as the hum started inside of him.
Before he could teleport, the video feed jerked and swayed, and he had a blurry view of the hallway. Emerson was running. He had a moment to appreciate how fucking fast she was before he jumped out of his car and ran to the back of the building, leaning up against it and peering around the side of it at Wilson’s building across the street. Still holding his phone, he alternated between staring at the outside of the building and the fleeting glimpses of the hallway on his phone.
“Run,” he muttered. “Move that gorgeous ass, Emerson.”
He had a quick view of the reception desk, and then Emerson pushed open the front door. He stared at the building as Emerson ran out. She moved unbelievably fast, her body swelling and fur sprouting on her pale cheeks as she took off toward the far end of the street.
Good. She’d be fucking fast in her jaguar form, and there was no way Dax would catch her, not even if he shifted to his…
Clay flinched, muttering another harsh curse when Dax stepped out into the street from the narrow alley at the end of the building just as Emerson approached it. Emerson made a sharp cry of pain when Dax caught her around the waist and slammed her into the building. Her head bounced off the wall, and she immediately slumped to the ground, her half-shifted body returning to its human form as she was knocked unconscious.
Clay stepped back just as Dax turned to survey the street. He waited a few seconds before peeking around the building again. Dax had Emerson slung over his shoulder, her arms and long dark hair hung down, and her body was limp against Dax’s meaty shoulder.
“Fuck,” Clay said. He pounded his fist against the cold brick and then brushed the snowflakes impatiently from his face as he considered his options. Dax was on his cell phone as he paced back and forth in front of the alley with Emerson still draped over his shoulder.
He'd have to take Emerson from Dax before teleporting her away, and while he had the element of surprise, he was also human. He had first-hand knowledge of how fast Dax was and how easily he could slice a man open with those claws of his. The odds of Clay getting Emerson away from Dax’s hard grip before Dax gutted him were slim to fucking none.
A black SUV pulled up in front of the warehouse. Dax opened the back door and dumped Emerson into the seat. Clay checked the video feed as Dax climbed into the front passenger side. Clay had a view of the top of the inside of the car, and that was it.
He stared at the building as the SUV pulled away. Wilson was in there right now and with Dax gone, unprotected. He could find Wilson and force him to take him to Owen.
You don’t know that he’s there. He could have left the building through the warehouse. Stick to the plan, Clay.
Yeah, well, that fucking plan had gone out the goddamn window, hadn’t it? Emerson was about to be buried in some shallow fucking grave while he stood there.
Then do something about it.
He ran back to his car and slid behind the wheel. He started it and drove down the street, turning left and heading in the direction that the SUV had gone. He caught up to it quickly but dropped back until there were a couple of car lengths between them.
As the SUV left the industrial area and headed north in a familiar route, he grunted in surprise. Why the fuck were they taking Emerson to Granger’s house? Keeping an eye on the road, he called Saul.
Saul answered on the first ring. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Emerson is on her way to Granger’s house.”
“Holy shit.” Saul’s voice went up half a notch. “You sure?”
“Yes, I’m fucking sure. I’ve followed Granger to his goddamn house how many times? I know the route from the office to his house.”
“This is good news,” Saul said. “So, why do you sound like your fucking dog died?”
“There’s a problem.”
Chapter 4
Her head hurt. It hurt like the time she’d stepped into the yard just as her brother threw a baseball to their father, and she’d taken it directly to the temple.
Only this time, the pain wasn’t radiating from her temple but the back of her head. She groaned, moving her eyes behind the cool darkness of her lids, not quite ready to open them and face the light she sensed around her.
Her head throbbed and thumped, and the urge to throw up hovered just at the surface. She took a few deep breaths, willing herself not to puke. Her jaguar had retreated so far inside of her that Emerson could barely feel her.
“Emerson, open your eyes, please.”
She didn’t want to. Opening her eyes meant she’d probably throw up, and there was nothing she hated more than vomiting.
“Emerson, I know you’re awake. Open your eyes.”
She blinke
d her lids up, squinting at the light, although it wasn’t nearly as bad as she feared. Her stomach roiled and heaved, and she burped up bitter bile before swallowing it down. Fuck, why did she feel so terrible?
She stared at the man in front of her. He slowly came into focus, and her confusion and the pain in her head retreated to a dull ache as she remembered what happened. Her jaguar lunged forward, her fear disappearing beneath her desire to protect Emerson. She hissed a soft sound that Emerson had no control over as fur appeared on her cheeks.
“No,” Wilson Granger said. “Don’t you do it, Emerson. If you shift, I’ll be forced to blow your brains out, and I don’t want to do that. I really don’t. So, stay in your human form. Do you understand me?”
Even if she hadn’t, the gun he pressed against her forehead made his point perfectly clear.
Sweet one, no. Be calm. Please, be calm.
She closed her eyes and fought for control as her jaguar growled.
No, sweet one. You must be calm for now.
Snarling and hissing, her jaguar retreated. Emerson opened her eyes, and Wilson smiled at her. “There’s my Emerson. Such pretty brown eyes. I prefer them over the jade of your jaguar.”
She didn’t reply. The pressure of the gun against her forehead disappeared as Wilson straightened, but it was replaced with pressure against the side of her head. She sniffed at the man holding the gun to the left side of her head. He was a bear shifter, and he was well over seven feet. Despite being in his human form, he was still so hairy he could have been mistaken for a Sasquatch.
“There. You behave yourself, and Randy won’t have to shoot you in the head. Deal?” Wilson said.
She nodded, and his smile widened. “Excellent. I’ve always said you were my most intelligent assistant. Haven’t I always said that, Dax?”
“Yes, sir.” Dax was standing on the far side of the room.
Rise of the Jaguar Page 4
