Rise of the Jaguar

by Elizabeth Kelly

  The sky was lightening, although there was no sign of the sun on the horizon yet. She cupped his face again and pressed her lips against his. “It wasn’t your fault, Clay.”

  “Four months after Owen pushed Rodney into killing himself, I got my powers.” Clay laughed bitterly. “Four fucking months. If I’d only gotten them a little earlier, Owen wouldn’t have been forced to do what he did, and I wouldn’t have ruined his fucking life.”

  “You didn’t ruin his life,” Emerson said.

  “I joined the military right out of high school. My parents were confused as hell about my change of plans. I had plans to be a marine biologist, and they didn’t understand why I joined the military instead. I couldn’t tell them the truth. I couldn’t tell them that Owen had been forced to do this terrible thing to save me because I couldn’t save myself.”

  “Clay.” Emerson made him look at her again. “You and Owen were children. What Owen was forced to do was not your fault.”

  She pressed a quick kiss against his mouth. “I know you don’t believe me, but I promise I will keep telling you this for the rest of your life until you do believe it.”

  “Owen and I never talked about that night again until about six years ago. We were at the cabin, and we’d both had a little too much to drink, and Owen, he… he just looked at me and said, ‘I should have told him to run away, not shoot himself in the head,’ and I didn’t know what the fuck to say to that.”

  “I’m sorry, honey.”

  “He said he thinks about that night a lot and that there’s something inside of him that is twisted and dark. If there weren’t, he would have pushed Rodney to leave us alone, to forget about us. Instead, he told him to kill himself. He said it was easy to say it.”

  “He was a thirteen-year-old child, and he was panicking in a terrible and frightening situation. It’s not surprising he said what he said,” Emerson said.

  “He’s the best man I know, kind and good-hearted and wouldn’t hurt a fucking fly. But deep down, he believes he’s evil,” Clay said, “because of me.”

  “When we get Owen back, you and I will help him finally realize the truth, honey. I promise.”

  He stared unblinkingly at her and then said, “I joined the military so I could learn how to protect myself and Owen from any future threats. I never wanted Owen in a position where he had to protect me again. But I became a mercenary after the military because I was good at killing, and the money was excellent.”

  She didn’t reply but wouldn’t let him pull away when he tried. He was deliberately trying to push her away, and she refused to let him do it.

  “Still think I’m a good man, Emerson?” She could hear the bitterness creeping into his voice.

  “Yes,” she said, making him jerk in surprise. “You can keep trying to convince me you’re not, but I will never believe it. A good man saved my sister and her mate, a good man spent years looking for his brother, and a good man sacrificed himself at that cabin to save my life.”

  She squeezed his face between her palms, staring directly at him. “Your past does not have to define who you are for the rest of your life, Clay. I’ve made plenty of mistakes too, but every day I remind myself that I’m not perfect, and all I can do is learn from my mistakes and move forward. You can do the same thing.”

  “Making the wrong choice when it comes to men isn’t the same as killing men for money,” Clay said.

  “Maybe not,” she said, “but once we have your brother, will you go back to being a mercenary?”

  “No,” he said quickly. “Em, I won’t ever do that again. I swear.”

  She pressed a quick kiss against his mouth. “I know, honey. Because you’ve changed. Because you want to be the good guy, not the bad guy.”

  He smiled a little, and she stroked her thumbs across his cheekbones. “Yeah, I get that maybe it’s an oversimplification, but that’s what it boils down to, isn’t it? You want to be a good man.”

  “I want to be your man,” he said.

  She smiled and straddled his thighs, settling her weight on top of him. “Good, because my jaguar has already decided you belong to her, and believe me, you do not want to piss her off.”

  “Is that right?” he said with a grin.

  “Yes.” She cupped his face again, studying his features in the growing light. “I love you, Clay.”

  His pupils dilated, and she could smell his surprise. Before he could say anything, she said, “I know I have a history of impulsive behaviour, so I get that you’re skeptical, but how I feel about you… I’ve never felt this way about anyone, not even Ira. I don’t expect you to say it back. I know you’re not there yet, and maybe you never will be, but I wanted you to know how I feel. I love you for who you were in the past, who you are now, and who you will be in the future.”

  She gave him a lingering kiss, one that made him harden beneath her. She leaned back and smiled at him. “What do you say, handsome? You up for one more round of hide the bishop before we get some sleep?”

  The smile that crossed his face made her jaguar purr and her heart race. “Always, Em.”

  Chapter 22

  Bile burned a fucking hole in his esophagus. Wilson swallowed and then swallowed again as he listened to Alan. The leopard shifter finished speaking, and Wilson wordlessly ended the call and set his phone on the desk.

  “We need to hit them again,” Dax said from his spot near the door. “We need to hit them tonight when they’re not expecting it. I’ll lead the team. I need two dozen men and -”

  With a low cry of rage, Wilson snatched up the small paperweight globe next to his laptop. He turned and hurled it against the wall. It made a satisfying thud when it broke the drywall before falling to the hardwood with another heavy thump.

  He smoothed back his hair before turning toward Dax.

  “Feel better?” Dax said.

  “I underestimated them, I’ll fucking admit it, but don’t you dare take that fucking tone with me,” Wilson said.

  Dax growled under his breath. “I’ll fly out there this afternoon. By tomorrow night, Emerson and her bitch sister will be dead.”

  “No,” Wilson said as he reached for his phone inside his suit jacket. “You’re not going. No one is. I need a new plan, one that -”

  “What you need is to clean up that fucking mess. I told you Alan was an idiot. I won’t fuck this up, and I certainly won’t let a fucking bird shifter and his friends dose me with -”

  “They have a polar bear and grizzly bear, you asshole!” Wilson screamed. “A fucking polar bear in the city! When the fuck did they stop living in the frozen wastelands of Canada and Alaska and move to the fucking city? Tell me one goddamn time in history where a tiger shifter has defeated a polar bear. Go on, fucking tell me!”

  He didn’t need to be a shifter to smell Dax’s rage. He could see it all over the big man’s face, see it in the way his body swelled and in the beard that was growing on his face. Wilson sat behind his desk and slipped his hand under it, wrapping his fingers around the gun strapped to the underside. His anger gone, he waited calmly for Dax to either back down or try to kill him.

  After about thirty seconds, Dax’s body returned to normal. His eyes still a dark golden colour and his pupils' narrow slits, he said, “With enough men, we can defeat them, Wilson.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Wilson said.

  “You need to do something. Emerson’s probably already gone to the fucking police with what she knows.”

  Wilson shrugged. “Probably, but she has no proof. And if by some miracle, the police show up here asking questions because of what she’s told them, I have four other employees who are willing to sign affidavits swearing that Emerson Joyce is a disgruntled ex-employee looking for revenge for being fired for incompetency.”

  Dax frowned. “She was well-liked here. How are you getting people to lie about her?”

  Wilson grinned bitterly. “Money makes people willing to do all sorts of things. For now, we leave
Emerson be. I have other issues requiring my attention. The Healing Hands gala is this weekend and -”

  “You can’t possibly be considering going to it,” Dax said.

  “Of course, I am. I go every year, and if the police or the fucking FBI are watching me, it’s more important now than ever to keep up appearances. I haven’t missed the gala in over a decade, and I’m not missing it this year either.”

  “We have no idea where Clay is. What if he shows up? What if he fucking teleports you right out of the goddamn gala?” Dax said.

  “He won’t,” Wilson said. “He knows if he kidnaps me, his brother is dead. Trust me, I’m perfectly safe.”

  He scrolled through his phone. “I’ve arranged for the serum to be loaded and shipped Wednesday evening. A memo’s been sent out to the employees about the warehouse being cleaned that night, but a final sweep of the office and warehouse for any employees is needed before Martin Grimes’s men arrive with the serum.”

  “What about Emerson?” Dax said. “When exactly are you taking care of -”

  “Enough!” Wilson said. “Trust that I am working on a solution to the Emerson problem and stay in your fucking lane, Dax.”

  “Yes, sir,” Dax growled before stalking out of his office, slamming the door behind him.

  “Clay didn’t tell you what she said?” Kat handed Emerson the last dinner plate, and she stacked it in the dishwasher before shutting the door.

  “No. He got a text from her around five, and he brought me here and then left.” Emerson sank into a kitchen chair and took the beer Ronin handed to her with a nod of thanks.

  “What’s her name again?” Kat joined her at the table and took a sip of Ronin’s beer before giving it back to him.

  “Sarina.” Emerson glanced at her watch. “It’s been almost two hours, and I’m getting worried. How long does it take to say either yes or no to a request for help?”

  “Maybe Clay didn’t -” Kat’s sentence turned to a low growl of surprise when Clay materialized in the kitchen.

  “Clay!” Emerson jumped to her feet, her jaguar growling in alarm at the blood caked beneath Clay’s nose and the swelling under his right eye. She rushed over to him, touching his face gingerly. “What happened?”

  “Sarina happened,” he said. “She agreed to meet with me but didn’t agree to not punching me in the face a few times.”

  “She sounds great,” Ronin said. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

  “I’ll remind you of what you said when she,” Clay grimaced and pulled at the crotch of his jeans, “knees you in the balls.”

  Ronin’s grin turned into a laugh as Emerson used a damp cloth to wipe gently at the dried blood on Clay’s face.

  “So, with Sarina not willing to help, Bishop said earlier today that he might know someone who could do it. A client knows a guy who knows a -” Kat said.

  “Sarina’s in,” Clay said and then hissed out a breath when Emerson wiped the blood from his nose.

  “She’s in?” Kat said.

  “Yes.”

  “She just, what… felt the need to punch you a few times first?”

  Clay took the ice pack Emerson handed him, pressing it against his eye. “Yeah.”

  “I can respect that,” Kat said.

  “Do we really want someone on the team who’s willing to beat the crap out of other team members?” Emerson said.

  “Be honest, Clay,” Ronin said with another grin, “she had a reason for punching you.”

  “I might have tried to kill her a few years back,” Clay said.

  Ronin burst out laughing as Clay said to Emerson, “But in my defense, she was trying to kill my client at the time.”

  “Did she succeed?” Kat said.

  “Yeah. Strangled him with his own shoelace.”

  “Damn. I really need to meet her now,” Ronin said.

  “How did you go from trying to kill each other to having each other’s cell number?” Emerson said.

  Clay just shrugged. “The killing business is weird. I’ll bring Sarina to the city Saturday afternoon. Once she’s ready to go, I’ll teleport her and Kat to the charity gala.”

  “And me,” Ronin said.

  “Fine,” Clay said.

  “Me as well,” Emerson said.

  Clay scowled. “No, Em. You’re not going anywhere near Wilson Granger.”

  “I’ll be perfectly safe,” Emerson said. “I’m not going into the gala.”

  “Emmy, he’s right. You should stay here,” Kat said.

  “Well, lucky for me, I’m an adult, and neither you nor Clay can tell me what to do,” Emerson said.

  “She’s got you on that one, Kitten.” Ronin took a sip of his beer.

  “You still haven’t told me how you’re going to get her a ticket to the gala,” Emerson said. “It’s been sold out for months.”

  “I’ve already accessed the computer system Healing Hands used to keep track of invitations. Now that I know she’s in, I’ll add mine and Sarina’s name to the list.” Kat glanced at Clay. “Your… co-worker, Saul, texted me today. I’ve set him up with remote access. Once we connect the phone, he’ll add the tracking program.”

  “Wait, why are you going into the gala?” Emerson stared at Kat in alarm.

  “It’ll be easier for Sarina to hand off the phone to me if I’m in the gala. She can’t exactly leave the building if she’s seducing Wilson. But a quick trip to the bathroom to give me the phone will work. I’ll bring it back to her when we’re done, and she can slip it back into Wilson’s jacket without him being the wiser.”

  “What if Wilson’s looked up pictures of you?” Emerson said. “He probably knows what you look like, Katarina. Which means if he sees you, he’ll know something’s up, or he might,” she swallowed hard, “try to kill you.”

  “He won’t see me. But I’ll wear a wig and coloured contacts just in case,” Kat said. “Honey, it’ll be fine, I promise.”

  “Then I guess we’re set,” Emerson said, even though her stomach was churning at the idea of Kat being in the same room as Wilson. She took Clay’s hand. “It’s getting late. We should go home.”

  It was impossible to miss the look Kat gave Ronin, but as much as Emerson loved her sister, she didn’t care what Kat thought of her relationship with Clay. It was new territory for her. She’d always cared deeply about Kat’s opinion on the men she dated. Although Kat had never come out and said it, Emerson knew that she’d never liked Ira, and Ira had downright hated Kat. Probably because she’d called him on his bullshit.

  Clay set the ice pack on the table as Emerson kissed Kat’s cheek. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, all right?”

  “Yes.” Kat looked like she was about to say something else before smiling at Emerson and moving to where Ronin sat. She sank into his lap, putting her arm around his shoulders as he stroked her back.

  “Good night, guys,” Ronin said.

  Clay nodded before pulling Emerson into his embrace. “Ready?”

  “Yes.” She put her arms around his shoulders as he tightened his arms around her waist and the spinning blackness descended.

  It didn’t surprise Clay that Sarina neither staggered on her feet nor vomited when they returned to his penthouse. A slight grimace was her only reaction to teleporting before she dropped her bag on the floor and stared at Emerson.

  Looking a little nervous and unsure, Emerson held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Emerson.”

  “Sarina.” She shook Emerson’s hand before walking to the windows. She studied the city below them. “This is some view you’ve got here, Clay.”

  “Thanks.”

  An awkward silence descended. Emerson cleared her throat. “Thank you for helping us.”

  Sarina shrugged. “I owe Clay a debt.” She turned to face him. “This clears it, remember that.”

  “I won’t forget,” he said. A part of him, apparently the part that had a death wish, wanted to point out that pickpocketing a phone didn’t seem like evening the score for saving
Sarina’s life, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

  The shapeshifter was tough, and while he wasn’t afraid of her, he didn’t doubt that she could and would kill him easily with no less than four of the items on the bookshelf she was currently eyeing. Although he hadn’t seen it himself, he’d never doubted the rumour that Sarina had once killed four Colombian drug lords with nothing but a pencil and her bare hands.

  “How long until the gala?” Sarina said.

  “Three hours.”

  Sarina picked up her bag. “Show me where I can shower and change.”

  “This way.” Clay led Sarina to the guest room.

  “Holy shit,” Emerson breathed beside him. “She looks… stunning.”

  Clay nodded. Sarina did look amazing. Although as far as he was concerned, Emerson was exceedingly more beautiful than the shapeshifter, even in the simple t-shirt and jeans she wore.

  In sharp contrast to Emerson’s casual look, Sarina wore a floor-length dark green evening dress with a fitted lace bodice and the skirt just flowy enough to hide the multiple weapons he was sure she’d hidden on her body. Flawless make-up and her long auburn hair piled on top of her head completed her look.

  “That’s a beautiful dress,” Emerson said. “You look perfect for the gala.”

  “Thank you,” Sarina said.

  “There are metal detectors,” Clay said.

  Sarina muttered a curse and hiked up the dress to reveal black thigh-highs and the gun in the holster strapped to her left thigh, and the knife strapped to her right.

  “Oh… wow,” Emerson said, as Sarina unstrapped them both and dropped them on the chair next to her.

  She smoothed down her dress, arching one perfect eyebrow at Clay when he stared at her. “What?”

  “Like that’s all you’ve got. If you set off the detector, this is all over, Sarina, and your debt is not repaid.”

  She glared at him before reaching into the bodice of her dress. She rummaged in her cleavage for a few seconds before producing a pair of brass knuckles and a switchblade.