Sarai's Fortune

by Abigail Owen

  Finally, the plane cleared out enough for him to stand up. Man he hated flying. They definitely didn’t make seats for seven-foot guys, and the planes always had a musty, sweaty smell that his heightened shifter senses protested.

  Sarai glanced down at him. Was that a smirk?

  When they’d boarded the plane three hours before, she’d gone ahead of him and had already been settled by the time he moved to his own seat.

  He’d paused beside her chair. “I’m there.” He’d pointed at the middle seat.

  Sarai had blinked owlishly at him for a moment before she stood up to let him in. “I figured you’d be in first class for the extra room,” she’d said as he’d squeezed past her.

  “Do you know how much they charge for that extra room? It’s a crying shame.” Zac had shaken his head in disgust.

  “Cheapskate,” she’d muttered.

  “Damn straight,” Zac had said. “I’ve got people dependent on me.”

  “You’re going to be awfully uncomfortable by the time we get there.”

  “Middle seat does suck. I don’t supposed you’d swap?” he’d asked hopefully.

  Sarai had grinned unrepentantly. “Nope.”

  It was the first time she’d ever truly smiled in his presence, and it was directed straight at Zac. He felt every nuance of that smile in his gut but tamped down on that response and just grunted.

  “Don’t blame you. You’re how tall?”

  “Five eight.”

  “Right.” Then he tried to ignore her proximity with some reports he needed to run through before getting to New York.

  But Sarai had suddenly turned playful. Throughout the flight—usually when he shifted positions—she’d leant over and whispered, “I think there’s still a seat free in first class.”

  “Uh-huh,” he’d mumbled.

  Now, hours later, he was sure a secret grin graced her lips. “Would you like me to get your bag?” she offered in a deadpan voice.

  Zac frowned. “No. Why would I want that?”

  She shrugged. “I just figured your muscles must’ve atrophied after sitting in one position so long, and you might need some help.”

  “I’m good.”

  “Okay.” He didn’t see a smile as she faced forward, or hear the sound of any laughter, but Zac swore her shoulders were shaking with it.

  Minx. Who’d have guessed Sarai Bouchard was a bit of a tease?

  Nothing else was said as they deplaned, moved through the airport, and met the man picking them up.

  “George.” Zac shook hands with the man who always accompanied him in New York. He performed a quick introduction, during which they exchanged a measured look and a brief nod. All of Sarai’s playfulness on the plane had completely disappeared. The serious cougar shifter was back.

  She practically jumped into the back of the black sedan George had hired. There was the introvert Zac had come to know. He exchanged a glance with George. Sarai was going to have to warm up to the people in the Timik—especially George. Fast.

  They stowed the luggage and pulled away from the airport to head across the river into the city. Every once in a while, Zac would pause in reading the reports George had handed him concerning the Timik to glance over at his silent companion. As they crossed Manhattan Bridge, he happened to catch her wide-eyed expression reflected in the glass of the window.

  “Ever been?”

  “To New York?” Without removing her gaze from the view, she shook her head. “I wasn’t really allowed out much once they identified my abilities.”

  She said that so casually, but Zac would bet there was a story there. “Much? So you’ve never seen a big city?”

  That got her to face him, her frowning look of annoyance relaxed into ruefulness when she realized he wasn’t judging. “Not like this.” She waved a hand at the window. “I have been to some larger cities, and I’ve experienced many more across the world in my visions.”

  “Is there anything in particular you want to see while you’re here?”

  She gave him a curious look but shook her head. “Not really.”

  Zac ignored the temptation to play tour guide and shrugged. If she wanted to hole up in the apartment, that was her concern. He wasn’t even sure why he’d asked.

  The ring of his cell phone interrupted his thoughts.

  “Montclair.” His frown deepened the longer he listened. “Right. We’ll handle it here.”

  After hanging up, he called Scott, his head of security. He didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Where are we with the increased measures at the apartment?”

  “We’ve added cameras in the locations we discussed as well as the extra guard in the foyer.”

  “We need to think beyond inside the building. When I get there, I want to hear suggestions on how we deal with the area around the outside of the building.”

  “Right, boss.”

  Zac hung up and pocketed his phone.

  “What was that about?”

  He found Sarai regarding him with mild curiosity. Too mild. “You already know, don’t you?”

  Her eyes widened marginally. He’d surprised her. “I’ve seen bits. Why don’t you explain it to me?”

  Damn. He’d been planning to keep her mostly in the dark. She seemed to have had enough worries in her life. He’d been hoping to spare her this one at least, but he hadn’t considered the fact that there were few secrets from Seers.

  “That was Kyle Carstairs you saw in the woods in Idaho.”

  Her face lost some color. Beyond that she made no response.

  “Keller’s men tracked him and then lost him.”

  “So close to the compound,” she murmured, almost to herself.

  “We already increased security at the apartment.”

  “So why the need to add more?”

  “He never should have been able to get that close. If he can do it there, it’ll be even easier here.”

  “I see.” She fidgeted a little, tapping her fingers on her thigh. The twitchy movement was the first sign of true nerves he’d seen from her since getting in the car this morning.

  “He scares you.” It was a statement, not a question.

  She gave an inelegant little snort. “That’s putting it mildly. He’s a psychopath, and he’s fixated on me. Or, more precisely, on the children I could provide him. He’s very smart, as well as much stronger and faster than I am. Worse, he’s aware of some, if not all, of my limitations. That would scare anyone.”

  Zac reached over to take her fluttering hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “I won’t let him anywhere near you.”

  She didn’t say anything for a long moment. Just as he thought she was going to pull away without acknowledging his promise, she suddenly squeezed back. Then she took her hand away. Oddly, he sort of missed it. It had fit so well in his own.

  They said nothing more the rest of the drive.

  CHAPTER 7

  Finally, they pulled up at their destination. The apartment building, located in the heart of New York around 54th and Park, was relatively unassuming from the outside. Only the fancy red covering to the entranceway let passersby know a residence was there. Its unpretentious brick exterior hid a rather fancy interior. Zac walked across the star-patterned marble flooring straight to the elevator.

  “Ummm…shouldn’t we check in?” Sarai asked at his shoulder, glancing over at the desk.

  “No need. We own an apartment in this building.” He glanced down and, not for the first time, appreciated that she was relatively tall. He tended to tower over everyone around him, particularly women. At least with Sarai he didn’t feel as if he needed a megaphone for her to hear him.

  “Oh,” was her only response.

  Zac handed George the reports in exchange for the card key, which he used before pushing the button for their floor.

  “Well-oiled machine you’ve got going,” she murmured.

  Based on her dry tone, Zac wasn’t entirely sure she meant that as a compliment. He took it as o
ne anyway. “Thanks.”

  As they reached their floor she suddenly said, “The penthouse? Really?”

  Zac looked down at her. “After seeing the compounds, I’d think this would look like a shack to you,” he murmured as the doors whooshed open.

  She shook her head. “It’s not that. I just wouldn’t have expected it from Mr. Economy Seating.” With that she sailed out of the elevator. George smothered a snicker. Zac gave him a hard stare before following her out into the hallway. She waited patiently, her expression giving no clue as to her thoughts.

  He unlocked the door to their suite, then ushered her inside. Sarai moved past him. Was it just him? Or did she avoid brushing against him as she passed by? Her steps slowed, then she came to a halt as she got a good look at their apartment.

  Zac had to admit he never tired of staying here. The apartment took up the entire floor. They had the décor and appliances updated periodically in case they decided to sell. The golds and creams were more subtle than one would think. The size and the view was well worth a second glance. In a cramped city, it felt as though he had all the space he needed.

  After a moment of awe, Sarai looked at him, hands on her hips. “My earlier comment stands. I don’t get it.”

  “We own the building.”

  “Uh-huh.” She raised one dubious eyebrow.

  “We’ve owned it for a long time—generations. We owned the one here before that, and even before that the land under the foundations.” Zac wondered why he was giving into the urge to explain at all. “In other words, we got damn lucky, then built on it.”

  She frowned. “Weren’t the Timiks just recently formed? I’d swear Andie told me you modeled them off the Shadowcat Nation.”

  “The cooperation and collaboration between Timiks is new, as is the name for the groups. However, polar bear shifters have been living in small groups for a long time.”

  “And everything’s community property?”

  “No. Things like this land…it’s become difficult to split everything between all the descendants of the original owners. As a result, we put it all in trust for the community. That said, most of us own our own land, homes, and so forth.”

  Before he could comment further, a knock sounded at the door. The building’s porter had arrived with the luggage. George tipped the man and sent him out.

  “Put Sarai in the master bedroom. I’ll take the other one next door. You and the boys divvy up the other rooms,” Zac instructed.

  “Oh, you can put me in the smallest room.” She waved a dismissive hand.

  “Don’t offer that until you see the master,” Zac advised.

  She raised her eyebrows before she slowly followed George out of the room.

  “Oh, wow!”

  Zac’s lips tipped in a crooked smile when he heard her exclamation.

  “Are you kidding me?” Her voice carried out of the room. “There’s a glassed-in sunroom with a table and chairs? Even flowers? Give me a stack of books and I’m set for life.”

  Zac pushed back a mental picture of Sarai in her cougar form, sunning herself in a stream of light, and made a mental note to talk to George about getting some books for her just as Sarai reappeared in the hallway. “Go ahead and leave my stuff in there, George,” she called back.

  Zac smothered an uncharacteristic urge to chuckle.

  She moved across the living room and flopped down onto one of the couches. “You weren’t kidding. That sunroom is incredible, and I have plans to sink into that Jacuzzi tub as soon as I can. Thanks!”

  Just what he didn’t need. The mental image of her gorgeous body wet and slippery, covered in scented bubbles. Strawberry maybe. Or vanilla. Perhaps that’s why she always smelled so good. Edible.

  With effort, Zac shook himself out of his thoughts. In a voice rougher than he would’ve liked, he said, “Yeah, well. I’ve stayed in that room before.”

  He was saved from continuing the conversation by a knock at the door. He glanced at George, who’d followed her into the hallway. The older man nodded, confirming Zac’s assumption about who was there.

  Just in case, Zac checked the monitor showing the camera view outside the door before he opened the door to the group of five men standing outside. They filtered in one at a time, each ducking slightly to clear the door frame.

  Zac watched as Sarai’s enjoyment of the lovely rooms faded to be replaced by wary watchfulness. What had made her so distrusting? Was it her power? Or her time in the Carstairs Dare? Or natural shyness?

  George quickly performed introductions to the men. Oliver and Toby were there to join Zac on any business-related activities. Oliver, in particular, was a bit of a genius at that stuff. Scott was his head of security. The other two, Gary and Mitch, were there as part of the beefed up security.

  Sarai looked around with a polite smile. “Nice to meet you all.” She trailed off, as if she’d intended to say more, but stopped herself.

  Zac stepped forward. “All these men have keys to the apartment. They’ll be staying downstairs, which is accessible from there”—he pointed at the small spiral staircase tucked in the corner of the room—“and will come and go. George is your personal guard, and Scott will likely join him in that duty frequently. You don’t go anywhere without either one of them or me at your side. You don’t answer the door. Let one of us get it. You need something from downstairs, ask them. Got it?”

  Instead of answering him, Sarai crossed her arms, doing a fairly good impression of his own imposing stare. Although he was slightly distracted by how the pose pushed up her ample breasts, straining the buttons of her shirt, the simple act of her defiance seemed unusual enough to get his attention. “What if I need tampons?”

  Zac narrowed his eyes. “Ask them to get you some.”

  She tipped her head to the side. “I don’t know. Tampons can be tricky. I’m partial to a certain brand. What if they don’t know the difference between regular and super?”

  Zac resisted the urge to growl. Why was she fighting him on this? With Kyle Carstairs still out there, you’d think she’d be grateful for the protection.

  Scott laughed but quickly turned it into a cough as Zac sliced a glare his way.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” Scott said. “But I grew up with all sisters. I’m pretty sure I can handle it.”

  Sarai gave the blond shifter a long look. She opened her mouth to say something, then stopped, blinked rapidly, and dropped her gaze. “Right. Take the shadows everywhere. Let them do everything for me. Got it.”

  Zac frowned at her sudden capitulation. Before he, or anyone else, could say anything, she pivoted and abruptly left the room.

  “So that’s the famous cougar Seer, huh?” Scott asked, staring after her. Zac wasn’t sure he quite liked the interested gleam in the younger man’s eyes.

  “I thought you said she’d be quiet and easy,” George muttered, a laugh lurking in the rough tones of his voice.

  “She could use a healthy dose of manners if you ask me,” Gary said.

  “I don’t remember saying that exactly.” Zac lifted an eyebrow at George. “And give her a break. She had no clue until today that she’d be joining the Timik or, for that matter, about this trip until this afternoon on the way to the airport.”

  He wondered briefly why he’d felt the urge to defend her. She had been rude just then. He also kept to himself the suspicion that she’d just had a vision. But if that was the case, why not share it?

  He’d give her some space tonight. Tomorrow, Ms. Sarai Bouchard was going to do some talking.

  CHAPTER 8

  Sarai came out of her room in the morning, lured by the smell of coffee. She’d showered and donned tan slacks and a conservative black top. New York in the summer could get hot, she’d heard. She found George in the kitchen watching the percolator. Everyone else, other than Zac, was lounging around the living area. She gave them all a quick nod before she ducked around the kitchen island to stand next to George, who was waiting for the coffee to finis
h brewing.

  The older shifter had made her a little nervous the day before, but he seemed like a safe haven compared to a room full of strangers. Especially Scott.

  “Morning.” He gave her a smile around the thick, gray handlebar mustache he sported. George reminded Sarai of that actor who did lots of westerns, Sam Elliott. The sexy older cowboy type. So far, she had yet to get a good read on him.

  “Morning.” She sniffed appreciatively. “Got enough for me too?”

  George grinned. “Got enough for all of us here. We use the kitchen and eat in here most of the time, unless business dictates otherwise.”

  “So he doesn’t want to spend money on expensive restaurants, huh?” she muttered.

  George answered only with a wink.

  “Who cooks?”

  “Whoever draws the short straw that day,” George said dryly.

  Sarai chuckled. “Well, how about I start us off with some breakfast, at least.”

  “If you tell me you can cook, I’d say you’re an angel,” one of the men—Gary maybe?—called from the living area.

  Sarai gave a soft chuckle. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I don’t mind cooking.”

  Putting action to words, she opened the door to the stainless steel fridge and poked around. Happily, it was well stocked. She grabbed some eggs and other fixings from the fridge and got started. She was in the middle of frying up some bacon when Scott came into the kitchen to pour himself some coffee.

  Sarai disguised the flinch she couldn’t quite control when she saw him by pretending to burn her arm on the stove.

  “Ouch,” she hissed through her teeth.

  “You okay?”

  She pretended to inspect her arm. “Yeah. I didn’t touch it, just got too close.”

  The night before when she’d met her babysitters, she’d had a flash of him in that cave with Zac. He was standing across the room amongst other men whose faces were blurry. She couldn’t tell if he was there as a prisoner or if he was somehow aligned with Zac’s captors.

  For now, she would try to assume the former. Zac trusted Scott, or he wouldn’t have assigned him as head of security. But if he was innocent, that also meant one more man would be unnecessarily hurt because of her. Sarai felt the full weight of responsibility that came with her ability.