“Come closer and kiss me.”
She obeyed, draping herself over his chest and aligning their mouths until their lips almost touched. “I’m only doing this as a favor.”
He placed his hand on the back of her head and guided her the last fraction. He sighed against her lips, savoring the gentle contact. Each kiss was different, each of her touches bringing a different response. Hunger. Lust. Tenderness. Love. Yeah, that was in there amongst the fun stuff.
In the past, the idea might have sent him running in the opposite direction. Not this time. As he’d told her, this felt right on every level. He took the kiss deeper and reveled in her groan, the way she gripped his shoulders and wriggled closer.
“Ride me,” he suggested.
“Condom?”
A tiny part of him rebelled at having the latex between them, but he twisted his upper body free and reached for a condom.
“We can arrange for you to visit our feline doctor,” he said. “He’ll give you a birth control shot.”
“You have a doctor? Your birth control will work for me? Do felines get sick often? Can you catch a cold?”
He slapped his hand over her mouth, and grinned at her dancing gaze. “Yes to your first two questions. Please, give it a rest. Do you want me to gag you?”
Her tongue darted out and licked his palm. The wet drag across his skin caused a chain reaction. His cock twitched, his feline gave a loud purr, and he groaned as her eyes glinted with mischief. “Please give my ears a rest.”
She peeled away his hand. “Do you have sex in feline form?”
He gaped at her and ripped open the foil packet. “If both parties are feline.”
“Oh. Do you—”
“Enough. If you’re good for the next half hour, I’ll take you to visit Emily. She is Saber’s mate and human. You can pester her with your questions.”
“I’d like that.”
“London, remember, you can’t talk to humans about this unless they’re mated with a feline. You understand why we need secrecy?”
“I understand.” She didn’t hesitate. “I doubt anyone would believe me. I remember someone reporting mystery black cats in Dartmoor—wait! Is there a community of shapeshifters in Dartmoor?”
“Yes.”
“But the Middlemarch shapeshifters come from Scotland.”
“Yes.” Determined to stop her questions and comments, he kissed her again. Quick. Down and dirty until they both purred. Using his strength, he lifted her, and she took him inside her heat, her gaze full of pleasure rather than mischief. She slid a hand between her legs to rub her clit as she rode him. God, she did it for him. All that messy brown hair, the blue eyes and pale skin the shade of cream. Then there was her breasts—perfect for a hand to touch and a mouth to suck—and her curvy hips that fit his hands just right.
He gripped those hips now, urged her to quicken the pace, then detonated, the pleasure so intense he thought he might have blacked out for a few seconds. She shuddered and writhed and moaned. A pretty rose color sank downward into her neck and breasts. So gorgeous.
“Mine,” he said.
A flat statement of intent and ownership.
He caught her gaze, wanting her reaction.
A thump on the door broke the connection.
“Gerard. I know you’re awake.”
“Go away,” London said.
Gerard grinned. “What do you want?”
“We had a visitor last night. Want to talk to you about it. And it’s your turn to cook breakfast.”
“Why doesn’t he go and hunt a cow or something?”
“I heard that,” Henry snapped, although Gerard could tell his friend was trying not to laugh. “Five minutes.”
“He’d better make tea,” London grumbled.
Gerard knew his friend had heard that too and would get things underway. “About the cow. Farmers frown upon that sort of thing, and it’d draw attention to our community.”
“True,” she said. “But some of the shifters are farmers.”
“Who need to make a profit,” he pointed out. “Come on. Into the shower with you.” He lifted her off his spent cock and gave her backside a slap.
She squeaked and turned around to give him a reproachful glare. “I don’t like that.”
“Maybe you should remember that before you pester me with more questions.”
She lifted her nose into the air, sniffed. “Questions are a method of learning.” She headed for the en suite and turned to face him when she reached the doorway. “Why have you trusted me with this information? What if I approach the authorities or a reporter?”
“There has to be trust. I couldn’t go further with our relationship without telling you the truth. I’m serious about you and want you to stay here in Middlemarch with me. Be my mate. You needed to know what you’re getting if you stay with me.”
She nodded and disappeared. Seconds later, the water switched on. Gerard closed his eyes for a second, indecision gnawing at him. Had he made a mistake? Was the feeling only on his side? He hadn’t thought so, but now he wondered.
Chapter Ten
“Tea, as the lady ordered,” Henry said, gesturing at the steaming teapot when Gerard and London walked into the kitchen.
“Did you get any sleep?” London didn’t think so. Henry looked terrible with big bags under his eyes.
“A little. Geoffrey and I took turns dozing.”
Gerard poured two mugs of tea and handed her one. He pulled two boxes of breakfast cereal from a cupboard, added bowls and a bunch of bananas.
Hungry, London helped herself to cereal and sliced a banana on top while Gerard cooked bacon and eggs.
“What happened last night? Did you see anyone?” London asked.
Gerard groaned. “And she starts with the questions again.”
“We didn’t see his face, but we have his scent now. He remained hidden in the trees. I kept an eye on him and let him think we didn’t know he was there. That way he’s more likely to return.”
“Good thinking,” London said. “Although the cops won’t investigate a suspected loiterer.”
“We’re not going to tell them,” Gerard said. “We’d have to tell them one of us saw someone lurking outside, which would be a lie.”
London rolled her eyes at his words. “But you’ll have to turn to the cops eventually. Otherwise Henry will get blamed for Jenny’s death when he didn’t do it.”
Gerard prodded at the contents of his fry pan. “Did you recognize the scent?”
“There was that faint trace of blood again. I thought it was Jenny’s blood we scented when I first found her, but maybe not.” Henry looked so stricken London wanted to hug him. She contented herself with reaching over the table to squeeze one of his hands.
“Do you think she injured him?” she asked.
“We haven’t heard any forensic details,” Gerard said. “But I don’t think she did. There were no defensive wounds. Everything happened fast. It needed to since she was in a race and there were so many potential witnesses. Whoever committed the crime had luck on their side.”
London’s brow creased. “Then what could it be?”
“He could be sick,” Henry suggested.
“It can’t be Royce then. The man is big and plays rugby during the winter. He likes going to the gym.” She wrinkled her nose. “Another reason he hated me. I’m not a sporty person. Walking is more my speed.”
“His loss, my gain.” Gerard set a plate in front of Henry and another in front of her.
“I can’t eat all that.”
Gerard joined them at the kitchen table with his own plate. “Henry or I will finish what you can’t eat.”
“So what’s our plan?” she asked.
“If he’s decided it is safest to approach the house by the side with the bush, we can station two people there, so we can get a visual,” Gerard said.
“You?” London asked. “You could climb a tree. I can’t climb a tree to save myself.”
>
“Not Gerard. He’d expect to see you and Gerard in the house. He’ll expect to see me in my wolf form and Geoffrey.”
“So who?” London asked.
“We’ll get Isabella or Leo to hide out. Once we know who he is, we can discover where he is holing up during the day,” Gerard said.
“You could keep Henry and Geoffrey inside the house tonight and give him an opportunity to come closer.” London waved her fork to illustrate her point. “Let him think he has nothing to worry about then bam!” She stabbed the air with her fork. “We nab him in our trap.”
“Bloodthirsty wench,” Gerard said with approval.
“She has a point. If we let him get comfortable, he’ll make mistakes.”
Gerard’s phone rang, and he rose to pluck it off the kitchen counter. “Yeah.” He paused and turned to study her and Henry. “That’s interesting. Yeah, I’ll tell them.” He hung up.
“That was Isabella. According to her contact, Royce Weaver flew out of Heathrow over two weeks ago. He arrived in Christchurch, New Zealand, ten days ago.”
“That’s not long after we arrived,” London said. “It’s him, I tell you. I mean, why would he come all this way when he doesn’t know a soul here?”
“Flying to New Zealand to take a holiday isn’t a crime,” Henry said. “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”
“Henry is right.” Gerard crunched a piece of bacon. “We need solid proof he is in the area and was here on the day of the race. If he was, we need to check his alibi. This has to be done right.”
“How?” London asked in frustration. “Royce is smart. He always lands on his feet.”
“You should go to the police station. You’re Jenny’s sister. Ask how the investigation is proceeding. Tell them you heard from friends that her estranged husband is in New Zealand. Tell them they had a legal separation and your sister intended to file for a divorce. Mention Jenny changed her will days before you left the country. Let them know how much money is involved. While you don’t have proof, it’s a possible motive for Royce to come to New Zealand. Remind them someone tried to break into your room at the bed-and-breakfast. Remind them about the note.”
“I’ve done most of that already. That stupid policeman brushed me off.” London’s hands tightened on her knife and fork as she recalled the verbal pat on the head from the policeman.
“If he doesn’t listen to you, go above his head. Ask to speak to the officer in charge,” Henry said. “Contact the cops in Dunedin.”
London set down her utensils and nudged her plate in Henry and Gerard’s direction. “I’ll make a nuisance of myself until someone listens.”
“I’ll drop you in town. Once you’re finished at the police station, walk to Storm in a Teacup. When I’ve finished my quote and fitted the window security for another client, I’ll pick you up. About two hours.”
“I’ll take my tablet and read a book or catch up on email once I’ve pestered the cops. I still have to organize Jenny’s funeral.” She turned to Henry. “Jenny told me she intended to stay here in Middlemarch, so I will see she gets her wish.”
“Thank you,” Henry said, his voice choked.
London swallowed the sudden thickness in her throat. The big man had cared for her sister, and she knew she was doing the right thing by having the funeral here. Jenny’s final resting place would be Middlemarch. “I’ll do as much as I can. Everything is on hold until the formalities are completed with the police.”
Between them, Gerard and Henry ate the remains of her breakfast while she drank another cup of tea.
Gerard stood and carried his plate to the sink. “Henry, we’ve had work come in and need to do quotes. Some of it can be dealt with via email.”
“I’ll be glad to have something to do,” Henry said. “I’ll clean up the kitchen and plan something for dinner. Geoffrey will let me know if any strangers arrive.”
Ten minutes later, she and Gerard left the house.
“Looking at Henry makes me sad,” she confessed. “He seems broken.”
Gerard reached across to clasp her hand as he guided the vehicle along the driveway. “Henry cared for your sister. He thought she was his mate, and he’s blaming himself for leaving her alone.”
“No one expected someone to grab her while she darted into the trees for a quick bathroom break,” London said in a tart voice. “What could Henry have done? Jenny wasn’t alone for long. Whoever did this was watching her closely, and they grabbed the opportunity. It’s strange no one saw a thing. Who arranged the zombies? Was there a list of who went to each zombie territory? I thought the zombies had their own competition and entered the same as the runners.”
“That’s a good point. They questioned the zombies, but I wonder if there were any missing.”
“Or extras,” London added.
“I’ll check with Saber Mitchell. He’ll know.” Gerard pulled up outside the police station. “You have my number. Ring me if you need me. This is Saber’s number. Program that into your phone and ring him if you can’t get hold of me. He’s on the Feline council. You can trust him. Okay?”
London nodded and programmed in the number Gerard read out. “Can I ask him questions? About feline stuff, I mean?”
“As long as he’s alone and tells you it’s all right. We have to be careful what we discuss and when.”
“I understand.”
She released her seat belt, opened the door, and he placed a hand on her shoulder. She glanced at him with a quizzical smile. “What?”
“Don’t I get a kiss?”
Her smile widened. “All you have to do is ask.”
“I’m asking.” His voice was gruff, his gaze drifting to her lips.
She leaned over, offering her mouth. She’d expected a quick, perfunctory kiss since he was on the way to meet a client. He curled his hand around her neck and held her in place. His green eyes danced with good humor, his mood contagious. She smiled back, her lips parted as his settled on hers. While the kiss started slow, it didn’t remain that way. He tasted her mouth, ravished it, and when he lifted his head, they were both breathing hard.
“Take care, English,” he said, straightening. He ran a forefinger along her nose and grinned. “Miss me.”
“See you later.” Her hand lingered on his biceps before she pulled away to open the SUV door.
He waved as he drove off, leaving her feeling inexplicably lonely. She shook away the emotions, telling herself she was missing Jenny. True, but she missed Gerard too. Something to consider.
She pushed open the door and entered the police station. It was a small room with no personality. Plain painted walls and a notice board covered with faded signs. A narrow bench attached to one wall, too narrow and hard for comfort. It was a room one entered and exited as soon as possible. London squared her shoulders and approached the desk.
“Is Police Officer Hannah here?”
“No, miss. He’s away sick today. We have a relieving officer from Dunedin.”
“May I see him please? I want to talk to him about my sister’s murder. Jenny Weaver. I’m London Allbright.”
“Take a seat. Officer Kelly should be able to see you soon.”
After leaving the police station, London scanned the street and her surroundings for anything out of the ordinary. Two mothers pushing strollers wandered toward the café. A tractor puttered along the road, the driver pulling in at the petrol station. Shouts and screams rippled from the nearby school. Morning break for the students, and they were making the most of the fine weather.
Smiling, she continued walking toward the café. Things had gone well at the police station, better than good. The replacement officer had listened, taken notes and promised to look into Jenny’s estranged husband. London had told him about her relationship with Royce, that the man was a bully and abusive. She’d departed the police station feeling lighter and confident the cops would check out the things she’d told them.
A car drove past, slowed enough to attract
her attention. She tensed as it pulled to a halt, and the driver lowered the passenger window.
“Hello, dear,” a blonde woman said in a husky voice. “Can you give me directions to the Sutton Salt Lake?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not from around here. Your best bet is to ask at the petrol station or the café since the owners are locals.”
“Where are you going, dear?”
London took half a step back, Gerard’s warning to take care jumping to the forefront of her mind. While she suspected Royce had murdered her sister, she might be wrong. “Just to the café.”
“Well hop in and I’ll give you a ride.”
She took another step. “No thank you.”
The woman smiled, displaying her lipstick-stained teeth. “It’s no trouble, dear. I’m going there anyway.”
Pink. Her lipstick was bright pink. “Thanks, but I need the exercise.” London forced a smile, feeling uneasy and not sure why. The lady seemed friendly enough, yet pushy too. The woman’s big sunglasses hid most of her face, and it was difficult to see much with that blonde hair and heavy makeup. London turned away from the car, and tried to ignore the prickling between her shoulder blades. Sugar, her imagination had jumped to an all-time high. The lady was a tourist, not an axe-murderer. This was a public place. The tractor driver waved at her as he drove past, the driver behind him honking his horn with impatience.
London grinned when the driver of the tractor flipped off the other driver. She glanced over her shoulder. The blonde woman was scowling at her. When she noticed London’s scrutiny, the frown smoothed out and transformed to a friendly smile. London’s bullcrap meter twanged. Increasing her pace, she lengthened her strides to reach the café. She covered the last of the distance at a sprint, darting up the short path to the café door. She burst inside, the welcome bell jingling with the same urgency thrumming through her veins. When she glanced over her shoulder, the vehicle had vanished.
“What’s wrong?” Emily appeared around the counter, wiping her hands on a white apron.
“I thought there was someone following me.”
“Where?” Emily darted to the door and glanced outside. “There’s no one there.”
My Feline Protector (Middlemarch Shifters Book 6) Page 12
