My Feline Protector (Middlemarch Shifters Book 6)

by Shelley Munro

  “No, I’m being silly. A lady stopped to ask me directions to the salt lake. Something about her made me nervous. She drove off.”

  Emily turned to her, saw the two women with the strollers were eyeing them with curious gazes. “Grab a table, and I’ll get us coffee once I serve these two ladies. It’s not very busy. I can sit with you until another customer arrives.”

  “Thanks. Could I have tea?”

  “English Breakfast?”

  “Perfect.”

  Emily hustled away and disappeared behind the counter. She returned with a tray of muffins and placed them in her display cabinet. She made coffee for the women, and they left with their takeout order.

  London sank onto the wooden chair and thought back. She didn’t understand why she’d overreacted so much to the woman when she hadn’t done anything wrong except offer to give her a ride.

  Emily came around the counter and carried over a tray bearing two mugs, a jug of milk and a teapot. She’d also included two muffins. “I didn’t get time for breakfast this morning. I’m starving.”

  “Gerard made breakfast. I never eat much.”

  “Saber is always trying to feed me too,” Emily said with a smile. “It’s his way of showing he cares. Gerard is probably the same.”

  “Gerard told me about shifters last night. He said I should talk to you if I have questions.”

  Emily clapped her hands together. “I told Saber I thought he’d fallen for you. He told me to stop matchmaking.”

  “Everything has happened so fast. Meeting Gerard. My sister…” She swallowed and gave two hard blinks, hoping to stave off her tears. “Losing my sister. And now this. When I’m with Gerard everything is right and natural. It’s when we’re apart that I wonder if I’m crazy.”

  “Do you like him?”

  “A lot, but I’m not sure I should trust my instincts. I’ve been wrong before.”

  A customer came in and Emily sighed. “If you want to talk between customers, you can come into the kitchen with me, although I should warn you. I’m likely to put you to work.”

  “Actually, I’d enjoy that. It gives me less time to think.”

  “How are you at making scones?”

  “I have experience.”

  “Let me be blunt. Are yours scones edible or do they emerge from the oven looking like schist rocks?”

  An unexpected laugh escaped London. “My cheese scones are edible.”

  “Right. Now I expect you to prove it. Come on, bring your tea. I’ll tell you about my life before meeting Saber. One thing about the shifter men here, they like women, lots of women,” she amended and pulled a face. “But the second they meet the woman their feline wants, they don’t have eyes for anyone except their mate. They’re pushy and stubborn and go into bossy-mode at the blink of an eye. But they’re loyal and faithful, loving and tender. Once they mark their mate, they can be possessive and jealous, but they will never, ever, be unfaithful. The feline pairings I know of are true partners. While they might be bossy, they’re also supportive.”

  “So you’ve never had regrets?”

  “Not for a second, but I made Saber work to win me.” She grinned. “Time to make those scones. I’ll serve these customers and come and help you find the ingredients.”

  The familiar actions of baking calmed London. She mulled over Emily’s words, reassured by the knowledge Gerard wasn’t playing her when he said he was her mate. Then, her mind turned to the woman outside the café. She’d overreacted, yet the woman made her uneasy. Or maybe, she was overtired. She mixed the dough with gloved hands and turned it out on the floured marble surface. After shaping the dough, she used a cookie cutter to cut rounds. She painted milk over the top, and after a final sprinkling of cheese, she placed them in the oven and put on the timer.

  Emily entered the kitchen and beamed. “How are you at cookies? Do you know how to make ANZAC biscuits?”

  “I’ve heard of them but never made them.”

  “It’s easy enough. Just follow this recipe.” She placed a tattered recipe book where London could see it. “I met Saber at the first Middlemarch Singles ball. We had sex that night, and it was the most intense…” She shook her head, humor dancing across her face. “Let’s just say he talked me into staying.”

  “You’ve never regretted your decision.”

  “No, not once we mated. I don’t know Gerard well, but I know Leo and Isabella think highly of Gerard and Henry. My sister-in-law doesn’t give her trust easily. If she trusts them, I’m inclined to go with her.”

  “Gerard wants me to stay. Henry had asked my sister to stay. She told me before the race she was staying in Middlemarch. I told her…no, implied she was crazy. She was just out of a bad marriage, but she seemed determined.”

  “Do you read romances?”

  London blinked at the change of subject. “Sometimes.”

  “Have you read the ones where the reviews complain about instalove? They scoff and say life isn’t like that. With a shifter, love and relationships are like that. Oh, they can sleep around, but if they meet the one—their mate—it’s game over. Think about it. I bet Gerard hasn’t looked at another woman since he met you.”

  London recalled the woman who had tried to flirt with him in Queenstown. He’d brushed her aside and when she insisted on pushing her boobs in Gerard’s face, he’d made it clear he was with London. At the time, she’d thought he was being polite, but now…

  “What do you suggest?”

  “You should stay in Middlemarch. I want to hire you to bake.” Her impish grin lightened London’s mind.

  “I suppose I could find out about visas and such. It wouldn’t hurt. I can help you this week. It will give me something to do instead of worrying about a murderer wandering around Middlemarch.”

  “Done. I’ll pay you.”

  London nodded, although she guessed she didn’t need the money now. Jenny had left her everything in her will. A sob broke free. Nothing was fair. She’d give away the money in an instant if it meant she had her sister back.

  * * * * *

  Why had she run?

  He stared after her, anger contorting his face. When she glanced over her shoulder, he forced a smile.

  Bitch.

  He pulled onto the road. With London and the man away from the house, he could stake out the place better. But first, he’d grab meat from the supermarket. Might as well get onside with those mangy pooches. He had sleeping tablets at the cabin. They should be strong enough to stop those dogs in their tracks.

  London bloody Allbright had been a pain in his side from the moment he’d met her. He’d made a mistake, thinking she was the one with the business nouse, the money. Still, it had turned out okay. His mistake had placed a wedge between the two sisters.

  Everything would’ve turned out all right if Jenny hadn’t changed.

  But she had. She’d challenged him, mouthed off at him. Then the bitch had gone to a solicitor. She’d changed the locks and forced him out of his own home. Made him a laughingstock.

  She’d refused to give him money.

  He’d earned that fuckin’ money.

  She’d pushed him into a corner until he had one option left.

  He clutched the steering wheel, his forearms tensing with the pressure.

  And still the bitch had bested him.

  With her dying breath.

  She hadn’t recognized him at first. Until he’d spoken. He’d enjoyed the way her eyes widened as she’d taken in his appearance. Then she’d turned mouthy, and he’d lost his temper. His mind had blanked, red partially obscuring his gaze. He’d yanked the kitchen knife from his concealed sheath and stabbed her in the chest. It had happened so fast. Too fast for him to enjoy the punishment he’d inflicted.

  He remembered talking to her. “Should have kept your mouth shut, bitch.”

  She’d laughed.

  As blood darkened her T-shirt and life ebbed from her eyes, she’d laughed at him.

  She’d told
him about her will.

  She’d laughed at him, then the bitch had died.

  Chapter Eleven

  “A woman visited while you and London were out,” Henry said in a low voice. He stood in the kitchen and was making bread. He punched the dough and started to knead it with hard, aggressive rolls of his wrists. “She tossed meat for us to eat. Geoffrey and I made like friendly puppies.”

  “You ate the meat,” Gerard said in a sharp voice.

  “What?” London asked, appearing in the kitchen. She sat on one of the counter stools. “What has happened?”

  Gerard shot Henry a warning look.

  “Don’t even think of hiding things from me.” London bit off the words, her accent crisp and clear. She meant business, and Gerard went mushy inside. Not that he’d allow a hint of indulgence when her life could be in danger.

  “A woman staked out the place,” he told her.

  “A woman? Do you think it’s the same one who stopped to ask me for directions? Can you describe her?”

  “Tall and solid. A mass of curly blonde hair. Sunglasses. White shirt with a denim skirt. Flat shoes.”

  “How tall?” Gerard asked, thinking back to the day of the race. He’d only seen the rear of the zombie and assumed it was a man because of his build and height.

  “Close to six feet.”

  “So I might have seen a woman on race day. We asked the zombies about a man. What if it was a woman who killed Jenny?”

  “It was a man who tried to break into my room at the bed-and-breakfast. He had hairy arms.”

  “What color?” Henry demanded.

  “Pardon?” London said, her blue eyes full of confusion.

  “What color were the hairs on his arms?”

  “Not black. Lighter. Oh, Susan emailed a photo of Royce through to my phone.” She pulled out the phone and brought up Royce’s photo.

  He had short brown hair, a toothy white grin. A kind of smugness, Gerard thought. His face was aristocratic with a faint tan and a thin, neat mustache beneath his long, narrow nose. He had trouble imagining this man with either London or Jenny. “I haven’t seen him.”

  Henry peered over his shoulder. “Me neither.”

  “Could the blonde lady be a man?” Gerard focused on London. “What else did you notice when you spoke to the woman?”

  Henry opened his mouth to ask questions, but Gerard raised his hand in a signal for quiet.

  “It was hard to see her face because of her sunglasses. She had a lot of blonde curls—sort of untamed but tidy. She’d applied her makeup with a heavy hand. I didn’t get a good look at her because there was something weird that gave me the creeps. She tried hard to get me into the car.”

  “What make was her vehicle?”

  London pulled a face. “Dark blue. I don’t know. It was a car rather than a vehicle like Gerard’s.”

  “I didn’t see the vehicle. She parked it somewhere and approached the house on foot.” Henry focused on London. “How did you get on at the police station?”

  “The usual guy is sick, and they have a replacement from Dunedin. He listened and took notes. He promised he’d check out what I said.”

  “What hobbies did Royce have?” Gerard asked.

  “He likes sports, plays rugby and goes to the gym.”

  Henry punched the bread dough. “Anything else?”

  London wrinkled her brow. “He likes to go to the theater. He told me he wanted to be an actor once, but his parents persuaded him to go into accounting because there were more, better opportunities.”

  “Ding. Ding,” Gerard said. “That is our winner.”

  “If he liked acting, he might change his appearance with disguises.” Henry froze, then cocked his head. “Car coming. Take over the bread, London.” Henry ripped off his shirt and carted it out of the kitchen. He returned a few seconds in wolf form.

  A knock sounded.

  “What do we do?” London asked.

  “I’ll see who it is. Just pretend you’re making bread.”

  London nodded and washed her hands before kneading the pile of dough.

  Gerard returned with the policeman she’d spoken with earlier.

  “Ms. Allbright.” He dipped his head in welcome before focusing on her with bright eyes.

  Gerard worked to restrain his growl of displeasure. That was his woman the cop was ogling.

  “Did you need something? Have you found Jenny’s killer?”

  “Not yet. We’re still combing the country for Henry Anderson. I’ve checked on the information you gave me this morning. Royce Weaver is in the country, but we haven’t been able to ascertain his whereabouts. He landed at Christchurch airport. You say your sister had a restraining order against him?”

  “Yes, and she was in the process of gaining a divorce. She’d seen a solicitor.”

  “He was violent?”

  “Yes. I told you that this morning.”

  “You think him capable of murder?”

  Gerard studied London’s expressive face, felt her flash of fear and his feline writhed beneath his skin. His claws worked from beneath his fingernails.

  “Yes, Royce is an angry man. He’ll be furious once he learns Jenny changed her will.”

  “He could contest it since he is still her husband,” the cop pointed out.

  “All the assets, the apps she has designed are in her own name, and Royce had nothing to do with that part of her life. He could contest Jenny’s will, but the solicitor told me he didn’t think a claim by Royce would be successful for her business assets. To be honest, the news rattled me, and I haven’t discussed the details with the solicitor.”

  “I see,” the cop said. “I’ll put out a watch notice for him. If you see him, please contact us. Given the circumstances, we’d like to talk to Mr. Weaver.”

  “I’ll call you,” London promised.

  The bastard wouldn’t get close enough to London to hurt her, let alone speak with her. Not if he had his way.

  London walked the cop to the door and Gerard watched her as she disappeared into the passage. At least the cops were listening now. They’d need them later because they couldn’t continue to live this way. He wanted a peaceful life with London. His mate.

  “He’s out there,” Henry said.

  Gerard pulled from his reverie to focus on his friend. “Yes.”

  “We have to do something.”

  “He’s not going to kill London.” The shard of pain on his friend’s face was like a kick to the gut. Aching sympathy tugged at him. If London died…

  “We won’t let that happen,” Henry said in a harsh voice. “He took Jenny from me, but I won’t let him get London too. We won’t let that happen.”

  London appeared in the kitchen doorway. “If you’re discussing Royce, then I have a right to take part in the discussion.”

  “She’s right. You’re right,” Henry said with a nudge in London’s direction. “We need backup. Leo and Isabella. Perhaps Saber and Felix.”

  “Agreed. I’ll call them.” Gerard plucked his phone from his pocket and made calls.

  Henry finished making his bread and put two loaves in the oven to bake. Gerard completed his phone calls and joined them in the kitchen. Now that they’d agreed on the plan subtle tension ramped up inside London. She couldn’t sit still, couldn’t settle and slid off her stool at the counter to pace between there and Geoffrey’s basket on the other side of the large kitchen. Geoffrey lifted his head to study her, then issued a sigh and settled his head on his paws.

  “What if it’s not Royce?” London asked, her runners squeaking on the pale gray tiles to mark her progress. “What if we’re making a mistake and someone else murdered Jenny?”

  “English, we’re not making a mistake. We will check before we take any action. If the person skulking around our property is Royce Weaver, then we’ll scare him half to death and turn him over to the cops.” Gerard flashed one of his charming grins, the one that made her insides roll in a good way, as he slid o
nto one of the four chrome-and-leather stools. “The plan worked well the first time we used it.”

  “You’ve done this before?” London asked, diverted enough to still and cock her hip against the hard corner of the counter.

  “When someone was stalking Lisa, Sam’s mate, we had to take matters into our own hands,” Gerard said. “The guy broke into Lisa’s house and attacked. He wasn’t expecting two leopards, a wolf and a pissed Jack Russell to greet him along with Lisa.”

  “Leo and Isabella are here,” Henry said as he wiped off the dusting of flour remaining on the charcoal-gray granite countertop.

  Seconds later, Geoffrey barked.

  “That’s most annoying.” London scowled at Henry.

  “You wouldn’t say that if Henry saved your life with those wolfish senses of his. He’s saved my life a time or two.” Gerard went to answer the door. He came back with all four Mitchells.

  “We came together,” Saber said.

  “You okay, London?” Isabella asked, concern in her expression. She parked her butt on the counter stool nearest the doorway, sharp gaze scanning London, Gerard and Henry before moving on to catalog the contents of the kitchen—the appliances, the dishes in the sink and a wooden knife block. She grinned at Geoffrey who took one look at her, whined, and hid his face.

  London inhaled, did a quick reconnoiter of her feelings. “Yeah, at least I will be.”

  “Good,” Isabella said. “We will catch this guy.”

  Gerard’s friends wore their serious faces, reminding her of soldiers in the movies with their watchful expressions. Saber leaned against the doorjamb, Felix claimed a wooden chair in the dining nook, turning it and sitting on it backward while Leo sat next to his mate at the counter. London’s pulse rate jumped, and Gerard shot her a concerned glance. She forced a smile, although it didn’t seem to fit right on her lips.

  “You okay, English?”

  “I’m fine.” An understatement. She was so far from fine she felt like Alice wandering through a damp, dark cavern, following a rabbit she wasn’t even sure existed. She jumped when he reached for her hand, embarrassment sinking in its claws and broadcasting on her face, yet she moved closer to Gerard, taking comfort from the physical contact.