by Anna Lowe
Anjali bristled. Damn it, this was her office. Who did that woman think she was?
Then she fought back her outrage. That woman was Moira LeGrange, and she owned thirty-two percent of Gleason Associates. So technically, all those drawers and files were hers to rifle through as she pleased.
Still, Anjali didn’t like it. Not one bit.
“How may I help you, Ms. LeGrange?” she asked, careful to be businesslike and not testy.
Moira turned, and Crystal’s words ran through Anjali’s head. Viper smile. Yes, that certainly fit.
Moira leaned on the desk, putting her ass right on the paperwork at the edge. Anjali made a mental note. For all the wealth and nobility the woman took pains to exude, she’d come from humble beginnings. Which made Moira doubly dangerous, because that meant she had clawed her way into a net worth of millions. No, billions. And the look in Moira’s eye was that of a huntress far from tiring of her sport.
“Tell me about the Cumberland account,” Moira said, smiling without the slightest hint of humor or warmth.
Anjali blinked. The Cumberland account was a big one, and the project had been rolling along full steam ahead in Anjali’s absence. It had been all she could do to keep up from Maui. Was Moira testing her?
Anjali had never been one of the kids who sat in the back row at school, messing around — the kind the teacher might randomly try to catch out. But now, for the first time, she knew how those kids must have felt.
Thank goodness she’d started the day by concentrating on exactly that account. “Of course. What would you like to know?”
Moira’s eyes flickered in displeasure. “Where it currently stands. What you are doing to ensure its success.”
Anjali started rattling off numbers, pulling out charts, showing off her knowledge in a way she hadn’t had to since defending her thesis in grad school. Moira, meanwhile, leaned close enough for Anjali to feel the hot breath on the back of her neck.
Jesus. If a person could breathe fire, I’d bet she would. Anjali thought Crystal had been exaggerating, but maybe not.
When Anjali moved away from her desk, trying to gain a little breathing room, Moira stalked around the office, touching the pictures and mementos Anjali had subtly decorated the place with. Making her feel violated somehow. As the woman approached the photo of two girls in a tree house, Anjali’s stomach roiled. And when Moira paused, examining it, Anjali felt sick. Moira’s back was turned, so Anjali couldn’t read her expression, but she was sure the woman’s shoulders tightened.
Still, Anjali lectured on, managing to keep her voice steady. When she finished, Moira turned and popped out a statement from left field.
“From what I understand, you’ve just returned from a break.”
Anjali blinked in surprise. Why would a new shareholder know that? Then she squared her shoulders and looked Moira in the eye. As an employee, she had her rights, and she knew it.
The thing was, looking directly at Moira hurt. Her eyes were hard and glittery, almost swirling at times.
“Family issues,” Anjali said, telling herself to stay cool. “I took my vacation days for an approved leave.” So there, she wanted to add.
Moira raised one perfectly plucked and penciled eyebrow. “Aha. An approved leave…in Hawaii?”
Anjali gripped her pen hard enough to snap it. Damn it, who had mentioned Hawaii to Moira? “My business didn’t involve hanging around a pool, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
Moira smiled, showing slightly pointy teeth. “I’m not suggesting anything.”
It was all Anjali could do not to blurt, No? Good. Then get out of my office and let me get back to work, you bitch.
Outside her office, the rest of the floor was silent and motionless. The few people who moved around the normally bustling office scurried past, averting their eyes, and even Crystal didn’t dare peek at what might be going on.
“What else can I help you with?” Anjali asked, trying to move Moira along.
Moira’s restless eyes did another sweep of the room and stopped on the picture of Anjali and Lourdes as kids. She picked up the frame and studied it with a cruel smile.
Anjali tensed, and her fists balled. Why couldn’t anyone leave poor Lourdes in peace?
“Oh, the good old days. Innocent times.” Moira sighed, putting it down six inches from its original spot.
Anjali resisted the urge to straighten it and shout, Get out.
But Moira went right on exploring. Shifting papers. Leaving them out of place. A pen here, a printout there. Anjali’s mind flashed back to the sight of her ransacked apartment, and she found herself glaring at Moira’s back. But, no. That was ridiculous. Surely Moira LeGrange wouldn’t dirty her hands with that kind of sneakiness.
“So, tell me about…” Moira began, turning back to Anjali.
But when her eyes swung to the glass wall behind Anjali, they practically screeched to a halt. At first, Moira looked like she’d seen a ghost. Then light caught in her irises, and her eyes seemed to glow. Moira smiled in a sticky-sweet way, while her gaze became predatory. For a moment, Anjali was relieved to have the woman’s focus shift elsewhere. But then she saw the object of Moira’s attention and paled.
Dell stood outside her office, frozen in place. He held Quinn in her car seat and a sheaf of papers in his hand. The adoption papers? Anjali should have felt like celebrating, but all she registered was nausea. Even Dell seemed caught out. A tic set in to his right cheek where the dimple ought to have been.
With an instinct Anjali couldn’t explain, she stepped sideways, blocking Moira’s view.
Too late, though. Moira practically licked her lips and stepped past, murmuring, “Thank you, Ms. Jain. That will be all.”
The air compressed as Moira passed, like the thunderclouds outside. The space around Anjali throbbed, and the hair on her arms stood. Jesus, who was this Moira? And what did she want with Dell?
Chapter Thirteen
“Mr. O’Roarke, I presume,” Moira purred.
Dell barely heard over the roar in his ears. Blood rushed through his veins, and every muscle tensed. The points of his fangs pushed at his gums as his lion struggled to break free.
Kill her. Rip her to pieces. Now, while you can, his lion screamed.
He was tempted. Sorely tempted. But with Quinn right there…
A whole new emotion formed in his gut along with the loathing and anger already roiling around there. It was fear — desperate fear — like nothing he had ever felt before. Not himself but for Quinn — and Anjali.
What the hell was Moira doing there?
He thrust Quinn at Anjali and screamed four words into her mind. Take her and run. Then he grabbed Moira by the arm — really grabbed her, pinching hard — and marched her across the hall to an empty meeting room, where he shoved her against a wall. The room was fronted by a glass wall, which meant he couldn’t shift into lion form and rip out her throat. Too bad.
He slammed the door and advanced, step by vengeful step. Moira LeGrange, dragon shifter. Mortal enemy of the Koa Point shifters. A scheming, murderous bitch who would stop at nothing in her quest for power.
Nothing, her eyes agreed.
Not a tiny baby. Not any layer of decency or pride. Not an innocent human who happened to get involved.
Anjali, his lion screamed.
“Moira,” he growled, making sure his disgust showed.
She touched her arm where he had to have bruised her, smiling as if she’d liked that. Jesus, how sick was she?
Truly sick, his lion replied.
And truly alarming, because Moira and her partner, Drax, had been defeated by Silas and Cassandra, two dragon shifters of Koa Point. Drax had been killed. Moira had escaped, though she’d been stripped of her power and ostracized by every upstanding dragon clan.
Looks like she bounced back, his lion growled, taking in her expensive jewelry and manicured nails. Either Moira was putting on a good act, or she’d figured out a way to seize part of
her dead lover’s fortune and invest it well.
Kill her, his lion snarled. Kill her while we have the chance.
Outside the conference room, dozens of pairs of eyes watched him. He could sense them on his back. There was no way he could do what had to be done. Besides, he’d lost any element of surprise he had. If he shifted, Moira would too, and the last thing he needed was a marauding dragon across the hall from the two women he loved.
He blinked. Love? It took everything he had not to look behind him at Anjali and Quinn. Duty and destiny were already powerful emotions, enough to rule a shifter’s life. But to stack love on top of them roped his human side into the deal. Besides, love was terrifying. Love could make a guy lose his head. Love could make a hardened soldier cry. Love could turn a man’s life upside down.
He bit his lip. Love had already done each of those things to him.
Of course, his lion said. We’re already all in.
Moira’s eyes flicked to a point behind him, making his gut clench. He couldn’t afford to hint at what Anjali and Quinn meant to him. Moira would use that to her advantage and squeeze everything out of it she could.
But, shit. It was too late. Moira had noticed, and he could practically see her file the knowledge away.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded, jerking her attention back to himself.
“Oh, I own this company now.” She grinned, smoothing her hands over her dress, all proper and ladylike. The only hint of ruthless killer lay in her eyes. “Well, a majority share. So, the question, my dear lion, is what are you doing here?” Her eyes lit up with hope. “You’ve come to see me, haven’t you?”
Dell’s jaw dropped. Was the woman insane?
Yes, his lion answered without missing a beat.
It was in her eyes, now that he looked hard enough. Beyond the greedy shifter glow, a pale yellow flicker gave her away.
Dell balled his fists. Great. He didn’t just have a heartless, greedy killer on his hands. He had a heartless, greedy, and mentally unstable killer on his hands. One who could torch half of downtown Chicago if she wanted to.
“Why would I want to see you?” he barked, making sure the words stung.
But Moira didn’t seem to hear. She was all smiles, lost in her own world. “Yes,” she whispered, stepping around him the way a horse trainer circled a promising new thoroughbred.
Dell turned as she did, keeping his hands up, ready for an attack. She might as well have scraped a steel brush over his body, the way her eyes made his skin crawl.
“Yes,” she murmured to herself. “You just might do.”
Dell furrowed his brow. What the hell was that about?
“I wasn’t expecting you,” Moira purred, sliding a finger along his jawbone. He jerked away, but she smiled and went on. “But you will certainly do.”
The glow in her eyes went from attentive to aroused as her gaze roved up and down his body, undressing him. She ran a hand along his shoulder in a far too intimate way, then nodded to herself and announced, “I have an offer.”
Dell’s eyes went wide. What the hell? “Whatever it is, I’m not interested.”
“The same offer I made your brother,” Moira said as if he hadn’t spoken. “An offer I’m sure you can’t resist.”
Dell balled his fists so hard, his nails bit into his skin. What did Quentin have to do with this?
“You have nothing I’m interested in,” he growled.
“No?” Moira pushed back her shoulders, thrusting her breasts out.
“Nothing,” Dell grunted, feeling sick.
Moira raised an eyebrow and glanced toward Anjali’s office, making him go cold. “Truly nothing?”
She let silence hang in the room for a good minute, making the threat clear before going on in a completely different tone. That of a businesswoman, outlining a perfectly normal plan. Except there was nothing normal about the details.
“As you’ve probably heard, I’m hiring,” she said. “And I only take the best.”
Dell was tempted to storm out, grab Anjali and Quinn, and get them someplace safe, like Silas’s place. Moira wouldn’t dare strike there. But one corner of his mind threw up a red flag. The shifters of Koa Point and Koakea Plantation were all anxious about what Moira might get up to. But so far, she had kept a low profile, and no one had uncovered any hint of a concrete scheme. This was his chance to discover exactly what kind of danger she posed.
So he swallowed his distaste and muttered, “The best, huh?”
She nodded. “I have a number of security jobs to fill, at all levels.”
The level her eyes lingered on was at about his crotch. Dell half turned away, trying to memorize details rather than being consumed by disgust. Apparently, Moira was rebuilding her forces. The question was, for what? Was she planning a strike against rivals like the shifters of Koa Point? Or was she preparing for a mafia-style power grab in the business world?
“My most loyal men will be rewarded with senior positions,” she went on. “With all kinds of fringe benefits, of course.” She sidled up to him, pushing her breasts against his arm. At the same time, she slid a hand lazily over his chest.
Dell didn’t just step back — he jumped, shoving Moira hard enough to make her bump into the conference table in the center of the room. From the corner of his eye, he saw one person’s eyes go wide. The woman scurried off, reporting him to security, no doubt.
Moira, on the other hand, licked her lips and smiled. “Yes, I’d be open to those kinds of benefits as well.” She patted the table behind her and shot a heated image into his mind.
His stomach turned. Did Moira really think he was interested in rough sex games with her? With an effort, he slammed his mental barriers shut. It took a powerful shifter to barge into a stranger’s mind. And he wanted Moira way, way out, especially while he pieced it all together.
Moira… Quentin. Had she made the same offer to his brother? When? Quentin hadn’t mentioned any such thing directly, but he had made a side remark about turning down a mercenary job when they’d talked about life after the army. Of course, Quentin would have snubbed Moira, and that would have pissed her off.
“What about that wolf — Brody?” he suggested, following a hunch. “You could hire him.”
Moira scoffed. “McGuire? His kind has their uses, I’ll give you that. But he’s better suited to little cleanup jobs here and there.”
Dell narrowed his eyes. Would a cleanup job include killing Lourdes? But why? Was it some sick form of revenge on Quentin?
“Brody is nowhere near man enough for me.” Moira flicked her tongue over her lips and let her eyes rove over Dell’s body again. “Not like you.”
“Not interested.”
Moira tut-tutted. “A man of your talents…”
“You have no idea where my talents lie,” he muttered while his lion pictured ripping out her throat. That was a talent he rarely employed, but damn it, he wouldn’t hold back if he had the chance.
“Maybe I’d like to find out,” she said in a sultry voice. “And I bet you’d like to find out too.” She stepped closer, swinging her hips. “Why not enjoy being bad for a while, Mr. O’Roarke? I can see you’re not like your brother.”
Dell stiffened. What was she suggesting?
“Oh, I have my sources, you know. I know exactly what’s going on at that estate Silas runs — and who’s living next door, at the run-down…farm, right?”
Plantation, he nearly barked, but he was too busy masking his surprise. How much did Moira know?
“Poor Silas,” Moira sighed. “Having to settle for second-class. A second-class mate, a second-class home… Second-class everything.”
Dell bristled. Silas Llewellyn was the classiest, most noble-hearted shifter he knew. Silas’s mate, Cassandra, was amazing, and together, they worked hard to maintain peace and stability in a volatile shifter world. Moira was the one who was second-class.
“And the poor man has no fun,” Moira went on. “You, on th
e other hand…”
Dell glared at her. What the hell? He might play hard, but he paid his dues too.
Moira just stared at him, amused. “You’re a man who knows how to balance his life.”
He scowled. Did he?
She laughed. “I can see that you’re trying to play chivalrous knight, but it doesn’t suit you.”
Not playing, his lion growled, thinking of Anjali and Quinn.
“Enjoying life is much better,” Moira said. “Money. Sex. Power.”
Dell frowned. Not too long ago, his list would have been headed by Lazing in the sun. He was a lion, after all. Then there’d be partying — not too hard, and never too loudly to bother anyone, but yes — having fun.
Lately, though, some new forms of fun had been topping his list. Like watching Quinn slurp down a bottle and go from ravenous baby to satisfied and sleepy. Or watching the sunrise with Anjali, and eventually, watching it set. Laughing and talking with her. All those little things.
He relaxed his fists again. He might not be Quentin, but he wasn’t quite the old Dell any more.
Moira rattled on. “I can assure you, being naughty is much more fun. You only live once, you know.”
Dell grimaced at the echo of his own words. Somehow, they didn’t inspire him to mess around the way they used to. Instead, he wanted to spend that time well. Raising Quinn — and doing it right. Loving Anjali. Spending his days on Maui—
He started to tune out Moira, but what she said next stopped him cold.
“Look at Cynthia.”
His lips peeled back from his teeth in a snarl. “Cynthia?”
Moira cackled. “Oh, yes. I know more about your little shifter commune than you can imagine. Like the fact that my dear cousin is there, hiding out.”
Dell’s jaw swung open. Moira had to be bullshitting him. There was no way she and classy, blue-blood Cynthia could be related. No way.
He held his hands out from his sides, telling himself he would not shove Moira up against the wall and throttle her. He and Cynthia had their differences, but honestly? He liked her. Respected her. Cynthia had become every bit a sister to him as the Hovings were brothers. And Joey…
