by Anna Lowe
Lure of the Tiger
Aloha Shifters: Jewels of the Heart
by
Anna Lowe
Book 4
Lure of the Tiger
Copyright © 2017 by Anna Lowe
[email protected]
Editing by Lisa A. Hollett
Proofreading by Donna Hokanson
Cover art by Kim Killion
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental.
Big thanks to all the members of my amazing plot wizards group and to star beta readers Colleen, Jen, Cindy, Beth, and Renee, who all contributed to making this story the best it could be. Thank you!
Other books in this series
Aloha Shifters - Jewels of the Heart
Lure of the Dragon (Book 1)
Lure of the Wolf (Book 2)
Lure of the Bear (Book 3)
Lure of the Tiger (Book 4)
Love of the Dragon (Book 5)
Lure of the Fox (Book 6)
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Desert Wolf: Friend or Foe (Book 1.1 in the Twin Moon Ranch series)
Off the Charts (the prequel to the Serendipity Adventure series)
Perfection (the prequel to the Blue Moon Saloon series)
Contents
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Contents
Lure of the Tiger
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Sneak Peek: Love of the Dragon
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Lure of the Tiger
Tiger shifter Cruz Khala doesn’t trust humans. He doesn’t trust destiny either — not even when it sends him the one woman capable of saving his tormented soul. But there’s more than love at stake as merciless shifter forces gather on sunny Maui, intent on stealing a priceless jewel with mysterious powers. Before he knows it, Cruz becomes the last line of defense between pure evil and the sapphire — and the only one capable of saving his destined mate’s life.
Footloose and carefree? Not anymore. Jody Monroe, pro surfer, is a woman on a mission — until an unknown gunman turns her world upside down. She escapes thanks to an enigmatic stranger with haunting, yellow-green eyes who arouses all her fears — and her desires. Cruz is a contradiction: gruff and grouchy, painfully private, yet tender and protective of those he loves. And sexy. Mouthwateringly sexy, all the damn time. Soon, Jody’s life isn’t the only thing on the line — her heart is, too.
Chapter One
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* * *
Cruz steadied his breath and squinted across the moonlit landscape. The sea breeze teased his hair as he crouched, scanning for his target. The barrel of the rifle felt cool in his hands, much like the wind over the sweat on his back. The palm trees concealing him whispered an urgent warning as he focused on the task at hand. His target was somewhere over there — one person amidst the crowd gathered at the golf club a quarter of a mile away.
Something didn’t feel right, but he fought the feeling away. When did a hit ever feel right?
The voice of his informant echoed through his mind for the thousandth time. Northwest corner of the terrace. Look for a guest in black with black-rimmed glasses. The waiter will hand that guest a cocktail glass marked with a pink umbrella and an olive with a green toothpick. That guest is your target.
Easy, he told himself.
But, hell. He must have lost his touch, because doubts crowded his mind. Not too long ago, in his active duty days, he’d been the top sniper in his elite Special Forces unit, and he’d never hesitated when it came to completing a job. He hadn’t liked it, but he’d done what he had to do in wartime. This was different, though. This was…
This is war, too, his inner tiger insisted. Finally, we get revenge on the monster who murdered our family.
Cruz blinked hard and forced away the lump in his throat. Get your shit together, soldier.
Technically, he wasn’t a soldier any more, just a civilian like the people partying in the exclusive clubhouse of the Kapa’akea resort. But his civilian status was just on paper. The soldier part would always be in his blood, just as his tiger side was in his blood. He was born to fight. To protect. To battle for just causes in a deeply troubled world. And revenge was as just a cause as any, especially when he considered the cruel manner in which his family had been wiped out. His parents. His younger sister. His brother. All of them murdered in cold blood.
A movement stirred on the side terrace, away from the crowd. He refocused through the sights. A woman in a sequined dress danced out of the French doors, giggling, followed by a man whose eyes were glued to her ass.
Cruz rolled his eyes. Definitely not his target.
A moment later, two businessmen stepped out onto the terrace, and the amorous couple scurried into the shadows of the garden. The businessmen didn’t walk to the northwest corner of the terrace, but they stopped close enough to make Cruz’s shoulders tense. When a waiter appeared, Cruz held his breath and adjusted the sights to get a better look at the drinks on the waiter’s tray. Straight up bourbon, from the look of it. No miniature umbrellas. No toothpicks or olives.
He exhaled. Not his target. Still, he watched the men. Something about their tailored suits and self-important stances made him suspicious. Then again, humans always made him suspicious.
A cloud slid over the moon. When a shadow moved in the doorway, his blood rushed. His nose twitched, and every nerve in his body jolted with shocks of warning.
His tiger growled inside, lashing its tail from side to side. Warning of what?
Never in his life had he felt this strong a premonition. Not the day his family had been killed, nor the split second before his convoy had been trapped in an ambush, three years ago. Not even the day he’d met Silas, Kai, Boone, and Hunter, the shifters who were to become his brothers-in-arms. Destiny had forewarned him of each of those events, if only in a frustratingly vague way — and only seconds before the shit hit the fan.
But this premonition nearly knocked him to his knees. It was sharper, stronger, more intense than anything he’d experienced before. Something big was about to happen. Something that would change his life forever.
Cruz forced himself to breathe evenly. That feeling was to be expected the day he had the chance to avenge his family, right?
The curtains at the doors to the terrace stirred, and the two men turned to see who i
t was. Cruz pressed his finger against the trigger and held completely still.
“Come on, already,” he whispered when the person hesitated in the doorway. His lips brushed against the barrel, and the acrid taste of metal filled his mouth.
Focus, damn it. Focus.
He turned his sights on the figure in the doorway. Was that his target?
The curtains flapped, and his pulse spiked. A young woman stepped into view. Proud. Graceful. But…sad, too. Conflicted, somehow.
The gears of his mind ticked over in agonizingly slow motion, and none of the messages firing through his nerves made sense. Why was she sad? What was her dilemma? And why did that seem so heart-wrenchingly important to him?
The thick-rimmed glasses propped back on her fair hair didn’t match her youthful figure, just like her glum expression didn’t fit her cheerily freckled face.
Another man pushed outside, passing the woman close enough to make her long black dress swish. Cruz swung the rifle toward him — a big guy whose combed-back hair didn’t hide the bare patches on his scalp. The fancy suit didn’t hide the gut hanging over his belt either. The two businessmen disappeared inside as the big man lit a cigarette and started talking to the woman. Make that, talking at her while her shoulders lifted in a sigh. When the man stepped closer — too close — and belched a plume of cigarette smoke, the woman flinched and stepped away.
“Slimeball,” Cruz murmured.
Slimeball, his tiger agreed. The type it would be so, so easy to kill. Arrogant, manipulative, and self-assured. Cruz could see all that in the man’s viper eyes.
Cruz pursed his lips. Was that his target?
Instinct tugged his attention to the woman, making it hard to focus on the man she obviously deplored. When Slimeball slithered closer to her lithe body, she rubbed her hands over her crossed arms.
Cruz was so mesmerized, he barely paid attention when someone else joined the pair. Then a white sleeve cut into his field of vision — a waiter, offering the young woman a drink.
Cruz’s heart stopped.
A guest in black with black-rimmed glasses. The waiter will hand that guest a cocktail glass with a pink umbrella and an olive with a green toothpick. That’s your target.
Cruz flicked his eyes to the drink. Pink umbrella. Green toothpick. Black dress.
Holy shit. That woman was responsible for the deaths of the people he loved?
The clouds slipped clear of the moon as commands thundered through his mind.
Shoot her!
Spare her!
Pull the trigger!
Don’t! Don’t!
He clenched his jaw. Maybe something had gone wrong. Maybe his informant had made a terrible mistake. But damn it, McGraugh had always been reliable, so how could that be possible?
If it had been Slimeball holding that cocktail, Cruz would have squeezed off a round and slipped away into the night without a second thought. But the woman…
The joints of his fingers seized up, refusing to pull the trigger.
Damn it. She could be a killer. Humans were tricky that way. And even if she wasn’t the killer, what did he care? Humans were responsible for most of the problems of the world.
Then he caught himself. God, was he jaded. Was he really willing to kill a woman who might be innocent?
No. No, he wasn’t.
He studied her from head to toe. She didn’t have the look or stance of a killer. Cruz knew; he’d crossed paths with enough to be able to tell. Men and women both, and this woman didn’t fit in. He sniffed the air. She didn’t smell like a killer either. On the contrary, she smelled nice.
His tiger hummed, teasing her scent out of all those tangled in the sweet night air. Like a sea breeze. Like wild roses that grow at the edge of the beach.
Cruz frowned. Usually, he could settle his racing pulse with sheer mind control. But now, his heart revved just from looking at her. What the hell was wrong with him?
Destiny, a voice growled in the recesses of his mind.
He shivered in spite of himself. Destiny, what?
But that was it. One cryptic whisper from some dark corner of the universe and nothing more.
“Destiny.” He cursed under his breath.
Some shifters revered a benign form of destiny they swore brought goodness, hope, and love. But Cruz knew the truth — destiny was a fickle and manipulative power that was more likely to fuck up a man’s life than show him the path to bliss. Destiny rarely paid attention to mere mortals, but when it did, it was best to stay the hell away. Someplace like the house he had built for himself deep in the woods at Koa Point where no one could bother him. Not even Fate, who’d filled his life with so many regrets. All the times something had gotten in the way of visits home. All the times he should have called to say hello but didn’t because a more urgent matter had come up. Big things, like the life-or-death missions assigned to his Special Forces team. Little things like canceled flights and crackling phone lines…
Don’t add another regret, his tiger growled.
He slipped his finger off the trigger and watched the woman closely. She made a chopping motion and said something that made Slimeball shake a finger at her. Then she turned away with a firm set to her shoulders, prompting Slimeball to stalk back into the building and leave her alone.
Cruz’s finger jumped back to the trigger. This was his chance, right? The silenced rifle wouldn’t make much noise, and no one would notice her body thump to the ground. That would give him more time to cover his tracks. He could finish this mission, head home, and maybe even find a little peace in knowing he’d avenged his family at last.
She’s not the killer. His tiger growled. Don’t shoot her. Don’t!
Wait a second. His tiger was usually the one desperate for revenge.
Killers don’t look at the stars like they’re looking for answers, his tiger said.
Cruz watched as the woman raised her glass and whispered a toast to the stars.
Not a toast. A promise, his tiger insisted. And killers don’t shift from foot to foot like they wish they were somewhere else. They focus, even when they’re not on a job.
That, Cruz had to agree with. If a person could teleport from one place to another, he’d bet that woman would be out of that pretentious club in a flash. Out of that silk dress, too. She looked more like the cutoff jeans and flip-flops type.
His tiger grinned. I like her.
No, he didn’t. He hated all humans. Especially one who might be his mortal enemy.
She’s not our mortal enemy. She’s our destined—
The thought cut off as he jerked his head around to stare eastward where something caught his attention. Not so much a motion as the sense that someone was there. After a moment of searching, his keen eyes caught sight of a man. One moment, the figure was there, and the next, the man was hidden by the foliage. Then he was visible again and, holy shit — screwing together two long, metal shafts and aiming at the terrace. An M110 — a sniper’s rifle much like the one Cruz held.
His first reaction was outrage. That woman on the terrace was his target. No one was going to have the satisfaction of eliminating that murderer but him. In a flash, he swung his rifle back to the woman on the terrace and took aim.
She’s not a killer, a little voice insisted.
The woman gazed up at the stars, and the electric current that zapped through Cruz’s body just wouldn’t let up. He bared his teeth. Was he really going to let this chance go?
The woman turned, ready to head inside. It was now or never if he was going to get a shot off.
Now, the dark side of his soul called.
Never! his tiger growled.
He glanced to the right, where the second man was hurriedly taking aim at the woman.
No, his tiger roared. No!
A pop sounded, followed by an outbreak of laughter from the crowd on the main porch.
No! his tiger cried. No!
Cruz’s heart pounded as he scanned the scene. Was that a
silenced shot?
No — it was a bottle of champagne, bubbling all over someone on the main porch. Cruz ripped his gaze back to the side terrace, where the curtain flapped. The woman was gone.
She’s inside! Safe! His tiger cheered.
He turned back toward the hit man, who’d also been distracted by the pop.
Destiny smiles on her, his tiger hummed.
Cruz wasn’t so sure, because the second man kept squinting through his sights, intent on finding the woman for a second chance. Cruz sniffed for his scent, but the man was upwind.
Can’t let him kill her, his tiger cried.
Cruz couldn’t understand why it felt so important to keep that woman safe. But it did, and within the space of two heartbeats, the urge went from a vague feeling to a burning need.
Must keep her safe. Must get her away from this place! his tiger screamed.
Cruz cursed, disassembling the rifle in seconds flat, wondering what the woman had to do with the other shooter. Then he zipped the weapon into his bag and took off, racing through the woods with feline stealth. Within a matter of minutes, he’d concealed the rifle, plucked a stray leaf from his hair, and climbed the stairs to the clubhouse, straightening his jacket as he went. He hated suits — and crowds — but he’d worn his best tux tonight so he could fit in if necessary. A good soldier always had a Plan B, right?
He’d find the woman, get her someplace safe, and search for the truth in her eyes. Then he’d decide who to kill — the woman or the armed man in the woods. He could sense those preying eyes sweep the party like a searchlight in the night.
That woman is mine, he told himself, trying to mask his rage at the imposter.
That woman is mine, his tiger hummed in a totally different tone.
Chapter Two
Jody plastered a smile on her face as she headed back to the party. It might have been the world’s fakest smile, but that seemed fitting, given the crowd she had to mix with. Everyone was dressed to the nines, posturing this way and that. Seeing and being seen, though she doubted anyone saw the real her.
