Lure of the Tiger (Aloha Shifters: Jewels of the Heart Book 4)

by Anna Lowe

  “The Lifestone, Firestone, and Earthstone are all safe here,” Silas continued. “That leaves two of five stones — the Windstone, and the Waterstone — a sapphire.”

  “Waterstone?” Cruz pictured a jewel that could conjure up monster waves or killer storms. “Do we really want to get mixed up with another Spirit Stone?”

  “Do we have a choice?” Silas snapped.

  Cruz held his tongue. He only knew his former commander as cool, collected, and calculating. But Silas’s jaw worked left and right while his fingers tapped nervously on the tabletop. Was the weight of responsibility finally wearing him down? Cruz had never considered that before. Now that he did, he realized their little community at Koa Point was growing fast. Hunter and Dawn were taking it slow, but everyone knew it was only a question of time before Boone and Nina — or Kai and Tessa — had kids. That threw a whole new layer of responsibility onto Silas’s shoulders at a deeply troubling time. The world was already pretty messed up, but the question of the Spirit Stones complicated everything exponentially. Every ruthless, greedy shifter in the world would be after the next gem that turned up.

  But there was more than worry in Silas’s eyes. There was pain, too. Moira must have really pulled a fast one to agitate Silas to that extent.

  Cruz tilted his head, seeing Silas in a new light. A mortal man, not a machine. A guy just as capable of losing his head — and heart — as Cruz was.

  All the more reason for Cruz to be on guard against the foolish notion of a destined mate.

  But…but… his inner tiger protested.

  “First thing tomorrow, I’ll track down the waiter,” he said, composing a list in his mind. “Then I’ll sniff around the woods where I saw the second gunman. Maybe I can pick up a trace of his scent.”

  Silas nodded. “We need to run a background check on Jody and dig into this Elements campaign, too.” His voice grew rough and bitter.

  “You really think Moira could be involved?”

  Silas looked at the palms swaying gently in the night breeze. “I don’t know. But this time, I’m not leaving anything to chance.”

  Chapter Six

  Jody wasn’t lying when she’d mentioned sleeping in some offbeat places. But a night in a tree house…

  At first, she lay on the futon with her eyes wide open. The mosquito net draped gracefully around the bed kept the bugs out, but not the sounds or smells — and least of all, not the dancing shadows of the night.

  Her nose twitched with the musky scent of virgin forest, and her ears tuned in to the multilayered chorus of insects and birds. Her eyes darted to every rustling leaf or swaying branch. But the atmosphere soothed more than it alarmed her, and before long, she was asleep. Asleep and witnessing the craziest hodgepodge of dreams she’d ever had.

  There were scary dreams in which gunshots exploded everywhere, and no matter how she tried, she couldn’t get her legs to move. Exhilarating dreams where a sports car raced down a highway so fast, the stars blurred. Confusing dreams in which an unfamiliar man seemed like the closest friend she’d ever had, while friends could not be trusted. Sensual dreams, too — of rolling in bed with a dark-haired man with greenish-yellow eyes whose gentle caress brought her to higher heights than anything she’d ever experienced.

  She woke briefly then drifted right back to sleep, submerging herself in another round of dreams. In one, she surfed down the barrel of a perfect, aquamarine wave. In another, she swept the floor of her dad’s shop with a steady swish, swish, swish. And in another…

  Jody jerked awake, panting from the image of coming face-to-face with a huge striped cat. A tiger.

  She blinked into the darkness. Holy shit. Where was she? And what was that purring sound that formed a bass to the orchestra of the night?

  Something moved under her hand, startling her. But it was just a tiny kitten that yawned, blinked, and went right back to sleep.

  “Keiki,” she murmured, putting everything together. Keiki was the name of the kitten, and she was on Maui. But, whoa — was such a tiny creature truly capable of making such a loud sound? Or had she dreamed that persistent, growly sound the way she’d dreamed of the tiger’s face?

  Trees closed in above and around her, and something moved in the underbrush. A big something — or was her imagination at work again? One of the platforms suspended above her swayed as if recently vacated. She sat staring at it, clutching the sheet to her chest as her heart thumped away — partly from fear, but also from excitement. What would it be like to come that close to a wild animal in real life?

  Like surfing, she supposed. That high that never grew old, no matter how many times she soared down the face of a wave.

  She lay awake a while longer before her eyelids drooped, and the next time she raised them, the birds were singing at the top of their lungs, signaling morning. A good couple of hours into morning, in fact — much later than her usual wake-up time. Of course, it had been one hell of a night. Two men had tried to kill her, and one of them ended up taking her home.

  She laughed out loud. How would she ever make that sound okay to her dad?

  “Dad!” she yelped, suddenly anxious. Had he heard about the shooting? Was he worried? She stood quickly and looked around for a phone. But apart from a few light fixtures, the tree house seemed entirely off the grid.

  A chair had been pulled up to the bed, holding a stack of clothes and a towel. So someone really had been there, if not a tiger. She shook the clothes out of their neat, military folds and brought a blue T-shirt to her nose, half hoping it smelled as good as the shirt she’d slept in. The shirt Cruz had given her carried a faint, alluring hint of the man, and she’d spent the night hugging it close. But this fabric had a flowery, detergent scent, as did the sporty shorts and the towel. A pity, really.

  She took all three and walked around. The bathroom only offered a toilet and sink, but the quiet trickle of water lured her down a path into the forest. A path just wide and high enough for her to wander without swatting away leaves. Jody meandered this way and that, looking up and around. The place was like an aviary — lush, green, and alive with a cacophony of bird calls. Then the path opened upon a clearing and—

  “Oh,” she whispered in delight.

  A row of lava stones held back a gurgling stream, creating a shallow pool wide enough to paddle a stroke or two across.

  “You’re kidding me,” she murmured, spotting a bar of soap and bottle of shampoo beside the waterfall that nourished the pool. This was Cruz’s shower?

  She turned in a slow circle, looking back at the tree house with its spider web of interconnected platforms.

  “Amazing.”

  The whole place had a Robinson Crusoe feel to it — Robinson Crusoe, luxury style, as if the castaway had had years to carve out the perfect home-away-from-home. And Cruz had constructed all of it. Who would have thought such a curt, grim man would create a Garden of Eden for himself?

  Maybe there was a little bit of hope in the mysterious Mr. Khala, after all. Maybe even a dash of optimism in a man who wasn’t entirely at home in his own skin. A man who’d held a kitten so tenderly and closed his eyes as if wishing upon an unseen star.

  “Cruz Khala,” she murmured to herself.

  Assassin? Rescuer? Architect? A little of all three, she decided. She’d been scared of him at first, but everything he’d done since last night made her feel protected, not threatened. Yes, she’d been too quick to trust in the past, but her heart and soul insisted she could trust Cruz. That she had to trust him to survive.

  She looked around. The place was secluded as could be. So she stripped and squealed at her first contact with the chilly water. Slowly, she lowered herself in and floated on her back, watching the one patch of blue sky visible through the dense canopy above. No matter how she tried to clear her mind, though, it kept mulling over the contradictory facets of Cruz.

  She soaped up, washed her hair with the biodegradable soap — proving that Cruz had a heart for nature as well as
furry felines — and dunked to rinse herself. The water felt crisp, clean, and softer than the salt water she spent so much time in. All in all, it was easy — too easy — to lounge in that pool and recall the best parts of her dreams. Especially the sensual parts. Jody ran her hands over her body, telling herself it was all about hygiene and not a hot fantasy. A fantasy of her host stepping quietly into the water behind her and soaping up her back. Sliding his hands over her skin… Touching his lips to her shoulder… Reaching lower…

  She closed her eyes and imagined the low, growling sound from her dream. It formed the perfect background to the increasingly heated images running through her mind.

  A bird fluttered overhead, chattering in surprise, and Jody splashed to a sitting position again. Whew. What was it about this place — and that man — that turned on the cavewoman in her? And why did she feel eyes burning into her skin?

  “Morning,” a deep voice sounded from the path.

  Jody crossed her arms over her chest and whirled, not sure whether to greet the person or yell at him. It was Cruz, standing on the path. Shit. So much for trusting him.

  But the man looked like he hadn’t slept a wink all night, and he appeared genuinely surprised to find her in the pool — naked, no less.

  “Good morning,” she managed, determined not to get flustered. Not even with the man she’d just been fantasizing about. “I love your bathtub.”

  “Pool,” he corrected with a little scowl.

  “So peaceful. So private,” she added, socking him with a look.

  A tiny hint of a smile appeared at the corner of his mouth before he hid it away again. So the man really could smile. Could he laugh, too?

  She stretched out an arm, making sure to keep the other over her chest. “You want to hand a lady a towel?” she asked, then immediately chastised herself. This wasn’t some guy waiting for a good set of waves she could joke around with in a safe public place. He was a perfect stranger, and she was at his mercy.

  A soft, growly answer sounded from his chest. “Trick question?”

  She laughed out loud. “No.”

  His eyes flashed, and for a second, she wondered if he could read her mind.

  She cleared her throat, getting herself back on track. “I’ll get it myself.”

  “Sure,” he said, opening his arms wide as if daring her to step out in full view, dripping and naked.

  As if. She jabbed a finger in his direction then turned it in a circle. “And since you’re such a gentleman and fabulous host…”

  Cruz made a face that said, Not.

  “…you’ll turn around. Now.” She made the last word a command and did her best to look like she could poke his eye out or crush his balls with her bare hands. In short, a woman not to be messed with, not even by a badass like him. So what if she was naked and essentially defenseless? It was all in the attitude.

  Slowly, Cruz nodded and turned his back.

  Whew.

  “Such a gentleman,” she murmured, as if she’d known it all along.

  Cruz growled under his breath. “Such a lady.”

  Touché, she nearly chuckled. Touché.

  It was kind of fun, provoking him. Way over on the dangerous end of fun, but somehow, she couldn’t resist.

  She rose, dripping. At a photo shoot a week earlier, she’d felt self-conscious no matter how much the photographer urged her to act sexy. Now, she felt feminine. Beautiful. Desirable, almost.

  She caught herself there. Christ — any reasonable woman would heed the obvious alarm bells a man like Cruz set off. But instinct drew her toward him, like…like he was her destiny.

  She pushed the thought away and made a mental note to save the sexy-as-sin heat for the next time she had to pose in front of a camera. Right now, she had to get dressed — fast.

  She wrapped herself in the towel and called out. “I don’t suppose room service at Chez Cruz includes a hairbrush?”

  He turned, patting the messy hair that just reached his collar, and opened his mouth to answer. But no words emerged. He just stood there, soaking her in.

  Jody took a deep breath and stared back. A hush fell over the forest — that, or her ears weren’t working any more. Neither did her voice, because she couldn’t manage a word. Her eyes zoomed in on his gaze and held it while everything else receded to a distant blur. A low, purring sound filled her ears again — so low, it was as if the earth were calling to her. Saying…what? She strained for the message.

  He…is…your…

  He is what? My what? she wanted to scream.

  Cruz’s eyes took on an otherworldly glow, and his chest rose and fell in deep, steadying breaths. Jody tightened her fingers on her towel. Had he heard the whisper, too?

  What? She wanted to yell. He is my what?

  Whatever it was teased at the corners of her mind, racing up to reveal itself before darting away like a wave rolling over the beach. Her heart beat faster, and her breath quickened. A buzzing sound filled the edges of her consciousness, growing into an angry hum until she tore her eyes off Cruz and looked up.

  A helicopter zipped overhead. And, poof! The magic spell was gone.

  Cruz cursed under his breath.

  “Your helicopter?” she asked, wishing she could step back in time to figure out what had just transpired between them.

  “Not ours. A sightseeing tour.” He looked at her with mournful eyes as if he wanted another minute together, too. “You almost ready?”

  She nodded, pulling the towel higher. “One minute and I’ll be dressed.”

  He nodded and turned his back, all cold and hard again. But now that she’d caught glimpses of his secret, softer side, she wasn’t fooled.

  She pulled the clothes on quickly, finger-combed her hair, and let her feet rustle through the leaves as a signal that she was done. When Cruz turned, his eyes played over her body. She’d purposely turned her right side to reveal the long, ugly burn mark that ran down her leg — a scar caused by a kitchen accident a long time ago. Her surfer friends never blinked an eye at it, while Richard and the Elements photographer frowned as if it were a fatal flaw and made sure it never showed in any shot. Was Cruz just another man who liked to chase outwardly perfect women instead of showing interest in the real her?

  His eyes traveled up and down her body, barely slowing at the scar, and came to rest on her face. His lips moved, but then he dropped his gaze to the ground, mute.

  A minute later, he kicked the ground. “Ready to get going?”

  “Ready,” she murmured, though she wasn’t so sure.

  Chapter Seven

  When Cruz moved, Jody followed, straightening her shoulders as she paced over the footbridge. It was time to exit his little hideaway and face the real world. She snuck a glance at his face, but it was inscrutable.

  Paths snaked this way and that around patches of lawn and clusters of trees. Most seemed to converge on a grass-roofed structure — the central point of the estate where she had met Silas the previous night. It all felt so surreal. Last night, she’d dodged gunfire. This morning, she was barefoot in the grass of a luxurious estate.

  “So — Koa Point, huh? What does koa mean?”

  His voice was a low bass, almost impossible to hear. “It’s an elite class of warrior, named after the toughest kind of wood.”

  Her eyes flitted over his toned body. Yeah, koa fit, all right.

  “Silas is at his place, checking into some records,” Cruz murmured in answer to her unspoken question.

  She stopped, slamming her hands onto her hips. “Whose records is he checking into? Mine?”

  Cruz made a vague gesture then winced in pain, making her search his back for any sign of the wound he’d sustained. All she could make out were lumps of muscle that stretched out his shirt.

  “Are you really okay?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

  “Well, you were shot.”

  He shrugged as if to prove his point. “Like I said. It barely grazed me.”
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  “Right. Sure. Barely grazed,” she muttered.

  But Cruz just turned onto a different path — away from the meeting house and toward the garage — and segued straight into his next sentence. “So, we’ll start at your condo…”

  Her stomach growled, and she turned pink.

  Cruz cocked his head. “Damn it. I didn’t feed you, did I?”

  She crossed her arms. “Hey, I’m not a zoo animal. But don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

  His eyes darkened. “Don’t joke about zoo animals.” With a swipe of one big hand, he motioned her back toward the meeting house.

  Jody didn’t like the idea of caged animals either, but wow. Cruz really was touchy about that. Of course, the man seemed touchy about a lot of things. She followed him at a distance, just in case.

  “Really, it’s okay. I think I have a snack at the condo…” She didn’t, but she didn’t want to make a big deal of it.

  Cruz stepped into the gleaming kitchen section of the meeting house. “Oatmeal all right with you?”

  She nodded, expecting him to pop a sachet into the microwave. Then she stood, astonished, as he pulled out half a dozen fresh ingredients and started peeling a mango.

  “Mango and coconut okay?” he asked.

  “Sure,” she said, trying not to stare. The man was a walking contradiction. She’d pictured him as more of a hasty, splash-some-milk-in-your-cereal kind of guy. In fact, everything in her field of vision was a contradiction — even the refrigerator. So far, she’d only seen Cruz and Silas on the estate — two big, tough guys who didn’t exactly exude sentimental, social vibes. Yet the stainless-steel doors of the fridge were decorated with smiley face magnets, recipe cards, and photos. She leaned closer, looking at a snapshot of a happy couple sitting side by side on the beach. Another showed a man and woman giving a thumbs-up from the cockpit of a helicopter, and a third featured a striking beauty in a police uniform with a huge man at her side. Jody was sure the background was the arched garage Cruz had parked at the previous night. Were all those people visitors, or did they share the estate with Cruz and Silas? And if so, was one of them the property owner?