by A. C. Arthur
“And the ice-blue tie over the crisp white shirt. Girl, I see him in that every night in my dreams. Love when he wears that suit. Absolutely love it!”
They both laughed loudly as Kalina proceeded to walk by, wishing she’d had simple dreams about a man instead of a cat. This job wasn’t permanent for her so making friends with the staff—these particular staff members—wasn’t a requirement. Still, she tried to be as cordial as possible, even though their incessant gossiping made her want to poke their eyes out. “Good morning, ladies,” she said with a smile that was as fake as the one each of the women was tossing her way.
Pam was a heavyset woman who paid a great deal of attention to her clothes, hair, nails, and makeup. Each day she was flawless, Kalina noted, everything matching right down to the fake tips on her fingernails. Today the color was orange, and it wouldn’t have been bad if it weren’t overdone, which was always the case with Pam. She twirled one jet-black curl between her fingers, orange rhinestone-encrusted nails clicking together as she did. “Good morning, Kalina.”
That shouldn’t have sounded snotty, but to Kalina’s well-trained ears it did. She ignored it and attempted to keep walking.
“So what do you think about him?” Ava, dressed in a white linen pantsuit with turquoise stilettos that were meant more for the stripper pole than the office, asked her.
“Excuse me?”
Pam expounded, “Since you’re new here, we were just wondering what you think about the boss.”
“Which one?” she asked absently, as if she hadn’t heard their previous conversation.
Ava nodded as if in agreement. “Mr. Delgado is fine, too. But we were talking about Mr. Reynolds.”
“I think they’re both fantastic lawyers.”
Pam’s peach-glossed lips turned up while Ava muttered, “Right. Okay.”
Kalina didn’t stand still long enough to hear the rest of the conversation, and she couldn’t care less what they thought of her because of it. Or what they thought of Roman Reynolds. He might be their boss, but he was her suspect. End of story.
Back at her desk with a steaming-hot cup of coffee in hand, she chided herself for thinking about the tall, dark-skinned man with midnight-colored eyes and football-player build. As her fingers moved over the keyboard, she ignored the clench between her thighs while she envisioned his semi-thick lips, strong arms, and big hands.
She’d done a lot of background investigating on Roman Reynolds, age thirty-five, single and sinfully sexy. He was a reputed recluse, one with a hefty bank account and hundreds of women vying for his attention. He was a successful litigation attorney who lived in the Forest Hills District and drove a sleek black Mercedes GL550 SUV.
Finally, though, he was her suspect, not her lover. No matter how much she fantasized otherwise.
* * *
There were some people who were born to suffer. Right or wrong didn’t matter much. Only the end result was important.
Roman Reynolds sighed, sitting in his high-backed leather office chair looking out the window to the streets of Washington, DC. He was wondering if this was where he was supposed to be.
It seemed he’d come so far in his thirty-five years of life. He’d been through so much and felt, deep within himself, that there was much more to come. More that he couldn’t predict but needed to stop. Responsibility weighed on his shoulders heavily, starting with the death of his parents and leading up to the prospect of even more death. It was up to him to do something, to protect the people he cared about, to make the madness stop. Rome didn’t take his responsibility lightly.
That was unfortunate for whoever made an enemy of him.
Work was his life, and his life was dedicated to the safety of his people. If he’d had a choice, the circumstances would be different. But he didn’t and so it just was.
“You wanted to see me?”
The voice snapping him out of his reverie was that of Dominick Delgado, his partner and best friend. Turning away from the window and looking up to see Nick peeking into his office, Rome nodded. “Come on in and lock the door.”
What they were about to discuss wasn’t law-firm business, and Rome didn’t want any of the staff accidentally walking in and overhearing them.
“What’s up?” Nick asked after walking confidently across the carpeted floor to take a seat in one of the guest chairs.
“Any more news about the attacks?”
Senator Mark Baines and his daughter had been murdered after leaving a fund-raiser three weeks ago. The bodies, found two days after they were reported missing, were mutilated. The report had made Rome uneasy and some of the other shifters suspicious.
“Rogues,” Nick said simply. “I checked with the other Faction Leaders and they’re reporting similar movement in their zones. They’re definitely making a move.”
Rome sighed. This news wasn’t shocking. But it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. They knew about the Rogues—every Faction Leader in every time zone knew about them. They were a group of shifters, defectors from every tribe, who instead of trying to live peacefully among the humans believed they were the superior species. They wanted money and power and had long since carried their rebellious movement against the Assembly and the tribes out of the forest.
“Do we have identification?”
Nick shrugged. “Supposition. Nothing definite. But it could be a problem.”
“It could be a big problem. Any thoughts on how to cut it off as soon as possible?”
“Find them and kill them,” Nick stated coldly.
“You make it sound so simple, killing people.”
His friend shrugged. “Self-preservation. That’s all it is. We need to either exist as one united front or not exist at all. I don’t know about you but I’m partial to waking up each morning and breathing freely.”
“It’s that serious.” It was a statement, not a question, because Rome knew that what his longtime friend was saying was absolutely true. “Our parents were putting things in place to deal with this. Maybe we should follow their lead.”
Nick’s parents were deceased, just like Rome’s. They’d died in a car crash about five years ago. Nick didn’t speak about it much and Rome understood why, so normally he didn’t bring it up. They both had dark pasts, secrets that were probably better left alone. But if dredging up some of that old business could help in the here and now, they had no choice.
“I don’t know that they were on the right track. I mean, trying to create some sort of democracy among the tribes, a penal system for a species that’s not even supposed to exist? I don’t see how that can work.”
He couldn’t see past the anger, was what Nick was basically saying. Rome knew the drill all too well. Nick’s parents had disappointed him, angered him. That wasn’t something Nick would forget, even in their death. Inhaling deeply, Rome considered how to proceed. He and Nick shared a lot; the depth of their pain was only one of the commonalities.
Although Rome wasn’t angry with his parents, there were secrets they’d kept from him, things he would have liked to have known before they died. He couldn’t bring them back, couldn’t tap into some hereafter phone line and call them up. All he could do was move forward. Some days that was harder than others. Today he was trying to make it as easy as possible.
“It’s time we had some sort of guidelines to live by,” he said finally.
“We’ve got the Ètica” was Nick’s response.
The shifter ethics code, traditionally called the Ètica, was their Bill of Rights, so to speak. It outlined everything they could and could not do as shifters. The code was mandated by the Assembly, three elders from each tribe equaling a fifteen-member council. The biggest problem was that they lived deep within the Brazilian rain forest in the secluded Gungi. The rules and limitations applied to forest living and were not really conducive to the mainstream life Rome and the other faction leaders were trying to achieve.
“I think we need more.”
“So you want to pick
up where our parents left off? Start trying to build some sort of government for us? We’re not like them, Rome! We’re not human!”
Nick’s anger was apparent, and on another day Rome might have shared it with him. But today he was trying to stay focused, to not let his tumultuous emotions rule over good judgment. If the Rogues were planning something, only a cool head was going to keep them alive. A well-thought-out and perfectly executed plan would bring them the solidarity they desired. That was Rome’s way, calm, cool, and overly collected. He could be dangerous, and crossing him usually was, but it was the smooth and precise way he handled his problems that earned him the title of the Lethal Litigator.
He didn’t like the idea of rebel shifters any more than Nick did, but he didn’t want a lot of bloodshed on their hands; that would only lead to what they desperately didn’t want—for the shifters to be exposed and accused of being dangerous killers, animals that didn’t deserve to walk among humans.
“Keep your voice down, the office isn’t as well guarded as our homes. I feel your pain, Nick. You know I do. But we’re not in the forest, we need to use our heads and not just our ability to fight and kill. Capturing these shifters is the better option. Find out what they’re thinking, if there’s some room for negotiation.”
“How do you negotiate with someone who wants to take charge? They want to rule, Rome. They think they’re the dominant species on earth. Can we really afford to invite them to lunch and try to talk this out?” Nick paused, then added, “Let’s not forget they’re responsible for your parents’ deaths.”
That was a deadly card to play. And Nick knew it. There was nothing—absolutely nothing—Rome wanted more than to find the Rogue who’d killed his parents.
Vance and Loren Reynolds had been brutally murdered, Rome suspected as a result of what they were trying to do among the shifters. Some of their old paperwork he’d found—notes from meetings with Elders and other Faction Leaders—led him to believe that his parents and their ideas for a democracy among the shifters were rubbing a few people the wrong way. He still had no real leads on their killers, just ideas. And he was still as pissed off today as he’d been twenty-five years ago when the murders had occurred in the bedroom his parents shared.
He’d remained hidden in a closet, prohibited from trying to save his parents’ lives. A steady flow of rage simmered just beneath the surface of his cool lawyer exterior each and every day of his life. He would avenge his parents’ killers—there was no doubt in his mind. That would be one time, one instance when he’d put aside the moral code he’d learned as a human, the justice he’d studied in law school, and become a hunter, the killer jaguars were perceived to be.
Revenge was a living and breathing source within Rome, but he couldn’t let that dictate his every action.
“You know that’s not what I’m suggesting. And make no mistake about it, when I find the Rogue responsible for the murder of my parents, his death will be slow and very painful. But that’s my personal battle. That blood will be on my hands alone.”
Nick shook his head. “It’s ours,” he replied. “You know we’re in this together.”
Rome nodded but didn’t speak.
More death was coming, just as his gut instinct had warned. This battle of theirs was only beginning.
And … Wait. He inhaled deeply. Exhaled with a little more shakiness than he wanted to admit. Something else was coming, something or someone …
There was a knock at the door and before he’d uttered a word, before Nick had made it across the room to open it, Rome knew exactly who it was.
Chapter 2
Rome was hard instantly, need punching at him from every direction.
“Excuse me,” she said the moment the door opened. “I have some checks that need a signature and your assistant wasn’t at her desk.”
Behind his desk Rome stiffened, his tongue rolling slowly over teeth that were suddenly too sharp to be human. His nostrils flared as he inhaled and let her scent permeate throughout his system.
It was her.
Inside his cat roared, leaping at the surface as if it knew her, too. It had been two years since he’d seen her. He’d thought about her, too much to even contemplate at this moment. Thought about her, dreamed about her, fantasized about her. But he had no idea who she was or where she’d gone that night.
Now she was here.
At his law firm, walking across the floor of his office heading in his direction. He watched her walk, long legs bringing her closer, curvy hips swaying with the motion. Her breasts were round, full, making his palms itch to touch them. The dress she wore wrapped around her body, tying at the side with some kind of sash, the material caressing each of her curves like a smooth jazz melody. Her hair, black mixed with a tawny brown color, was cut in a short spiky style that accented the exotic features of her face—the face that had haunted him for so long. Complexion the color of honey, high cheekbones, and full lips. Eyes the color of autumn leaves.
And she was handing him a stack of checks from his firm.
“You work here?” he asked and felt the amazing stupidity at the question. “When were you hired?” he rephrased.
She stopped abruptly just a foot or so away from his desk. Their gazes met, held. Then she cleared her throat.
“I was hired two weeks ago by Mr. Mathison. I work in accounting. If you could sign these I’ll get out of your way,” she said, casting a quick glance at Nick, who was staring at Rome.
Two weeks and he’d just caught her scent. Accounting was on the fifth floor, Rome’s office was on the seventh. Still, she’d been this close to him for fourteen days and he hadn’t known.
Why should he? She was nobody special, just a woman he’d helped out a long time ago. There shouldn’t have been any warning signs that she was back in his life, or close to it. No announcement should have been made. He employed more than a hundred people, women included. This one wasn’t any different.
She’d moved closer to the desk by now, extending her arm and holding the checks out to him. He reached for them, purposely let his fingers brush against hers, and gasped at the surge of heat that quickly spread from his arm through his body. Heat and lust so thick he could barely swallow, so potent his balls tightened with the thought of release. Against his zipper his thick length throbbed, aching for entrance inside her.
The arm she’d been extending quickly retreated, going first behind her back then down to her side in a motion that was meant to show control. Yet it was barely restrained control, Rome could see it in her eyes. There was heat there also, and confusion. With a deep breath he resigned himself to knowing exactly how she felt.
Grabbing a pen from the holder to his left, he began signing the checks. Looking at her was causing all sorts of things to go through his mind, feelings assailing his body. Confusion was an understatement.
“How do you like the job so far?” Nick asked, pausing to allude to the fact that they didn’t know her name.
Her response was quick, her voice clear, almost melodic. “Kalina Harper. I really like it. I’ve never worked in a law firm before so it’s a learning experience,” she responded.
“Good. We’ll have to do lunch sometime,” Nick continued. “I make it a point to know all our employees. I can’t believe I didn’t know you were hired.”
“The checks are done,” Rome interrupted gruffly. Standing, he walked around the desk and stopped in front of her. The air crackled with the tension around them. She shifted from one foot to the next. Every nerve in his body pulsated, her scent filtering through his nostrils, dripping into his system like a powerful drug. But even that wasn’t enough to mask the tendrils of pain that ebbed in the distance, the memory of suffering and fear. And something else.
“You like working in accounting?” he asked.
Her gaze met his almost defiantly as she reached for the checks in his hand. “Yes. I do.”
Lie.
His kind could smell a lie or intended deceit just as easi
ly as they could arousal. Then again, there was a large majority of employees who didn’t like their jobs whether they worked for him or someone else. That was nothing new. Still, it alarmed him.
“May I have the checks?” she asked.
He smiled. Slow, seductive, convincing, he thought. Extending the checks to her, he kept his eyes focused solely on hers. There was something about this woman that intrigued him, turned him on, made him want her. Completely.
And what Rome wanted, Rome received.
“Here you go.” Holding the papers with both hands, he made sure she had to touch him to retrieve them. The moment her hands were close he covered them, holding her still.
It was almost painful, this immediate and intense desire for her. But it was the way she looked at him that really caught his breath. In that moment her eyes were different, the amber color lightened, and he swore he saw flashes of yellow, remnants of knowledge.
Did she know who he was? What he was? Impossible.
“Nice meeting you,” he said, smoothly releasing his grip on her.
She took a step back but didn’t take her eyes off him. Her eyes seemed normal again, her composure slowly taking charge. “Same here” was her reply before she turned, smiled at Nick, then left the office.
“Well. Well. Well.” Nick clapped his hands together and licked his lips.
“Back to work,” Rome said, more than a little agitated now.
“Work? How can you think about work when that tasty little number just left?”
“How?” Rome asked when he was back behind his desk. He lifted a file into his hands. “My client is a cruel man who lies as easily as he smiles. And his soon-to-be-ex-wife isn’t much better as she sleeps with any of his willing business partners.”
Nick picked at a piece of imaginary lint on his dark suit. “Proving my point that marriage is an institution for the clinically insane.”
Rome almost smiled even though he knew Nick was dead serious. Nick always said he’d never get married, no matter how much he liked women and loved sex. Thing was, to Rome and Nick the institution of marriage was drastically different than it was for Rome’s clients. “They’re both stubborn and selfish and self-righteous. Common sense says to just split everything and part ways, but that would be too easy.”
