Leopard's Fury

by Christine Feehan

  She'd thought with time he would become less scary, less intimidating, but she was wrong. He was more so. An aura of danger clung to him like a second skin. He never laughed. He never smiled. He barely acknowledged her, yet he was aware of everything, every movement, in her shop and on the street. She was certain he was armed to the teeth and sometimes she was afraid the few cops who frequented her shop would come in at the same time and there would be a shoot-out or something equally as awful.

  Two months passed and he came in three times a week, sometimes four, but he never spoke beyond placing his order. She found herself watching for him. Smiling at him when he came in. He never smiled back, but he did stay longer. At least a half an hour longer than he had before.

  A few others dressed in Italian suits came in over the third month, never at the same time as her Iceman, but she knew he'd sent them her way. Business seemed to pick up even more after that, as if seeing people in her shop brought in even more customers. That meant she had to work harder, baking more goods, but she didn't mind; she was finally making it.

  She'd all but forgotten Robert. He was waiting for her to open on a Thursday morning, a day her Iceman rarely came in. That told her Robert had been watching the store, probably looking for a pattern. Her heart stuttered when she saw him come through the door. He casually reached over and turned her sign from open to closed.

  She reached for her cell phone. He leapt across the room the way leopards could do, jerking it from her hand and flinging it onto the floor a distance away. It shattered, pieces scattering. Evangeline took a deep breath and moved out from behind the counter, not wanting anything to get broken.

  "You bitch," Robert bit out. "You aren' gettin' away with this."

  "What are you talkin' about? I'm not tryin' to get away with anythin'."

  "You told Saria I wasn't in the rain forest. You couldn't just let it go."

  She frowned, shaking her head. "I haven't spoken to Saria in months. I've been too busy." She should have. Her friend would be worried about her.

  Robert stalked her across the room, and she couldn't help herself. In spite of her determination not to give ground, she did, backing up almost to the door.

  "Fuckin' liar. Tryin' to get me in trouble. I was goin' to let it go. The last thing I want is a woman who can't shift, but now you're goin' to pay for tryin' to get Drake and the others to come lookin' for me. This is the way it's goin' to be. I've been stayin' in a room in town but now I'm goin' to be stayin' with you. Hand over the keys to your house. And I need money. I know you got it, and you can give it to me."

  "You're out of your mind if you think I'm goin' to let you move in with me. I earned any money I have and it goes to payin' bills."

  He backhanded her. Hard. Her cheek felt as if it had exploded. Her eyes teared up and she found herself on the floor. He was strong, incredibly strong, and his leopard was close. She could see it in his eyes, those yellowish-green eyes glowing with menace at her.

  Deep inside her, wildness woke a feral, dark creature; furious, raging even. The skin raised along her arms and legs, an itch heralding the arrival of her other.

  No, Bebe, she said sharply. He can't know about you. She'd take a beating before she'd ever expose her best friend to such an abomination of a shifter.

  Robert came at her again, deliberately using the stalking motion of the leopard. When she tried to get up off the floor, he hit her again, striking the same side of her face. The pain made her feel sick to her stomach.

  She heard the bell over the door as if in the distance, and then, blinking to clear the tears from her eyes, she saw Robert doubling over, grunting, his breath a sob. Her Iceman was standing over him, his big, gloved fist hitting hard, over and over. She heard ribs crack. Heard them. A short uppercut to the chin staggered Robert and he went to his knees. The Iceman caught him around the waist and half walked, half dragged him out the door.

  Evangeline tried to pull herself up by using the wall, all the while staring out the window. There was a black town car with darkened windows parked in front of her bakery. A man in a suit held the door open while the Iceman thrust Robert inside and then climbed in after him. It wasn't more than thirty seconds at most before he emerged, looking exactly the same.

  Through the open door of the car she caught a glimpse of Robert slumped on the seat, his neck at an odd angle. She shivered as her Iceman spoke briefly to the driver and then slammed the door. He waited until the car drove off, spoke briefly into his phone and then returned to the shop.

  He hadn't changed expression. Not once. Not when he'd been beating the crap out of Robert and not when he'd gotten out of the car. She was almost certain Robert was dead. Her Iceman hadn't bothered to call his leopard to fight Robert's. She knew that would have been a sign of respect and clearly the Iceman didn't feel any at all for Robert.

  "Are you all right?" He crouched beside her.

  Up close he smelled as good as he looked. A little wild. But like a cool forest, one covered in snow in the winter. His eyes were even more beautiful than she'd first thought. So cold they made her shiver. So blue she thought she could drown.

  "Evangeline." She needed him to know her name. "I'm Evangeline."

  "I know." He touched her cheek with gentle fingers. He wore gloves, so it wasn't skin-to-skin contact, but it didn't matter, her body still reacted with heat.

  How could he know her name? It wasn't like it was on the bakery anywhere. Just an E. She'd used calligraphy and the letter came out elegant, just what she was going for in her shop. Small Sweet Shoppe. She'd loved that for some odd reason and she still did.

  "This is where you tell me your name."

  He wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her to her feet, retaining his hold so that she didn't fall. That something wild in her unfurled. Stretched. Reached toward her Iceman until her skin felt tight, itched like crazy and then receded.

  Don't you dare, she cautioned.

  She had the impression of amusement and then she was alone again.

  "You don' want me to keep callin' you my Iceman. That's what I do in my head. Better to have a name, don' you think?"

  Her cheek throbbed and burned like hell and she knew it was swelling. So was her eye. Great. She'd have to go all day answering questions when customers started coming in. If they came in. She'd forgotten the sign was turned to closed.

  His glacier-blue eyes moved over her face. No change in expression. So much for being alluring with her sense of humor and her really nicely swollen face. She had to look awful. This was what came from being vain about her skin.

  "Alonzo."

  A word. His name. Elation swept through her even as she knew, deep down, he was lying to her. His name was not Alonzo. She heard the lie. Still, she let him get away with it because he'd just saved her from a savage beating. Robert would have robbed her as well.

  "Is he alive?" She knew he wasn't. She knew it with the same certainty that she knew Alonzo wasn't her Iceman's real name.

  "Does it matter?" He began walking her toward the back room, going around the counter space over her beautiful display cases.

  Did it? It was wrong to kill someone by civilized law. The law of the shifters was different, and rogues received a death sentence if they endangered others of the lair. She'd left the lair and that life behind.

  She glanced up at him to see him looking down at her with a leopard's focus. No change in expression. He was as cold as ice.

  "He mean something to you?"

  She shook her head and immediately wished she hadn't. A small sound escaped before she could stop it. He instantly lifted her into his arms, clearly done with their slow progress. In his arms, held tightly against his chest, she could feel those heavy muscles rippling as he glided across the floor. There was no jarring of her body, not the way he moved, so fluid, and not the way he held her, nearly crushing her against his chest.

  He swept into her kitchen, placed her into a chair and went to the refrigerator. She wished she'd wo
rn something nice. She didn't have a lot in the way of nice. She'd used her money for a down payment on a small house, and the rest of it went to the bakery. Every cent she had was tied up in her business, so no nice clothes. She didn't date so she didn't need them--until now.

  He pressed a bag of ice into her hand. "Hold that against your cheek and answer me. When I ask a question I expect an answer."

  "Does that go both ways?"

  Her eyes met his and she shivered again. The glacier had just gotten colder if that was possible. "I barely knew him. He was a troublemaker back home. I'd never met him until he came to the bakery. He wanted money."

  "And you. He wanted you."

  She didn't think so, but she wasn't going to argue with him.

  "Does it matter if he's dead?"

  She took a deep breath. Really, she didn't want to answer because it wasn't going to show her in a good light, but Robert wouldn't have stopped at a beating. She knew his reputation.

  Evangeline lifted her chin, looked him straight in the eye and shook her head. "Only if it meant you would get into trouble for savin' me."

  "He won't bother you again." He didn't take his gaze from hers, watching carefully for her reaction.

  She felt relief more than anything else. And guilt that she felt relief. The ice burned on her cheek but felt good. "Thank you. It seems I owe you again. I guess I'll have to give you free cinnamon cake for the rest of your life."

  He didn't respond. Nor did he smile. She sighed and looked down at her lap. She shouldn't want his attention. He'd just killed a man. She couldn't be certain, but if he had, he'd done so casually and without emotion. She would be insane to be attracted to him and yet . . . she was. Attracted wasn't even a word she would use for what she was around him.

  "Why are you here? You never come on Thursday, that's why he chose today."

  "His bad luck. I wanted to get a few dozen of your cinnamon-apple cookies for my boss. I came in early so you would have plenty."

  She started to put the ice pack down but he pushed her hand back, covering it with his own. He always wore those butter-soft gloves. Under them she could see the bulges of several rings. Big square, thick ones. She noticed them every single time he reached for his coffee mug. They intrigued her, just as the tattoos she could see drifting up his neck from under that perfect suit. For some reason those tattoos made him all the hotter to her. She'd awakened twice now from a dream of peeling that suit from him to uncover all the treasures underneath.

  She felt the color rising, and there was no way to stop it. "I have to open the store."

  "You have to sit for a full fifteen minutes with that ice pack on. Then you open the store. Your customers will wait."

  Even his voice affected her body, bringing all her nerve endings alive as if he had created an electrical charge between them. Again, the female inside her moved toward the surface, toward him. Lazily, really. As if she couldn't quite be bothered. She subsided quickly as she'd done before, leaving behind an unsettling itch that settled between her legs. Deep. She was going to kill her leopard.

  Stop, you little hussy. You don' want him takin' an interest in us.

  Again there was that impression of amusement before Bebe settled completely.

  Evangeline had been born into a family of shifters. Her brothers had leopards. Her father and uncle did. It stood to reason she might as well. Saria had talked to her about the feeling when a leopard began to surface. She knew she was one. She'd always known. Her female, Bebe, was as much a part of her as her own skin. As breathing. She had hidden the fact that she had a leopard from her friends, from her family. They would insist she return to the lair and she was never going back there.

  "Evangeline?"

  Her name rolled off Alonzo's tongue with that accent that sent another shiver of awareness down her spine. Heat curled but Bebe stayed still. Hidden. She breathed a sigh of relief and looked up at him.

  "Did he get you anywhere else?"

  She shook her head and again wished she hadn't moved so fast. Her cheek pounded and her eye hurt. Oh no. That was swelling too. Of course--she just had to look the absolute worst when he came in.

  He glanced at his watch, took the ice pack from her, threw it into the sink and tipped her head back, using one finger under her chin. "You're going to bruise, bad enough that makeup won't hide it, but you can make up some story for your customers. I noticed there are a lot of men. They'll believe anything you have to say."

  Her gaze jumped to his face. His voice was exactly the same. His face could have been carved from the glacier in his eyes. Remote. Uncaring. Dead. With all that, she felt like there was just a little bite in his remark, as if maybe the thought of those male customers didn't sit well with him.

  He looked at her for a long time, wholly focused on her, his gaze drifting over her body and then moving back up to her face. He nodded and turned away from her. Instinctively she knew that was the most she was going to get out of him. He bought three dozen of her cinnamon-apple cookies and didn't stay to drink coffee. Another car, this one also a town car, but with red trim through the black, was waiting at the curb for him.

  He came back on his usual days, Monday, Wednesday and Friday, sat in his seat with his back to the wall and drank his coffee and ate his baked goods. They had progressed to smiles and greeting him by name on her part and a nod with one single word, "Evangeline," on his. She looked forward to him coming in. She tried to give him his cinnamon-apple cake free, but he merely looked at her and pushed money across the counter at her. At least he said her name. That was progress, even if it took six months for him to do it.

  Several customers, male, noticed him, but left him strictly alone. When he wasn't there, they came back and warned her that he was dangerous. She shrugged and said he was a good customer and never caused any problems.

  One of the many times her Iceman sat at the table drinking his coffee, he suddenly looked up, his gaze going straight to the walkway outside her shop. Evangeline followed his gaze and immediately stiffened. This could be bad. Quickly, she reached inside her cash register and grabbed the envelope stuffed there and hurried toward the front door. Alonzo was there before her. One arm circled her waist and he gently but very firmly put her behind him as he opened the door for the two men coming in. Only he blocked the entrance, preventing them from coming inside.

  "Alonzo." One of the men smiled hesitantly at him. "We're here on business."

  Alonzo shook his head. Evangeline curled her fingers into the back of his suit jacket and held on, her heart pounding. If she didn't pay these men off, like everyone on the street did, she would find herself without a shop. They'd come in when she was renovating and explained they would never take more than necessary to keep her shop safe. She knew that meant pay up or they'd burn her out or something equally as horrible. She'd talked with other shop owners and all of them paid protection money. She figured the price into her monthly budget.

  "They have guns," she whispered against his back. "I've got their money."

  "The boss won't like this," one said, but he took a step back.

  "You let me worry about that. This shop is mine to take care of. He has a problem with that, I'll settle it myself."

  She was fairly certain he was talking about the mafia. Was he involved? The men shaking her down knew him by name, but they appeared to be afraid of him. She didn't want him in trouble with a mafia boss.

  "I've got the money," she reiterated, trying to reach around him to hand the envelope to the two men.

  Both men nearly fell backward, stumbling away from her hand. Her Iceman caught her wrist with a gentleness that shocked her and brought her hand down to his thigh. Alonzo didn't look at her, but continued staring at the two men who turned and walked very briskly away.

  "If I don' pay, they'll ruin my business," she said, taking a step around him toward the door.

  "They won't." He tugged on her hand and led her back to the counter. "In the six months I've been coming here, your
male customers have quadrupled and they hit on you continually. You never date. Why?"

  It was the last thing Evangeline expected him to ask. She still clutched the envelope in her hand, holding it tight against his rock-hard thigh. "Why do you ask?"

  "A woman like you has no business being alone."

  "Like me?" She echoed it, trying to figure out where he was going with his questions and that statement that she found alternatingly annoying and alarming. Did he know she was leopard? Just what did "like you" mean?

  Subtly she twisted her hand, expecting him to release her. She couldn't keep her palm pressed against the heat of his thigh with his muscles moving deliciously beneath it and not react. Heat spread through her like molten lava, a slow fire building in her veins and pooling low.

  He didn't release her hand. He didn't even seem to notice her small movement of retreat, but she knew he had. He noticed everything. His gaze remained on her face. All ice. So cold she thought she might freeze. There was no hint of his leopard. There never was. She could almost forget he was a shifter, but she could never forget the danger that clung to him like a second skin.

  "Yes, Evangeline, like you. I've never seen a more beautiful woman in my life. This isn't a bad part of town, but it's near enough. You come here at three in the morning and work alone until you close. You need a man."

  He wasn't volunteering, that was for certain. But he'd said she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. That was something. Of course he'd said it in his cold, devoid-of-all-feeling voice, but he had at least thought it to say it. Again, even though there was no emotion in his voice, she still felt that little bite, as if he were annoyed beyond all endurance that she was single.

  She lifted her chin at him. "Some women prefer to be single."

  He was silent, studying her face. Slowly he shook his head. "Some women shouldn't ever be single." He let go of her hand. "They won't come back. They know they will answer to me if they do."

  She dared to lay her hand on his arm as he turned away from her. "Alonzo, I don' mind payin' the money. I don' want you to get in trouble with anyone. Those men made it sound like someone was goin' to be upset with you for interferin'. I'd rather pay the money than have you get into trouble."