Leopard's Fury

by Christine Feehan

  He halted and looked down at her hand. Her fingers didn't even curl halfway around his forearm. As a deterrent her hand seemed rather absurd to try to stop him. Still, he remained there, towering over her. "Don't worry about me, Evangeline."

  "I think when you said if there was a problem, you'd take care of it yourself, you meant you'd pay the money. I'm not going to let you do that."

  He removed her hand very gently and stepped away, toward the door. "You don't really have a choice one way or the other." He walked out like he always did--without looking back.

  Evangeline waited for him for the next two weeks. She had the envelope filled with cash waiting for him or for the two men who came to collect each week. Neither showed up and that worried her. Had something happened to him because he'd stood up for her? There was no way to get in touch with him. She didn't know his last name or where he worked.

  The other customers, the ones in their suits that she was certain Alonzo had sent, suddenly stopped coming in as well. She'd heard on the news that Antonio Arnotto, famous for his wines, had been murdered. It was rumored he was actually a crime boss, and his territory was wide open for takeover. Speculation of a war began with various faces being flashed on the television screen. She watched carefully, but none of those faces belonged to Alonzo.

  Another week went by and still he didn't come. She was fairly certain he wouldn't now, and she went over every single thing she'd said and done. She'd touched him. She knew better. He was a man alone. He was frozen. Dead inside. Without emotion--and she'd crossed a line.

  She wasn't able to sleep very well, dreaming he'd been shot and killed. Beaten and stabbed. Buried alive in cement. She was afraid to close her eyes. The shop was thriving, but it didn't seem the same, not without him in it. She kept the news playing at home and work. On week five, she saw a picture of him on the television. He was standing beside another known crime boss, Elijah Lospostos, and his wife, Siena. Siena was the granddaughter of Antonio Arnotto. Alonzo Massi had been a soldier for her grandfather and was now her soldier. The news anchor asked if Alonzo Massi was the new crime boss rising out of the ranks to become the newest don, taking over Arnotto territory.

  At least she knew he was alive. Still, she knew he wouldn't be coming back. And Siena Arnotto Lospostos was gorgeous. She couldn't hope to hold a candle to her, whether or not her Iceman had declared Evangeline the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Siena might be married, but how could Alonzo possibly think Evangeline was beautiful next to Siena? Was he taking care of Siena? Her soldier. What did that mean? That he wasn't coming back. That was what it meant.

  2

  "NOT a good idea, Fyodor. This is the kind of thing that will get you killed."

  Fyodor Amurov stopped abruptly on the sidewalk in front of the bakery, his long coat swirling around his ankles. Glaring at his brother, he shook his head. "Never use that name. I am Italian. I was born Italian. My name is Alonzo Massi. You have to remember that at all times, Timur. It was foolish of you to keep your name." His gaze swept the other man flanking him. "Both of you should have known better."

  "I'm tired of hiding, Alonzo." Timur emphasized the name, disgust in his tone. "But I'm not the point. We take great care with your route, never going the same way twice. We change vehicles. We watch over you and yet you insist on coming back to this place. The other men said you used to come here all the time. I'm beginning to think your sweet tooth has nothing to do with the goods in the cases and more to do with the goods behind the counter."

  Alonzo didn't smile. He rarely, if ever, smiled. His gaze was restless, scanning the streets, the sidewalks, and most of all, looking through the plate-glass windows of the Small Sweet Shoppe. She was there, just as she always was. Working. Beautiful. Breathtaking. He shouldn't be there. He was the last man that should ever go into that bakery and put his gaze on that woman, but he couldn't stop himself. Timur was right. She was his Achilles' heel.

  He sighed and put his hand to the door, shoving it open because he couldn't stop himself. He was a disciplined man in every area of his life, he had to be, yet for eight months he'd come to the bakery at least three times a week. That was him being disciplined. He'd wanted to go every damn day. He'd stayed away over a month, nearly two. He could count the weeks, days, hours and minutes since he'd last seen her.

  "Bad idea, boss," Timur muttered. He was deadly serious and when he pushed past Alonzo to take a sweep of the small interior, his body in front of his brother's, he scowled at the woman behind the counter--the one who eventually was going to be the death of his brother if Fyodor kept this madness up.

  Alonzo paused inside the door, taking a moment to drink her in. Savor her. Just for that moment before she looked up. He found he was holding his breath. A part of him almost wished she had a man. That she wouldn't look up, see him and smile that innocent, shy smile that told him she was interested in a monster. On the other hand, if she didn't smile at him that way, he'd be crushed. Shattered. It had been so damned long since he'd laid eyes on her, and he couldn't take it one more minute. More, if she was smiling that way for another man, he might commit murder and it would have nothing to do with his leopard.

  Her name was Evangeline Bouvier. She was small and curvy with beautiful breasts that called to him. Her hair was a thick, dark silky mass that cascaded over her shoulders nearly to her waist. She wore it pulled back from her face in a thick, intricate braid that always made him want to run his hand down it to the very end, where it rested in the sweet curve of her ass. And she had a very nice ass. He spent far too much time thinking about it, just as he did every single part of her.

  Evangeline glanced up, and instantly it was there. That smile she reserved solely for him. He'd seen countless customers come in over the last few months. She always smiled at them, but not like that. That smile was reserved for him alone and that told him she didn't have a man. No one had come in and tried to steal her out from under him.

  She had a fantasy mouth--one he'd dreamt of many times. He'd woken up every one of those times with his fist on his cock and the dream of her mouth tight around him. Her eyes were a true emerald, startling green, rich and warm, and he wanted her looking up at him when he fucked her mouth. He always dreamt of her that way. If she had any idea of the dirty things he wanted to do to her, she'd order him out and lock the door behind him. Yeah, and if any other man ever had the same thoughts about her and he knew it, that man would be dead within the hour.

  "Alonzo, I haven't seen you in a while."

  Even her voice got to him. Low. Sexy. So damned sweet he wanted to take a bite out of her. He stepped up to the counter. Behind him, Timur prowled to the restroom, yanked open the door and looked inside and then moved back to the storefront windows to peer out. Alonzo thought about pulling out a gun and shooting him. He didn't need Timur acting like his bodyguard, even though that was what he was.

  Gorya was worse. His cousin was a ladies' man. Handsome. Charming. He had that lean, lithe build women seemed to go for. He was everything Alonzo wasn't. Alonzo was all corded muscle. Ropes of it. Rugged. He always looked like he had a two-day growth on his jaw, no matter how many times he shaved. He was tall, towering over Evangeline and probably intimidating the hell out of her. If he didn't, he should. He had scars on his face and neck. More on his body. He didn't smile, nor did he know how to make clever conversation. He was rough-looking by any standard, and next to his cousin, he would come up short every time.

  Evangeline's gaze left his face and moved to Gorya's. She flashed a smile at him and for a moment Alonzo stiffened, his fingers curling into a tight fist inside his thin leather gloves. He had the fists of a fighter and he'd never lost a fight yet. He hoped like hell Gorya remembered that fact. He hoped he was aware of just what the tattoos covering his body meant as well.

  He realized she had given his cousin her low-watt smile. Polite. Sweet, but impersonal. She still reserved the real one for him. His gut, tied up in knots, relaxed a little.

  "Good m
orning. Can I get something for you?" That was directed at Gorya.

  Her voice stroked caresses over Alonzo's skin. Men like Alonzo didn't have a woman of their own. Not ever. It was far too dangerous. He didn't live in Evangeline's world. He stayed in the underbelly, where it was dark and ugly and everyone existing there was dark and ugly as well. He knew the business inside and out, smuggling, gunrunning, prostitutes, gambling, money laundering, the list went on and on. He knew them all. He'd been born into that ugly world--on the other side of the world in Russia, but still the same everywhere. He'd never left it. Never gotten out of it. Not even when he'd come to the States.

  Gorya winked at Evangeline. "I had no idea the women were so beautiful in this city or I would have come sooner."

  "Gorya." It was a warning. No one could mistake it for anything else. Alonzo wasn't about to have his cousin flirt with his woman. Okay. She wasn't his. Not yet. She never would be, because along with taking over the Arnotto territory when Antonio Arnotto had been murdered, Alonzo was a shifter with the worst leopard imaginable.

  His leopard, an Amur leopard, was a killer. Vicious. Cunning. Fast as hell. Ready to fight at the drop of a hat. Prodding, raking and clawing Alonzo every moment of every day. The cat hated everyone equally. Women were in danger. Alonzo could fuck them but then he had to get them the hell out of his sight because his leopard was so savage after, he was never certain he could control the beast. There were no cozy dates and romantic interludes. He'd never had that. The only place his cat subsided and gave him a respite was here, in this bakery. Even at night, when he slept, his cat wanted to hunt and often challenged him. He'd had to put up metal bars on the windows and steel plating on the doors to ensure his cat remained indoors while he slept. What man could ask a woman to share that kind of life?

  Evangeline was a woman a man kept. He wanted her in his bed. He wanted to wake up to her, go to sleep with her. Have those fucking romantic dates with her. He didn't realize he was scowling at Gorya until his cousin moved nervously away from the counter.

  "I'll have a cup of coffee and one of your famous cinnamon cakes Alonzo is always going on about," Gorya said as he backed away. He glanced at Timur, who was talking into his cell phone, still staring out the window. No help there.

  Satisfied, Alonzo watched patiently as Evangeline got the coffee and cake for Gorya. Alonzo enjoyed watching her work. She was very efficient, her movements mesmerizing. He'd spent countless hours watching her, just enjoying the way her breasts swayed temptingly and her hips had a sexy little swing to them. He had memorized her body and knew he would know her blindfolded, and he hadn't even touched her yet.

  Her gaze jumped to his and she blushed. That was the other thing he loved about her. She didn't look at other men. Only him. He knew better. It wasn't safe. She would never have the things she deserved if she was with him. Things like neighbors who came over to borrow sugar and leaned over a fence to talk. She would never be able to be alone in her bakery. Hell, if she would even have her bakery, and he could tell it meant the world to her. He didn't look away, holding her gaze deliberately. He should have looked away, made it clear it was never going to happen between them. He was the last man on earth she should ever be with, but it didn't matter how many times, how many ways, he told himself that, he kept coming back.

  "I missed you, Alonzo." She whispered her confession for him alone.

  He knew his brother and cousin would hear. They were leopard. Of course they'd hear, and he hated that too. That should have been for him alone. Intimate. Just between the two of them. Deep inside, his leopard snarled, catching his mood, and he realized the beast didn't like the other males close to Evangeline any more than he did.

  She might have said such a thing to any customer returning after a lengthy disappearance, but he was not just any customer and they both knew it. His body stirred in spite of every effort not to allow it. Worse, she got to him somewhere deeper. He'd lost everything. His family. His home. His self-respect. Everything important. He'd lost so much he'd placed himself in an untenable position, setting himself up as a target for police and criminals alike.

  He knew better. He knew better than to risk her. An innocent. Sweet. Beautiful. He nearly groaned with his need of her, but someone had to protect her. She'd be a weakness his enemies could exploit. He wasn't a gentle man. He was a killer, born and bred. Worse, he had a leopard . . .

  "You shouldn't." His warning dripped with ice. He wasn't strong enough to stay away from her, but he could make it so she wouldn't want to have anything to do with him.

  Evangeline didn't flinch. She nodded, her gaze never wavering from his. "I know."

  She did know. He saw knowledge in her eyes. Of who he was. What he was. And now it was worse. Back home, he'd been a ruthless enforcer. Here, when he'd first met her, he'd become a bodyguard, a soldier, nothing else. Now, he was the boss. A target. A man who was forced to make ugly decisions.

  "And still you missed me."

  "Yes. Coffee? Cinnamon-apple cookies?"

  He should turn his back on her, walk right out, but he wasn't that strong. He almost did. He turned away from her, looking toward the door, wishing he were a better man. When he turned, his fierce cat leapt toward the surface, raking and clawing in protest. Everything in him stilled. He turned slowly back toward Evangeline and his cat settled instantly. Nearly purred. Stretched leisurely.

  "Coffee and a piece of the cinnamon cake."

  He had always known his cat calmed when he went to the bakery, but he hadn't realized his leopard was as enamored with Evangeline as he was. His leopard had settled down in the bakery, but his reaction wasn't just about the place, the scent of baked goods, the peaceful atmosphere; this was about the woman. He studied her carefully as she poured his coffee and arranged the cake on the plate.

  What did he really know about her? Deliberately, he hadn't investigated her. He didn't want to know more than he already did about her. She worked hard. She loved what she did and it showed. Her bakery was immaculate, the baked goods superb. She was beautiful, far beyond his imagination. He liked the way she dealt with problem customers. He'd seen her hang on to her smile when a customer had raged at her about something minor. She easily defused the situation, speaking in her warm, low tone. He loved her voice. She always spoke softly, giving him the impression of an intimacy they didn't have.

  He couldn't deny the connection between them. He took the coffee from her in the way he always did, one gloved finger brushing along the back of her hand. He didn't dare allow himself the pleasure of skin to skin. He took the plate as well and went to his table to contemplate the situation.

  He hadn't been able to be with a woman without that woman being in extreme danger. Not once. Not ever. His leopard's fierce, killing nature had gotten so bad he hadn't bothered to try in a very long time. Controlling his cat was difficult enough on a day-to-day basis, without tempting the beast. His leopard raged at him, and he'd seen the result of his kind of animal and never wanted to witness it again. He stayed disciplined. He didn't tempt fate.

  He glanced at her. She wasn't looking at him, but he'd already seen the hurt in her eyes. She'd tried to mask it, but it had been there. He'd done that. Acting as if she didn't matter when she did. Acting cold because that was the only way to save both of them. He had been secretly happy that she'd left his table in place, as if waiting for him. She'd admitted she'd missed him.

  But . . . He risked another glance at her. If she soothed his leopard and the hideous man who had confronted her months earlier had been leopard--could she be one? He needed to find out.

  Gorya seated himself across the room where he could easily defend both men if trouble came in, but Timur dragged a chair to the left side of the table so he could scowl at Evangeline. "She's gorgeous. What the hell's wrong with the men around here?"

  Alonzo's gut knotted and his leopard roared, leaping to the surface so fast he could barely contain the beast. His knuckles ached. His skull felt too tight. The itch of fu
r rushed over his body beneath his immaculate suit. "Vai a fan culo," he swore, remembering at the last minute to use Italian and not Russian.

  Timur leaned back in his chair. "Oh, yeah. You aren't going to walk away from her. You're well and truly caught and you'd better get to a point where you acknowledge it, before something bad happens." The taunting smile faded and Timur leaned close. "She's beautiful, Alonzo." He clearly hated calling his brother by that name. "Some man is going to come in eventually or follow her home or steal her away from you . . ."

  "Get the fuck away from me before something bad happens right here," Alonzo snapped, meaning it. "You know what I have to put up with day and night. Why the hell are you making it more difficult? I can barely contain him and the more you stir him up, the worse it gets."

  Genuine shock crossed Timur's face. "Your leopard is reacting to what I'm saying? About . . ." He turned his head and looked at Evangeline as she served two women who had come in. "Her?"

  Alonzo nodded. "This is the only place he's quiet. He's gotten crazy lately. I let him out every night and run him until we're both exhausted, but it doesn't seem to get any better. I figured, sooner or later, I was going to have to . . ." He trailed off, shaking his head. He would rather be dead than to fulfill the legacy of his father.

  "You're certain it's her? She soothes him?"

  "It's Evangeline. She does the same thing for me. She's quiet. Calm. Watch how she is with everyone, it's genuine, that peace she has. She knows who she is and what she wants. She doesn't get ruffled over anything. I've seen her handle difficult customers. They end up smiling and go away happy. She's just peaceful to be around and for someone like me, someone living in hell, that's a gift."

  Timur got up, shoving his chair back, and stalked over to the counter without a word. He stood waiting for his turn, his entire focus on the woman behind the counter. Alonzo didn't like it, but not only was Timur his brother, he was his bodyguard. Anything unusual in Alonzo's world had to be checked out. He understood that, but he didn't have to like it.