"Bottom line, Doctor." He still felt as though he couldn't breathe. The doctor was giving him the best scenario possible. She'd been hit by or nicked by three bullets and she was alive with no permanent major damage thanks to Mitya, but he couldn't make his mind believe.
"Rest. More rest. She'll need care. I don't know if you can arrange that . . ."
"Of course. When she's released, she will come home with me. I can hire nurses if she needs them, otherwise I can see to whatever she needs. When can I see her?"
"They've taken her to recovery . . ."
"Then that's where I need to be."
She shook her head. "She won't be out from under the . . ."
"That's where I need to be." He pinned her with his ice-cold gaze. Deliberately letting her see the killer in him. See the vicious leopard he lived with. The one tamed by his woman, but now restless and moody.
"I'm leopard," she said softly, "and not intimidated easily."
He continued to stare silently. She was intimidated whether she wanted to admit it or not. He knew because he'd been intimidating people since before he was in his teens and he could read them easily. She was uneasy in his presence. He didn't blame her. Most people were. Even leopards.
She sighed. "I'll take you to her."
"I need information on Mitya as well. He was brought in at the same time." He could be nice now that he was getting his way.
"He's much, much worse, but he has the finest surgeon I've ever known. He's one of us and his skills are without rival. If it's possible to save your friend, he'll save him." She stood up. "Follow me."
Timur fell into step behind Alonzo. She turned, annoyed. "I'm already breaking the rules for one, definitely not two."
Timur didn't protest, nor did he break stride. He just followed Alonzo, ignoring all commands. Alonzo was fairly certain he wouldn't respond to Alonzo ordering him to stay in the waiting room either. Timur believed in taking security seriously. Now that someone had put out a hit on his brother, Timur wasn't taking any chances.
"I want to know the moment Mitya is out of surgery and I can talk to the doctor," Alonzo addressed Gorya. "Make certain the doctor doesn't leave without talking to me."
"You got it."
The doctor pulled open the door to the recovery room. Alonzo could see Evangeline lying very still beneath a thin sheet. She looked pale, her long lashes lying on her white skin like two dark crescents. Her dark hair was pulled back and braided, but like he had come to expect, wild tendrils had escaped and fell around her face and across the pillow.
Machines measured her heartbeat and blood pressure. There was a bandage high on her temple on her left side, one wrapped around her arm, and her left leg had a thick bandage covering the wound. IVs dripped into her arm and a male nurse stood by her bed, bent over her, a needle in one hand and the IV line in the other.
"What are you doing?" the doctor demanded, her voice total authority.
Alonzo shoved the woman out of the way and Timur shouldered him aside simultaneously. The nurse spun and fired his gun rapidly, first at them and then turned it on Evangeline. Alonzo went down on top of the doctor, his body covering hers, his gun out. He shot the nurse four times, each bullet precise, hitting him in the right eye, the throat, the heart and the middle of his forehead. Timur also fired, hitting the man as he went down. Gorya faced the hallway, looking for an accomplice.
"You all right?" Alonzo asked grimly, rolling smoothly to his feet and dragging the doctor up with him. At her nod, he indicated Evangeline. "Check her. Make certain he didn't inject her or the line with anything."
The sound of running footsteps heralded the arrival of security guards and the undercover policemen. Crispin Phillips was in the lead, his gun out, his gaze on Alonzo and the doctor checking Evangeline. Brice was behind him. Reeve Hawkins flanked him, his weapon drawn as well. All three undercover cops wore their badges around their necks in plain sight.
Timur spun, a smooth, fluid move that put him between the police and Alonzo. Crispin and one of the security guards seemed to collide, both tripped on the raised curved tile just outside the door. Both weapons went off.
One bullet hit the side of Evangeline's hospital bed, the other buried itself in the mattress perilously close to her body. Sevastyan and Gorya were on them in seconds, stripping the weapons from their hands and sending them skittering across the floor.
"What the hell are you doing?" Hawkins demanded of his partner.
Crispin shoved the guard. "You did that deliberately. You grabbed my gun."
"I didn't," the guard shouted back.
Brice shoved both of them to the side and dropped down beside the body to check for a pulse. It seemed silly, given the bullet holes in him, but it was ingrained in the man and he did it automatically.
"I want more guards on Mitya," Alonzo snapped. "Get it done." His gaze moved over Crispin and the guard and then went to Timur's face in a silent command. One or all of the cops were involved in the conspiracy to kill Alonzo. They'd put Evangeline in the line of fire twice now. He was done playing nice. He was done abiding by Elijah and Drake's rules. He wasn't waiting for them to figure out who was behind the hit, he was going to fall back on his training--and he had a lot of training.
Timur handed his weapon over to Brice, as did Alonzo. Neither said a word. That was what attorneys were for. The doctor gave her rendition of what had happened while she bent protectively over Evangeline and checked her carefully. She spoke calmly and concisely, an eyewitness, clearing both Timur and Alonzo of anything but self-defense and saving Evangeline.
"He wasn't able to get the shot into the IV. We walked in on him just in time," she pronounced. She pointed to the syringe on the floor.
Brice was careful when he picked it up, marking where it lay before lifting it to his nose. He jerked it away from his face fast. "Smells like almonds." He looked from Alonzo to the body on the floor. "That's twice now you've nearly gotten her killed."
Alonzo pinned him with a cold stare. "You want to tell me why the police response was so slow getting to the bakery? The helicopter got there before the cops did. You have that place on your radar. The minute shots were fired the police should have been all over it."
Brice opened his mouth, closed it and shook his head.
"I'm having my patient moved," the doctor declared. "And I want tight security around her at all times."
"I'll provide the security for her," Alonzo said. "She's my fiancee. My responsibility. I don't trust anyone at this point." Deliberately he swept his cold gaze to include the guard involved in the collision with Crispin.
Crispin flushed. "What the hell are you implying?"
"Crispin." Brice's tone was warning. Every time a police officer fired a weapon, there was a review. No doubt because this shooting involved suspected mobsters, it would require an extensive internal investigation. Brice was warning his fellow cop not to say a word.
That was fine by Alonzo. He didn't want to hear a word. He'd let Jake probe away to try to find money in Crispin Phillips's account or the security guard's, but it didn't matter what he found. There were other ways of getting at the truth fast. Alonzo wanted fast. He wanted the threat shut down so he could ensure that Evangeline was safe to go back to her beloved bakery.
He waited with Evangeline for the forensic team, refusing to leave her. Strangely, Brice didn't make it mandatory to go to the police station for questioning. Jake's lawyer showed up. Vince Petron was considered to be one of the top attorneys in Texas.
First Timur spent time alone with their attorney, telling him what happened, and then Alonzo did. All the while Alonzo was aware of time passing and Mitya still in surgery. Hours passed. Hours. With no word. When he left Evangeline to go into a private room with his attorney, Elijah and Drake took over her security.
Both men were grim faced and all business. They deployed teams around her and around the operating room where Doc worked on Mitya. All security personnel were leopard. No one was taking chance
s. This had been an aggressive hit. That meant money, big money, had exchanged hands. It also meant the contract called for the hit to be carried out until it was done. Alonzo understood that. He was familiar with that world and he knew exactly what to expect. He knew what the police would do and what they would find. He knew that if he didn't take action immediately, sooner or later gunmen would get to him, Evangeline, his brother, his cousins or one of his men. To him, that was unacceptable.
He lived in a hard, brutal world. He understood what Drake and Elijah were trying to do. He understood Jake Bannaconni's part in it. They all balanced precariously on the edge of a sword. He was a sword. He'd been shaped into a sword from nearly the moment he could walk. He'd tried to fit in. He'd tried to become what they needed, but no one, no one, threatened the life of his woman, put his brother and cousins in jeopardy, and walked around free.
He let the cops question him. He stated what happened clearly and concisely, just as the doctor had. Just as he was certain Timur had. Then he fell silent and let his attorney earn his money. He thought about Evangeline and what he had to offer her. Blood. Death. A life of suspicion. A life of danger. Everyone would look down on her--other than the women of the men in his immediate circle.
He supposed her bakery would become even more popular. People would go because they would want to catch a glimpse of a suspected mobster. That was simply human nature. His activities would be good for her business, but it would also mean increased security, which would make her even more upset than she already was with what they'd done.
She hadn't liked the cameras, not in her shop and certainly not in her home. They were necessary for her safety. When they had children, their children would need bodyguards and cameras. He doubted if she'd like that either. He pushed both hands through his hair in agitation.
She is strong. She tried to save your life. Again, for the second time since he'd been a young child, his leopard reached out to reassure him.
Alonzo had forgotten that feeling of comfort. Of camaraderie when he had no one else. What had made his leopard settle so much, even when his woman was sleeping off the anesthesia? With everything that had happened, normally he would have been snarling and snapping, raging to be free to wreak vengeance on anyone near.
I think just knowing you have a mate has mellowed you.
There was a silence. Your woman is calm. Inside. She is calm. Always.
What did that mean? Alonzo didn't care as long as it meant his leopard was easier to live with. Right now, he needed a little respite to think. To plan. He was bringing Evangeline to the Arnotto estate to recuperate. He could take care of her there, and the security was tighter. He wouldn't have much time to find out who had ordered the hit. The moment she felt better, she would want to go back to work. He had to have taken care of the problem by that time.
He was allowed to go into her room and sit beside her bed. A nurse was with her at all times and that nurse was also leopard, part of the surgical team Jake had brought in. Drake prowled the corridors, a roving guard, while Elijah's men stayed in the hallway outside of her room. Timur and Gorya were just inside the double doors.
No one spoke. They didn't want to be overheard, or caught on camera. Alonzo knew Timur, Gorya and Sevastyan would know what was uppermost in his mind. Another hour went by. Mitya had been in surgery for eight hours. At least he wasn't dead. Jake had told Alonzo that Doc was the best. Evangeline's surgeon had reiterated that fact. He glanced at his watch. Evangeline was showing signs of waking. Twice she'd lifted her long lashes and turned her head toward him. Both times he saw her leopard staring at him and then she closed her eyes again.
Relief swept through him. At least the female leopard was alive and well. That would help to keep his male mellow. He'd never thought that he'd ever use the word mellow in the same breath with his leopard.
Evangeline made a soft sound, somewhere between a moan and a groan. He stared coldly at the nurse. "Is she in pain?"
The nurse shook her head. "We're giving her morphine. She's just coming out from under the anesthesia, that's all. Sometimes they talk."
Alonzo knew she wouldn't talk. She was too quiet. Too private. That spoke of long training, of a way of life. She would remain silent, and if she couldn't, her leopard would aid her in doing so. He was fine with that. He wanted Evangeline to choose to share her past with him when she was alert and focused solely on him.
He knew some facts about her, but very little. He knew which lair she was from. That she had a father and a brother. An uncle and a cousin who acted more like a brother than a cousin. Her brother was more like a distant cousin than a brother. She hadn't been raised with any of them. He had no idea where she'd been raised or with whom.
He knew her best friend was Drake Donovan's wife, but she rarely reached out to her, even when Saria texted. He knew Pauline Lafont Jeanmard had taught her to cook and bake. She stayed in contact with one other woman, although very, very rarely. That was a woman by the name of Charisse Mercier. Charisse was at the helm of a perfume empire. Very wealthy. Her perfumes were expensive and sought after. Otherwise, his woman kept strictly to herself. He was looking forward to learning about her past. What shaped her. What drove her. He wanted to know every single thing about her.
Alonzo tucked her hand under his chin, holding her to him, watching her face. Drinking her in. She was awake behind those eyelids, her brain working, assessing, her leopard feeding her information. The next time she opened her eyes, she looked right into his.
"Hello, malyutka," he whispered. "You're back with us."
She moistened her lips and nodded. "Mitya?"
"Not out of surgery. At this point, I think not hearing anything is a good sign. He's still alive."
11
EVANGELINE wandered through the huge house for the first time. She limped, so she wasn't graceful, but at least she was up, on her feet. Mitya had been in surgery twelve hours, but he had lived through the terrible wounds he'd sustained. After hearing Alonzo and his bodyguards talking in hushed tones, she knew his surgeon had all but performed a miracle. He wouldn't be up and walking for some time, so she counted herself very lucky.
This was her first time exploring the entire house. It was very large. The kitchen was bigger than her living room and dining room combined. It was beautiful, no doubt about it, but the sheer size of it made her feel exposed. More, it didn't look or feel lived in. She saw no real signs of Alonzo anywhere. Each room looked pristine, as if it was staged and kept that way.
She loved the kitchen. It had everything she could possibly want. Counter space, wide, with two convection ovens. The stove was a commercial one, as was the refrigerator. Both the bake and cookware were top of the line. A bank of windows let in the sun and gave her a view of the landscaping and trees in the distance. The vineyards started to the north and a lush grove of trees was to her west.
She wandered through the enormous great room. It had a fireplace, and beautiful furniture that looked brand new, as if no one had ever sat on it. It was comfortable furniture so it didn't make sense that this room was never used. She could imagine children laughing and running around, up and down the staircase that wound around the room and up in a curved circle to the next floor.
The sitting room was her favorite room. The floors were hardwood, a pattern ingrained deep into the polished, gleaming wood. It looked like a starburst, the darker wood glowing against the lighter strips. Another fireplace made the room seem cozy. The walls were immaculate, as if freshly painted, and again, the furniture looked comfortable but brand new.
The bedrooms upstairs were large and inviting. Walk-in closets. Soft, warm carpets. All immaculate. All without use. Each bathroom in the house was the same way, large and pristine. Clearly Alonzo had someone come in to clean because there was no evidence of dust anywhere. The house felt as if it were frozen, cold and sad, waiting for someone to come along and love it. Live in it. Laugh and bring it to life.
She remembered Alonzo folding his clothe
s carefully and placing his shoes. He would want his house perfect. He would need it that way. She had the urge to bring warmth to this cold, cold place. She found it sad that Alonzo lived in such a place. He needed beauty in his life. Laughter. Warmth. He needed the same things this house did, to come alive and live.
She continued her exploring. There was a huge gym. It had everything from workout equipment to boxing and martial art gear. There was a shooting range. Both looked as if they had frequent use. She kept looking. The master bedroom was enormous, but Alonzo didn't sleep there. No one did. That was obvious and sad to her.
Her leg throbbed and burned, reminding her that the doctor told her to take it easy. She rubbed her thigh and kept exploring, needing to find Alonzo's secret lair. He lived in this house, or at least existed here, but there was no trace of him. Was that how he lived? She found a small apartment off the sunny verandah. It was attached to the house, but not really a part of it. She knew immediately it was created for someone working on the estate.
The moment she stepped inside, his scent enveloped her. This was where Alonzo lived. She took two steps inside and then stopped abruptly, her heart accelerating. There were steel bars on the inside of every window. A plate of steel covered the door to the apartment and every single door inside.
"Oh. My. God." She whispered the words aloud, her hand going defensively to her throat. This was a prison. Not to keep out his enemies, but to keep him inside.
She found herself moving into the center of the room, holding her breath. He had a sound system, and it was an expensive one. Wide leather chairs. Everything in the small apartment was top quality and it was neat. Lived in, but neat. Still. She was forced to take a breath before she passed out.
The heavy metal bars made the apartment look like a prison. The steel on the doors was just plain scary. She could see the deep scratches and knew the leopard had tried to get out, time and time again.
Leopard's Fury Page 18
