“If you have to spend any time at the club,” Matvei added, “you have your locker there. You can get dressed, wander around and let the cameras pick you up. The fucking cops aren’t going to know what you do or don’t do there.”
That wasn’t a bad idea either. He’d have that for an alibi when Matherson and his bodyguards disappeared and people started asking questions. The cops always came to the Amurovs. Knowing Matherson had been stalking Flambé, they would question Sevastyan straightaway.
The club parking lot was full, not a bad thing at all. That meant more witnesses to him being there. The three quickly made their way through the dark streets, avoiding any street lights. They jogged through the empty park and cut through a lot that took them to the upscale neighborhood where Matherson leased his estate. It was a two-story contemporary home on one acre behind a tall wrought-iron fence. With a custom pool and multilevel decks, it was a dream home for people and would have been nice for leopards with the landscaping, but Sevastyan doubted if Matherson allowed his men the use of the amenities the place provided—the game room and spa.
He had the blueprints of the house and had memorized the layout of the yard. As they approached the fence, they stripped, rolled their clothes and placed them in the small bags they could sling around their leopards’ necks when traveling. In this case, they stashed them. Shifting, they easily leapt over the fence and landed in the yard. All three let the leopards take a few minutes to inhale, to prowl around in silence to get a feel for the shifters guarding Matherson.
Scents were everywhere, heavy on the ground, in the trees and shrubs. Male leopards had sprayed and raked, claiming territory. Tracks were in the dirt, but there was no sign of anyone, human or leopard. The three split up, Matvei jumping up on the deck to walk around the outside of the house and then up on the roof to look for sentries while Kirill and Sevastyan made their way around to look for a way inside.
Doors were locked, but one window was open about half an inch. It appeared to be stuck and Matherson’s men were too lazy to bother with it, or it was a trap. Kirill carefully worked at it until he got it to move. Cautiously his leopard stuck his head in and looked around. He sniffed the air and jerked his head out again, shifting head and shoulders. Sevastyan did the same.
“Something’s dead inside,” Kirill warned. “Someone,” he corrected. “You’re going to need that alibi.”
“Let’s see what we’re facing.” Sevastyan hoped whoever they found was Matherson, but he knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. Men like Matherson seemed to have the devil guarding them.
Kirill pushed his way inside, Sevastyan right behind him. The house had been abandoned hastily. There were three bodies, two women and one man, all human. All three had been killed by a bullet to the head. None wore clothing. It looked as if there had been a huge party thrown, with wine, champagne and various sorts of liquor bottles strewn everywhere along with glasses and broken bowls of chips. To Sevastyan, the room looked staged.
“We can’t stay here, Sevastyan. You have to get to that club fast and make an appearance. The timing has to be right,” Kirill said. “Matherson is missing and could be presumed dead if they don’t suspect him for this. For some reason, he always seems to get a pass.”
“I wonder why that is,” Sevastyan said, and shifted back fully to his leopard.
10
THERE was pure satisfaction in watching a barren landscape transform into something lush and beautiful. Flambé loved putting her hands in soil. She found the soil grounded her. She also found that watching the people who worked with her moving the trees into position with confidence and sometimes outright joy made her happy.
She loved what she did at every stage. One of her gifts was talking with the client and catching images of what they really wanted when most of the time they were unable to describe with actual words what they envisioned or needed. Often, the client had no idea what they really wanted and she would look at a space and know, after spending time with them, what would best suit them. She loved providing something special and unique for them.
She enjoyed picking out plants that would suit the various landscapes. She worked in all sorts of areas, the urban and rural. She worked in malls and business buildings as well as clubs and private estates and modest homes. She had very wealthy clients who owned acres of land planted with grapes. Others had ranches. The fact that her clients were so different provided the artist in her with continual varied canvases to work on.
Knowing that Sevastyan had bought the Dover estate and her father had done the original layout and planting of the trees, shaping them into an arboreal highway for the leopards, gave her an extra joy in working the property. She felt as if she needed to make certain every single tree she planted added to the beauty of the original vision. Sevastyan wanted the woods continued all the way to the very edge of the property lines between the Dover and Amurov borders. Her father had planted the trees on the Amurov property as well.
Her goal was to eventually grow the trees to connect the branches, make it easy for leopards to run along the limbs and leap from one tree to the next without hindrance. The trees had to be sturdy, with broad trunks and thick, strong branches that she could twist and shape with wire to get them to grow into the positions she needed. The first step was the planting, and that meant primary spots with plenty of room. The roots had to take hold and grow deep. Other taller trees couldn’t block the younger ones from the sun. She took great care to give each tree the best start possible while filling in the woods as best she could.
Flambé had two newer leopards, Rory and Etienne, both strawberry, working near the house planting low shrubbery, plants that flowered at various times of the year but wouldn’t ever grow high enough to cause Sevastyan concern when it came to security. No leopard could use the flowers or shrubs to hide in if they tried to sneak up on the house or the residents. She had chosen those plants carefully. Both strawberry leopards were men and they’d been with her working in the field about four months. Both had completed two years of college and done very well prior to coming back to work with her in the business.
Rory had lost his mother to a poacher and had taken a bullet in his left side. He limped when he was tired and probably always would. Flambé had been with him when he’d been shot and she’d pulled him into the cave they often used to shift, held off the poachers until her team showed up and gotten Rory out of there. There had been nothing she could do for his mother but stay with her until the life left her and then burn her body and bury the ashes. There had been too many shifters she’d done that for—sat watching helplessly as the life flowed out of them. It was always quick. Some strawberry leopards bled profusely. It was just the reality.
Blaise Brodeur had worked with her father for years before she had taken over the business. She had come home from college and he was well established, a valued member of the team. She relied heavily on him to help teach the newer shifters after they had completed their educations. He was crouched down beside Etienne, pointing to the roots of a plant as the other shifter gently placed it in the hole dug out for it.
She liked Blaise. He was older than her by several years, but sometimes seemed younger. She liked quiet and he was boisterous. It was just his personality, but she knew, when he persisted in asking her out, that they weren’t in the least compatible. She needed sex, and had been tempted a few times to give in to his advances, but she hadn’t, mostly because he worked for the company. She had a strict policy about mixing business with pleasure. She was very glad now that she had been careful.
They worked well together and had she been silly and let her need for sex get in the way, she knew it would have become a huge problem between them. Blaise still hadn’t found anyone. It was difficult as a shifter. It wasn’t like he didn’t pick up women, but like most shifters, they looked for another shifter so their leopards had a mate. Mostly, they wanted to find the right leopard for their cat.<
br />
“How’s it going?” she asked, putting a hand on Rory’s shoulder and leaning over him to inspect his work. She was very particular about her flowers and how close they were planted. How deep they were put into the earth. It mattered to her to give them the best opportunity to grow.
He tipped his head back to look up at her. “We’ve almost got this section finished. Once we started, they went in fast. I like these little flowers. Why did you alternate the varieties?”
“They bloom at different times. It gives us color all year round. I like to provide that for customers if possible.”
Blaise sank back on his heels and sent her a quick grin. “They’re both doing great. These two really don’t need anyone watching over them. Although this isn’t Etienne’s dream job, he does excellent work.”
Rory was very interested in the landscaping business. Like Flambé, he liked the plants and the soil. He enjoyed figuring out designs and what looked good where. He was genuinely trying to learn from her. Etienne did the work, but he wanted to build things. The minute she needed something that required construction, he was the first to volunteer. He never shirked work, but it was clear his love was in wood. Flambé hoped Sevastyan would find him a job with whoever was going to transform the massive garages into their indoor gardens.
Both men flashed Blaise a quick smile. Etienne shrugged, not bothering to deny Blaise’s assessment of him. After all, it was the truth.
“I’ve been studying all the different plants, trying to learn about them,” Rory confessed. “There are so many. You’re like a walking computer program.”
She laughed. “I have to look them up all the time. I might have an idea of what I want but can’t remember the name. It’s easier when you’re working with local plants rather than exotics. You get so you know all the locals not only by sight, but by name.”
Rory sat back on his heels and wiped his gloved hand across his forehead, smearing dirt, making Blaise, Etienne and Flambé laugh even more. He just grinned and shrugged, in no way perturbed. They were used to having dirt all over them by the end of the day.
“When is the newcomer being brought in?” Blaise asked.
“She’s supposed to get in next week,” Flambé said. “Her name’s Shanty. She has three young ones. The team managed to get them out as well. That was a miracle because the cameras picked them up and they were seen on the national news. Poachers went after them immediately. I couldn’t go, although at first, she wouldn’t leave South Africa because I wasn’t there. She said she didn’t trust anyone but me.”
“Had she ever met you?” Rory asked.
“No, I saw those pictures of her for the first time the same as everyone else, when the news reported her. Clearly, she came from a different region. No one recognized her or knew her.” Flambé pulled her gloves off. Her hands were beginning to itch. She rubbed at her skin, finding the sensation disturbing. “That was the first time I realized there might be strawberry leopards anywhere besides where our lair was. I wanted to get to her first if for no other reason than to get a few answers—like where did she come from? Is her lair large? That sort of thing.”
She sank down between Rory and Etienne, pulling her legs up tailor fashion. Blaise frowned and moved close in front of her to form a tight circle, his gaze moving over her, inspecting her carefully. “Are you all right? You look very flushed. You did wear sun protection, didn’t you?”
She was hot. “Yes. I always do.” Her skin burned easily. And marked easily. She wiped at the sweat forming on her forehead.
She’d been a little out of sorts since yesterday evening when Sevastyan had come to take her home. No, it was even before that. She felt moody and on edge. She really wanted to jump all over him, thinking that might help her strange mood, but when they got in the close confines of the car, his scent was very off-putting. She couldn’t get that out of her mind, no matter how much she tried.
They hadn’t been together but a few weeks and already Sevastyan was back at the club. Cheating. Lying. Showing that he was just exactly like every other shifter male. She knew he was going to be like that, but it still hurt. Did he think she wouldn’t smell it all over him? She’d know the smell of sex and sin anywhere. She worked at the club all the time. He was such a lying bastard, just like all of them. Exactly like them. Following the pattern of every shifter male she had ever known. Her skin burned and something moved through her, hot like a furnace, something she couldn’t control. She tried to sit very still, breathing, hoping she wouldn’t cry. Hoping it would go away and she could just talk normally.
“Why would this Shanty insist on only meeting with you, Flambé?” Etienne persisted suspiciously. “That makes no sense when she’d never met you. I don’t like the sound of that.”
“You sound like Sevastyan,” Flambé accused. “She’s scared and alone. I have a certain reputation. My name is fairly well known in that region, you have to admit that. Unfortunately, I had to send word that it was impossible for me to make it. If she wanted to be rescued with her children, she needed to allow my team to extract her. I had to call in a lot of favors for this one.”
Etienne and Rory exchanged a look over her head and then looked to Blaise. “What does your man think?” Rory asked.
“He’s been in security a long time,” Blaise pointed out. “He’s got to have gut reactions.”
She scowled at the three of them since they seemed to be in agreement. “Since when do you care what Sevastyan Amurov thinks? This is my business, what I do. He’s got his hands full dealing with his cousin. Believe me, Mitya Amurov is difficult to say the least.”
She was very uncomfortable in Mitya’s presence. She had the feeling Mitya didn’t like her very much—not that she liked him. Sevastyan preferred her to work there when she was drawing up her designs. She was very aware that it was for two reasons. He didn’t want her out of his sight because he worried Franco might try to have her kidnapped. That was probably the number one reason. Or it was just because he really liked sex. He wanted sex several times a day. She didn’t mind that reason at all or she would have objected strenuously. Now, with his latest cheating development, she didn’t quite know what she was going to do. She couldn’t leave until Shanty was safe. Flambé had to personally interview her and make certain she was set before Flambé could disappear.
Flambé did like Ania and would regret not really getting to know her. She’d never really had the chance to form any friendships, and Ania was the same. Working at the Amurov estate had allowed Flambé to see Ania often and she was beginning to think of her as a genuine friend. Ania popped in with tea or she would call her on the intercom, asking her to come out to the garage where she was working. Ania was designing a car, working on an engine and building it herself. They would sit together, Ania talking excitedly about some new breakthrough while Flambé listened, happy for her.
Flambé was grateful Ania didn’t ask her questions about Sevastyan. She didn’t know how she felt about him and their relationship. It was complicated. Sevastyan was in charge inside the bedroom or outside of it, no matter what he had said. He was the one in charge and that was very clear. She was used to being her own boss, used to a tremendous amount of alone time. Now she had very little, and truthfully, she found that difficult. She had thought to consult Ania, who seemed happy with Mitya, but now it wouldn’t matter.
“Is Mitya Amurov more difficult than Sevastyan?” Rory asked, his eyebrows going up.
“I never said Sevastyan was difficult,” Flambé denied. “I said this is my business and he works for Mitya. Don’t try to put words in my mouth.”
Etienne gave an undignified snort. “Sevastyan Amurov has a reputation, honey. Even you can’t pretend he doesn’t. I can’t imagine that if he thought Little Miss Strawberry and her children were some kind of setup to harm you he wouldn’t be cutting them off and putting them in some interrogation room none of us know about.”
A chill went down her spine because she had a feeling that might be just a little too close to the truth. “Fortunately, she isn’t a plant and there wouldn’t be a reason for her to set me up. He has no interrogation room. I know because I’ve thoroughly searched the house for hidden passageways, and in any case, she isn’t his business.”
She had searched the house for hidden passageways. There were many. She hadn’t found an interrogation room but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one. That was one of the things about Sevastyan that worried her. He could be very cold. She had seen him that way at the Amurov estate more than once. She’d seen him that way at the club. That was scary to her. She was an emotional person. People mattered to her. They mattered a lot. She risked her life helping them. On the other hand, she knew that side of him appealed to her leopard. It was such a two-edged sword being a shifter.
Her arms itched and she rubbed her skin, glancing up at the sun. Sometimes if she was in the sun too long, she could burn fast and the itch was horrendous. Her legs itched as well and she rubbed her thighs, trying not to squirm. Blaise watched her closely. Not only Blaise, but his leopard, as if both were worried.
“You should probably go up to the house,” he suggested.
That suggestion set her teeth on edge. She was getting very tired of men ordering her around. She was getting tired of men in general. All of them. Even the three she was sitting with. And if the itching and sudden burning sensation along her nerve endings didn’t stop, she was going to scream.
“Do you have the photograph of Shanty on you?” Etienne asked.
Flambé nodded, refusing to clench her teeth. She didn’t look at Blaise. Instead, she unzipped the pouch on her belt and pulled out a picture of a strawberry leopard and three younger leopards trailing after it. Then a second photograph showing a woman with short red hair and two little girls and a boy, all holding hands and staring into the camera. All three men leaned into her to study the photos.
Leopard's Rage Page 20
