Jaguar Hunt

by Terry Spear

  Copyright © 2014 by Terry Spear

  Cover and internal design © 2014 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover design by Juliana Kolesova

  Cover images: © palko72/dreamstime.com; Jon Zychowski

  Model: Derek Zugic/G&J Models

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  Fax: (630) 961-2168

  www.sourcebooks.com

  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  To Joshua Fowler, a librarian who loves books as much as I do.

  Thanks to our librarians all over the world who help to instill a love of reading in us from an early age.

  And thanks to all my Facebook fans who shared their favorite animals or foods at the circus and their favorite bubble baths. You make my research a collaborative effort and so much more fun!

  Chapter 1

  David Patterson parked his car and headed into the Clawed and Dangerous Kitty Cat Club, a Dallas-based social gathering spot for jaguar shifters. Humans didn’t know that the shifters even existed, and the shifters meant to keep it that way. The owners of the establishment didn’t restrict humans from frequenting the place, since more business meant more money.

  But David wasn’t there to support the club. His current task as a Special Forces Golden Claw JAG agent was to follow two unruly teens—jaguar shifter twins Alex and Nate Taylor—and bring them into the JAG branch if they violated one more law, jaguar shifter or otherwise.

  This was not the kind of mission JAG agents normally took on—unless the organization felt the teens were at risk, or that they could be a welcome asset to the branch, and the agent was between assignments.

  Neither of the boys was supposed to be in a club that served alcohol, which he would let slide if they were only there to watch the dancers in their skimpy leopard-skin loincloths and micro-bikini tops.

  The place was more crowded than David remembered the last time he was here. One rowdy group caught his attention. They looked…different. Many were in great shape—almost as if they were shifters in the Service. But they were speaking in a smattering of foreign languages—Spanish, Russian, Chinese—and some of them wore clothes that were…unusual. Tights, sparkly tops, and ballet slippers that looked less like club clothes and more like what a Las Vegas entertainer would wear. The air-conditioning blew their scents to him. Not jaguar shifters.

  They smelled of elephants, horses, camels, lions, tigers, and dogs. The circus? Had to be from there. David was surprised they hadn’t changed into everyday normal clothes, unless they were trying to help promote the circus.

  He wrinkled his nose, glad he wasn’t planning to drink anything here tonight. That was the problem with being a shifter—the enhanced ability to smell odors. He noticed other patrons glancing their way, wrinkling their noses. Must be shifters, too.

  The jungle music beat shook the floor and tables as conversations hummed all around him. A few couples danced on the floor, while others were just drinking and talking. Piped-in sounds of parakeets and parrots twittering and calling to each other and an occasional monkey’s howl made the silk leaf jungle sound more like the real deal.

  David’s attention returned to Alex and Nate. Though not as muscular, they were both as tall as David and they could pass for adults. Alex’s hair was blond, his eyes a dark blue, while Nate was less tan and his light brown hair shaggier.

  One was dressed in camouflage pants, the other blue jeans, and both were wearing black T-shirts with pictures of differently posed jaguars screen-printed on the front. The words Panthera onca—the scientific name for jaguar—announced to the world that they were jaguar shifters, though only their kind would realize that’s what they were saying.

  When David had been that age, he’d felt the same way. He’d wanted to shout to the world that he was a jaguar shifter and damned proud of it, instead of hiding it from everyone who wasn’t like him. Since there were more human females than female jaguar shifters, he’d wanted human girls to see him as someone truly special. He’d often fantasized that girls he’d had crushes on were of his kind and not strictly human. Most of his kind were born as jaguar shifters, but some were humans who had been turned, which was not the best of ideas. Though his brother’s wife, Maya, had turned her brother’s wife-to-be and that had worked out well, despite the trouble it could have caused if Kat had had family.

  So he could definitely commiserate with the twins.

  The boys grabbed chairs at a table and David sat at another close by. Nate flagged down a server wearing a skimpy leopard-skin dress, cut high on the thighs and low on a very well-developed bust. Red curls bouncing about her shoulders, she smiled brightly at the boys as Alex whispered their drink order.

  Grinning, the kids focused on two women who were dancing, breasts jiggling in their teeny bikini tops. David shook his head. The boys were so much like him and his twin brother, Wade, at seventeen.

  The server returned with the boys’ red-colored drinks topped with lime-green paper parasols, the toothpicks seated in cherries.

  David was about to move in to ensure the drinks were nonalcoholic when Alex said, “Okay, listen, Nate. We did it your way last time and you know how much I objected. This time we can’t take a chance with the missing zoo cat.”

  David sat back down in his seat, listening intently. They had to be talking about the missing zoo cat from Oregon. Maya, his brother’s wife, had a cousin—Tammy Anderson—who was looking for a jaguar missing from the zoo.

  Nate snorted. “Hell, everything would have been fine with the jaguar if all had gone as planned. At least she’s safe for now.”

  He wanted to hear more of the boys’ conversation about the missing cat before he took them in for further questioning, if he felt the situation warranted it, but he saw something quick, big, and muscular in his peripheral vision. The bouncer. Brown eyes, nearly black, muscles bulging in readiness, mouth turned down. Hell. Joe Storm.

&
nbsp; As much as David didn’t want to make this personal, he couldn’t help feeling a grudge toward the guy. David still believed that if Joe hadn’t stolen Olivia Farmer away from him and promised to marry her—which he had no intention of doing—she wouldn’t have committed suicide.

  David watched the former JAG agent turned club bouncer stalk toward the boys. He looked eager to teach a couple of shifter teens they weren’t welcome at the club until they were of age. David had worked with Joe on a couple of assignments and knew that the bouncer liked women—too damn well, in David’s opinion—made allowances for most men, and had zero tolerance for troublemaking teens.

  “Hey, Alex, trouble’s coming,” Nate said. Though David knew from experience that kids had to learn from their own mistakes, he also knew how hard Joe could be on them, and David didn’t always agree with Joe’s stern methods of enforcement.

  Before David could reach the boys and protect them, the bouncer grabbed Alex and Nate by the arms and hauled them through the crowded club toward the back door. “I’ll break both your bloody noses,” Joe growled. “See if you’ll want to come back for more after that, eh?”

  Joe never made idle threats. David had seen him rough up a drunken human who had started a fight in the club. Joe had broken another man’s nose for harassing one of the club’s dancers. Talking Joe out of what he intended to do was not going to work.

  David lunged from behind and hit Joe in the side of the head with his fist. Joe released the boys at once, but neither of the brothers left the club as David had expected they would.

  “Go!” he shouted, just as Joe swung around, aiming to plant a fist in David’s face.

  David ducked and came around to slug Joe in the jaw, but managed to hit him in the temple instead, knocking the son of a bitch out cold. It was one helluva lucky punch, and it felt damn good, he had to admit. Joe was an ex-marine, ex-boxer, and ex-bartender. He looked like he killed men for pleasure, but right now, it appeared he’d be sporting some major bruises.

  Getting the upper hand with him was probably as much a shock to David as to everyone else in the club. The music had stopped and all conversation had died. The teens had vanished.

  Cheers went up and David gave a thumbs-up to the club patrons’ raised glasses, whistles, whoops, and hollers.

  Grinning, he hurried to call his boss, Martin Sullivan, director of the JAG branch, about the boys and the missing jaguar as he headed for the door, still hoping to catch the kids before they disappeared for good.

  “Martin, I’ve got good news and bad. The good news is that the Taylor twins seem to know something about the missing zoo jaguar. I want in on the case with Tammy Anderson. The bad news is that I’m probably about to get arrested. Can you tell her I’m working with her on this mission and to come pick me up from jail?”

  Chapter 2

  Still fuming, Tammy Anderson headed to the police station to pick up her new, currently incarcerated partner for this mission—David Patterson, a fellow jaguar shifter who worked for the Special Forces unit known as the Golden Claw JAG Elite Force. Tammy was in the Enforcer branch, which normally was tasked to police their shifter kind. Like now. Except that “normally” didn’t include JAG agents.

  How could she get so lucky?

  Two of the Enforcers she’d worked with on previous missions were leaving the red brick building—all smiles when they spied her. Weaver’s black hair curled around his face in the hot Texas breeze. Krustan walked beside him, his blond, butch haircut unaffected by the turbulent air, his blue eyes sparkling.

  “Hear you’ve got a new partner,” Weaver said, jerking his thumb toward the police station. “Too bad you didn’t get me for a teammate. You certainly wouldn’t see me in there.”

  She raised her brows.

  “Not in a cell,” Weaver clarified.

  “So what were you doing here? You could have freed David Patterson, and I could have been doing something more important.” Like looking for new clues about the missing zoo cat.

  “He’s your new partner, not mine. I figure he’s yours to ditch. From past experience, I know you’re perfectly capable. The easiest way to do that would be to leave him where he is,” Weaver said with a smirk.

  She suspected Weaver still held a grudge against her for the last assignment he and Krustan had served on with her—which was just too bad. Next time, they wouldn’t leave the cases for her to wrap up on her own. If there was a next time.

  Krustan chuckled. “If you want me to work with you again, tell the boss. Sylvan would buy your recommendation, but it’s the only way I’ll be on your team.”

  Apparently, Krustan wasn’t the kind of man to hold on to resentment. Though she suspected that was more because he was still interested in dating her, if she was willing. Which she wasn’t.

  “Thanks, fellas, but I’ll take my chances with the JAG agent.” At least he wouldn’t know she intended to dump his butt, pronto. How could Sylvan Tolliver, head of the Enforcers, team her up with a guy who’d gotten himself jailed last night?

  Maybe David didn’t know yet that he was supposed to be her partner. Tammy decided not to say anything. She’d solve the case just fine without him.

  She shook her head as she filled out the paperwork in the police station and was about to pay his fine—courtesy of his JAG boss—when she discovered someone else had already done so anonymously. That was weird. While she waited for David to be released, she folded her arms, sandaled foot tapping the floor. She normally thought herself a very patient person.

  “He’s all yours,” the police officer said as he escorted David out of the cell block.

  David was darker haired than his brother, Wade, whom she had met. David’s locks were shaggier, windswept, and wilder looking, his eyes a pure green that focused on hers. He appeared way too eager to see her. Sure, she had just sprung him from jail, but his look was more a “cat that got the cream” expression, instead of simply seeming pleased she’d come to have him released. That worried her a bit. His brother was now married to her cousin, but that didn’t mean anything to her. She didn’t know David from the next troublemaking shifter.

  David smiled at Tammy, his dimples making him look sweeter than she figured he was.

  A year ago, she’d worked on a mission with a couple of other JAG agents who had thought she was wasting their time. They knew their business, and according to them, she was just a handicap. So she didn’t figure David would act any differently. Worse, if he couldn’t keep out of mischief, why should she risk her investigation while working with him?

  As he signed for his personal items and pocketed his cell phone, she studied the olive T-shirt stretched across his impressive abs and pecs. He looked prepared for combat action with camo cargo pants and boots ready to tromp through the jungle—typical attire for a JAG agent headed to South America on a mission. She, on the other hand, was dressed casually for summer—jeans, blouse over a camisole, sparkly sandals—to blend in with the everyday population.

  “The cop told me you’re Tammy Anderson. You must be Maya’s cousin,” David said, his eyes shifting over her and again meeting her gaze.

  “Yep.” Tammy was heading outside when a tall, well-built man with a handlebar mustache bumped into her, not watching where he was going as he bolted up the steps to the station. She took a sniff of the air surrounding him.

  Scowling at the guy, David looked like he wanted to teach him some manners, but Tammy said, “Don’t. I’m fine and you’ve already been in enough trouble, don’t you think?”

  She glanced back at the man as he entered the police station. He smelled like a lion. An African lion…shifter? She didn’t think anything like that existed.

  “Has to be with the circus. Thought I smelled elephant, camel, lion, and dog shifters last night at the club,” David joked. “They must work with the animals.”

  That made sense. The staff at the local
zoo that handled the animals most likely smelled that way, too, although this guy didn’t look like a zookeeper. Not with the handlebar mustache.

  “If you think you can keep yourself out of jail for a while, you’re free to go,” she told David and took off across the parking lot at a quick pace.

  Before she realized he was following her—closely—he caught her arm, his large hand strong, his grip tight. She swallowed an un-Enforcer-like squeak as he promptly stopped her in place. Her ire stoked, she was so tempted to take him down. She suspected he knew just what she was thinking, and he’d thwart her before she even made the attempt. That was the problem with him being with the JAG and trained in hand-to-hand combat. A wry smile curved his mouth. For a second, she was transfixed. He had lips that enticed a woman to sample them—not too thin or too large, just the perfect size for kissing.

  Shaking loose of that thought, she glared at him instead.

  “What?” she asked, annoyed. “I’m not babysitting you. Just freeing you from jail so you can be on your way. And stay out of trouble. I’ve got better things to do with my time.”

  “We’re working together,” David said, cutting to the chase.

  Damn, he already knew.

  “Your boss asked my boss if he could assign one of his best agents on the job to work with you. That’s me. David Patterson.” He gave her another award-winning smile.

  She would have laughed at his cockiness if she hadn’t been so irritated. Though her boss had told her that David was one of his best agents. “You? I had a lead on where the missing jaguar from the Oregon Zoo might be.” Which she didn’t. She was fresh out of clues at the moment, but she had every intention of finding some, pronto. And she didn’t have to let David know that. “My boss called, saying I had to drop everything to come here. For you. On a day when I have no other mission, getting a shifter released from jail is one of those ‘other duties as assigned.’ But I’m working a case. Springing a partner from jail?”

  She shook her head. “If you want to work with me, super. You follow your leads and I’ll follow my leads, and we’ll work together just fine.”