When a Lioness Hunts (A Lion's Pride Book 8)

by Eve Langlais

  “You?” Forget the fight. This was more interesting.

  “Yes me.”

  “And washed out.”

  His jaw gritted. “As a matter of fact, I quit when they told me I’d never be able to do anything other than a desk job because of my eyesight.”

  “And then still got a desk job.” She couldn’t help but tease.

  “Don’t remind me,” he muttered. “But the point is I have the training for these kinds of situations.”

  She almost patted his cheek at his brave yet misplaced bravado. “You’re cute Poindexter, but you can’t see a thing. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. They wouldn’t dare shoot me.”

  Except someone did. By accident, she should add. The moment she stood a missile hit her in the chest.

  She glanced down at the dripping green paint. The bears dared attack with paintballs, and this after being told to never bring them inside again.

  The bears weren’t the only ones with missiles. The lions might not have paintballs, but they had food, and it went whipping through the air: baked potatoes fully loaded that hit and splattered, bowls of salad, even a piece of steak. That was a travesty.

  The remains of dinner was fired at the bears, including Percy, who ducked, meaning the leftovers hit her full in the face.

  The guttural word she uttered might not have been entirely ladylike. Her threat even less. “I am going to murder the lot of you.”

  Sure enough, the violent promise drew the attention of the man under the table. He went to crawl out, flipping the cloth back, about to stand. Even with his myopic gaze, he was bound to realize something was amiss.

  She did the only thing she could.

  She snared a nearby chair and clobbered him over the head, hard enough he fell, face down. He lay on the floor unmoving, and she bit her lip chagrinned. Had she hit him too hard? She didn’t see any blood. Kneeling by his side, she flipped him over and pressed her fingers to his neck to check his pulse.

  Some smartass decided to really push her last button. “Look at Melly. So desperate to get some she’s got to knock her boyfriend out.”

  The idiot who opened his mouth got it stuffed with a few napkins and had to suffer the embarrassing haircut she gave him using only a steak knife.

  Once that happened, the melee more or less ended. It hadn’t lasted long, only the length of time needed for the dining room to become an utter dripping mess of paint and food. Lots of grinning faces, too.

  Percy, the furry ass who started it all, had a shit-eating grin through the pasta sauce dripping from his beard. “That went better than expected. See you Sunday, eleven a.m. at the farm?”

  “I say we start the party sooner. Shooters at The Claw!” shouted a lioness who liked to have a good time.

  Usually Melly would have been leading the charge to the tavern up the street with its wide plank floors and paw-stomping music, but she had a responsibility to handle first.

  Given Theo was a little heavier than expected, her friend Joan helped her carry him outside to her bike. It became quickly obvious that carrying him on it wouldn’t work. He kept flopping over, his body a loose noodle.

  “Just stick him in a cab,” Joan suggested, an athletic woman in her early forties with a blonde bob, streaked with a bit of silver.

  “We could use bungee cords to hold him on?” Luna—who had joined them outside, pregnant belly leading the way, eating a hunk of steak—suggested.

  Melly actually considered it.

  “Why not take his wheels?” Reba still looked immaculate, in spite of the fact Melly had seen her flinging food off her fork. Reba knelt in her heels and, in a moment, stood, Theo’s wallet in one hand, keys in the other. “According to his very handy ‘if lost, please return card,’ he doesn’t live too far.”

  “I could drive him home I guess, but what about my bike?” Melly couldn’t exactly leave it at the restaurant.

  “I’ll drive it.”

  “No, me.”

  “It’s my turn.”

  There wasn’t a shortage of volunteers to make sure it got back to the condo. As a matter of fact, it was gone before she’d finished saying Luna’s name.

  She pouted at the receding taillight. “How am I supposed to get home?”

  Arik had banned Melly from using any kind of ride sharing services. Even taxis were a no-no because of a few incidents. If the driver didn’t want her to break his arm, he shouldn’t stop the car in dark places and think he could grope her. He was lucky she didn’t tear it off and beat him with it. She settled for having his licenses revoked and the parking enforcement, who had a sheaf of tickets in his name, given his location for an arrest.

  “Please, as if you’re coming home before morning,” Joan stated.

  The gang of lionesses in the alley with her outright laughed.

  A good point.

  “Want me to ride with you and give you a hand getting him to bed?” Joan offered.

  “I’ll be okay. I can handle him.”

  “I’ll bet you can.” Joan smirked. “He’s pretty for a human. I can see why you like him.”

  Apparently, her friend had gotten the wrong impression. “It’s not like that. You know he works for the IRS and he’s digging into my taxes. I have to do something before he comes after us all.”

  “Look at you, taking one for the team. Much appreciated.” Reba winked. “Have fun.”

  Fun? With an unconscious man? Tempting, but that was another no-no. All sexual partners of the human variety must be conscious, unbound, and not fearing for their lives.

  “I say you snuggle him until he wakes up, and when he does and starts freaking out, tell him he’s your husband and you’ve got like six kids.” Joan had an evil sense of humor.

  “Let’s just find his car,” Melly muttered.

  They supported him, one under each arm, toting him along as if he were drunk. By following his scent, they found his vehicle parked not far away, a sensible four-door sedan in a dark gray. The interior was immaculate.

  Even Reba looked impressed. “Not even a drop of coffee in the holders.”

  Not a speck of dust dared mar the dash, and the radio was on a respectable soft rock station. So boring. Poor Theo, he really needed to learn to let loose a little. He redefined the term uptight.

  Rather than try and strap him upright to the passenger seat, they dumped him in the trunk. Joan tapped on the driver side window before Melly could pull out of the parking lot.

  She rolled down the window. “What?”

  Carla took on a serious mien. “This IRS fellow. You know what Arik will say.”

  Arik, being the king, wouldn’t like it if there was even the slightest chance Theo had seen something.

  “He wasn’t wearing his glasses.”

  “Is he deaf or dumb?”

  “No.”

  “Then chances are he noticed something.”

  “I’ll convince him he dreamt it. After all, head injuries can cause delusions.”

  “And if he doesn’t believe it?”

  Melly took a moment to reply. “I know what I have to do.”

  Protect the pride at all cost.

  It didn’t take long to drive Theo’s car to the address he’d programmed as home into his GPS. She parked the car on the street in front of a converted duplex. A quiet, rather boring façade on a boring street. He had a garage door opener clipped to the visor. A metal door ratcheted upwards.

  The garage was ridiculous. Immaculate with recycling bins neatly lined. Tools neatly hung on a pegboard rather than lying the surface of the workbench. He had enough room to park a car, which showed how wrong the space was.

  Real garages were an oily, messy disaster. She waited until the door closed then went to the rear of his car to pop the trunk. Time for him to wake up.

  First, she heaved him out of the vehicle and hefted him to the only door in the space. She assumed it led inside. She leaned him against the doorjamb. “Wakey, wakey, my hot geek.”

  The man remained
slumped, and she was the only thing between him and the gravity that wanted to mess up his pretty face.

  She snapped her fingers.

  Nothing.

  Gave him a little shake.

  His breathing remained steady, and his head still lolled.

  If this were a fairy tale, she’d have already kissed him, maybe more. But Arik had a stern talking with them just last month about boundaries and stuff. Apparently, kissing random men fell under sexual harassment. But the biggest uproar occurred when he announced there would be no more ass slapping or butt pinches in public.

  More than one lioness grumbled and complained, asking why they should have to suffer. As Jenny had said on more than one occasion, a man in tight jeans needed to know how much he was appreciated. Whistling was for wolves. Snorting was for pigs. Lionesses had perfected the art of ass pinching and slaps.

  Alas, the king had spoken. Meaning, she had to be nice to the human or risk Arik’s wrath.

  She jiggled Theo and blew in his face. It proved to be enough to get him grimacing and stirring. His lashes fluttered open, and without his glasses, she noticed how thick they were.

  “What’s happening?” he asked, blinking at her. “Where are we?”

  “Inside your garage, silly. Don’t you remember me driving us home?”

  His expression steadied. “No, I don’t. Last thing I remember…” He frowned. “Why do I recollect gunmen storming the restaurant?”

  “Ah, yes the evening’s entertainment. You couldn’t contain yourself and fell over.”

  “I did not. Someone hit me,” he grumbled, touching the back of his head. “What the hell happened?”

  “Gang fight and you didn’t stay under the table like I told you to.”

  “Feels like I got clobbered by a train.”

  “Sweet talker.” She almost blushed at his compliment.

  “You said the men with guns were a gang.”

  “Did I?”

  “Yes, and you knew them. One of them, at least. A guy named Percy, he came over to talk to you.”

  How to admit an interspecies rivalry? She couldn’t, so she did the next best thing and lied her face off. “Fine, I guess I can’t hide it. Percy is my ex-boyfriend.”

  “Does your ex-boyfriend show up often with friends toting guns?”

  “What guns?” she asked in her most innocent voice.

  He frowned. “I saw—”

  “Don’t you mean you thought you saw? Silly Theo. People don’t take guns to restaurants, unless we’re talking about the muscly kind.” She squeezed his bicep.

  He looked even more confused, and she felt the slightest bit of chagrin but not enough to tell him the truth. If Arik thought for one moment Theo might pose a threat to their secret…

  Best not think about it.

  Theo pushed away from the doorjamb, looking steadier by the moment. He patted his pockets, and she held up his keys, jangling them.

  “Looking for these?”

  His lips pressed into a tight line. He snatched the keys and slotted them in the lock. With a twist and a click, the door opened.

  For a moment, she expected him to say good night. But her geek was constantly surprising her.

  “Want to come in?”

  “Why yes, I would.” She patted his cheek as she went by. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Chapter Five

  Theodore didn’t know what had possessed him. The plan he’d devised from the moment he woke with a throbbing head was get inside, grab some acetaminophen, and sleep off the ache. Instead he’d opened his mouth and invited her inside. A stranger. Someone he’d been tasked with investigating. A known fraud and liar.

  Worse?

  She’d accepted—and immediately got the wrong impression.

  A radiant smile on her face, Melly looped her arm in his and began blabbering. “Well, look at you, Mr. I’m-So-Stiff-You-Could-Use-Me-to-Push-a-Broom. Inviting me to check out your place after only the first date.”

  “That wasn’t a date,” he grumbled. Disaster came to mind.

  “It had me, you, and food. That’s a date, Poindexter.”

  “I am simply inviting you in until we can figure out how to get you home safely.” Because he was in no condition to drive, which made him doubt her story of how they’d gotten here.

  “You said ‘we.’” She hugged him closer. “I knew you cared. Does this make us a couple?”

  A couple, with this hot mess of crazy? Panic fluttered in his chest. “It most certainly does not. It was business.”

  “Fate.”

  “We met this afternoon.”

  “And already it seems like it’s been longer. We were meant to be.”

  He skewed a stare at her and caught her snickering.

  “Oh, the look on your face.” She outright laughed. “Please. As if. You and I might bump body parts a few times for fun, but you are much too uptight for me to consider as a boyfriend.”

  True, and yet he was slightly offended. Perhaps he should rescind his offer for her to come in.

  Too late.

  Kicking off her shoes, she entered his space barefoot, and stared. Probably in awe at the crisp and clean perfection he’d achieved, unlike the hoarding conditions of her own place.

  She whirled, her mouth agape to exclaim, “Oh my God, this place is so boring. Did you get a discount for not using any color?”

  He stiffened. “It’s known as modern classic.”

  “It’s dull. I mean it’s gray everything.”

  “The walls and ceiling are white,” he noted.

  “With gray sepia prints on the wall.”

  “Some would say it’s elegant.”

  “I’m sure the guy who sold you on this theme is snickering all the way to the bank. You need a makeover,” she muttered, strutting farther into his compact bachelor apartment that comprised most of the first floor of the duplex. Condensed kitchen with a bar and stools to eat at, living room, and, off of it, a small study, which he kept locked, his bedroom, and bathroom.

  She, of course, aimed for his private space.

  He barely managed to interject himself. “I think it best if we stay in the main living area.”

  “Oooh, kinky. Are we doing it on the couch? The counter?”

  “How about you believe me when I say no sex?”

  She looked genuinely confused. “I don’t get it. What’s the point of inviting me in?”

  He wasn’t quite sure yet.

  She wandered farther into his place, her very presence giving it a lively color overload.

  “Have a seat. I’ll mix us a drink.” He pointed to the couch but couldn’t help picture what she’d offered just a moment ago. Sex on the couch. It proved much too easy to imagine him sitting, her astride his lap. He stalked into the kitchen to hide any evidence of arousal. “What would you like?”

  “Well, I was hoping for a hot geek injection, but I guess I’ll settle for a beer.”

  “Er.”

  “Let me guess, you don’t have beer.” She stared at the ceiling and muttered, “Why me? What do you have?”

  “Scotch. Whiskey. A bit of vodka.”

  “But no mix I’ll bet.”

  “I have orange juice.”

  “Now you’re talking.”

  Actually, his plan was to get her to talk. He’d yet to truly get a grasp on her—or those damning receipts. But what he’d learned thus far proved interesting, even as it made no sense.

  He handed her a glass, which she downed and handed back. “Make the next one stronger.”

  He tripled the booze. She still downed it like water. Which was fine. He felt no guilt about getting her a little drunk. He wanted answers.

  “So when are you going to tell me what really happened at the restaurant?”

  “Whatever do you mean?” She batted her lashes so hard they almost took flight.

  “I know those guys came in with guns and started shooting.” He’d heard the popping.

  “Fine. You got me.
” She sighed dramatically. “They were shooting, but it wasn’t bullets.”

  “Then what?”

  “Paint. A prank by a neighboring restaurant.”

  “Seems like a pretty intense prank. What if someone called the cops? They could have been shot.”

  “Good point. I’ll be sure to tell Percy. Now, if we’re done with that, let’s talk about you.”

  He’d perched on the far end of the couch, and yet somehow, she’d ended up beside him. “Let’s not.”

  He sidled away, but she remained close.

  “Now, Theo, don’t be shy.”

  “This isn’t appropriate.”

  “It stopped being appropriate when you said yes to dinner.”

  “Because you promised to—”

  She cut him off. “Oh, please. We both know you came to that restaurant because you like me. You think I’m pretty.”

  More than pretty but that wasn’t the point. “Where are you getting your ammunition?”

  “Oh, not that again.” She sighed and flopped sideways on his couch. “Nice fabric.” She then proceeded to toss the cushions onto the floor.

  “What are you doing?” he exploded.

  “Making myself comfortable. I like to sprawl.” Which she proceeded to display, arms and legs akimbo.

  A part of him wanted to join her. “I think it’s time you left.” Before things got out of hand.

  “But I don’t have a way home. Remember? I hitched a ride in your car.”

  “I’ll call you a cab.”

  “You’d put me in a car with a stranger?” she huffed.

  “Fine, then I’ll drive you home.”

  “You really shouldn’t be driving with that head injury,” she stated, rolling on his cushions in a way that was both sinuous and suggestive.

  “Surely there’s someone you can call?” was his faint reply.

  “Everyone’s either in bed or partying. You’re stuck with me, Poindexter.”

  “It’s Theodore.”

  “Oooh look at you getting all tough with me. Any more orders you’d like to give?” She raised herself on her hands and knees, her smirk quite naughty.

  “I think I need to go to bed.”

  Which once more showed her lack of sense of space. He went to his room and had turned around to bring her blankets and a pillow, only to discover she’d somehow moved from the couch cushions to his bed. Sprawled again.