Night of the Lions (Lions of Manhattan 1)

That took him by surprise. But Gabe kept his mask on. He was very good at it, maintaining his poker face and not letting any kind of emotion slip through. He had never killed a human. The only person he had killed was another shifter, a lion shifter, alpha of the Veron pride. It had happened in a duel in the gathering for the Night of the Lions, and for a very sound reason. Every winter solstice, all lion shifter clans from across the Serengeti gathered at the Tree of Life to elect which alpha was going to rule them all for a year. That night, after the duel, he’d collected his brothers, all that remained of Larousse pride, and jumped on a ship heading to America, leaving everything behind.

Who was Judith Rossi and why did she claim he had killed her brother?

Interesting.

Cat waited for his answer. Of course, he wasn’t going to oblige her.

“Well?”

“Kitty, are you seriously suggesting I should implicate myself in a murder?”

“No. But I thought it was worth a shot.”

Gabe laughed. He liked this woman very much. Maybe he liked her too much—he was seriously considering taking her as a mate. She was pretty, young and healthy, perfect to bear him many cubs. Her scent drove him crazy. His beast approved her. Too bad she was a scion of his enemy. Judith Rossi or whoever she was.

“How about we make this more interesting?” Gabe suggested.

“What do you mean?”

“Quid pro quo. You ask me questions you’ve been dying to know the answers to, and I shall answer them truthfully. In exchange, I will ask you for something I deem equal.”

“Okay.”

He raked his gaze over the delectable beauty named Catherine Kovac and smiled. “My apartment is only a ten-minute ride from here. We go there and you can fire your questions, at a price. One question for each article of your clothing, and if you don’t have any more clothing to bargain with, well, your body will suffice.”

He witnessed her face change from flushed to deeply flustered.

“You mean you want to sleep with me if you answer all my questions?”

“Crudely put, but yes, it’s in that ballpark.”

She was speechless. “I… I don’t know,” she finally said. “You could lie.”

“Trust me, Kitty, for a game this steep, I wouldn’t dare lie.”

“Why?”

“Because it goes against my principles. I won’t cheat my end of the bargain.”

“I mean, why do you want to sleep with me?”

“Isn’t that obvious? I find you very attractive.”

“You’re Gabriel Larousse. You only need to wiggle your finger and any gorgeous blonde within a ten-foot radius would fall at your feet willingly. You don’t need a gumshoe wannabe like me to warm your bed.”

God. She clearly had a low opinion of herself. Gabe tsked. “I don’t like blondes. Too many of them make bad jokes. And I happen to have a taste for a private eye.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “There must be more to it. I don’t believe you.”

Gabe found her amusing. She didn’t look mad because of the proposition. It seemed she distrusted him because she suspected he had an ulterior motive. Like squeezing her for information on the woman who had hired her. Spying on the spy. “If you’re going to strike a deal with someone, you have to put a little bit of trust in them. What’s the point of making a deal if you have no faith in the person you’re doing business with?”

“Touché.” She pondered. “I’ll think about it.”

Gabe couldn’t resist making clucking sounds.

A grin blossomed on her face. She didn’t seem insulted. “Fine. I’m a scaredy cat, okay? I just don’t trust it when a hunk like you suddenly thinks I’m a fine piece of meat. There must be more to it. I’m going to find out.”

“Good luck. But if you change your mind”—Gabe pulled his wallet from his pocket and plucked out a business card—“call me. This is my private number. I would be happy to make a deal with you.”