Night of the Lions (Lions of Manhattan 1)

“I have them.”

Cat paused. “Well? Can I have them back?”

“Sure. After I straighten out a few kinks in these matters.”

“I want to file charges against Oliver Duval.”

“Naturally.”

“I can’t get out of here without my shoes and my clothes.”

“Of course.”

Cat put down her fork, squinting. “You want to keep me here, don’t you?”

“Babe, I want to keep you here forever. I don’t want you to leave this place until I settle the problems.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Watch me.”

“That’s breaking the law, mister, holding someone against their will.”

“I know.”

She looked around. “Your phones are everywhere. I could call the cops on you.”

“Be my guest. My secretary filters all lines, in and out.”

Cat scowled. Exasperation coursed through her. She looked around and gauged that Gabriel had brought her to his penthouse apartment, in the building he owned in the heart of Manhattan. According to her file, Gabriel owned several properties in New York City and all around the world. And, according to her file, this very apartment was Gabriel’s sanctuary. Two floors below the penthouse were actually living quarters for his bodyguards. One didn’t just saunter into the famous Gabriel Larousse’s lair without bypassing a wall of his security forces.

She changed her tactic. “So. Did you kill Cameron Rossi?”

Gabriel chewed his food slowly. The crinkle around his eyes told her he was more amused than threatened. “Quid pro quo?”

“I only have your shirt.”

“You have five buttons.”

“You just want to see me naked.”

“Babe, all men in this city, with the exception of the gays, want to see you naked.”

Cat harrumphed. She pushed her plate away. “Thank you for the food. I’ll be in your room.”

“Can I come with you?”

“No.”

His rich laughter exploded behind her as she strode into the bedroom. Men. She needed a hot bath and a rethink of her strategy.

Danielson had just finished giving his report on Oliver Duval and his grunt Ramon Ramirez over the phone, when Gabe saw Cat poke her head into his home office.

“Knock, knock,” she said.

Gabe waved her in. “What can I do for you, kitty?”

She cringed. “My brother used to call me that. Makes me feel like a little kid.”