Night of the Lions (Lions of Manhattan 1)

“And you slept with him!” Judith snarled viciously. “I can smell him on you.”

Cat was taken aback. Jesus. How could she possibly know that? Unless…

Judith seized her collar and yanked her up. Her strength was frightening. Behind the veil, Cat saw her eyes yellow and the pupils retract like a feline’s.

“Fuck. You’re a shifter too,” Cat choked.

With an inhuman growl, Judith hurled her across the room. Cat’s back hit the curio cabinet, sending glass and dozens of expensive, dainty crystal knick-knacks shattering to pieces. She heaved. Her lungs felt as if they had collapsed for a second. A freak wave of pain burnt her spine.

Cat pulled herself into a crawl. She inhaled much-needed air. Jesus Christ. Her client wasn’t just a liar, she was dangerous as hell. The image of Gabe saying, “I told you so,” flashed in her mind.

She heard cracking noises. Bones shifting. Fabric tearing. Judith shifted into a very ugly lioness. Her clothes tattered underneath her paws. She looked like an animal that had suffered a serious case of mange. Pink, fleshy bald patches covered two-thirds of her body. Frizzy, tufted hair sprouted up on her ears. Her body was so thin, her skin was moulded to her ribs.

Cat didn’t know whether she should feel fear or pity. Judith looked like a big cat that no one would touch without gloves and a very long stick.

Judith let out a menacing growl. She pounced in Cat’s direction and swiped her front paw.

The world faded.

Chapter Five

“What do you mean, you’ve lost her?”

Gabe jumped from his seat, yelling at the phone. On the other end, Alex explained in rapid fire how Catherine had sneaked from under their noses and left the apartment through the fire escape. His brother apologised, said he felt like a fool. Danielson was pissed off at himself for not doing his job properly. The good news was that Alex had a lead as to where Cat might have gone. He’d overheard the messages on her answering machine before she’d deleted them. She’d probably gone to see her client. Alex had pulled some strings with the head of the phone company executive. He had Judith Rossi’s address. It was in the vicinity of Alpine, Jersey.

Gabe wrote it down. “I’ll see you there.” He disconnected and dialled Wyatt. Gabe wanted a small, elite team of personal security dispatched to Rossi’s address. He called Ren and gave him the up-to-date situation. Ren, who was at the office working, promised to meet him at the location.

He paused and took a deep breath. He should’ve seen this coming when she’d demanded to return to her apartment. His mate was a stubborn woman. He hadn’t thought she could fool his brother or Danielson.

Gabe opened up his safe and took out his piece, a .45 Glock. When he went down to his private parking lot, Wyatt had readied the vehicle and the team. Gabe got into the passenger side of the black SUV. Wyatt drove. They rolled out to the street under the gloomy sky. Five minutes into the ride, a light drizzle pelted the windshield before turning into a full-blown downpour. Gabe glared at the sky. Just great. Why had the weather suddenly decided to be dramatic, too? Wyatt didn’t slow down, even with the heavy rain. He hit the gas and sped towards the highway.

Wyatt pulled up several houses down from Veron’s residence. The team jumped down from the SUV and joined with the other security execs that Alexandre had brought. Alex came to him, his face grave.

“I think we’re too late. Seems like nobody is in the house. The garage is empty,” Alex informed him.

“I smell her scent. Think she might be in there?”

“Was. Let’s go check it out.”

“Go on.”

Alex motioned to Danielson, who barked at his men. Less than a minute later, the team stormed the house. They informed everyone of their progress with a link. The house was empty.

Gabe walked through the front door to inspect the house. The foyer and living room were a total mess. It showed signs of a struggle. Near the smashed curio cabinet, he saw drops of blood. Gabe stooped, careful not to touch anything and leave forensic evidence, and sniffed.

Cat’s blood. He knew its smell. And taste. A wave of rage surged to his head.

Following his instincts, Gabe trudged towards the kitchen. In the middle of the floor, there was a small pool of blood. He saw a smear of it that resembled rope marks. The trail led to the basement door.

He heard a small whine. He and Alex traded gazes. The sound came from the pantry. He took out his piece and yanked the door open.

Alex shouted, “Freeze.”

A wail in Spanish came out. They saw a middle-aged woman curled on the floor with her hands up. “No shoot. No shoot,” she said in broken English. Her face was streaked with tears and her clothes were dirty and caked with blood. She was sobbing furiously, but she appeared not to have sustained a serious injury.

Alex lowered his gun. “Who are you?”

“Must be the housekeeper. Look at her clothes,” Gabe said.