Don’t leave that alcove for any reason. When you’re going to talk to Shanty, have them bring her there and make everyone else leave. You have access to the house and you can get her inside and lock both of you in if necessary. Again, his voice was like liquid velvet in her ear, stroking her nerves when Blaise had unsettled her.
If they do have her husband, she won’t come with me unless we’ve gotten him back. Do you have any idea where he is? Who has him?
He has to be close. If it isn’t the money and it is her mate, she will continue to ask for reassurance that he’s alive. That means she has to ask for constant contact. Have her do that. When she does, we can get his location and go after him.
Blaise is coming back.
Knowing Sevastyan was close, that he had eyes on her, comforted her to some degree, but there was this underlying hurt and feeling of betrayal that just wouldn’t let go. She had grown up feeling that male shifters were not trustworthy. They didn’t care about females. Females had to rely on themselves. She wasn’t going to miraculously get over years of conditioning because Sevastyan had called the doctor and tried to find ways to help her. She knew she would question his integrity even when she didn’t want to.
“What’s wrong, Flambé? Is Sevastyan giving you trouble?” Blaise asked, perching on the railing, looking confident, as if he owned the property. There was something almost proprietorial in the way he acted, both over the land and over her.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just out of sorts. Moody, I guess. I wish this was over and I could just be myself again.”
“Did you say just be yourself again? Do you think you made a mistake with Sevastyan, Flambé?” Blaise asked.
Flambé hesitated. She had made her choice to be with Sevastyan, made that commitment to him. Was she sure of him? Absolutely not. She was still very much terrified. How did anyone, man or woman, know they weren’t making a terrible mistake when they entered into a life partnership? Sevastyan wasn’t an easy partner. He wasn’t ever going to be easy, but then, if she was honest, neither was she.
SUV turning up driveway. Sevastyan’s voice was in her ear.
Gratefully, Flambé turned to look at the vehicle proceeding toward them. She recognized the 4Runner used by the extraction team in the United States to transport the shifters they brought in. They already had received all their shots, had their papers and were ready to go to their assigned home, usually the confines of a safe house for a week until they were brought onto the main property. The men slept in the barracks and the women usually had rooms in the main house.
“They’re here, Blaise.”
“Flambé,” Blaise began. “You don’t have to stay with this man. You know that, don’t you? It’s your leopard’s first cycle and they often make mistakes the first time around.”
“She was terrified.” Flambé kept her eyes on the 4Runner in the distance. “I was as well. Franco Matherson had been stalking me for a while. He ran me off the road when I was coming out here to talk to Sevastyan about working on his property. He threw me up against his car, punched me when I fought him, and I hit my head really hard on the ground when I went down. I fought him and barely managed to get away.”
Flambé had turned back to watch the expressions chasing across Blaise’s face. There was genuine outrage. Fury. He was leopard and he had a leopard’s temper. “What the hell? Why didn’t you say anything to me?”
She shrugged and kept going with her explanation. “I was very disoriented and I ran into the woods. I knew the property because I’d been here with my father. I ran up to the house and unfortunately, my leopard was able to break free enough to call to Sevastyan’s male. I was too out of it to know what was happening until it was too late for both of us. I have to take full responsibility for that. It wasn’t his fault. My leopard was very seductive. She thought she was protecting us from that creeper.”
“Franco Matherson?” Blaise echoed.
She nodded. “Yes.” Deliberately she ran her hands up and down her arms, shivering. “He’s never going to leave me alone. He’s sent several of his men to kidnap me even after that. At least three different tries.”
Blaise stood up, his back to her, watching the 4Runner as it came closer to the house. “Are you absolutely certain it was Matherson, Flambé?” His voice was very quiet.
“Yes.” She remained seated. “When she gets out of the car, will you have them bring her up here into the alcove, Blaise? I always interview each person alone. That’s imperative. If I don’t have access to them alone, where I feel they can be completely candid with me, I can’t get a feel if they’re right for our program. If she isn’t, we can
ask Drake Donovan to help her and her children. We’re very full and there’s more of these shifters out there, displaced from their lair.”
“She’s going to insist that you accompany her and the children to the safe house, Flambé,” Blaise said.
“Why would you think that? Her children are already there.”
“She was so nervous she was insisting you go to South Africa.”
Flambé nodded. “You’re right. Well, maybe this one time I might have to make an exception, as long as I don’t think my leopard is too close to rising. If so, I’d have to let Sevastyan know.” She let her voice trail off.
Blaise shook his head decisively. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Flambé. You should just tell her no. She can be like everyone else.”
There was a hardness in his voice she’d never heard before. Whatever Blaise was up to, whatever the original plan was, and she was certain it involved getting into the 4Runner with Shanty, Blaise had suddenly changed his mind.
Flambé recognized two members of the extraction team. They regularly moved back and forth between the United States and any country where they retrieved shifters and brought them to work in the landscaping business until they could decide where they wanted to go to school and what they were interested in as a business.
Terry Orsan was a tall, dark-skinned man with a ready smile and the roped muscles of the shifters. He wore his hair longer and it tended to curl around his head in ringlets, although the only one who could get away with calling the long dark curls ringlets was his daughter. She was ten now and adored her father. Jet Vicks was short in contrast to Terry, but equally as muscular, with a thick lion’s mane of graying hair that was wildly out of control, tamed only by a loose tie. It was clear the two men had worked together for a long time. Jet helped the young woman out of the 4Runner while Terry watched their backtrail. In spite of being on private property, they were both wary, very cognizant of being responsible for their client.
“Blaise, this is Shanty Jacobs. She’s come to speak with Flambé,” Jet said.