Leopard's Rage (Leopard People 12)

“What would those be?”

“The marriage license. Where. When. Those kinds of things.”

Her heart stuttered. That couldn’t happen, no matter what kind of fairy tale she wanted to be living in.

9

SEVASTYAN stared out the window of his cousin’s large pool room. He’d known all along the day of reckoning would be coming. No one ever escaped it forever. He had hoped for a little more time. Mitya had already gone through so much and he and Ania had barely started their lives together. They were still dancing around each other, madly in love, but not quite in sync yet.

He sighed and glanced at the door leading to the hallway. Flambé was in a small office most likely hunched over her desk, drawing various sketches for her clients—and for him—to look over. She amazed him with her endless ideas. They were brilliant. She was brilliant. He’d had no time with her. None.

They knew very little about each other and hadn’t managed to establish much in the way of trust. He hoped the things he’d told her, what little of himself he’d given her, was enough to get them through the hell that was coming.

Their relationship hadn’t progressed no matter how hard he’d tried to move it forward. There were reasons she couldn’t get married. She rarely told him anything personal about herself. She responded eagerly to sex wherever and whenever he initiated it, but rarely wanted to be touched outside otherwise. She didn’t pull away from him, but she never held his hand or reached out to him, touching his body, especially if anyone else was around. He found their relationship frustrating at times because he didn’t understand it—and her leopard had been stubbornly silent, adding to the frustration. Sevastyan knew he wasn’t the best at relationships. He had no idea how to be a good partner to a woman, but he tried.

Now, it seemed, time for them had run out. Flambé had courage, but she wasn’t a violent person. He was extremely violent. She might fight beside him if she absolutely had to, and he doubted if she would hesitate to kill, but she wasn’t the type of person to walk up, stick a gun to someone’s head and pull the trigger. She would definitely not be okay with the kinds of things he did in his job. The premise of their work might appeal to her, but not the actual day-to-day process.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. Mitya knew she wasn’t like the other women. He’d told Sevastyan. Warned him. Lectured him. Sevastyan didn’t need the warnings or the lectures. It was far too late for all of them—especially Flambé. She had to find a way to live with him. He swore to himself he would make things as easy on her as possible, but now, with this new development, life was going to be hell for all of them.

There was no putting off the inevitable and he strode out of the room and down the hall to his cousin’s study. Mitya was at his desk reading the reports Drake Donovan sent him on the latest crimes and who they needed to hit and when. Sevastyan didn’t bother to knock. He just walked in and shut the door, indicating to Mitya he didn’t want anyone, even their most trusted men, to overhear the conversation.

Mitya looked up alertly and turned off his tablet, giving Sevastyan his complete attention.

“Rolan is in the United States. He came in through Miami. Sasha Bogomolov sent word he came in under diplomatic protection.” Sasha Bogomolov was one of their shifter allies out of Miami. “Rolan has his own men with him, his security detail. He stayed one night at a hotel and there was a private plane waiting for him and his men. He flew to New Orleans. I find it very telling that New Orleans seems to keep being a repeating factor whenever we have trouble. He was in New Orleans for three days. I’ve got our people looking into what he did there. Where he went, who he spoke with.”

Sevastyan kept his voice completely expressionless. Rolan Amurov was his father, the man who beat his mother to death with his bare fists in front of Sevastyan. Before the life had drained from her, Rolan set his leopard loose on her so the savage animal could tear her apart. Sevastyan would never forget that sight as long as he lived. The rage in him would never be satisfied. The hatred in him was as alive in that moment as it had been when he was a young teen, beaten and bloody, helpless to stop his father from killing his mother.

Still, his heartbeat didn’t change. His expression didn’t change. His tone didn’t either. He met Mitya’s eyes without blinking. Without emotion. He was disciplined. He was prepared. He was merciless. “Rolan has sworn to kill you, Fyodor, Timur, Gorya and, of course, me. You first. You bested your father and in order for him to prove to the other lairs that he is the strongest and the most dangerous vor of all time, he has to kill you.”

Sevastyan knew the real reason Rolan wanted to kill Mitya and Sevastyan both. He despised them. He had despised his older brother Lazar, Mitya’s father. Lazar was cruel, crueler even than Rolan.

“Let him come, Sevastyan. He’s coming into our territory and he won’t be as prepared as he thinks he is,” Mitya said.

“From New Orleans he went to Houston. He’s gathering men-shifters and he’s gathering information. He isn’t coming in blind. He isn’t as arrogant as Lazar was. Or Patva, for that matter.” He named his uncles, both now dead. “Mitya, I’m responsible for Ania’s safety and yours. I don’t want you to make this harder for me. You gave me your word that you’d abide by my rules. I don’t tell you to do things because I want power. I tell you to keep you and Ania safe.”

Mitya drummed his fingers on the desk top, betraying his agitation. “Who keeps you safe?”

“I know what I’m doing. You have to

have faith in me. I plan for everything. I always have backup plans. You two are the main priority at all times.”

Mitya jerked his head toward the hallway. “What about Flambé?”

“She’ll be close. I have a safe room. You do as well. Both houses are nearly impossible to gain entrance into. We’ve locked them down tight.”

He wasn’t going to be drawn into an idiotic discussion on who he would protect first—his woman or his cousin. That was pointless. He’d been guarding Mitya for as long as he could remember, even back in the old days, back when they were in the lairs. He’d done his best to watch his cousin’s back just as Mitya has watched his. Flambé would be safe because few people knew about her. Sevastyan hadn’t yet married her. That was a plus. He would insist she was either at Mitya’s estate or his. She would do as she was told. She might not like it, but she would do it.

“I gave you my word, Sevastyan,” Mitya conceded. “What do you want to do?”

“I’ve already made the move to get eyes on Rolan. In the meantime, I’m sending for shifters we can trust. We’ll build up our own army here. Rolan will probably send in a couple of mercenary shifter teams to test us, someone we won’t connect with him. I’m going to suggest to Timur that Fyodor take Evangeline and the twins and go on an extended vacation until I send word that we’re clear. Timur and Ashe will go with them. Timur would never allow Fyodor to go anywhere without guarding him. I’m asking Gorya to stay with us. I trust him implicitly.”

“It won’t be easy getting Fyodor to go.”

“He has children,” Sevastyan pointed out. “Timur can be very persuasive especially when it comes to Evangeline and the twins’ safety. Fyodor has had enough time to learn to trust his judgment.”

Mitya tried to give him a hard stare. “Is that some kind of a crack at me?”

Sevastyan shrugged. “Only if you aren’t listening.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get ahold of Drake. I need to pull in some of the others I trust.”