Wild Cat (28 page)

“She want you?”

“Yeah.”

“I need to hear that from her—alone.”

Elijah shook his head, his hand curling around the nape of his neck. It suddenly felt tight. “See, that's where we have a problem. You're leopard. You could kill her in seconds.
Seconds.
We both know that.”

Alonzo shrugged. “You're well aware that I could kill her with you standing right by her side. I knew coming here I was taking a chance. If you caught me—and you did—then you were either going to let me see her because you believe me, or you would kill me. The only way I'm
not
seeing her is dead.”

That put it right back on him. Keeping his features blank, Elijah swore to himself in his native language. He liked the tenacity of the man as well as his loyalty. He wouldn't have continued to press all that time had it not been for the fact that the person who was most at risk was Siena. He could take care of himself. If Alonzo were looking to kill him—hell—he'd give him that shot. But to allow him into a room with Siena alone, or even close to her . . . He swore again.

“You're not giving me a lot of choices here,” Elijah said. He dug his fingers deep into the knots in his neck. “I'll ask her if she
wants
to see you,” he offered.

Alonzo shrugged. “Ask away. Better do it where I can hear her answer. I'm not taking no.”

A hard-ass. Elijah would give any amount of money for Alonzo to be his soldier rather than Arnotto's. The man took loyalty beyond comprehension. He wasn't even getting a paycheck. Paolo probably had a hit out on the soldier in spite of the fact that they weren't yet at open war. Paolo had worked with Alonzo. He knew
exactly
what kind of man he was and where his loyalties lay—probably better than Antonio had.

“Why is she so afraid of you?” Elijah asked. Elijah had a reputation. It was out there for the world to speculate over and add to the rumors.

For the first time, Alonzo looked uncomfortable. He actually ran his finger around his collar as if loosening it. “Made a big mistake. My fault. She saw something she shouldn't have. She doesn't remember, at least I'm fairly certain she doesn't, but it started her nightmares. I know because I broke into the office of the counselor she was seeing just to make certain. She changed the way she looked at me.”

“Tell me.”

“There was another kidnapping attempt. When she was fifteen. She has this laugh, like the sun pouring down on you. Her face lights up and the room . . .” He shook his head. “They came at her on my watch. I'm ten years older than she is, and there was the dream you have before your leopard takes it all. Because you never had anything good. She's good, Lospostos. No matter what you think about her grandfather, she's everything good.”

Elijah waited. He didn't dare open his mouth. Alonzo thought he had nothing to lose and everything to gain by telling the truth. In a way, he was pleading for Siena, trying to convince Elijah to let her go.

Elijah knew Siena was too good for him. He already knew that. He knew it with every fucking cell in his body. He knew that laughter. That sunshine lighting the room. He knew the way she cared for her man. Gentle. Sweet. Showing him care
in a way few women ever would love their man. She tore his heart and soul right out of his chest.

“I killed them, shot two of them, but the others were on her, put a gun to her head. I shifted. On the run. Shifted into a fucking leopard, and my male is fast and he's vicious. He took them both down, before either could even pull the trigger. It was a bloodbath. All over her. She checked out. Just checked out.” Alonzo scrubbed his hand down across his eyes as if he could wipe out the memory. “Scariest thing I ever saw. She woke up in a hospital and didn't remember a thing or how she got there or why. But those nightmares started and sometimes, late, I could hear her screaming.”

His woman had been through hell, and Elijah couldn't say he hadn't contributed. Now this. She had nightmares for a reason. “Fuck.” He spat the word. Alonzo had also revealed a huge piece of information. He carefully avoided glancing at Drake. Elijah could shift fast—very fast. But to shift and take down two men who had guns to a fifteen-year-old girl's head, that was saying he was lightning fast.

For the first time, Drake spoke. “What lair are you affiliated with?”

Alonzo shut down. His eyes, already amber, slipped closer to the leopard. “Don't have a lair. I'm a soldier.”

That meant he had gone rogue—at least he'd gone off on his own. If he had been born outside a lair, he wouldn't have known what one was. There was a story there, Elijah decided. He respected the man. Abruptly, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, knowing he might have to kill this man if Siena refused to see him.

He wasn't going to tell her Alonzo's life hung in the balance, but he was going to ask her if she'd talk to him. If she said no, he'd kill the man fast. It would be something he would regret for the rest of his life, but he wouldn't have that dangerous of a man hunting him and he didn't have a single doubt that Alonzo Massi would never stop coming at him to get to Siena.

He opened the door to the master bedroom. Immediately her scent hit him. Surrounded him. He breathed her into his lungs. Took her deep. The door to the bathroom was open, but there was no sound coming from inside that room. For one moment his world went black. Completely black. The air left his lungs and his heart pounded in his chest. He heard a roaring in his head. Pure thunder. Had he been wrong about Alonzo? Had the man distracted his team enough that someone else had gotten through the security lines?

He moved fast, using his leopard's speed, his stealth, leaping across the room to the door, his gun out and ready, his heart in his throat. She was there. In the bathtub. Her head was back against the slope of the tub, eyes closed. Her hair was on top of her head, and in spite of the knot, a riot of waves cascaded down around her face.

Air rushed back into his lungs. He pushed the gun into his waistband at the small of his back. For a moment his legs felt like rubber. Clear water lapped at her breasts. She was sound asleep. Still exhausted. The leopards had gone at it all night, and then he'd claimed his woman. He hadn't been particularly gentle. She wore his mark all over her body and he was dick enough to love the sight of his brand on her skin.

He padded across the room, eyes on her. That beautiful,
gorgeous
sight was his. His heart settled into a more natural rhythm, but it beat hard and the lump in his throat still refused to go away. He'd had nothing in his life. Nothing clean and good. No sunshine when he walked into a room. No woman who didn't give a damn that his name was Elijah Lospostos and his family was pure shit.

When she'd come to his front door he'd thrown her out.
Dios. Dios mio
, he was such a fool. He knelt beside the tub and tested the water. It was growing cold. Too cold. He swept his knuckles down the side of her face gently.

“Baby, wake up. You can't sleep here.”

Her long, feathery lashes lifted slowly and his already hard cock went from aching to painful when those green
eyes took him in. Turned soft. Loving.
Dios, Dios mio
, he was the luckiest bastard on the face of the earth.

“Hey,” she greeted softly, blinking sleepily.

He loved the drowsy, sexy look on her face. He could wake up to that every morning. He loved looking at her face when he made her come, the pure, sensual
dazed
shock she got on her face, the way she got lost in his eyes and his body. Gave herself up completely to him.

He nuzzled her throat. “Come on, baby, let's get you out of there,” he said, and his voice had gone husky, dropping an octave, a little hoarse around the edges.

Instantly she frowned, one hand lifting to his face, finger tracing the bottom edge of his lip. “What is it, honey?”

Her voice, the look on her face, so loving. Seeing him. Not the monster in the room, not the killer with a victim waiting for him downstairs. Seeing him. The man he had tried so desperately to hang on to. The one no one else saw. So damned small there was almost nothing left of his humanity, in spite of how he'd tried to guard it, yet Siena Arnotto, she could see him.

He reached down and unscrewed the plug and then pulled her to her feet, standing at the same time. He reached for a towel. “Out.”

She stepped out and he wrapped her up, feeling the little shiver.

“Elijah, what's going on? You're upset.”

How the hell did she know that? He could guarantee Alonzo Massi didn't know he was conflicted about killing him. But Siena, just like that, realized he was upset.

“Not upset,
mi amorcito
,” he lied. “You're just so far out of my league. I see you and something inside me . . .”
Breaks apart.
He couldn't say that. Leopards didn't lie to each other because they could hear honesty or deceit. She turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder and he knew she'd heard the lie, but judging by the softness in her eyes, she was giving him that.

“We've got a situation and I need your help.” His hands moved over her gently, taking the beads of water from her skin as he dried her off.

“Anything, Elijah, you know that.”

She turned straight again, allowing him to dry her body. He didn't know why it meant so much. The trust she gave him. The intimacy. Standing still for him, not asking, just waiting. He leaned down and brushed a kiss on her shoulder, then into the sweet spot where her neck and shoulder met.

“I need to know why you're afraid of Alonzo.”

His hands were on her—through the towel—but they were on her and he felt her stiffen. It was subtle, but his leopard reacted with a protective leap toward the surface. That was enough for him. Damn it. Just damn it. He brushed another kiss against her skin, this time behind her ear.

“No worries, baby, get dressed. I'll meet you in the kitchen in a few minutes.” With blood on his hands. Probably the blood of a good soldier, but one that would keep coming at them.

She caught his hand when he stepped away. One hand caught the towel, the other, her fingers tangled with his. “I don't know why I'm nervous around him. I honestly don't know. I liked him a lot when I first met him. He's very quiet. He keeps to the background, but for the longest time I felt safe around him. And then suddenly I didn't.” She frowned, turning toward him. “It's weird, Elijah. I have nightmares about him. He's there and he's got a gun pointed toward me and suddenly there's blood all over me and . . .” She trailed off, her hand going to her throat.

Fucking Alonzo. He wrapped his arms around her. “It's all right, don't think about it if it's upsetting to you. Nothing touches you here. I'll take care of things.”

She turned in his arms, pressing close, sliding her arms around his neck, the towel held up in the front by the tightness of her body against his. Open down the back. He couldn't stop himself from running his hands down her back
and over the curve of her very fine ass. He loved her ass. He loved watching her walk. She had a sexy sway that called to him. Called to any man watching, but that was his.

“Elijah, is Alonzo here? Is he the situation?”

She was smart. Her eyes were on his. Steady. She'd tilted her head to look up at him and close, that face was so beautiful it hurt to look at her, and his hands, full of her soft skin and perfect ass, pressed her even closer.

“He's the situation, baby. You tried to phone him when you were so scared and wanted to run from me.” He saw the realization dawning in her eyes.

“I did,” she whispered, astonished. “I was so hurt and needed help. But why would I call him of all people? That doesn't make sense.”

She shivered again, and he didn't know if it was because Alonzo—or the thought of him—frightened her or if she was cold. He ran his hands up and down her back, rubbing heat into her. The towel had to go because it was damp and didn't need to be against her skin. He was a hell of a lot warmer. He tugged at it and tossed it aside.

She pressed closer. “Why would I call him?”

“I don't know,
mi vida
, but when the phone went dead, he risked coming back here, knowing he might get shot in order to make certain you were okay.” He kept his voice strictly neutral, not wanting to sway her one way or the other.

The fingers of one hand curled in his hair, making him glad his hair grew long and thick and he detested taking the time for haircuts. Her other hand slid up his chest,
inside
his shirt, tracing patterns with the pads of her fingers. It took him a minute to realize she wrote her name on his skin, over and over in invisible ink. She did it often. The thing was, that signature sank through the skin straight to his soul.

“He did that? Came to check on me?”

“Right through enemy lines. Got him downstairs. He refuses to leave without talking to you. Says he has to see you're staying here because you want it. Says he's
your
soldier, and Paolo—or anyone else—isn't going to get to you.” Again he kept his voice neutral. He believed the man, but if she didn't . . .

“Wow. I remember him before the nightmares as always staying close. I knew he was my bodyguard, and I felt safe. I really did. Until the nightmares. And then Nonno started acting as if I had to choose either Alonzo or Paolo as a husband. I really watched Alonzo because I didn't like the way Paolo looked at me. I realized how dangerous Alonzo was, way more than Paolo. The other men steered clear of him. Paolo bullied, using threats, but Alonzo never threatened. If something happened, he went into action and he was always cold, Elijah. Stone-cold.”

There was nothing cold about the way she was pressed against him. Or the movement of her hand. It had slipped lower. Caressing his hip bone. Moving over the material of his jeans to rub the thick bulge there. He became acutely aware of the gun tucked into the waistband at the small of his back.