Lizzie Lynn Lee (10 page)

“Mine as well. Please have a seat.”

The jet had a twenty-five person seating capacity. Angelo had brought five people with him—his manager, stunt expert, attorney, personal assistant and makeup artist. Angelo took a seat across from Gabe. His business manager and attorney flanked him. The rest of his entourage filled out the back seats.

“If I may be frank, your phone call intrigued me. I’ve never agreed to taking on a job without knowing what it entails first.”

“The nature of this matter requires the utmost secrecy. We would need you to sign a confidentiality release before we can begin to divulge the information to you,” Gabe said. Alex was ready with the paperwork. He took a sheaf of hard copies from his attaché.

Angelo turned to his attorney. His lawyer nodded. “Okay,” Angelo said.

Papers were exchanged. The lawyer read them before he gave his approval. The illusionist scribbled his signature.

Alex examined the disclosure contract. “All in order.”

Gabe relaxed in his chair. “I want you to perform a miracle at a gathering that we’re calling the Night of the Lions…”

* * * *

Cat had been imprisoned for two days. It was driving her nuts. The glass cuts on her arms itched. Her clothes stuck to her body from the sweat. She smelt like a hobo. She desperately wanted a nice, long, hot bath, a square meal, and to sleep in a clean-sheeted bed. No one talked to her. Not even the big, scary man who gave her food twice a day.

On the third night, instead of the usual scary guy, a huge, dark-skinned man came when the door was opened. He packed a small assault rifle that could make nice holes in her body. The man spoke in a foreign language and made a gesture as if he wanted her to follow him.

Cat didn’t try to argue. Body language was pretty much universal everywhere. If she resisted, the man could break her neck. She slunk to the door. The man herded her into a room full of gruff-looking men, and all of them were packing. Judging from their swagger, she had a sinking feeling that she wasn’t in Jersey any more. Tijuana? These men looked foreign and menacing. They definitely didn’t have an ounce of Hispanic blood in them. Haiti? How could it be possible she had landed her ass in that part of the world? Just how long had she been unconscious before she’d first woken?

“Who are you guys?” Cat demanded.

The men just laughed.

One of them came over with a flour sack and unceremoniously covered her head with it. A barrel of a gun nudged her in the rib. She understood. They wanted to take her somewhere else. She hoped it didn’t have anything to do with any form of execution.

Besides, if these people had wanted to kill her, they probably would have done it already. Why bother keeping her alive?

She was dragged outside the building and hauled into an open vehicle. Two men crowded her.

They drove along bad roads that seemed to take forever. The vehicle bounced and bumped, making her guts churn, and the bag half suffocated her. It smelt like stale flour and something dead and unpleasant. Cat kept asking herself if things could get any worse. She had no idea where she was or what they wanted from her. Or what her conniving client had in connection with these men.

The drive was finally over. A man barked something and she didn’t know whether it was directed at her. When she didn’t move, he yanked her off balance and pulled her out of the vehicle. She almost tumbled down like a rock. Luckily, she managed to get both feet on the ground, which prevented her from face-planting the gravel.

The men shoved her around some more, prodding her with the tips of their rifles. She trudged like a blind sheep. They trekked until her feet felt swollen from stepping on rocks, twigs and thorns.

A man barked a command that sounded suspiciously like, “Stop.” Cat shambled until a hand jerked her to a halt. The man dragged her to a place where the ground was covered with mounds of huge roots. It felt as if she was walking under a giant tree.

The man barked again. They stopped. Cat fell when someone shoved her. She cursed them to high heavens. While she was busy cursing, the men bound her legs and arms with ropes. She thought the whole rope thing was overkill. She couldn’t have run anywhere even if she’d wanted to. She was beyond exhausted, and her feet hurt like hell.

They left her after they’d tied her securely. But they didn’t go far—she could hear the sounds of their boots against the gravel and dirt. She wished they would take off the stupid sack. She longed for fresh air.

She was
dying
for fresh air.

The men’s chatter died down. For a while she only heard the wind blowing against tree branches, echoes of the men’s boots against the ground.

Then she heard snarls and hisses. Roars. Big cats. Lions? The air filled with the musk of wild beasts. Cat’s heart dropped to her guts. Where exactly
was
she? If the roars were lions, she must be in Africa. Right? Lions only existed in Africa. Or in zoos.

One of the men came and took the flour sack off her head.

Oh, thank God
. She exhaled a relieved breath.
Oh, crap.

Cat couldn’t believe her eyes. The men had brought her to some kind of vast, grassy area. A humongous, gnarly, ancient tree stood behind her, and the place was crawling with lions. Wild lions. Male lions. Lionesses. Cubs. They leapt and bounded towards a huge bonfire in the clearing, about three hundred feet from where she was.

Cat had a sinking feeling that the lions weren’t actually lions. They were shifters, like Duval and Judith Rossi, or whatever the bitch’s name was. Their eyes gleamed with intelligence. Their expressions were too lively to belong to wild animals. They looked pretty freaky.

The lions circled the bonfire as if they were waiting for something. For a while, nothing happened except that the lions kept coming. Their numbers grew to hundreds. By now Cat was convinced they were shifters. She’d read somewhere that lions were territorial creatures. One couldn’t saunter into another pride’s domain without fighting being involved. Seeing hundreds of them in one place could be classified as an uncanny phenomenon, even for someone who didn’t know much about lions.

The hissing and snarling died down when a big, male lion with a red mane approached the bonfire, circling it. He roared several times. Cat watched him with interest. The red-maned lion looked as though he were giving a speech. That was the darnedest thing she had ever seen. The other lions listened to the red-maned one with interest. Then a lioness entered the scene. A scruffy one. Cat instantly recognised that ugly bitch. She was Judith Rossi. Or Sophie-Marie Veron. Whatever.

Rossi did some snarling for a while. Too bad Cat didn’t speak lionese. Whatever Rossi was doing, it gained her rapt attention from the other lions. After Rossi finished her hissy fit, every lion in the clearing turned its head in Cat’s direction.

Oh, crap.

Cat shuddered.

It was so fucking freaky. It looked like something out of a Stephen King novel or some equally disturbed scene. Hundreds of big, scary lions stared at her. Their eyes gleamed under the starry sky. Every hair on her body stood up.

What were they going to do to her?

Eat her?

Did lion shifters eat humans for snacks?

The thought stirred some nauseating waves within her.

The lions consulted among themselves. At least, that was what they appeared to do.

Oh, God.
Cat bit her lower lip. What were they doing now? Passing judgement? After five minutes of them growling amongst themselves, another one entered the circle. The sea of beasts parted as he made his way to the bonfire. He was followed by two equally huge lions.

Cat squinted. The newcomer’s eyes looked familiar. The facial expression.

Gabriel!

Could it really be him?

It sounded impossible. If it really was him, how come he wasn’t trying to rescue her?

That bastard.

Cat thrashed against her bonds. The guard near her threw her a warning look. She hissed back as fiercely as she could manage.

Back in the circle, the Gabriel-lion snarled at Rossi. Then, to Cat’s astonishment, he jumped into the fire.

Her heart froze in her chest. “Gabriel!” she screamed. Nobody reprimanded her this time. Everybody was transfixed at the fire-jumping lion.

Cat thrashed again. What the hell was he doing? Was he out of his mind?

He would be burnt to a crisp. Nothing could withstand that kind of heat. He’d be dead.

Gabriel…

Just as her hope turned into sorrow, the Gabriel-lion leisurely walked out of the bonfire like some godlike creature. His tail swished. He roared menacingly to the red-maned lion and Rossi. Every lion jumped to their feet.

That was when the pandemonium started.

Suddenly, somebody fired a weapon. No, several people. Bullets started raining down. The men who’d kidnapped her scattered for cover. Cat automatically flattened herself against the tree roots, hoping she wouldn’t catch any stray bullets. The fire fight continued.

Her kidnappers weren’t the only ones who went for cover. The lions did too, and several seemed to be fighting among themselves. One of her kidnappers fired back. Lines of cold lead sang back in his direction. Some whined above Cat’s head.

Just what kind of madness have I stumbled into?
she lamented. Cat heard a man shout in anguish. She didn’t dare to move a bit.

“Catherine…”

She wanted to jump from her skin. She quickly turned her head.

A male lion stared at her, then swung his paw, his claws slicing through the ropes like a knife through butter. Suddenly, he morphed into someone she knew.

Alexandre.

And he was naked. Cat remembered that shifters supposedly didn’t retain their clothes when they shifted.

“Oh, dude!” Cat threw her gaze the other way. Since she had slept with Gabriel, seeing his brother naked was an awkward thing. “Do I have to see your cock?”

“Shut up. Can you walk?”

“I guess I can. But I’m handcuffed.”

“Follow me.” He morphed back into a lion.

Cat crawled behind him. The fire fight continued. When Alex deemed she wasn’t moving fast enough, he grabbed her collar with his jaw and dragged her like a mother cat would her kitten. Cat flailed, but Alex was very strong. She cursed as Alex hauled her through grass and bushes. Her ass felt like a pincushion. Her legs were bruised and bled. But Alex seemed determined to get her away from the scene.

She was too exhausted to complain when Alex finally stopped. She slumped. Two pairs of strong hands seized her and lifted her into a Jeep. The men were swathed in black with fierce face-paint. They carried rifles and killing paraphernalia that could wipe out a small army. The door slammed. The Jeep screeched into the night.

Have I just been saved?

But she was so tired. Her eyelids grew heavy despite the throbbing pain. Her body ached everywhere.

She was so damn tired…

Chapter Six

When Cat woke up, she felt warm and fuzzy. She was propped up in a comfy chair. Her body was clean and her hair was tied into a ponytail. And her leg. Her left leg was in a cast. So was her right arm.

She nudged the blanket that was draped over her and discovered she was in a hospital gown. Again. But she wasn’t in a hospital. She was in a freaking aeroplane.

“Good. You’re awake.”

“Gabe!” Cat wanted to hug him, but the cast prevented her.

Gabriel embraced her and kissed her forehead.

“Thank God you’re okay. I thought I saw you jump into the fire and…” Cat giggled. Why was she feeling so euphoric?

“Oh, great. She’s stoned,” a voice commented. Alex. He took a seat across from her chair.

“I’m totally not stoned,” she argued. “I still know math. Just ask me.”

“It’s the painkillers,” Gabriel said.

“Whatever it is, I like it.”

“Shall I give her a relaxant, Mr Larousse?” A voice came from the seat behind her. “So Miss Kovac could rest?”

“No!” Cat was wide-eyed instantly. “No more drugs. You owe me explanations, Gabriel!”

“Maybe later, Dr Greene.” Gabriel fixed her blanket. “Want something to drink?”

“Please. Do you have a juice box?”

Alex got up. “I’ll get it.”

Cat looked around. The aeroplane didn’t look like a commercial one.
Private jet? Bet Gabriel could afford a nifty toy like this.
The cabin had four seats facing each other, then rows of more seats behind her. It looked like Gabriel flew with a whole staff. She saw several people she didn’t know clustered at the back of the plane.

“Where are we?” she asked Gabriel. “Besides the obvious.”

“We’re heading home. From Johannesburg.”

“Johannesburg, as in South Africa?”

“Yes.”

“Whoa.” Cat ran her good hand through her hair. “I really was in Africa. How did I get there? I remember Rossi smacked me around, then everything went hazy from there.”

“Your client stuffed you into a wooden crate and flew you in her corporate plane to Cape Town.”

“How nice. Wooden crate. I’m going to charge her triple for this. Where is she, by the way?”

Gabriel’s face darkened. “She didn’t survive the fire fight. My men are arranging her funeral in Kingston.”

“Kingston?”

“Where we had the gathering. The Night of the Lions.”

“Shit, she died? God.” Cat reflected on the news. “Were all of them shifters?”

“Yes.”

Alex came with a can of orange juice. “We don’t have a juice box. Is this okay?”

“More than okay.”

Alex opened the can for her, since she couldn’t do it with one hand. “Here.”

“Thank you.” Cat took a sip. It felt so good to have something fresh, unlike the stuff the kidnappers had been feeding her. She turned to Gabriel. “Was it really you—the lion who jumped into the fire?”

“Yes, babe.”

“How did you survive?”

“I had a little help from Gustav Angelo. Nothing that smoke and mirrors couldn’t do.”

“Gustav Angelo, as in
the
Gustav Angelo? That famous Vegas magician?”