My Feline Protector (Middlemarch Shifters Book 6) (18 page)

“You ate the meat,” Gerard said in a sharp voice.

“What?” London asked, appearing in the kitchen. She sat on one of the counter stools. “What has happened?”

Gerard shot Henry a warning look.

“Don’t even think of hiding things from me.” London bit off the words, her accent crisp and clear. She meant business, and Gerard went mushy inside. Not that he’d allow a hint of indulgence when her life could be in danger.

“A woman staked out the place,” he told her.

“A woman? Do you think it’s the same one who stopped to ask me for directions? Can you describe her?”

“Tall and solid. A mass of curly blonde hair. Sunglasses. White shirt with a denim skirt. Flat shoes.”

“How tall?” Gerard asked, thinking back to the day of the race. He’d only seen the rear of the zombie and assumed it was a man because of his build and height.

“Close to six feet.”

“So I might have seen a woman on race day. We asked the zombies about a man. What if it was a woman who killed Jenny?”

“It was a man who tried to break into my room at the bed-and-breakfast. He had hairy arms.”

“What color?” Henry demanded.

“Pardon?” London said, her blue eyes full of confusion.

“What color were the hairs on his arms?”

“Not black. Lighter. Oh, Susan emailed a photo of Royce through to my phone.” She pulled out the phone and brought up Royce’s photo.

He had short brown hair, a toothy white grin. A kind of smugness, Gerard thought. His face was aristocratic with a faint tan and a thin, neat mustache beneath his long, narrow nose. He had trouble imagining this man with either London or Jenny. “I haven’t seen him.”

Henry peered over his shoulder. “Me neither.”

“Could the blonde lady be a man?” Gerard focused on London. “What else did you notice when you spoke to the woman?”

Henry opened his mouth to ask questions, but Gerard raised his hand in a signal for quiet.

“It was hard to see her face because of her sunglasses. She had a lot of blonde curls—sort of untamed but tidy. She’d applied her makeup with a heavy hand. I didn’t get a good look at her because there was something weird that gave me the creeps. She tried hard to get me into the car.”

“What make was her vehicle?”

London pulled a face. “Dark blue. I don’t know. It was a car rather than a vehicle like Gerard’s.”

“I didn’t see the vehicle. She parked it somewhere and approached the house on foot.” Henry focused on London. “How did you get on at the police station?”

“The usual guy is sick, and they have a replacement from Dunedin. He listened and took notes. He promised he’d check out what I said.”

“What hobbies did Royce have?” Gerard asked.

“He likes sports, plays rugby and goes to the gym.”

Henry punched the bread dough. “Anything else?”

London wrinkled her brow. “He likes to go to the theater. He told me he wanted to be an actor once, but his parents persuaded him to go into accounting because there were more, better opportunities.”

“Ding. Ding,” Gerard said. “That is our winner.”

“If he liked acting, he might change his appearance with disguises.” Henry froze, then cocked his head. “Car coming. Take over the bread, London.” Henry ripped off his shirt and carted it out of the kitchen. He returned a few seconds in wolf form.

A knock sounded.

“What do we do?” London asked.

“I’ll see who it is. Just pretend you’re making bread.”

London nodded and washed her hands before kneading the pile of dough.

Gerard returned with the policeman she’d spoken with earlier.

“Ms. Allbright.” He dipped his head in welcome before focusing on her with bright eyes.

Gerard worked to restrain his growl of displeasure. That was his woman the cop was ogling.

“Did you need something? Have you found Jenny’s killer?”

“Not yet. We’re still combing the country for Henry Anderson. I’ve checked on the information you gave me this morning. Royce Weaver is in the country, but we haven’t been able to ascertain his whereabouts. He landed at Christchurch airport. You say your sister had a restraining order against him?”

“Yes, and she was in the process of gaining a divorce. She’d seen a solicitor.”

“He was violent?”

“Yes. I told you that this morning.”

“You think him capable of murder?”

Gerard studied London’s expressive face, felt her flash of fear and his feline writhed beneath his skin. His claws worked from beneath his fingernails.

“Yes, Royce is an angry man. He’ll be furious once he learns Jenny changed her will.”

“He could contest it since he is still her husband,” the cop pointed out.

“All the assets, the apps she has designed are in her own name, and Royce had nothing to do with that part of her life. He could contest Jenny’s will, but the solicitor told me he didn’t think a claim by Royce would be successful for her business assets. To be honest, the news rattled me, and I haven’t discussed the details with the solicitor.”

“I see,” the cop said. “I’ll put out a watch notice for him. If you see him, please contact us. Given the circumstances, we’d like to talk to Mr. Weaver.”

“I’ll call you,” London promised.

The bastard wouldn’t get close enough to London to hurt her, let alone speak with her. Not if he had his way.

London walked the cop to the door and Gerard watched her as she disappeared into the passage. At least the cops were listening now. They’d need them later because they couldn’t continue to live this way. He wanted a peaceful life with London. His mate.

“He’s out there,” Henry said.

Gerard pulled from his reverie to focus on his friend. “Yes.”

“We have to do something.”

“He’s not going to kill London.” The shard of pain on his friend’s face was like a kick to the gut. Aching sympathy tugged at him. If London died…

“We won’t let that happen,” Henry said in a harsh voice. “He took Jenny from me, but I won’t let him get London too. We won’t let that happen.”

London appeared in the kitchen doorway. “If you’re discussing Royce, then I have a right to take part in the discussion.”

“She’s right. You’re right,” Henry said with a nudge in London’s direction. “We need backup. Leo and Isabella. Perhaps Saber and Felix.”

“Agreed. I’ll call them.” Gerard plucked his phone from his pocket and made calls.

Henry finished making his bread and put two loaves in the oven to bake. Gerard completed his phone calls and joined them in the kitchen. Now that they’d agreed on the plan subtle tension ramped up inside London. She couldn’t sit still, couldn’t settle and slid off her stool at the counter to pace between there and Geoffrey’s basket on the other side of the large kitchen. Geoffrey lifted his head to study her, then issued a sigh and settled his head on his paws.

“What if it’s not Royce?” London asked, her runners squeaking on the pale gray tiles to mark her progress. “What if we’re making a mistake and someone else murdered Jenny?”

“English, we’re not making a mistake. We will check before we take any action. If the person skulking around our property is Royce Weaver, then we’ll scare him half to death and turn him over to the cops.” Gerard flashed one of his charming grins, the one that made her insides roll in a good way, as he slid onto one of the four chrome-and-leather stools. “The plan worked well the first time we used it.”

“You’ve done this before?” London asked, diverted enough to still and cock her hip against the hard corner of the counter.

“When someone was stalking Lisa, Sam’s mate, we had to take matters into our own hands,” Gerard said. “The guy broke into Lisa’s house and attacked. He wasn’t expecting two leopards, a wolf and a pissed Jack Russell to greet him along with Lisa.”

“Leo and Isabella are here,” Henry said as he wiped off the dusting of flour remaining on the charcoal-gray granite countertop.

Seconds later, Geoffrey barked.

“That’s most annoying.” London scowled at Henry.

“You wouldn’t say that if Henry saved your life with those wolfish senses of his. He’s saved my life a time or two.” Gerard went to answer the door. He came back with all four Mitchells.

“We came together,” Saber said.

“You okay, London?” Isabella asked, concern in her expression. She parked her butt on the counter stool nearest the doorway, sharp gaze scanning London, Gerard and Henry before moving on to catalog the contents of the kitchen—the appliances, the dishes in the sink and a wooden knife block. She grinned at Geoffrey who took one look at her, whined, and hid his face.

London inhaled, did a quick reconnoiter of her feelings. “Yeah, at least I will be.”

“Good,” Isabella said. “We will catch this guy.”

Gerard’s friends wore their serious faces, reminding her of soldiers in the movies with their watchful expressions. Saber leaned against the doorjamb, Felix claimed a wooden chair in the dining nook, turning it and sitting on it backward while Leo sat next to his mate at the counter. London’s pulse rate jumped, and Gerard shot her a concerned glance. She forced a smile, although it didn’t seem to fit right on her lips.

“You okay, English?”

“I’m fine.” An understatement. She was so far from fine she felt like Alice wandering through a damp, dark cavern, following a rabbit she wasn’t even sure existed. She jumped when he reached for her hand, embarrassment sinking in its claws and broadcasting on her face, yet she moved closer to Gerard, taking comfort from the physical contact.

“What’s the plan?” Saber asked.

“We think he will come to the house via the bush. Henry and Geoffrey are a concern to him since he threw them meat this morning.”

Isabella shot Henry a frown. “You didn’t eat it?”

“It wasn’t drugged. It came in a supermarket packet, and I watched him unwrap it. He’s preparing the groundwork. Next time it won’t be safe to eat. Don’t worry. My sense of smell is good. I’ll know and Geoffrey will listen to me,” Henry said.

“So we’re letting him become comfortable approaching the house?” Leo asked.

“Then, we’ll lay a trap and nab him,” Gerard said.

“We could always put out a hit on him,” Isabella commented, her voice calm as if she’d just asked someone to pass the jug of milk for her tea.

London jumped when Gerard tapped a finger under her chin. She pressed her lips together and leaned into him, scrutinizing the reactions. Saber, she couldn’t read. Her gaze moved on to Leo. His handsome face appeared as stoic as his older brother’s. Felix, the brother in-between, mirrored their enigmatic behavior. Henry’s expression held pain—the same anguish he’d worn since his friends had broken him from jail. Isabella cocked her head, watchful and weighing emotions and responses to her outrageous suggestion.

“What if we’re wrong?” London burst out, repeating her concerns. “What if it’s not Royce?”

“These are the facts, English. Royce wasn’t happy because Jenny started divorce proceedings. We know she changed her will, excluding him from everything except the items in the pre-nup agreement the solicitor told you they’d both signed. Royce told his work he was sick but we have proof he flew to Christchurch. Jenny is murdered.” Gerard squeezed her. “The facts are adding up, London.”

“He’s a loose end,” Isabella said in her blunt way. “He needs snipping.”

London froze at the statement, then started at the
thump-thump
of Isabella’s fist striking the countertop in punctuation of her statement. Wow, Isabella had a tough core of steel hidden beneath her striking blonde locks.

“London is right.” Saber straightened from his lean. “We need certainty before we act.”

“And if he grabs London and stabs her before we get our proof,” Gerard demanded, and London heard his feline in each of his harsh words.

“Gerard is right,” Henry added his opinion. “Jenny is dead. It happened without warning. The murderer is quick and not afraid to take chances. We need to protect London.”

“Or he’s just lucky.” Saber prowled across the kitchen and stopped near Geoffrey. He stooped to pet the terrier, and Geoffrey growled in warning, his furry body tensing. Saber eyed the dog, gave a decidedly feline snarl in return and stood to face them, turning his back on a ruffled Geoffrey. “We should stake out the bush tonight and wait for him—position ourselves up in the trees—watch and only take action if he gets into the house. Get an idea of where he’s staying and get a good view of him.”

London could see Gerard’s struggle to hide his amusement at Saber and Geoffrey’s interaction.

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he said, “It’s possible he’s using disguises. A woman tried to get London into her car this morning.”

“Make of car?” Isabella queried. “Number plate.”

Gerard winked at London. “It was dark blue. A car rather than a SUV.”

“Sorry. I’m not a car person. I don’t own one,” London said, feeling she should apologize.

“Okay,” Saber said. “Gerard and London in the house. Go out for dinner and come back around nine. Give the guy a chance to get inside first. If he does, we can nab him, and keep London far away from any danger. Leo and Isabella, you station yourselves in the bush and wait for him. Find a suitable tree. The intruder will never think to look up. Felix and I will relieve you.” He glanced at them. “Have I missed anything?”