Shifter's Claim (The Shadow Shifters) (15 page)

“I’m not so sure it was their plan to take the goods and run,” Black offered.

Palermo wasn’t so sure of that. Still, he doubted the dumbass humans had a clue as to what had been in those other two crates or how important they were to some very powerful people.

Frowning, he looked at the shifter that he’d had no choice but to bring along on this part of the mission. They were supposed to keep a low profile while they were here. The people that Palermo was working with did not want to be identified or connected in any way to what he was doing. Unfortunately, Black wasn’t one for being discreet. His physical attributes almost made that completely impossible, with his larger-than-normal frame, and all-black clothes covering just about every inch of his skin even in the hot Southwestern climate. The locals had been staring each time Black had walked through the hotel lobby, no doubt taking in every detail of this stranger in town.

“What do you mean? My shit’s gone and so are those
ladrões
!” Palermo exclaimed, trying like hell not to lose his temper even though somebody obviously thought he could be played for a fool.

Black shook his head, his thick neck looking as if it were trapped inside the material of the shirt collar wrapped tightly at his throat.

“When I was in the tunnel I picked up a scent. Shadows,” the big shifter stated simply.

He hadn’t needed the other shifter to tell him what he already knew. Still, Palermo cursed long and fluently at that point. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed quickly.

“We’ve got a problem,” he announced immediately when the line was answered. “Tell me again, which one of those bastard FLs are in charge out here?” he spoke into the phone.

When he received the answer, Palermo nodded, then he smiled, a slow and very satisfied smile. “No. I don’t need you to send me any information on this one. We go way back.”

Because he wouldn’t hang up until he did, Palermo gave a brief synopsis of their situation, and then felt his smile turning into a frown as he listened to the bullshit threats coming from the other end of the phone, before thankfully clicking it off and stuffing it back into his pocket. The immediate order was to kill the FL of the Mountain Zone, but that was the least of Palermo’s worries. He wanted his stash back, needed desperately to find those damned crates from Comastaz. Then he would take care of Sebastian Perry, with more pleasure than he’d allowed himself in ages.

“What’s doing?” Black asked, his big beefy arms folded over his chest.

“We’re taking a little side trip,” Palermo told him. “To a place called Perryville.”

Sedona

The original plan had been to take her away from Perryville for a while, to give Jacques time to do his background check on her and plant all his devices to track her. There were some favorite places Bas wanted to take her even though he’d never taken any other female to those particular spots before. He didn’t bother to question why, it would only land in the pile of growing questions he had where Priya Drake was concerned. So he’d ignored it, taking her from the room and guiding her along the halls of the resort he was beyond proud of owning and operating.

She hadn’t asked any questions during the tour of the resort. Well, at least not any questions about the story she was after. Instead they’d shared small talk that had him admiring her even more than he’d been afraid he already did.

The change in her mood had come quickly even though she’d tried to hide it. Luckily, Bas was very perceptive; okay, his shifter senses were more the culprit in this instance. Her excitement was a burst of hibiscus and jasmine that sifted through his nostrils with the stark memory of his visits to the rainforest. That would be the only other place that Bas could safely identify with scents like hibiscus and jasmine. There was a place just at the base of the Gungi where he’d made sure to visit each time he was there. The ground was cushioned with damp foliage, the canopy providing heavy shade above so that it almost appeared the world in the jungle was in a perpetual darkness.

The atmosphere rang with the endless drone of cicadas and crickets. In the distance there was a waterfall, its rush of activity giving a semblance of relief from the heavy damp air. Tree ferns burst from the ground, branches spreading like eagle’s wings, tiny leaves soft as dewdrops to the touch. Just north of the ferns a gentle clearing was invaded by jagged rock, ghostly wisps of white spray rolling downward, kickback from the waterfall.

This woman, this reporter that he didn’t want to give in to, reminded him of this place. Her smile, her thirst for information, and undoubtedly her fresh and exuberant scent took him back to the Gungi in a way that made Bas more than nervous.

It made him wonder.

Presently—because that’s where Bas’s mind needed to focus—the sun was beaming brightly over smooth red clay-covered walls as they walked first through the outside area of the Alma spa. There was a side entrance as well as an entrance directly through the resort. Since they’d come out of the front door and walked around they had used the side entrance, which opened at the pool. Slate-colored lounge chairs were perfectly aligned around the six-foot-deep, pebble-lined pool that stretched from one end of the deck area to the other, about twenty feet.

“I love to swim,” was her first genuine comment. “This looks absolutely refreshing.”

The water did look tempting as the heat of early afternoon had begun to settle upon them. She walked a little ahead of him and his gaze was immediately drawn to the tight pull of denim across her delectable ass. She had a compact little body that moved with the same energy as her mind. He was still thinking of how much courage it took for her to leave her home and travel across the country for a story. Then again, reporters did this every day. They worked tenaciously, sometimes methodically, to uncover every fact they could to support their story. What most reporters didn’t do was attend a five-hundred-dollar ticketed political fund-raiser wearing a dress with the price tag still attached, nor did they make sloppy attempts to break into a private suite of a prominent businessman. And no reporter had ever followed him across the country in an attempt to expose the one thing that Bas lived to protect.

“We didn’t swim a lot when I was younger,” she’d been saying as she stooped down to put her fingers in the water.

The statement brought a plunge in her mood, a shadow of hurt and pain clouding the bright flowery scent of her previous excitement. It was a lightning-fast change, one that concerned Bas and irritated the hell out of his cat.

“Really? The summer months get pretty hot in D.C.,” he commented, assuming that was where she’d been born and raised. By the time Bas returned to his office, Jacques would have a complete background report on Priya Drake and Bas would know all he needed to know to make a decision on how he would deal with her. At least he hoped so.

“Our only option was the public pool, which was a couple of miles away from where we lived and had usually reached its capacity by the time we got there, which was normally late afternoon. My mother wasn’t a morning person.”

Her voice had held a desolate tone as she talked, her gaze still focused on the water.

“You didn’t have any siblings that could take you?” Bas asked, suddenly very interested in the woman, not the reporter.

Priya nodded. “My sisters are older and always had more important things to do. And my brother…” She paused, staring out at the water with the saddest look Bas had ever seen on her face. “He was busy a lot too,” she finally finished.

“That sucks,” he stated before he could stop himself. It was a knee-jerk reaction and what he’d really been referring to was that it sounded as if her childhood may have been the source of her past pain. That bothered him more than it should have.

She flicked her fingers then and stood, giving him a quick gaze. “Not everyone was lucky enough to be born rich and to grow up to become even richer. We didn’t have a lot and what we had was split four ways so that meant no indulgences like lavish summer vacations, enticing swimming pools, or whatever else a very active imagination could dream of. It was a long time ago. I got over it. No big deal,” she stated quickly and turned to walk away from him.

Right, or rather wrong. She obviously hadn’t gotten over it, not in the least bit. If there was one thing he could sense through his human side, more so than the shifter, it was the remnants of a painful past. Most likely because he still carried his around like old luggage.

“We’re going inside,” he said, once again abruptly as he’d just decided to change his plans.

He took her hand and was moving before she could reply. When he thought she might have argued, she didn’t, simply walked along behind him. For some reason that too, bothered him.

A few minutes at the front desk, a nod from one of the ladies he employed, and then they were on their way down the marbled floor hallway. The attendant stopped in front of a door, painted a warm coral shade with a gold knob, which she turned to let them inside.

“You can undress in there and come out with this robe on. Dana will be with you momentarily,” the attendant said with a polite smile as she handed a white terry cloth robe to a now-perplexed-looking Priya.

“What?”

“That will be fine, thank you,” Bas interrupted after Priya’s question. He dismissed the attendant, waited until she’d closed the door behind her, leaving them alone before turning to her. Her stance had changed, her shoulders squared, one eyebrow arched in that way she did when she was about to fire off with a bout of questions. Funny how he’d memorized her actions, her moods, and the slight dimple that appeared at the right corner of her mouth when she smiled.

“Before you argue, look at it as an indulgence that you’re way overdue for. You’re about to receive a top-notch massage from one of the world’s most talented massage therapists. You can thank me later,” he told her while reaching for her shoulders and turning her toward the door to the bathroom.

“I don’t want a massage,” she snapped, tossing a look over her shoulder that should have had the effect of daggers shooting into his skull, but actually felt like a lightning bolt to his groin.

“You’re going to love it, Dana is the best,” was his cordial reply.

“I’ll bet you know how good she is firsthand,” she added when he’d opened the door and scooted her inside.

Bas smiled as the scent of jealousy wafted slowly between them. “Dana’s a man.”

She arched a brow. “Then I’m almost positive you know he’s the best.”

Had his smile ever faded so fast, Bas wasn’t sure, but her words were a pinprick to his infamous ego. “He’s the best because I pay him more than I pay some of the top management staff. Now get undressed.”

He closed the door before she could speak again and walked out of the room to answer the cell phone that had been vibrating in his pocket.

*   *   *

She’d never had a massage, never thought it was worth spending her money on. Things like rent, gas for the car, and food sort of took precedence.

So it was with a few hesitant steps that Priya emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a robe so soft she wanted to purr as her bare feet were cushioned by equally soft carpet in a warm beige color. The walls in here were painted the same coral as outside with a beige-and-gold-flecked border. Two tables were positioned in the center of the room, covered in white sheets and what she thought might actually be a mattress beneath, they looked so comfortable. Atop the white sheets were peach-colored rose petals. Priya lifted one, rubbing her fingers over the smoothness as she continued to look around.

Directly across from the head of the table about eight feet away were two steps and a tub. Above the tub was a fountain that looked like a sheet of banged aluminum. Water slipped quietly over the tin surface to drip into a narrow drain. When she’d first come into the room, overhead fluorescent lighting had been on. Now, there were candles, short fat ones, tall skinny ones, all white, all emitting a light earthy fragrance throughout the room.

Turning around once more she let her hand rub along the length of one of the tables, looking around and wondering how she came to be here. She shouldn’t be in this luxurious place about to experience her first massage when she had no idea where her brother was and if he was still alive. With a curse she was about to go into the bathroom and change back into her clothes when the door opened and in walked what could only be described as a Greek god—if she were the type to believe they actually existed, which she didn’t think she was. Until now, of course.

“Hi, I’m Dana,” he said. “You can take this table right here and I’ll be back to get started.”

Swallowing deeply, Priya watched as the over six-foot-tall, olive-complexioned, bald-headed man who seemed to be squeezing all his magnificent body parts into white pants and a white T-shirt, flashed her a gorgeous smile then turned to leave the room before she could reply.

In the next instant Priya pulled that robe off so fast she thought she might have ripped it. Yanking back the rose-petal-covered sheet she didn’t even mind that those pretty flowers were now falling silently to the floor as she climbed up onto the table. It took a second of adjustment as she made sure the sheets covered her naked body, then she lay there, like a kid at Christmas, waiting, anticipating.

When the door opened again she wanted to turn around and get another look at Mr. Dana, but for once in her life didn’t have the guts. Instead she closed her eyes in an effort to calm the rampant beat of her heart, her mind wandering with thoughts of Dana and his highly paid hands.

The sheet moved and was tucked at her waist. Priya bit her bottom lip, wondering if he would massage her entire body. Would he want her to turn over so he could touch her breasts? What about her thighs? She knew there was tension there, especially around her inner thighs. That thought had her frowning because in the same instant she realized that it wasn’t Dana that she wanted between her thighs. Inhaling deeply, Priya forced herself to remain still. Seconds later there was a sound, like something opening, a tube or a bottle, hands clasping together, rubbing against each other. She let another breath out slowly, waiting, figuring she could get through this. She had to because there was no way she was going to tell the ever-confident Sebastian Perry that he’d ruined her for another man’s touch, even a simple massage.