Gabriel leaned closer. “A cat?”
Manchu opened one amber eye. He took one look at the big man and hissed and spat, arching his back, his fur standing on end. Then he started yowling.
Gabriel winced, holding a hand to his ear. “How is it possible something so small can make such a wretched noise?”
Melinda rushed over to the carrier. “I’m sorry. He’s normally a really placid cat.” What’d got into Manchu? She opened the cage and reached for him, but the ginger feline wasn’t interested in being comforted. He tore past her and took off up the floating staircase.
“Oh. I’msosorry. I’ll just… I’ll go catch him.” Flustered, Melinda took off after him.
“Don’t worry, Melinda,” Louis called after her. “I think we can all cope with one little cat.”
In a penthouse suite? She didn’t think so. Gabriel wouldn’t be too impressed if he clawed that expensive sofa.
She found Manchu hiding under the big king-sized bed in the main bedroom. She gave up cajoling and, risking being scratched and bitten, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged the terrified kitty into her arms. He clung to her, nails sharp against her skin through her sweater, as she petted him until he relaxed into her hold and began to purr. “It’s okay, Manchu. No more flying. No more intruders. We’re safe now.”
His little face scrunched up, but he bunted his head against her chin.
A tap on the door and Louis poked his head in. Manchu yowled, scrambled out of her arms and fled into the en suite bathroom.
“Sorry.” He dropped her bags inside the doorway. “I thought I’d bring you his supplies so he could get settled.”
“Thanks, Louis. I’m so sorry about this. I’m sure the last thing your brother wanted was a cat loose in his home.”
“Gabriel doesn’t live here. This suite belongs to the p— Wolf Enterprises. So don’t you worry about my brother.”
“If you’re sure?”
“Set him up in the bathroom, and, Melinda, take your time. It’s been a rough twelve hours for both of you.”
Louis disappeared and she listened to his footsteps on the stairs, not sure if she was grateful for this moment alone, this chance to gather her thoughts, or not. Too many images of the scene in her flat kept flashing through her mind, held at bay until now by her awareness of the sexy, hot, gorgeous—every positive attribute, every cliche you could use to physically describe men—twins.
Now she was alone, she had nothing to distract her and all she could think about was the man standing over her with a gun. The blurred visual of Louis’ head, but not Louis’ head. Not aman’shead. The way he’d torn apart the intruder’s throat. With histeeth. She couldn’t stop playing it over and over. Couldn’t stop the speculation, the strange explanations her mind offered for what she’d witnessed.
Trauma had a way of distorting things in your mind. She’d experienced it before. Night after night she’d lain in her bed, the vision of her father’s rage distorted face like some sort of monstrous gargoyle. Hideous and huge, he towered in her mind, a threat to both her and her mother. It wasn’t until she was older, until she’d left home, she’d realized he wasn’t that tall, that big and was nothing more than an ordinary-looking man. The ugliness was on the inside. Her childish mind had embellished. Created an image of what her fathershouldlook like.
Perhaps she’d seen Louis as a wolf because she wanted to view him as a protector. That was the only reasonable explanation. She needed to keep busy. Not think too much. Or she would convince herself those images, those fragments of distorted memory, were real. That Louis had shifted into some kind of part human, part…wolf. Which was ridiculous.
Melinda snatched up the bag. Manchu had got her through many a tough time, sleeping beside her, keeping the nightmares of her childhood at bay. Focusing on Manchu would get her through this.
In the en suite, a room bigger than the kitchen in her London flat, with a shower the size of her entire bathroom, she sorted through the supplies, laying them out on the vanity—cat litter, food and water bowls, a litter tray, tins of cat food, her phone, her purse. That would come in handy. She unzipped it and peered inside. Her wallet and two thumb drives.
She’d need to get a new sim card for her phone, but she was glad to see those thumb drives. And to have her laptop. She’d made sure she’d had a visual of it at all times since this morning. She might be paying the twins as her bodyguards, expecting them to live up to their end of the bargain, and having them around did make her feel safer, but that didn’t mean she trusted them. Not completely. Not yet.
And… Melinda peered into the bag. There, in the bottom, wrapped in a tea towel, was her mother’s teapot, along with two tins of jasmine tea. She reached in, cradling the teapot, her throat tight and tears pricking her eyes. Whatever had possessed Pierre to pack it, Melinda didn’t care. She had her teapot. The one thing she had left of her mother, other than her memories.
She hugged it to her chest.Thank you, Pierre.
Placing the teapot back in the bag, she set up a litter tray in the corner for Manchu, and food and water bowls down by the door. With Manchu sorted, Melinda needed to get on to the taskshe was here for. With an eye on the open door of the suite, she sat on the bed, opened her Tor browser, logged into the dark web and sent a message to MysticMage.
Chapter Sixteen
Louis tromped down the floating staircase. She’d said thank you,Louis. With such certainty, as though she knew hewasLouis andnotPierre. Thank you,Louis. Notthanks, orhey, you,like many a woman had before her because they couldn’t tell them apart. Maybe Pierre was right. Maybe shewasdifferent from the other women. Because she was their mate.
It warmed his heart a little after this morning. After the way she’d scrambled from the bed within moments of waking, as though she regretted what had happened between them. Not the emotion he—nor Pierre, he suspected—were hoping for after their intimacy.
He wouldn’t apologize for what they’d done. She’d needed it. So had they. They’d only just found her and they’d come so close to losing her. He’d needed to hold her, lose himself in her, and forget about that split second when he’d entered her office to a man standing over her, pistol raised and aimed at her head. If they’d been but a minute later…
They hadn’t been, and she was here. Thank whatever god, universe, or fates who were watching out for them. And she’d agreed to keep them around as her bodyguards. He was fine with letting her think she was paying them—if it made her more comfortable with the arrangement—but he had no intention of backing off. If she asked them to or not. Ever.
