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She is our mate, his tiger purred happily.
She’s not our mate, ya big idiot. Knock it off, would you?
She isn’t our mate because you’re doing a terrible job at showing her how brave we are, his tiger growled.
“Boone?”
“Yeah, sorry, Coop. My tiger’s being a pain in my ass,” Boone said. “When do I start?”
“She’d like you to stop by this afternoon around three to meet her,” Cooper said. “Her file with all relevant information is already in the computer system. Take a look through it before you go.”
“Will do,” Boone said.
Cooper hesitated. “I know it’s not the type of assignment you wanted, but -”
“It’s good,” Boone said. “I appreciate you being so flexible, and, hell, it’s better than mall security, right?”
Cooper grinned. “Yeah.”
“Listen, you didn’t have to hire Max because of my inability to do my job, did you?” Boone asked.
Cooper scowled. “You are doing your job, Boone, and I hired Max for his investigative skills.”
He stood and walked around the desk before clapping Boone on the back. “I know taking a step back is tough, but it won’t be forever, right?”
“Right,” Boone said. “Thanks again, Coop, I appreciate it.”
* * *
Boone took a minute to admire the architecture of the large Mediterranean-style house through the car’s windshield. High stone walls and a thick iron gate surrounded the home, and they had a guard at the gatehouse. He’d carefully studied Boone’s ID and confirmed with the main house that they expected him before allowing him past the gate.
Towering Jacaranda trees lined the driveway. Their purple blossoms were gorgeous, but Boone didn’t envy whoever had to clear the driveway of the flowers. He parked next to a black SUV and slid out of his vehicle, admiring the entrance’s curved archway. The clay roof tiles, grand arches, and mix of stone and stucco gave the exterior a classic Italian experience. A large second-floor balcony above the entranceway boasted iron wrought gating and three stone archways behind it.
A woman stood on the balcony, a wine glass in one hand as she stared down at him. She wore a blue silk robe and a large ruby necklace that gleamed like fire against her dark skin. Her springy shoulder-length black coils had streaks of silver throughout, and her lips were painted a deep red to match the jewel around her throat.
Boone nodded to her. “Good afternoon, Ms. Nkosi.”
Her smile was vibrant and full of warmth. Without speaking, she turned and disappeared into the house. He knocked on the heavy wooden door. It opened, and a man with olive skin and brown eyes, wearing a grey business suit with a blue paisley tie, said, “Welcome, Mr. Jameson. Please come in.”
“Thank you.” Boone stepped into the foyer as the man closed the door behind him.
To their right was a curved staircase with an iron railing against the stone wall. Against the left wall were two hardback chairs and a small side table with a phone. The wide hallway straight ahead had an arched entrance, and the cream coloured tiles below Boone’s feet didn’t show a speck of dirt.
“I’m Frederick Banks, Ms. Nkosi’s butler.” Frederick held out his hand, and Boone shook it. “If you follow me, please, Ms. Nkosi will join you shortly.”
Boone followed the human deeper into the house to a large library with floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelves, a matching desk, and a plush leather couch. French doors opened to an immense backyard with immaculate landscaping and an in-ground pool with a comically large unicorn floaty.
He returned to the bookshelf, studying the books with interest and tracing his finger over the spines.
“Do you enjoy reading, Mr. Jameson?”
He turned and smiled at the lynx shifter as she stood near the doorway. “Very much, Ms. Nkosi. Your book collection is impressive.”
“Thank you.” She pointed to the sofa. “Join me.”
He sat on the couch as Abena sank gracefully onto the cushion beside him. “I’ve asked Frederick to bring us some tea, but if you prefer coffee, I can ask him to make you a cup.”
“Tea is good,” Boone said. “You have a beautiful home, Ms. Nkosi.”
