Elijah slipped his arm around Isabeau and moved her out of Philip’s way as he led them to the long buffet table. He did it casually, as though he was simply helping his cousin, but he knew Philip would take the gesture as ownership. Isabeau belonged to Elijah and everyone else needed to stay clear of her. Philip had a secret smile on his face as he pointed out the various delicacies to them.
“Would you like to dance, Isabeau?” he asked, with another smirk.
In character, she glanced hesitantly at Elijah, who stared back at her grim-faced. Hastily she shook her head. “No, thank you. I think I want to try the crab cake.”
“You’ll find my chef is amazing,” Philip said.
Elijah looked him over, his expression bored. “It’s amazing how you can lure anyone to this place.”
Philip’s face flushed just a little, but he managed to keep his smile at the implied insult. “Secrets, everyone has secrets. It’s a matter of capitalizing on them.”
A slow smile, with just a faint touch of admiration lit Elijah’s face for a moment. Isabeau was impressed with that look. It was as if he’d waved a magic wand in front of Philip. “I suppose it is. Isn’t it interesting how the right leverage changes minds?”
Philip puffed up again, looking extremely pleased, as if in that one moment he’d won over Elijah Lospostos, the infamous drug lord. Isabeau realized Philip’s downfall was his vanity. He didn’t have enough people to admire his abilities and he needed an audience. His criminal activities isolated him from most. There were only his victims and Imelda Cortez to see him as he really was, and Imelda was dangerous to him. Here was a group of sharks. He recognized them and wanted to be part of them.
“Elijah,” Marcos said, “perhaps we can stay a few extra days and enjoy the offerings in Philip’s little city here.”
Isabeau couldn’t believe the transformation from a good-humored, loving, avuncular man to one of greedy excess, looking to run wild and partake in whatever depravity he could. His face was a little flushed, his eyes clouded, as though he’d drunk just a little too much, his gaze on the women a little too hot. She found herself uncomfortable, almost believing his act. Elijah brushed his hand along her back, just skimming, barely touching her, but she knew Philip caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. She played her part, glancing up at Elijah with a slight smile, the color elevating just a little in her face.
Her cat leapt, slamming close to her skin, protesting the touch of another man. She heard the snarl in her mind, and the urge to break away from them and get out of there was strong. Her skin itched.
Rio turned his head to look at her. In the shadows, Conner stirred. Felipe and Leonardo shifted just enough to block her from sight of most of the other people in the room. Elijah bent his head close but didn’t touch her.
“Breathe her away. Keep her calm,” he advised, looking unbelievably intimate, his face a mask of tenderness.
Isabeau took a deep breath, trying not to panic. She knew the cat wanted out. She didn’t like the overpowering smell of decadence and corruption. Her joints ached. Her jaw. Even her teeth hurt. Her fingers curled and the tips burned. To her horror she could see skin splitting along her palm. Gasping, she closed her hand and willed her cat to obey.
12
ISABEAU would not let her cat emerge here, in the middle of this insane party, and blow their chances of ever taking these disgusting people down. It wasn’t going to happen. She hissed at her cat, suddenly furious that the creature would take this moment to decide to emerge. She’d had her chance in the rain forest when Conner was with her and it could have been a wonderful experience.
“You. Will. Not.” She hissed each word between her teeth, keeping her face close to Elijah’s chest. She dared not touch him, even though she desperately needed reassurance. She was grateful Conner didn’t rush to her side. She doubted she could stay in control if he had. She would have flung herself into his arms, in the midst of her rising fear. She tried to think like him. He was always calm. He refused to show fear, or let fear paralyze him. What had he said? Her cat was part of her. And she certainly could control herself.
She took another breath and forced her will on the raging cat, breathing for it, calming it, whispering to it in her head. Conner was her mate. There was no other. This was all for Conner. To protect him. To protect his cat. She lost track of what she was saying and even time passing, trusting Elijah and Marcos to keep the conversation flowing around them. Philip would continue to believe she was under Elijah’s control and he wanted her to stand beside him, his decoration, and nothing more.
It took several minutes for the cat to submit to her control, subsiding, but making her needs known, leaving Isabeau in a heightened state of sensitivity and awareness. All senses were acute. Her body ached, every muscle, every joint. Her breasts were so sensitive, each time she moved, her nipples brushed against her lacy bra and sent an electrical current sizzling straight to the junction between her legs. She ached for Conner, for relief.
It was a fitting revenge, she thought. She’d denied her cat’s emergence, but she couldn’t stop the needs of her species. The Han Vol Dan. That mysterious moment when her cat was set free and wholly united with her human form. The shocking heat of the female leopard, emerging with a desperate, insatiable hunger that could never be sated by any other than her mate.
“Good girl,” Elijah whispered in her ear, looking intimate, but careful not to touch her and incur the wrath of her leopard.
Before she could reply, the room went silent as four men dressed in black pants and black shirts swept through the double doors. The entrance was meant to be dramatic and it was. They carried automatic weapons, wore dark, mirrored sunglasses and looked like television gangsters to Isabeau. Her stomach tightened as she sensed the instant reaction of Elijah’s leopard.
The tension in the room was shocking, stretched nearly to a breaking point as the men shoved couples against the wall and began systematically searching them. It was a show of power, pure and simple—a lesson to show just who was really in charge. The indignity on the faces of the various couples was apparent, but not a single person protested.
The driving, pounding music accompanied the sound of harsh breathing and grunts and little outraged gasps as the women were searched. Elijah and Marcos watched impassively as the four men came closer and closer to them, but neither moved. Isabeau remained close to Elijah, her stomach knotting as the security team got closer. She knew this type of search was unusual and was simply Imelda’s way of making a dramatically grand entrance, but with her heightened sensitivity she could feel the men around her, their energy growing more dangerous as the guards approached.
Just as two of the men dressed in black reached Marcos and Elijah, Conner emerged from the shadows, placing his body solidly in their path. Rio, Felipe and Leonardo were there as well. They’d moved so fast she had thought she must have blinked. Elijah very gently drew her behind him.
Conner stared directly into those mirrored glasses. “I don’t think so.” His voice was quiet, but it was a whip, a challenge.
“We’ll be searching everyone.”
Conner’s smile was slow, and there was no humor in it. “You’ll be dead before you lay a finger on the three of them. But you’re always welcome to try.”
Isabeau’s mouth went dry. He was provoking the guards deliberately. They were sending their own message to Imelda. The woman was known for her insanity. She could order her men to open fire with the automatic weapons, killing everyone in the room. The other couples in the room were clearly shocked, gasping. One woman began to cry but her partner quickly shushed her.
Conner never broke off his stare, his eyes pure cat. He looked relaxed. He looked . . . lethal. He made the men he was facing look small.