The man closest to him spoke into his radio. “Martin, we have a problem in here.”
Almost immediately two men entered the room. Both had the build of the leopard and moved with fluid power. Isabeau’s cat reacted with a snarl and leap. She saw, because she was watching him, Conner’s fingers flex just once when the man who was reputed to have killed his mother entered the room. Isabeau recognized Suma from the village and her stomach rebelled at the sight of him, almost as much as her cat did.
Used to instant obedience and the cowering of any opposition, Martin Suma and Ottila Zorba shoved their security force aside and were almost toe to toe with Conner before it hit them what exactly they were facing. Martin found himself staring into the focused eyes of a killer. Conner smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile. The tension in the room stretched nearly to a breaking point as the two stared each other down.
Ottila, not the one locked in combat with Conner, surveyed the security for the two visitors, recognizing them instantly as leopard. He inhaled sharply and drew the scent of a female close to the Han Vol Dan into his body. At once his cat reacted, all male, hunger invading, a dark need that was all encompassing. He looked past the others and focused on the object of his desire.
Martin caught the scent next and his gaze flicked to the woman standing behind the man he knew as Elijah Lospostos, head of a major drug cartel and by all accounts a very powerful and dangerous man. Only then did he realize not only was the security team leopard, and the woman, but the two visitors as well. He was facing seven leopards, all of them armed. Self-preservation was strong and dictated that he back off immediately.
Isabeau saw the knowledge hit the two guards almost at the same time. Their eyes glittered with malice. She never wanted to meet either of them alone on a dark night. These were the men who had kidnapped the children and killed several villagers and Conner’s mother. She couldn’t quite control the pounding of her heart.
Elijah reached behind him, a casual, gentle gesture, and laid his hand on her arm. That small touch steadied her. She took a breath and forced herself to breathe normally, slowing her pulse. She couldn’t be afraid of them. Her cat detested the scent of the two rogue leopards, yet recognized Conner’s immediately, nearly purring at his closeness.
A stir at the door drew her attention. Isabeau peeked around Elijah and caught her first glimpse of Imelda Cortez. She wore a long, flowing gown of bloodred, matching her long nails and lipstick. Her hair, as black as a raven’s wing, was swept up in an intricate knot so that the dazzling gems on her ears and at her throat were prominently displayed. The dress was slashed nearly to the navel so that the perfect globes of her breasts peeked out, making Isabeau feel drab and childish in comparison.
Imelda swept into the room on her spiked crimson heels, her dark eyes alighting instantly on Conner, her hungry gaze devouring him in a slow, greedy perusal that drank in the broad shoulders and thick chest. There was no missing the aura of danger he exuded, and Imelda actually inhaled sharply, her breasts heaving, in grave danger of spilling out of the dress.
Isabeau’s cat went crazy, raking at her, clawing and growling, recognizing an enemy, desperate for the freedom to destroy her. For one terrible moment Isabeau was certain she wouldn’t be able to stop her leopard from emerging and killing the woman in a fit of rage. Her muscles contorted. Her bones popped. Pain burst through her jaw and her mouth seemed overcrowded with teeth.
No! You will not! She fought the leopard back. He needs us. Both of us. She filled her mind with Conner, drew strength from him, from her love of him. And she did love him with every fiber of her being. She would do this for him.
Imelda Cortez was tall and thin, very fashionable, but she reminded Isabeau of a praying mantis, an insect ready to strike her prey the first chance she got. Imelda’s gluttonous gaze slid dismissively over Isabeau once, but moved quickly on to the men in the group—a new supply of men for her voracious appetite. That told all of them that Imelda wasn’t leopard, or even part leopard. She would have known Isabeau was close to the Han Vol Dan and therefore her biggest threat. The two rogue leopards would be consumed by her presence. Their duty to Imelda would be second to their need of mating with a female leopard in the throes of the Han Vol Dan.
Imelda moved across the room, aware all eyes were on her. She pursed her lips and made a little clucking noise, shaking her head. “This is no way to treat Philip’s guests, Martin.” She slid her fingers playfully down Conner’s arm. “Who do we have here?”
Isabeau’s cat gave a fierce snarl, but subsided under her growing control. Conner didn’t even so much as glance at Imelda. His gaze remained fixed and focused on Martin’s. There was a threat there, very real, and Martin didn’t dare move, not even with Imelda clearly giving him the signal to back off.
“Conner,” Marcos said in a low tone. “I think he has the message.”
Conner took a step back immediately, never taking his eyes from Martin. The rogue leopard stepped back as well and broke the stare, looking at his employer. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead.
Imelda gave a sniff of contempt and handed him a handkerchief. “Mop up. You look ridiculous.” She glided close to Conner, and ran her finger down his chest this time, a blatant invitation, her breasts nearly touching him, her perfume engulfing him, her eyes devouring him. “Very few men can get the better of my guards.”
Martin stirred as if he might protest. Imelda’s hand came up and she waved languidly. “Go away, Martin. You’re boring me.”
Martin glanced at Isabeau, his eyes glittering dangerously and then he looked once more to his boss. Hatred flared briefly, and he turned abruptly, signaling the other security guards, who dispersed to various spots in the room. Only then did Conner look down at Imelda. Isabeau held her breath. There was no expression whatsoever on his face.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” He moved in silence back toward the wall where the shadows in the room swallowed him.
“Oh my,” Imelda said, fanning herself. “You have good taste in protectors, Marcos. I’m Imelda Cortez.”
Marcos bent gallantly over her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Imelda—may I call you Imelda?”
“Of course. I believe we’ll be great friends.” She flashed him a lovely smile, all teeth and flirty pouting lips.
Conversation began cautiously around them once more. Imelda didn’t seem to notice the chaos her men had caused. Or rather, she knew, Isabeau decided, but she didn’t care what inconvenience there was to anyone else. She thrived on the drama she created.
“May I present Elijah Lospostos and his charming little cousin, Isabeau.”
“Cherished cousin,” Elijah corrected, making her instantly off limits to the attentions of Philip or any of her men.
“Elijah,” Imelda murmured. “Your . . . reputation precedes you.”
“All good, I’m certain,” Elijah replied smoothly and bent over her hand, although he didn’t pretend to allow his lips to brush her skin.
“Of course,” Imelda agreed with a feigned smile and turned her attention to Isabeau. “My dear, what a lovely dress. Who is the designer? I must have one.”
Elijah answered, taking Isabeau’s elbow, his fingers sinking into her skin. Imelda’s sharp gaze couldn’t miss the signal to Isabeau not to speak. “I brought the dress for her from one of our little boutiques in the States. I travel quite often and saw this and knew it would be perfect for her. It’s one of a kind and suits her less dramatic appearance.”