Conner smashed his fist through the paneling, not bothering to find the hidden switch to reveal the audio equipment. It was much more satisfying and dramatic to rip through the flawless wall.
Imelda gasped and spun around to glare accusingly at Philip. “You treacherous worm,” she snapped. “Just who were you planning on giving the tapes to? The police?”
“I imagine you have the police firmly in your pocket,” Marcos said and sank into a chair, pulling a cigar from his pocket. “Do you mind, Imelda?”
She drew in a deep breath and forced herself back under control. “No, of course not, Marcos. Be my guest.” She said it deliberately. There was no escape for Philip. He was a dead man already and he had to know it. He might be foolish enough to try to get his security force to go to war with hers, but he had amateurs for guards. Her men were combat trained. And she had the leopards. No one else had the leopards . . . unless . . . She really looked at Conner, speculation in her shrewd eyes.
Conner met her stare with burning golden eyes, leopard’s eyes. He watched her gasp and then try to cover her pleased knowledge. He knew her brain was racing, trying to decide about the others. They had similar builds. They all carried that magnetic aura of danger. And she probably thought there was some kind of hierarchy in the leopard species and he was somehow superior to Martin.
Try loyalty. He felt contempt for a woman who wouldn’t recognize that if a leopard was willing to betray his own people, he would be willing to betray his employer twice as fast. She should know that.
“Philip, do sit down,” she snapped, tearing her gaze away from Conner. “You’re not going anywhere until we sort this out.”
“I had no idea that recorder was there,” Philip whined. “Do you think I have a death wish? I sit in here and talk with you. Anything that condemns you, condemns me. You have more on me than any other living person on earth. What would be the point, Imelda? Someone set me up.”
He was lying—he knew about the tape, but the setup was a possibility. If he hadn’t thought of it on his own, and he was right, what would be the point, then someone else had persuaded him to tape the conversations. The police? Was someone not already in Imelda’s pocket secretly investigating her? Conner turned the possibility over in his mind. Not likely. She had too many officials on her payroll and she would have gotten wind of it. No, it was someone else.
“Someone set me up,” Imelda mimicked. “Do you expect me to believe that, Philip?” Now that she knew Marcos and Elijah believed she was innocent, she could enjoy watching Philip squirm. He loved controlling others. He loved watching them beg him, try to please him, crawl to him and kiss his feet while he held pain and death over them. She’d watched him kill numerous times. Once he’d acted so lovingly to a woman after marking her viciously with the whip that she’d believed his act, all the way to the moment that he’d cut her throat while he ejaculated in her. The woman’s eyes had stayed on her the entire time and it had been . . . delicious . . . watching her die.
Imelda smiled at Philip. Cold. Pleased. She would show the world what happened to anyone who betrayed her. He broke out in a sweat, fear permeating the room.
“Perhaps we should close the door for privacy,” she suggested to her lone bodyguard.
“Kill them,” Philip screamed to his guard. “Kill them all.” He dove behind his chair.
His guard brought up his automatic weapon, his face a mask of fear and determination. Conner killed him, swiping a claw across his throat and ripping the gun from his hand even as Rio and Leonardo took Marcos and Elijah to the floor, covering them. Both had drawn their guns, but they aimed at Philip and Imelda’s lone guard.
She rose gracefully, stepped over the dead man and closed the door. “Very impressive. How did you do that?” She indicated the torn throat.
Conner didn’t answer. He kept the others covered while Rio and Leonardo helped Marcos and Elijah to their feet. Rio yanked Philip up and all but threw him into a chair. Philip landed hard and pressed a trembling hand over his quivering mouth.
“Thank you,” Imelda said, flashing Conner a coy smile. “You just saved my life.”
He didn’t point out that he’d saved his own as well as his entire team. He barely inclined his head and for the first time allowed his gaze to drift lazily, a little insolently, over her body. He saw her breasts heave and her red-tipped nail traced a line from her throat to the swell of her breast. She shifted in the chair, allowing her gown to slide up her thigh. There were no underwear lines anywhere on the gown. She smiled at him, her tongue touching her lower lip.
“I suggest we leave immediately,” Rio said.
“Whatever for?” Imelda asked, still looking at Conner.
“There’s a dead body on the floor, Imelda,” Marcos pointed out. “I don’t want my man questioned by the police, nor do I want to have anything to do with this. We can meet another time—perhaps in a more appropriate setting.” He started to rise.
“No, no,” Imelda frowned. “We can easily take care of the body. It’s no problem, is it, Philip?” She sent him a poisonous smile. “Philip is a master at disposing of bodies, aren’t you, sweetie?”
The man was so pale he looked like a ghost. “Imelda . . .”
“Don’t,” she hissed, the smile vanishing. “You betrayed me.”
“I didn’t.”
She dismissed him with a wave of her hand and looked pointedly at her bodyguard. He immediately went to Philip and smashed the butt of his gun on the man’s head.
Imelda smiled again. “I think we’re okay to talk, Marcos. I’ll handle the body and no one will ever know there was a problem. Philip will be found dead and the police will discover that he had quite the graveyard going. All those missing women over the years just might be found.” She crossed one leg over the other and swung her ankle, nearly kicking the dead guard where he lay on the floor in front of her.
Conner had no idea whose bodies she was talking about, but the thought that she knew women were being killed and she did nothing about it sickened him. He had to leave soon or he was going to blow it and kill her right there before they ever got into her compound and found the children. He considered it. If she was dead, would anyone in her employ free the children, or kill them? It was too big of a risk to take.
“No, no.” Marcos held up his hand. “We have to go now, Imelda. I’m not taking any chances with my man.” He pushed himself out of the chair and waved her off. “Elijah, we have to go now.”
Rio was already on the move, indicating for Imelda’s guard to get out of their way.