My Feline Protector (Middlemarch Shifters Book 6) (14 page)

Geoffrey ran to the door and barked while London fastened her bra and fumbled her way through putting on her T-shirt.

Someone hammered on the door. Gerard recognized a voice. “Cops,” he whispered.

Henry is a werewolf
. This was the secret and the reason behind the jail breakout? She dragged in a shuddering breath and tried not to stare. At Henry. But her gaze had a mind of its own and she gripped the kitchen counter while gawking at the man-wolf. Henry was a werewolf…

“We have a warrant to search your house,” a masculine voice said.

London watched Henry, the wolf, bristle, heard him give a low growl. Geoffrey trotted to his side and stretched out beside him. Henry curled in a tight ball, the action making him seem smaller.

“Ms. Allbright,” the policeman acknowledged her while she cast a nervous glance in Gerard’s direction. “I thought you were residing at the bed-and-breakfast.”

“They had bookings, and I had to move. I told the other policeman that this morning.”

“He didn’t mention it.”

And probably hadn’t revealed the rest of what she’d told him either. “Why are you here? What do you want?” Anger sharpened her voice.

“We’re searching for Henry Anderson, your sister’s murderer. He escaped earlier today, but I’m sure you know that already.”

“I heard there was a problem,” she said.

“I hope we’re not interrupting,” the cop said, and he sniggered.

London scowled as he moved away. “What is his problem?”

Gerard’s gaze swept her, his mouth twitching. “Your T-shirt is inside-out and you’ve got it back-to-front.”

She groaned as she spied the label at her chin. “Sugar, no wonder he was smirking at me.”

“I haven’t seen that dog before,” one cop said.

“He’s old. I don’t take him out much since he prefers to stay at home.”

The cop skirted the two dogs. Henry kept his eyes closed, but he didn’t fool London. She’d bet he was wide awake and ready to strike, should the cops make a wrong move.

The two cops returned to the kitchen after searching the rest of the house.

“Stay here while we search the outbuildings. I’ll let you know when we’re leaving.”

“He’s not here,” London said in a tired voice.

“We haven’t searched the outbuildings yet,” the closest cop said.

“You won’t find anything,” Gerard said. “This is harassment. Neither of us were in Middlemarch today.”

“Doesn’t matter.” The cop straightened, his belly leading the way as he swaggered from the kitchen to conduct the rest of his search.

London sniffed. “Those two are idiots.”

“We should have a drink while we wait for them to finish.”

“Good idea,” she said.

They were both sipping brandy when the two cops returned, one holding a folded sheet of paper.

“Have you seen this before?” he asked.

“No,” Gerard said.

“Have you?” the cop asked. “It’s got your name on it.”

“Me?” London asked. “No one knows I’m here.”

He handed her the paper, and she spread it out on the counter. Written in block printing, the note said,
I know what you’ve done. You won’t get away with it. I will get what is owed to me
.

London scowled at the cop. “What is this?”

“What have you done?” the cop countered.

“Nothing. I came to New Zealand on holiday, and because of my sister’s murder I’m staying longer than intended.” Pompous ass. London reread the note and was none the wiser. She didn’t recognize the writing. She hadn’t committed a crime. Sugar, she hadn’t even known Gerard’s friends had broken Henry out of jail until after the event.

“We’re done here. If you hear from Mr. Anderson, you should contact us. It is a crime to hide a fugitive.”

Both she and Gerard remained silent as the cop paused, waiting for a response.

“We haven’t done anything,” London snapped when it seemed as if the cop might linger. “I’m tired and could do with an early night. It’s been a stressful few days.”

“Call us if you learn Mr. Anderson’s whereabouts.”

“Yes, yes,” London said when Gerard didn’t answer. She could feel his tension. He didn’t want the cops in his house.

The cop left and they heard a vehicle start. Henry unrolled from his ball and Geoffrey climbed to his feet.

“If you’re shifting again, do it in your room and put on clothes.” Gerard glared at Henry.

Henry let out a weird bark and shifted anyway. London couldn’t help taking a peek. Henry was a big man. All over.

A hand shielded her sight without warning.

“Don’t be a party-pooper,” she complained, trying to remove Gerard’s hand from in front of her eyes.

“He’s worried you’ll kick his arse to the door,” Henry rumbled.

“You look very nice naked,” London said in a prim voice. “But I like Gerard better.”

“Yes!” Gerard’s fingers flexed against her face. “On that note, let’s take that shower.”

Henry rolled his eyes. She caught the movement once she’d pried Gerard’s hand away from her eyes.

“I’m sorry you ended up in the middle of this mess. I know you weren’t responsible for Jenny’s death.”

“No, I’m not,” Henry gritted out. “I asked your sister to stay with me. She was my mate.”

“Your mate?”

“Werewolves mate for life if they find the right woman. Soul mates,” Gerard explained.

“Yes.” Henry’s voice emerged with a serve of grittiness and emotion. “When I met Jenny I knew she was the one for me.”

Jenny had said nothing, not that they’d had much of a chance to talk before the race. “I’m glad, Henry. It’s good she was happy.”

“She didn’t tell me much about her husband. Had other things to discuss.”

“He’s a bastard,” London said. “She changed her will in my favor. I found a copy when I packed her stuff.”

Henry nodded. “She did say she couldn’t wait to divorce him.”

“Someone tried to break into her room last night.” Gerard said.

“Jenny hated her husband. I know that. She said once he hit her, she knew she had to get out of the marriage. It took longer than she wanted.” Henry growled. “If I get my hands on that bastard, there will be a murder.”

“London checked with Jenny’s friends at home. None of them have seen the man. He’s not at work. Supposedly sick. No one has seen him at his flat,” Gerard commented.

Henry scowled. “The bastard is here in Middlemarch, I tell you. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

London froze at the chilling notion. “Here?” She’d been trying not to think of the possibility.

“Do you have photos of him? Are there any online?” Gerard asked.

London checked her watch. “I’ll ring Susan after my shower. She might have one of their wedding photos since she was a bridesmaid.”

“The police didn’t say where they found the note,” Henry said.

Gerard snorted. “They didn’t seem worried. Please don’t go out without me or Henry.” The two men shared a glance. “Henry will be in wolf form until the cops drop the charges. At least while he’s away from the house. Promise me?”

London didn’t hesitate, not with the terror of someone trying to enter her bedroom still fresh in her mind. “Yes, I promise.”

“I’m rested. Geoffrey and I’ll take first watch.”

“Thanks,” Gerard said.

“Thank you, Henry.” London drew in a breath, searched her heart and recalled the happy sparkle on Jenny’s face, Henry’s smile on the morning of the race as he gazed at her sister. “I’d have loved having you for a brother-in-law.”

“Even though I’m a werewolf?”

“Um…I’m not sure my mind has registered that properly. Can I ask you questions tomorrow?”

Henry flashed a grin, tinged with sadness. “Of course. Gerard might answer them for you.”

“Now I’m curious.” London laced her fingers with Gerard’s, the heat frisking her body no longer taking her by surprise. The physical contact comforted her and felt right.

“Now I’m worried. Thanks, buddy.”

Once Henry and Geoffrey trotted outside, Gerard turned to her, concern written in his expression. “Are you okay with Henry? You’re not frightened of him?”

“It might take me a while to get used to him turning furry at will. And if he shows me his sharp teeth and whispers, ‘All the better to eat you, my dear,’ I’ll hit first and ask questions later.”

Gerard barked out a laugh, but she wasn’t joking. Things were bad enough without adding strange woo-woo factors into the mix. A werewolf. She’d thought them the stuff of myth and legend. Wait. If werewolves were real, did that mean—

Chapter Nine

Gerard led London into the tiled en suite off his bedroom. While he and Henry shared the house, they’d decorated their private rooms to their personal specifications. Heavily soundproofed too, to keep the illusion of privacy because they intended to share their house even after they found mates. As he turned London to face him and reached behind her to flick her bra closure, he spared a thought for Henry. He’d heard Henry and Jenny when they’d got busy in the kitchen, before he’d closed his bedroom door. They’d been happy and now sadness engulfed his friend, along with anger and a craving for revenge. His breath hissed out at the last bit.

“What’s wrong?”

“We’ll keep a close eye on Henry. If we find the man—person—responsible for Jenny’s death, his wolf will want blood.”

“Blood?”

“Revenge,” Gerard said, going for truth. Best thing, he decided.

“I understand. I feel that way myself.”

“How big is this Royce character? How tall?” He should have asked her earlier. He traced the loosened cup of her bra, skimming her creamy curves and reveling in her swift intake of air. “London?”

She coughed and delicate color shaded her cheeks.

He laughed and pressed a butterfly kiss to her heated skin.

“Stop distracting me.”

“Can’t help it.” He reached past her and turned on the shower. “Strip.”

“I don’t react well to orders.” That prissy English accent again. God, it made him hot.

“Please strip.”

“Better,” she said grudgingly and slid her bra down her arms. “Stop staring.”

“Hard not to. You’re beautiful.”

She snorted, and he grasped her upper arms, turning her to face him.

“I mean every word. I wouldn’t change a single thing. The man or men in your past who hurt you didn’t have a clue about class and beauty. Their loss, my gain.”

“Sweet-talker.”

“Get naked and into the shower. I have plans for the rest of our evening.”

She shimmied from her jeans and panties and sauntered past him to stand under one of the showerheads in the tiled wet room. He’d liked the idea of no cubicle and multiple showerheads to pummel his aching muscles after a hard run or a sparring session with Henry or Sam, when he was in town. Plus, there was plenty of room for two.

He crowded London closer to the wall, fitting his front to her back, and nuzzled her neck. The temptation to bite struck him like a punch—not unexpected. Not prudent either, yet he allowed his sharp teeth to scrape across her mating spot. She shuddered, her reaction not helping his restraint.

She turned in his arms and smiled up at him through wet hair. “Are we going to talk here?”

“No.” A comfortable bed beckoned. “In bed, after we’ve made love.” He never mentioned making love to another woman. With his past women, it had been about sex and feeling good, lighter. Oh, he made sure they’d had as much fun as he did. Different now. More important. Now, he cared about her reaction, her enjoyment, her comfort. If he could concentrate on something else, he’d control his demanding feline. “Let me scrub your back.”

“Oh? That sounds tame.”

A feline could only take so much.

He pounced, his mouth on hers, delving to taste, to dominate, to claim.

She whimpered against his lips, her arms clutching him closer. Her lush body teased his senses, her rigid nipples propelling him onward. He fueled his kiss with an erotic assault, intoxicated by her, mesmerized. The water spilled over his shoulders, her hair, yet all he could think of was getting closer, becoming as intimate as only a man and a woman could. He lifted her, rasping his tongue over her breasts, clawing tension digging at his resolution. He raised her higher and fit his cock to her entrance, teasing himself, teasing her.

She strained against him, and he slid deeper.

“Wait. London, we need a condom.”

She froze in his arms, her chest heaving while they stared at each other. Her warmth and heat tore at his control. His feline snarled, the sound rippling from him, louder than the pound of the water.

Her eyes widened, her mouth rounded, and she struggled, wanting him to release her. “Who are you? What are you?”

His face. His eyes. She wriggled free of his touch and he let her. Stupid. So stupid. Why hadn’t she thought, considered the ramifications. “Henry is a werewolf. You’re not human either.”