One Down: Bayou Heat (Pantera Security League Book 1) (3 page)

A dark emotion flared through his eyes as he held up his hands in a gesture of peace.

“Do you speak English?” He waited for her hesitant nod. “Good,” he murmured in soothing tones. “Can you walk?”

“Yes,” she managed to croak, her eyes widening as he gave a sharp yank on the door of the cage, easily busting the metal lock. He moved forward, the soft leather of his duster rippling around his long legs. “No.” She bared her teeth in warning. “Don’t come in here.”

“It’s all right.” He halted next to her, crouching down so they were eye to eye. “Easy, kitten. I would die before I harmed you.”

Kitten
, and the words, and the promise that followed, curled around her like a soft blanket. She didn’t know him, but the thing inside her, the cat from her dreams—if it truly existed—did.

“Who are you?” she asked, her legs and hands starting to tremble. With fear? Hunger? She wasn’t sure. Maybe both.

“Cerviel,” he said.

“Cerviel?” Her brows drew together. She couldn’t remember ever hearing a name like that, but it suited him.

“I’m going to get you out of here.”

She sucked in a deep breath. Instantly her senses were overwhelmed with his warm male musk, which seemed to utterly permeate the air. Even with the panic thundering through her, she could detect that there was something deeply familiar about this stranger. That the creature inside him was speaking directly to what was inside her. As if it was trying to touch the most primitive part of her.

“There’s something different about you,” she said. “Familiar. I don’t understand it.”

“I’m a Pantera,” he told her, his nose flaring as he drew in a deep breath. “And I suspect you are as well. Or at least, you have our blood.”

Pantera? She’d heard Donaldson and his guests discussing them—puma shifters, he’d said. She’d thought they were insane, but then the dreams had started. Over the years, they’d tried to sound mocking when they spoke of the Pantera, dismissing them as animals, but she hadn’t missed the underlying fear in their voices.

She glanced at Carl’s lifeless body.

Now she understood why.

“I don’t know what I am,” she breathed, hissing as he reached out, clearly intending to touch her. “Stop,” she growled.

“I need to get that collar off,” he said, holding her wary gaze.

Her heart lurched. “You can do that?”

He nodded. “If you’ll let me.”

Trust had been an elusive bastard in the past five years. But this man was different. Whatever they shared made her defensive instincts ease slightly. She braced herself for his touch. The cringing pain her skin would feel. But as he held the collar in his hands and worked the bolts and locks with a tool he carried, he was shockingly gentle. It was strange, and made her chest tighten, made her eyes fill with tears, but when his fingers brushed her neck as he worked, she didn’t want to jerk away. Instead, she wanted to lean into him. Closer. Absorb his warmth, his protection. She wanted to…

Purr.

Not in a sexual way. No. This wave of feeling, of intimacy, was on a deeper, almost cellular level. Like ocean wave meeting warm sand. Meant to connect.

A groan escaped her lips as the heavy, oppressive collar was lifted from her neck and tossed away.

“We’d better go,” he said, moving back, crawling out of the cage.

Hallie rubbed her throat, raw from being imprisoned for so long. “I need a sheet or a towel. I can’t go out like this. Anything will do.”

“How’s this?” He grabbed a bag from the bottom of the stairs. She hadn’t seen him carrying it. Inside was a pair of sweats, a hoodie and wool-lined boots. “Might be a little big. Didn’t know your size.”

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” She dressed quickly, then crawled out of the cage.

On her own.

For the first time in five years.

Cradling the exhausted and far too thin female in his arms, Cerviel’s gaze swept the basement, assessing.

“Hold tight, kitten, I’m going to get you out of here,” he said, eyeing the stairs.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there. Longer than he’d intended, that was for sure. Not like him. Not like him at all.

As if to prove the point he heard the sounds of muffled voices and doors opening and closing upstairs. No doubt Donaldson’s guests were arriving. Which meant the sooner he could get them out of there, the better.

Crossing the cement floor, he was brought to a halt when Hallie stiffened in his arms.

“Wait,” she whispered.

He frowned down at her. “What?”

She pointed toward a narrow door that he’d assumed was a storage closet.

“Go out the service door,” she said. “No one ever uses it.”

Flashing her a grateful smile, Cerviel spun on his heel and headed straight for the opposite end of the basement. The female was as resourceful as she was courageous.

And beautiful.

Exquisitely beautiful.

Not that he should even be looking. She was an asset, nothing more. Not to mention she’d been through hell on earth, and what she required now was peace and protection.

Moving with a silence no human could match, he reached the door and gave it a sharp yank. It swung open, revealing a narrow pathway that led toward a side road.

Outside, night had descended, but the monstrous ranch house that was constructed almost entirely of glass allowed light to spill out in a circle that encompassed the entire yard. Not good. That meant they were going to be exposed for at least a hundred feet.

Tucking Hallie even closer to his body, he focused his gaze on the long, wooden stables. If he could get to the outbuilding without being spotted, they might have a chance of escaping unnoticed.

Again he heard voices, footfall. Darting forward, he took off, using the most direct route to the stables.

Unfortunately, one of the numerous guards patrolling the grounds rounded the corner of the house just as he stepped into a pool of light. There was a shout of warning, then the loud crack of a rifle being fired.

Cerviel hunched his shoulders, using his body to protect the female tucked against his chest. He thought he heard her mumble something about leaving her behind so he could escape. But he ignored it. He recalled Raphael’s orders about lighting the place up if he couldn’t get to her, or something went down. Hours ago, he’d thought nothing of it. Would’ve followed through in a heartbeat—or the quick strike of a match. But now…this female… She’d changed things. In him, and in this situation. No matter what his direct orders had been, he was pretty motherfucking sure he couldn’t have possibly let her die with Donaldson.

Not good.

Ghosts weren’t supposed feel.

Neither empathy, nor rage.

Both of which he’d felt as he’d stood in the shadows at the top of the stairs, listening the onetime congressman talk about passing Hallie around to his guests like a party favor. It took everything he’d had to not rip the male apart right then. But Hallie was the mission, the priority.

The next time Cerviel crossed paths with the human, however—he intended to gut him. A fact he wouldn’t be sharing with Raphael. Too bad he had no access to his puma outside the Wildlands. His cat would enjoy a good hunt to kill. He could feel the beast’s hunger vibrating beneath his skin even now.

“Watch out,” the female called as a smattering of gunfire erupted around them.

Running in a zigzag pattern, Cerviel hissed as one of the bullets sliced through the flesh of his upper arm. It wasn’t a serious injury, but it hurt like a bitch. And worse, the drops of blood that hit the dry, barren ground would allow the guards to follow their trail.

At least they wouldn’t be able to scent him.

Picking up speed, he hauled ass to the stables. Finally reaching them, he darted around the edge of the wooden structure and carefully lowered Hallie to the ground. She was exhausted, shivering, her hair still wet. Goddess knew how long it had been since she’d eaten anything. Any hope of a stealthy getaway was well and truly over. Now he needed a distraction so he wouldn’t have to deal with Donaldson’s considerable security staff.

“Stay here,” he commanded, reaching into the pocket of his coat to pull out a small handgun. “Shoot anyone who isn’t me.”

She bit her lower lip, her gaze moving to the tear in his leather duster. “You’re injured.”

“Nothing that won’t heal.” He glared at his arm. “But the asshole who shot me is going to pay. This is my favorite coat.”

She gave a choked laugh, a completely strange sound in the moment they found themselves in. “You killed a guard, saw me wet and naked and abused, and were shot. Doesn’t anything ever bother you?”

A rueful smile touched his lips and his eyes connected with hers. “Seeing you caged and collared like an animal. That bothered the fuck out of me.”

“Well, aren’t I?” she returned without heat, then raised an eyebrow at him. “An animal?”

His jaw tightened and though his voice remained barely above a whisper, it was fierce. “You are Pantera, female. You’re never ever going to be caged or collared again. Only to be respected and…”

“And what?”

He pointed a warning finger at her. “Stay here and don’t make a sound,” he commanded.

“Where are you going?” she whispered, clutching the gun in her right hand.

His brows lifted and his mouth quirked with a wicked grin. “To play the Pied Piper.”

Without giving her time to argue, Cerviel turned and headed back into the spray of bullets. A landscape he was totally at ease within—mild to moderate chaos. Two guards were running toward the stables, one of them shooting and the other screaming into a walkie-talkie.

As he’d hoped, they instantly charged after him, calling out all sorts of vile shit and shooting wildly. Without having to worry about Hallie, Cerviel easily avoided being hit, his speed putting distance between him and his pursuers.

He was across the circular driveway when there was a shout from the main house and Donaldson abruptly appeared on the wide terrace with several men dressed in expensive suits. The cat inside him scratching to be released, Cerviel battled the instinct to turn back and have a painful, deliciously lethal chat with the congressman and his friends.

Later
, he promised the puma through gritted, ready teeth.

For now, he had to get Hallie to safety, then to Raphael.

Careful not to lose the growing crowd of guards, he angled though the small rose garden and down the sloping trail that would eventually lead to the Salt River that flowed through the barren landscape.

It would be the logical way to flee from the ranch.

Less than ten minutes later he could hear the muffled grunts and groans from the guards as they wearily climbed over the slick rocks and splashed through the small eddies of freezing cold water.

He glanced back, judging that he was far enough away to double back.

Crouching low to the ground, he headed straight up the steep bank. He leaped from boulder to boulder, his catlike quickness allowing him to disappear without making a sound. Then, following the line of the barbed-wire fence, he cautiously made his way back to Hallie.

* * *

Hallie forced herself to stay hidden behind the stables.

In her mind, she wanted to be Xena, Warrior Princess, a show she’d seen Carl watching from time to time on the small TV hung in the corner of the basement. She hated this. It was embarrassing to cower like a weakling in the darkness while Cerviel risked his life to rescue her. But even as she considered how she could help, a voice in the back of her mind warned that taking such a foolish risk would not only endanger herself, but Cerviel.

She was weak from hunger, and her body hadn’t fully recovered from her most recent beating.

Until she could regain her strength, she wasn’t going to be able to do anything but stay out of the way.

Clutching the gun in one hand, she made herself take deep, even breaths, concentrating on counting each passing second. It was the only way to leash the nervous energy that squeezed her heart and made her palms sweat. She’d just reached seven hundred and fifty when she caught the scent of warm musk.

“Don’t shoot,” a low male voice commanded.

Cerviel.

A form appeared in the shadows. Silent. Graceful.

Relief and awareness flooded through her as her strange ability to see in the dark revealed the full impact of his stern features and the lethal glow of power in his eyes.

Her heart missed a beat as he leaned down to scoop her up into his arms. With astonishing ease, he straightened and cradled her gently against his chest as he jogged away from the ranch.

His unnerving strength should have terrified her. She’d been beaten and abused by men who were willing to starve or even drug her, until she couldn’t fight to protect herself. But somehow she felt deeply and inexplicably comforted as she snuggled against the broad chest of this man. Or
male
, as she’d heard Donaldson and the others say. It was as if she was going to be protected for the first time in her life.

With a shake of her head, she allowed her tense muscles to relax, and shoved the gun into the front pocket of her hoodie. She wasn’t used to weapons. Which meant she was more likely to shoot herself or Cerviel than any enemy. But she was a quick study, and glad to have it. In case.

She wasn’t going back to that basement, or that cage.

End. Of. Story.

She circled her arms around his neck as he raced over the hard, dusty ground. She didn’t understand why she knew bone-deep that she could trust this male, that he was the complete antithesis of Donaldson. But for now, she was simply going to appreciate being out of the cage and running away from the men who’d made her existence a living hell. Soon enough, she’d have to think about where she would go, live. How she would take care of herself…

Remaining silent as Cerviel vaulted over a wooden gate, she strained for any sounds of pursuit. But she couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of her heart. Fear? Wonder? Relief?