The Billionaire Jaguar's Curvy Journalist: BBW Panther Shifter Paranormal Romance (15 page)

“So you think he knows?”

“He knows that Mallory Holdings has interest in Brisbane Chemical,” she said. “He’d have to. And he probably knows it’s a long-standing interest. But he didn’t seem to have made the connection to the research.” She leaned back into his chair, and by happy coincidence back into Paul’s arms. “I’m not sure how to tell him. Though...it may be what he’s expected all along.”

“What he’s feared,” Paul corrected. “I mean, I hate to think Dad’s involved in something like this, and I thought I’d seen the worst of him.”

She nodded. “But I don’t know. What do you think? You did a lot more talking with him last night.”

“I think he’ll be ready for the worst. And we don’t know yet what the worst is. You just suspect.”

“I just suspect,” she said. “But...I still don’t really know what those experiments were all about. That’s a lot more work. And I’m not sure any intrepid reporter can do it. We might need some help from...I don’t know, maybe the Feds.”

“I...might know some people,” he said. When you ran in shifter circles and high finance, you met all kinds of people.

The cat would rather go in and take care of it with jaws and claws—they’d hurt his
mate
—but even the cat knew that it would be smarter in the long run to think strategically. If they were in jail, not only could they not hurt anyone else, it’d be much easier to figure out what they were doing and how any damage they’d done could be dealt with.

His people had always been protectors. That was more important than vengeance, as long as his mate was safe.

“Hey, you still there?” She waved her hand in front of his face.

“Sorry,” he said. “Just...thinking of who I could call.” It couldn’t be anyone connected to Dad, that was for sure. If he was involved as anything but an investor, both he and Aaron could be treading on very thin ice. He had to look out for his baby brother, too.

Not so baby any more.

They both turned when they heard Aaron’s knock at the door. “It’s him,” Paul confirmed, when Abby shot him a worried look. His cat knew, recognized his brother’s scent already. “And whatever he’s got smells great.”

“Hot fresh donuts,” Aaron said, when the door opened. “Abby cracked all this wide open yet?”

“Pretty much,” Paul admitted. “It’s not all good news, though. Dad...well, there’s no good way to say it. Dad might be connected.”

Aaron nodded. “I’ve been afraid of that. It’s one of the reasons I’ve been so cautious.”

“Well, I don’t have to be,” Paul said. “But you’ll have to be careful, I don’t want you getting caught in the crossfire.”

Aaron clapped Paul on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ve been working hard to get my finances straight, and separate from Dad’s. If anything happens, I won’t be out on the street. Or indicted.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen to you anyway,” Paul said. “Come on, let’s eat.”

21

“I have an idea,” Abby said. “But I will need your help.”

“Well,” Paul said, slipping an arm around her waist, “lucky for you, I want to help.”

“You said you might know someone who could investigate this?”

He nodded; he’d mentally gone over his short list in the shower, and Joel—or as Chris called him, ‘that hot FBI dude’—was probably the best place to start.

“I want you to get in touch with him. And I need to write my paper. I’m not sure they’ll take the story, but I know a bunch of places who will if they don’t.”

“Maybe you don’t want them to,” he suggested.

She frowned. “What do you mean? It’s a great story, it’ll—”

“Exactly,” he said. “Maybe this story’s too good for them. Maybe you’re too good for them. I’m sorry, but any publication that could hack up your story like that—”

She sighed. “I don’t know. They’re like family to me. I like working there. If only we could get around—” She paused for a moment. Then a slow, wicked smile spread across her face. “That’s it! You’re right. Not about the paper, but about having them turn it down.”

“Ohhhkay,” he said skeptically.

“More importantly,” she said, “getting Laura to turn it down. Then when the editor—the real editor—asks me why I didn’t go to him first, I’ll tell him the truth. That I did.” She sat back in her chair. Her wicked grin was incredibly sexy.

“And I’ll finally have proof that she wouldn’t know a decent story if you waved it right in front of her. If that’s not enough...well, then I’ll have to agree with you and look somewhere else.”

He squeezed her. “I like it.”

“So...when can you talk to your person?”

“I’ll call him this morning. He’s usually busy so we might not hear until the afternoon, but he’ll like the fact that it’s all happening on public land.” He let go of her waist and straightened up. “Don’t have to get a search warrant to take samples in a public place.”

“Good point,” she said. “And I’ll write up my pitch.” Her grin brightened up. “Two pitches. One for Laura and one for someone who deserves this story.”

“Good plan,” he said, and headed for his phone.

22

Breakfast was nice. Not as good as Tina’s pastries, but Dizzy Donuts was a good place too, and Aaron had brought back an insanely big box stuffed with every possible flavor.

“I didn’t think to ask what you guys might want,” he said, a little sheepishly.

“This is great,” Abby said, grabbing one she recognized. Strawberry something. Maybe strawberry lime? She took a bite. Strawberry lime. Oh yes. Delicious.

“What kind is that?” Paul asked. He was still scanning the box, apparently overwhelmed by choice.

“Strawberry lime,” she said. “It’s good. Different, but good.”

Paul took a chocolate one out. “Just chocolate you think?”

Aaron frowned. “Um, there was chocolate and mocha cream. I think that’s chocolate. Sniff it.”

Paul sniffed it. “Mocha, I think,” he said, and took a bite. “Mmm.”

They talked a little more normally this time, about what Aaron did at his father’s firm and the work that Paul had been doing. It felt relaxed, comfortable. Like family.

“And you’re a reporter,” Aaron said. “For the local paper?”

She nodded. “I just sold a second story on Paul’s recycling and waste disposal to my friend Jennifer at the
Globe
, though,” she said, “and I’m probably going to end up pitching the Brisbane Chemical story, too. Stepping up my game a little, I guess.”

“Your game is fine,” Paul said. “And pretty soon everyone’s going to know that.”

She smiled to herself a little and took another donut. The regular chocolate, not the mocha cream.

“As much as it pains me to say it,” Paul said, “I probably should run out at some point this morning, check in on the branch office. Just so everyone knows things are fine and there won’t be any attacks from the rumor mill. Aaron, are you—can you stay for a little while?”

“Of course,” Aaron said. “I have a long weekend, anyway. I told Dad I wanted to focus on planning. Which...I mean. I am. Just maybe not the kind of planning he’s thinking of.” He shrugged. “And I can work on that Sunday, anyway.”

“You should take over the business,” Paul said. “Don’t feel guilty about that.”

“It should be ours,” Aaron said.

Paul grinned. “Don’t you remember? I never was any good at sharing. You’ll be better off with your own company.”

“Unless we start competing,” Aaron grinned back.

“Well, then it’s merger time,” Paul said. “Besides, I was always pretty careful to stay out of Dad’s business. I didn’t want—” He sighed. “Well, you know. I’m always wondering if I’ll run into him anyway. Dreading it.”

“You have every right to be—to be wherever you want to be,” Abby said. “He’s got no right to take that from you.”

He flashed her a little smile. “I know,” he said. “But knowing it and doing it are two different things.”

She took his hand. “Aren’t you the one telling me not to sell myself short? You’d better take your own advice.”

“Right,” he said. “I’d better get going, if I don’t I’ll never leave. As nice as it would be to spend the day in bed with you, I suspect you’re going to want to do some more work, anyway.”

“I do have a couple more emails to send,” she confessed. She needed to write the perfect email for Laura to turn down. That was going to be fun. “You’re sure you’re all right just hanging out here a while?”

“Of course,” Aaron said. “That’s the advantage of having a father who doesn’t really trust you with the business.” He winked.

“We have the freedom of the underestimated,” she said, holding up her fist. “Solidarity.”

He grinned and bumped his fist against hers. “Right,” he said. “Let’s kick some ass.”

So she went to kick ass. It was a fine needle to thread: a can’t-miss article, described as honestly as possible, in a way that would make Laura roll her eyes and pass the story over.

Hey Laura,

Have a potential story, not sure it’s the right fit for Salem Beach Now. Involves Brisbane Chemical and maybe some dumping? They seem really aggressive about not wanting people in their business.

If anyone asked why she didn’t mention the attack on her, she could say she wanted to ask the police if it was all right first. That wasn’t a lie. She actually probably should check. She got up and walked over to her wallet, resting on the kitchen counter from last night, and pulled out the officer’s card. Mark Nguyen. That was right. She’d been so agitated, it probably wasn’t a surprise she couldn’t remember his name.

She was walking back toward her laptop when the shots rang out.

She wasn’t sure which was the greater shock: the sound, or how quickly Aaron jumped to protect her, his heavy paws hitting her back.

I hope he didn’t rip his clothes, she thought, feeling a little dazed, and then she remembered that Paul hadn’t left that long ago. Not long ago at all.

Paul.

Please be safe, she thought. What will I do if I’ve lost you already?

She could hear a low growl in Aaron’s throat. He was crouched over her, his paws still keeping her down, though he didn’t have any real weight on her. It was more like a reminder.

She found herself listening intently to the silence, straining for any sound, hoping that she’d have a clue about what would happen next.

Aaron gently took his paws off her shoulders and then nuzzled gently at her arm, pushing her wordlessly toward the bathroom. She crawled, as quietly and softly as she could, in that direction. She didn’t like feeling helpless, but she didn’t have any kind of weapon. She thought of the knives on the rack in the kitchen—they’d looked very sharp—but they wouldn’t do much against someone trying to shoot through the walls. And she wasn’t as strong or big as a panther, that was for sure.

She slid onto the cool tiles of the bathroom and tried to think. Aaron was still in the living room. He’d moved again, but so smoothly and quietly she couldn’t tell where he’d gone to. And she still didn’t have any idea where Paul was. If there had been shots before, she would have known it, right? She or Aaron would have heard it.

So he was probably okay. Maybe he was even clear of all this. That would be better, even though a little part of her wanted him to swoop in and save her. Maybe a big part.

She looked over the bathroom. Toilet, sink, plunger. None of those were very good weapons. She wanted something, anything in her hand. She wouldn’t feel so vulnerable then.

The bathroom sink was almost empty, but there was a toothbrush holder, sleek and black, and a sculpture of a walking black cat. Maybe that was heavy. She scooted over, slowly, on her butt. She didn’t want to make too much noise, and she knew it would be dangerous to stand up. She waited until her back was touching the sink and then reached up for the panther. It felt heavy, but she’d just curled her fingers around it when she heard another noise and froze.

Aaron was out there. She shouldn’t have left him.

Don’t be ridiculous. He’s a panther. He’s got big teeth and claws. You’ve got a pretty statue that you’re really hoping is heavy.

She scooted her butt a little further back and strained up to reach the statue.

She heard a crashing noise—was it the door? She couldn’t tell from the angle she was at. Her heart was pounding. Twice in two days. Don’t I get a day off from this?

“Here, kitty, kitty,” a man’s voice called. “Come on out kitty, I won’t hurt you much.”

Abby rolled her eyes. Couldn’t he be a little less cliched? She tried to pull the statue a little more closely to her, but she didn’t want to make any noise.

“Come on,” he said. “Paul. Little Paulie panther, come on out here.”

That’s not Paul, and if you keep calling him, you might get more than you planned on, she thought.

“I’ve got the bedroom. You check the bathroom,” the man said.

Shit, there were two of them. When had that happened? They must have come in closely together. Of course, she wasn’t a panther. She didn’t have their ears.

Okay. Two people. Probably men; if they sent two guys already they probably had three. The last guy had a gun, so safe to assume these guys would, too.

She could hear someone coming toward her, slowly. Someone big, with heavy steps.

“Come on,” the man said. “This is ridiculous. We’ve got the guns. What do you have, little kitty claws? Maybe you got the drop on Chad but—”

That must have been when Aaron decided to attack. She could hear a struggle, then a horrible, electric buzzing—a taser, she guessed. Whoever had been moving toward her turned and ran toward the noise.

She couldn’t leave Aaron out there alone. She grabbed the statue—it was heavy—and ran as quietly as she could toward the main room.

They had Aaron.

Oh, shit.

She couldn’t tell if he’d been hurt, but he was struggling. Two men were kneeling over him, trying to pin him down; she saw that one man had a syringe in his hand. His gun was in a holster at his side. The other man had a pistol in one hand and a Taser in the other. “Did you see the girl?” the man with the syringe asked. He was the first speaker, the one who had been barking orders.

The second man shook his head.

“You think she’s here?”