He didn’t obey her command. Instead he looked at Marcos, who nodded. That put her on edge. This was her territory and between Philip and Martin Suma, her head of security, she looked weak. Damn them for this. She needed someone like Conner running her security.
Conner indicated for Philip to lead the way back into the room. Philip glanced at his watch. “I have guests. If you want to tear apart the room looking for nonexistent equipment, you’re welcome to do so, but without me.”
“Philip,” Imelda hissed between her clenched teeth. “Get in that room.” She wanted to kill him on the spot. Where the hell was Martin? Or Ottila? Damn them as well. She glared at her lone bodyguard. “Get them here now,” she snapped.
Philip reluctantly went into the room, aware that Imelda would be furious when she found out what he’d done. He didn’t understand how the security guard had known. There was no evidence, there couldn’t be. So how? He despised Marco’s personal protector. Smug bastard. Imelda was already drooling over him like the bitch she was. He stepped back to watch the man play out his little drama. There was no way he could really know. But uneasiness had set in. Even if the man wasn’t able to prove it, the seed of doubt had been sown in Imelda. And that meant he’d have to leave fast. He’d built up millions. He was prepared, but this place had been perfect for a man like him.
Conner ran his hand, palm out along the wall, his expression still unchanged. If Imelda didn’t know that the conversations in the room were taped, and he was certain she didn’t know, he hadn’t smelled a lie, then that meant her rogues hadn’t told her. Why not? Why hadn’t her leopards warned her? They had to have heard the click as the recorders came on at the sound of voices. There was a faint hum as the conversation was recorded. What were the leopards up to? And why weren’t they protecting her now? They had to have known the recorder would be discovered.
Isabeau.
His stomach knotted. Were they after Isabeau? She hadn’t pressed the little panic button built into her watch yet. He snapped a quick commanding look at Elijah, uncaring in that moment if the others caught it.
Elijah waited a heartbeat. Two. He turned and looked toward the door rather casually and then down to his watch. “My cousin has been gone a long while.”
“Your cousin?” Imelda echoed as if she’d forgotten Isabeau.
Conner realized she probably had. She didn’t notice anything or anyone unless it pertained directly to her. Her world was very narrow and self-involved.
“I want her found now,” Elijah snapped at Felipe.
Felipe turned abruptly on his heel and left.
Imelda sighed. “This is insane. The girl is in no danger and there is no one recording our conversations. She’s with my grandfather. He’ll see that no harm comes to her.”
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.
“Come to my home, Marcos,” she invited, desperate not to allow her opportunity to slip away. She could do business with both perhaps, and she wanted to see Conner again, have the chance to lure him away from Marcos. With Philip gone, she’d need a partner. He seemed cold enough, ruthless enough and just dangerous enough to be the one she’d been looking for.
Marcos hesitated.
“Both of you. And the little cousin. She seems to get along with my grandfather. He can entertain her while we talk.”
While she spoke, her hand stroked her throat. Her eyes were on Conner, bright with promise. He didn’t respond, but his gaze slid over her, dwelled for a moment on her breasts, as though judging her. She went hot, flushing, going wet with just that single almost contemptuous perusal. So offhand. Like she meant nothing, but he was interested, she was certain of it.
She softened her voice and forced herself to look at Marcos. “Come. You’ll find the accommodations to your liking.”
“It’s a great distance to travel, Imelda,” Marcos hedged, forcing her hand.
“I have plenty of room for your entire party. Bedrooms are empty and you would be welcome to stay a few days.” She wanted the time with his bodyguard. “Don’t think of it as work. You can play all you want. We have everything you can imagine or need.”
Marcos turned to his friend. “Elijah?”
Elijah shrugged. “Give her a couple of days to take care of this business,” he indicated the body and Philip. “I can see what Isabeau is up to and then we’ll be free to take Imelda up on her offer.” His cool black eyes met hers. “You can give directions to my men.”
Imelda sucked in her breath, wildly excited. What could have been a disaster had turned out to be perfect.
Elijah looked at his watch. “Where the hell is Isabeau?”
She hadn’t heard the man swear. Or worry edge his voice. Nothing had gotten to him, but that one little sentence betrayed his weakness. Isabeau. The silly nothing cousin. She should have been more careful to instruct her grandfather to really watch over her. Overlooking details like that could ruin one’s plans. Isabeau, a potential fly in the ointment.
“Shane, please find out why Martin or Ottila haven’t answered. I want to make certain that my grandfather and Elijah’s dear little cousin are being looked after.” She rose gracefully. “You stay here and lock the door, keep everyone out.” She smiled up at the two men. “I’ll take you to the garden and personally see you out. Don’t worry about the mess.”
“There was a young lady, a server . . .” Marcos broke off.
“Teresa,” Imelda supplied, showing once again she’d had access to the video before she’d arrived.
“I’d very much like her to accompany us.”
Imelda’s smile was pure canary. “That can be arranged, Marcos.” She started to step out into the hall, but Conner dropped a hand on her shoulder to prevent her leaving. She looked up at him over her shoulder, her expression coy, one eyebrow raised. Deliberately she looked at the hand on her shoulder.
“I go first.” His voice was firm. Commanding, leaving no doubt that he meant to be obeyed. The hand remained on her shoulder. He waited until she felt the heat spreading. “To make certain it’s safe for you.” He added the last two words deliberately to connect them. She’d repeat those words over and over to herself, convinced he was sending her a private message, convinced she had a chance to lure him away from his employer. What better way than using sexual attraction?
Imelda flushed and inclined her head, princess to peasant. He removed his hand, but slowly, allowing his palm to slide in a caress across the nape of her neck. She shivered. His cat roared with rage, spitting and growling, prowling close to the surface so that he felt the ache in his muscles and jaw.
She caught the nightglow in his eyes as they went completely cat, the burning, fixed stare unnerving her. He forced his leopard under control.
Soon,
he promised and moved past her into the hall. As he pushed past, he let his body slide against hers, skin to skin. Her gasp was audible, her gaze hot, no mistaking the sexual intent. He got a whiff of her arousal and it sickened him. He felt dirty. How could he go to Isabeau after touching Imelda, letting her believe that he would take her to bed?
Cursing under his breath, he swept the area and announced it clear. He led the way to the garden, not looking at Imelda again. He could smell her. Hear her breathing. That was bad enough.
JEREMIAH swore softly and shifted position for the third time, praying he could get a clearer line of vision. He’d seen the rogue leopard. Ottila, the quiet one. Suma gave all the orders, and strutted around like a big shot. Jeremiah had been impressed with him, especially when he’d flashed all the money around. Now he wasn’t so certain Suma was the one to watch, not after being around Conner and Rio and the others.