Wade frowned at him. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you think Mr. Thompson is a friend of yours and Maya’s, but maybe something else was going on… more than you might think.”
Wade stared at the man, believing he was trying to tell him something without really coming out and saying it. Wade looked back at the truck and tried to imagine why the detective was so antsy about him getting close to the vehicle. What would be inside that would concern him?
He turned to face the detective. The officer thought Thompson and Maya were getting it on when Thompson was already married and Maya was Wade’s fiancee? Not that she was, but close enough.
“She had a change of clothes. She lives with her brother at Anderson Garden Nursery, and he doesn’t like it when she goes to a club dressed in something kind of scandalous. Since I bought it for her, she wore it. She would have changed into jeans and a T-shirt before she arrived home. Were you worried about the dress she left behind?” He imagined she left more than that—panties and a bra, and how could he easily account for that?
“We did wonder.” The detective’s face turned a shade of mottled red, and he cleared his throat.
Wade was certain that the detective had probably seen everything anyone could imagine, but not a woman shifting into a jaguar. He was afraid one human had seen something he should never have. How they were to resolve that mess, he didn’t know.
“Do you have a picture of the lady?” the detective asked, not sounding convinced after hearing Wade’s explanation.
“Yeah. Hold on.” Wade searched for the one he’d taken on his phone at the club when he first met her and she was wearing the T-shirt minidress, smiling, beautiful. “Here it is. That was taken just a week ago at the club.”
The detective had Wade email him the picture. “And we can reach you where?”
Wade gave his information and Maya’s home address where they’d be staying, although they were sticking around Houston while they tried to locate Maya. He also gave the detective her brother’s contact information.
“Who was this… Lion Mane… character?” the detective asked.
“A man she danced with at the Jungle Cat Fever Club. He was interested in her. She didn’t return the interest.”
“I see.” The detective didn’t sound like he believed Wade. That maybe the lady had changed her mind. After all, if she was supposed to be Wade’s fiancee, why was she dancing with other men? “You don’t know what his real name was?”
“No. That was his club name.” Wade wasn’t about to give the detective Lion Mane’s real name. Wade had to take care of this shifter to shifter.
“If anyone contacts you concerning Maya, here’s my number. Call me directly—right away.” The detective handed him a card.
“Thanks. I’ll do that.” Wade walked closer to the truck and smelled that a gun had been fired, and that Jim Bettinger had been here. Another man had been with him. Another shifter. He was sure the two of them had taken Maya.
His hands clenched into fists, Wade felt his temper escalate.
“We’ll get her back,” David said quickly.
Yeah, but alive? Or dead?
When David and Wade returned to the rental car, both brothers were silent, just sitting in the car and saying nothing.
“He won’t hurt her,” Candy said, and they both turned to look at her. She shrugged. “He had the hots for her.”
Ignoring the woman, Wade said to his brother, “A shot was fired next to Thompson’s truck. Since Thompson wasn’t shot, I can only assume Maya was. She was… feral.” He couldn’t say she was wearing her jaguar coat in front of Candy. She wouldn’t have a clue what being feral meant.
David shook his head. “She’s not ready for city life. So where do we go now?”
“Where did Bettinger take Maya?” Wade asked Candy, his voice a growl, warning her to tell him the truth, or else.
Chapter 25
Drifting in and out of a lightless room, Maya felt warmth seeping through her blood, felt him hold her close. Dancing, so light on her feet that she was floating, their bodies as one. Moving, kissing, she licked her lips. He was touching her breasts, her waist, her buttocks, embracing, holding her tight, murmuring in her ear like a soft, warm summer breeze. No words, just a whispered brush of breath. Wade, she tried to whisper back, but she couldn’t form the word. Only in her mind, his name drifting like a wisp of cloud just out of reach.
Maya stretched lazily as a cat—wondering when she’d shifted forms—and bumped into a clinking metal mesh. At the same time she smelled the odor of cat urine mixed with bleach and water, felt the hard concrete floor beneath her and the warm breeze flowing over her. Immediately she opened her eyes. The cat pee smell was strong, burning her eyes. Where the hell was she?
She tried to get to her feet, but all she could do was lift her head and stare at her cage.
She stared at the steel, twelve-foot-tall mesh that surrounded the run, the rough concrete slab beneath her, the wooden box behind her that looked like a den to curl up in, and a slight overhang to provide shade. A security light pierced the darkness. She noticed another run next door and saw a female jaguar sleeping. The one from the zoo?
Then she remembered the truck accident, Thompson being injured, her attacking or trying to attack Lion Mane, and him shooting her with a tranquilizer dart. She’d nearly bitten him, then collapsed, a cat ready to rip him apart and then too sleepy to bother.
A man cleared his throat, and she swung her head around, totally thrown off by the fact that he’d been watching her and she hadn’t known it. The drug running through her system had to be making her so clueless— so… unjaguar-like. She should have sensed him right away, though she did notice that the breeze was carrying his scent away from her.
She looked him over closely now—the lean tall form of him. About thirty-five, she guessed, his gray-blue eyes sharp, his dark brown hair mussed by the breeze. He was placing his weight more on one leg as though he was favoring the other. Then she saw the cane tucked behind him. Twice already, he’d moved, and each time he winced as though his leg was bothering him. But what really caught her eye was his face—half of it was scarred horribly, like cat claw marks running from his forehead down his throat. He was lucky to be alive after an encounter that left him scarred like that.
Had it been one of the big cats he’d bought to have hunted?
Served him right, if so.
His gaze remained on her, his mouth curving up slightly. “Jim said you’re a wild cat, straight from Belize. Now I don’t have to rely solely on that poor excuse for a jaguar.” He motioned toward the other cat.
Jim Bettinger? He couldn’t have sold her to this man so that he could have her hunted down. If the hunter killed her, she would shift into a human and he knew it. What was Bettinger thinking?
“He said you’re real special. That you killed his brother and one of our smuggler friends. So we’re going to ensure that you have a chance to really show what a tiger you are. Pardon the mixed cat reference.”
She wanted to tell him that whatever cat had clawed him so grotesquely deserved to be rewarded. But she imagined the animal had died long ago.
