When A Lioness Growls (A Lion's Pride Book 7) Read online

  “Aren’t you just a dollface. Thank you.” She beamed as she handed the package to him. His arms dropped at the weight.

  “What the hell is in this thing? Rocks? A dead body?” One never knew with his boss, and given the woman belonged to the lion pride, a crazy fucking bunch, for all he knew it contained a bomb.

  “I can’t tell you. It’s a secret. All I can say is I need it.”

  “Need it for what?” he asked as she skipped toward the outside set of stairs leading up to the open door of the plane.

  “We’ll need it for our trip to the tropics.”

  We? Surely he misunderstood. “Our?”

  “Didn’t Gaston tell you? You’re coming with me.”

  She was the package? “There must be a mistake.”

  “No mistake, sweetcheeks. Once you store that box on board, don’t forget to grab my luggage in the trunk.”

  “I think there’s been a mistake.” He repeated the words. “No one said anything about a trip.” Surely Gaston didn’t hate him that much. He’d bet this was the work of his boss’s new girlfriend. Trying to get him out of the picture by sending him away with one of her cat friends. Do I look like a pet sitter?

  The feline in question didn’t seem to notice his reluctance. She paused in the doorway of the plane, one foot, encased in a ridiculously high heel, sitting on the top step, a vibrant sight in a bright yellow dress that drew his eye—and a red pinprick of light from a laser sight.

  Bang.

  The shot missed, and not because JF moved lightning quick. The redhead saved herself. One moment a woman stood on the ramp, and the next second, clothes hit the ground and she was soaring, and snarling, hands extended and shifting into paws. When she hit the pavement, she bounded in the direction of the gunshot.

  Bang. Bang. The shooter hiding behind a car parked outside the fencing bordering the airstrip kept shooting, and missing. The lioness dodged each shot and kept going.

  Great. Just fucking great. Want to bet this incident would create some paperwork? Not to mention cleanup. The only saving grace was the incident—and by incident he meant her shifting into lion form and not the shooting—was done in a rather remote location. Still, though, he’d probably have to take care of witnesses.

  A slam of a car door and a squeal of tires made it clear they wouldn’t catch the shooter. While she sprinted after it, JF didn’t. He wasn’t about to chase after the vehicle like some common canine.

  So once more, JF waited, but he didn’t wait silently. He put in a call to his boss. It rang four times and went to voicemail.

  He dialed again.

  And again.

  The line was answered with a snapped, “What is so important it couldn’t wait?” Gaston sounded out of breath. Did he and his girlfriend ever get out of bed these days?

  “You cannot seriously expect me to travel with one of those lunatic felines.” JF didn’t bother to hide his disdain. He had no patience for shifters, not after what they’d done to him.

  “I take it you’ve met the package.” A hint of a smirk in the tone.

  “Yes, I’ve met her. She’s off right now chasing a car.”

  “And you let her?”

  “I didn’t realize I was supposed to stop her. Perhaps some warning would have helped. Then I could have brought a can of tuna to keep her occupied.”

  “I gave you an order to protect the package.”

  “And I did. I’m holding it in my hand.”

  “I meant Stacey.”

  “Package implies non-living creature. Not a woman.” A very sexy woman who roared her annoyance as taillights winked out of sight.

  “It doesn’t matter what she is. It is your duty to ensure Stacey remains intact while she investigates an issue.”

  Stacey, a woman he’d seen a few times since his arrival in town. A woman he did his best to avoid.

  “Does this issue she’s investigating have anything to do with why someone was at the airstrip waiting to shoot her?”

  “Someone attacked?” Gaston sounded surprised.

  “Why do you think she chased that car?” Which made him wonder for a moment if the boss’s girlfriend chased cars just for fun.

  “A shooting on pride turf. How brazen and peculiar. And unacceptable. You were supposed to keep her safe.”

  “She’s alive, and perhaps I would have known to expect violence if you’d told me something about the fucking job.”

  “I expect better from you, JF. I promised the lion king you’d keep his serf safe during her travels.”

  “The only way to keep a crazy lion safe is by putting them in a cage.” They had no common sense. They also attacked without provocation. The memory of his wounds no longer had the power to make him flinch.

  “No caging the woman, JF. Or tying her up. Or restraining her in any way. You are to assist her in whatever way she needs.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “But you will.” Gaston sounded quite firm on this point. “Be sure to report back daily. I want to know what you find once you arrive at your destination.”

  “You seriously expect me to travel with her.”

  “Now more than ever. I want answers to the mystery.”

  “What mystery?”

  “Ask Stacey.” With those cryptic words, his boss hung up. Redialing would have to wait because from the shadows sauntered a large feline, her fur tinged with auburn, her tail standing tall and snapping with pride.

  The large cat stopped by the trunk, cocked her head, and roared at him.

  “Did you just give me shit?”

  “Rawr.”

  “Stop your caterwauling and get on the plane. We’re late.”

  At that rebuke, the cat stiffened then softened, the lines of her shape blurring until a woman stood there. A naked woman with full hips and strawberry-colored nipples. The fiery mane on her head matched the carpet below. As a man, it was his duty to notice such things. He also noticed she looked good enough to eat, and his fangs pressed into his lips, hunger wakening in him and tempting him for a bite.

  She’s not food. A part of him knew that, and yet he still stared in a very ungentlemanly fashion. She did nothing to stop him. Her lips curved in a smile, and her hip tilted ever so slightly.

  “Get a good peek?” She winked. “Be a good boy and maybe I’ll introduce you to the mile-high club.”

  He knew she tried to shock him. Women like her seemed to make a game of it. But Jean Francois wasn’t new to this game. He turned his back on her and stated, quite distinctly, “Sex on a plane is nothing. Try doing it outside in the clouds without a safety net.”

  Yeah, he dared her. And then walked away.

  Chapter Three

  Stacey gaped after the man as he headed into the small plane with the box she’d given him. She still stared as he exited empty-handed and clomped down the stairs.

  “Are you going to stand there all night, or are we leaving?” he barked. “And where is the pilot?”

  “The pilot is coming, sweetcheeks.” A nickname he’d earned because of the way it made a tiny muscle jump high on his cheek. She popped open the trunk and leaned over. On purpose of course. “Give me a moment to grab a new outfit before you stow my bags.”

  She unzipped her case and shoved her hand inside, fingers brushing silken fabric. She tugged a dress free, the loose texture and bright color a perfect foil for her hair and the climate they would be visiting.

  Straightening, she noted him right behind her, his expression carved in granite, looking so serious, and yet, he couldn’t hide the spark of red in the depths of his eyes. His inhuman eyes.

  The red spark was part of his heritage as a whampyr, a creature only recently discovered when a bunch of them came to town with an honest-to-goodness necromancer. Lucky Reba had snared that fine catch.

  What exactly was a whampyr? No one knew for sure, and Gaston, their master, wasn’t telling. Stacey and the others only knew the basics. Some kind of shapeshifter, with a body that resembled t
hat of a gargoyle crossed with a bat. For their diet, they drank blood, and yet, according to Gaston the necromancer, they weren’t vampires. And that was all he’d say.

  A secret. Stacey liked secrets, which was why this mission to the Caribbean excited her.

  It took only a moment for Stacey to yank the dress over her body. It fell in pleats that showcased her shape. “Hand me my shoes.” She pointed to them lying on the ground, having fallen during her shift.

  “Get them yourself.”

  Someone was ornery in the morning. Was it because the sun hurt his skin? He kept himself pretty well covered, wearing a pair of linen slacks, a long-sleeve shirt, and a jacket. But no tie. He also sported a short-trimmed beard.

  Friction for the thighs. How thoughtful.

  “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting in person before. My name is Stacey Smithson.”

  “I don’t really care.”

  “What an odd name to give you.”

  He glared so she laughed.

  “While you might say you’re not interested, I know better, sweetcheeks. You’ve been eye-balling me for a while.” Just like she’d eyed him.

  “If you saw me looking, it was only to ensure you didn’t turn rabid and attack me. Your kind isn’t known for being too stable.”

  Her smile widened. “You say the most darling things. I will say I am most excited you’ve been chosen to come along as my bodyguard on this trip.”

  “As if anything could guard you from your own insanity.”

  “True.” How well he knew her already. “But I will enjoy watching you try. You’re an intriguing creature, Jean Francois Belanger. I look forward to finding out how you came to work for Gaston Charlemagne.”

  “I might not be employed by him for long. Given his recent orders, I am thinking of updating my resume.” Said utterly straight-faced.

  But she could tell he was having fun. Just look at the muscle jumping in his cheek. “You should apply to work for the pride. We have great dental benefits.”

  “I’d rather shoot myself first.”

  “Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine. I can see we’ll have so much fun together.”

  “No, we won’t.”

  “Challenge accepted.” She pointed at her suitcases. “Stow those bags aboard and we’ll get ready to leave.”

  He didn’t immediately grab them. On the contrary, he crossed his arms over his impressive chest and declared, “I am not your manservant. Do it yourself.”

  “Me?” Her eyes widened. “You can’t seriously expect a lady to carry her own bags?”

  “Lady?” He snorted. “You were just stark naked on a runway.”

  “An unfortunate side effect of shifting.”

  “Shifting to chase after a car.”

  “Someone was shooting at us. A lady sometimes has to do dirty things to protect herself since the male on the scene didn’t act.”

  “Are you saying it’s my fault you turned into a kitty?” While his voice never changed pitch, she heard the incredulity.

  “Most definitely your fault. Had you gone after the shooter like a proper man, we wouldn’t be having this discussion. I really have to wonder why Gaston chose you as his second-in-command. Your security skills leave much to be desired.”

  “Nothing wrong with my skills.” He almost growled the words.

  “If you say so, sweetcheeks. You can show me those skills later so I can be the judge.” She patted his face before walking past him. Hands empty of course.

  “I think you forgot something.”

  She whirled with a gasp. “How could I be so remiss?” She smiled at him as she sauntered to the car, hips swinging, drawing his gaze.

  A predator always knew how to lull its prey.

  Walking past him, she leaned over the passenger side of the convertible and grabbed her purse. “Mustn’t forget this,” she said as she walked back toward the plane. As she passed him, she tucked the fiver she’d grabbed from her purse into the breast pocket of his dark jacket. “That’s for your troubles.”

  Then she kept going, feeling the laser heat of his stare. A grin split her lips.

  This trip is going to be so much fun. How much longer before sweetcheeks exploded?

  Chapter Four

  Did she seriously just tip me?

  The balls on this woman were huge. He couldn’t believe they didn’t drag on the ground they were so massive.

  Yet, as frustrating as JF found her attitude, he couldn’t help a grudging admiration. Stacey acted like a princess, and the role suited her.

  Despite the fact she’d recently shifted and gone after a shooter, she looked as if she’d just stepped out of a salon. Her rich red hair tumbled down over her bared shoulders. Her creamy skin required no artifice to showcase her beauty. The dress she wore accentuated her feminine attributes.

  Good enough to eat.

  But totally off-limits.

  JF didn’t get involved with shifters. Ever. Nor did he cater to them. Ordering him around as if she had a right.

  It occurred to him he should ignore her command and leave her shit in the car. He wasn’t some lackey she commanded at will, and yet…much as it pained him, her expectation of gallantry tugged at something in him, tugged at the old JF who used to not think twice about opening a door for a woman or carrying boxes because they were heavy. One betrayal by the fairer sex and he now couldn’t be bothered to even try.

  Perhaps it was time he started again. Found those old manners his mother had instilled in him.

  He peeked into the trunk, saw the two large suitcases and the one much smaller one.

  “Would you hurry up already, sweetcheeks? We have a flight to make.”

  Maybe he’d start being a gentleman, with everyone but her. Princess needed a lesson in how to treat people.

  JF boarded the plane and sat down, noting Stacey coming out of the washroom at the back, her natural features enhanced by the addition of some lip-gloss and mascara.

  She smiled at him, a brilliant beaming grin of satisfaction. He couldn’t wait to smother it.

  “Was that so hard to do, sweetcheeks?”

  “Not at all. Why, one would say I barely exerted myself.”

  “Did you close the baggage compartment?”

  “You mean the one I never opened?”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Stacey frowned and peeked out the door. “The trunk is still open on my car. Do you mean to say you didn’t bring the bags?”

  “Bring them yourself if you’re that keen on having clothes. Given I wasn’t warned about this trip, and didn’t pack a thing for myself, I’d say that would make us even.”

  “Would it help if I said I picked up some things for you? After all, if you’re going to play the part of my brother, we should at least look like we’re related.”

  “Brother?” The thoughts she invoked were much too carnal for someone that might be related to her. Then again, given her attitude, and her very nature, it shouldn’t take long to destroy any urges he felt toward her.

  “Yes, brother. I couldn’t very well make you my boyfriend. I am, after all, going there as bait for the guy who’s been kidnapping women.”

  “What are you talking about? Explain yourself, woman.”

  “I can’t explain right now because apparently I have to move my own luggage because someone’s mother didn’t love him enough to teach him proper manners.”

  The rebuke stung, mostly because his mother had taught him better than this. But surely even his mother would understand why he acted this way after what had happened to him.

  Sitting down, he refused to feel guilt. He heard a few thumps as the baggage was stowed. Another thump as the car trunk was closed.

  He didn’t stir at all until he heard the rev of several engines and the smash of a chain-link fence getting torn down. A most distinctive sound, as was the screech of tires.

  What the fuck? Had that gunman returned? As he went to look out the door, Stacey came flying in, shov
ing him out of her way. “We need to go,” she announced.

  As JF stared out the door, several cars screamed to a halt alongside her convertible.

  Whatever happened next he missed because she pulled on the portal and slammed it shut.

  “That’s not going to do us much good. The pilot’s not here yet,” he remarked. The cockpit sat empty, the lights on the dash illuminated, the engines humming softly.

  “The pilot is on board, sweetcheeks.”

  He couldn’t help but utter a horrified, “No,” as she plopped herself in the pilot’s chair. She began to toggle things, and the engines’ quiet purring turned to a rumble as the plane lurched forward.

  “You don’t seriously expect me to believe you can drive this thing.”

  “The correct term is pilot. And you can believe it or not, up to you. I, though, plan to get us out of here.”

  There was still time for him to jump out while the plane picked up speed. He crouched down for a peek out the window in time to see the red sports car ignite.

  “I think they just torched your ride.”

  “Those jerks! The dealership I borrowed it from is going to be pissed.”

  “Can you really fly this thing?” JF pushed into the cockpit, the tight space not meant for his bulk. Sitting in the front meant being close to the maniac woman intent on running over the men standing in the middle of the runway.

  Men with guns aimed right at them.

  “They’re going to shoot.”

  “Possibly.”

  “What do you mean possibly?”

  “I don’t think they will. Haven’t you ever played chicken before? Or the game where you wait to see who is going to blink first? Rest assured, sweetcheeks, it is not going to be me.” She aimed the plane right at those men.

  She was wrong. They didn’t blink.

  The muzzles of their weapons flashed as they fired, and yet, while the bullets impacted the windshield, it didn’t crack.

  “Gotta love quality pride construction,” Stacey crowed.

  At the moment, JF loved it very much, too, since it meant he didn’t hear any hissing that would have indicated a breach.