Page List


Font:  

“Harold Brinks is totally loyal to Fredrick Atwater. He knows the man is being drugged. Someone is slipping him something to mess him up just enough to interfere with his ability to make decisions,” Gedeon said decisively. “Harold called us in. He wouldn’t have chanced calling us if he was guilty. I have that reputation, babe.”

She winced when he called her babe. He didn’t do it often, but she didn’t like it and sometimes it got her going. “I might die if don’t get coffee, LB. Seriously. Even a very bad cup of coffee will do in a pinch.”

He raised his eyebrow. “LB? You’re going to shorten your nickname for me to mere letters? No. I draw the line.”

“What does that mean, exactly? Where do you draw the line? There’s no sand. There’s no dirt. We’re in a car. You don’t have a pen or a pencil to draw with. You don’t even have a crayon. There’s no logic in that.”

“I was taking you to a bakery that has amazing coffee, but you don’t deserve it, so I’m heading to our hotel. They have coffee, but it’s terrible.”

She groaned and set the books on the console between them. Both hands went to her hair to pull the ribbon from it. She’d left it down, tied with a ribbon at the nape of her neck, something she rarely did. She lifted the silky mass up with a little sigh of relief.

“I have an atrocious temper, Gedeon,” she suddenly confessed. “Sometimes I don’t think I’m a very good partner for you. You knew Atwater was under the influence of drugs and someone had most likely administered them to him. You came up with a plan to keep him safe and at the same time buy us time to find his daughter. I didn’t care that someone had screwed with his so-called brilliant mind. I wanted to bash him one for being an arrogant ass and taking a chance with his daughter’s life.”

He shot her a grin. He did love the way she had that fiery little streak in her. “That’s why my most special vases are put away.”

“Because you’re an arrogant ass as well,” she declared, and twisted her hair into some kind of knot that only women knew how to manage. Taking a pair of sticks from her pocket, she shoved them a little viciously into her hair to hold it in place.

“Those things weapons?” He indicated the sticks with a jerk of his chin.

“Naturally. I’d find that really nice bakery with the good coffee if I were you.” Meiling tried to sound menacing, but she only succeeded in sounding like she was purring.

That sounded like purring to him, and his body stirred. Gedeon set his teeth and willed his cock under control. “Fine, although you don’t deserve it.” If she were his, he’d spend hours making her purr for him.

The smile faded from the luscious curve of her lips. “I really am questioning Atwater’s arrogance, Gedeon. Why would he risk his daughter? He already lost his wife. Maybe not to violence, but she is still gone. Every other head of a crime family has bodyguards. Most of them have far too many hanging around. What’s the big deal to hire a few to keep his daughter safe? It wouldn’t make him look weak, since everyone seems to have them.”

Her voice was steady, but he realized that, like he was, Meiling was shaken by the kidnapping of the little girl. Neither had been expecting it. Both had suffered too many losses. He nearly pulled the car over so he could hold her. Meiling was careful of their relationship. She wouldn’t welcome him getting too familiar with her.

They had a fantastic partnership, their every step in perfect sync. It hadn’t taken long to get there either. Their personal relationship was good—friendly with lots of laughter. But the intimacy that had been between them in the first six weeks was no longer there. That was on him. His fault entirely, and there was no real way to fix it.

“I get it, Meiling. He should have.” He kept his voice gentle.

It was all the visits to the club. That had come between them. He needed the sex. He’d held out for as long as he could. Once he went, it was as if he was more addicted than ever. He had to go. Meiling stopped coming to his suite. She used her private entrance in the evenings, and that left him alone with a seething leopard and nights of no sleep no matter how many women he hooked up with.

She didn’t bring up the fact that he had sex with other women. He almost wished she would so they could talk about it. He had no idea what he’d say, but at least he’d know it bothered her. The way things stood between them now, she didn’t seem to care. She just went her own way and treated him like a wayward sibling or best friend.


Tags: Christine Feehan Leopard People Paranormal