One Down_Bayou Heat Page 7

  She released a sigh and let her head fall against his chest. They snuggled in silence for several minutes, then she tilted back her head to study him with a blatant curiosity.

  “Why you?”

  He gazed down at her beautiful face, trying to concentrate on her words when the only thing he wanted to do was kiss her, then remove her clothes again and lick her from head to toe.

  “What?” he asked in absent tones.

  “Why were you the one who came for me?”

  He leaned in and kissed her nose. “You’re not complaining, are you? It might break my heart, female.”

  A blush touched her cheeks. “I don’t think you’d believe me if I did complain. Not after you made me melt into a puddle of goo last night and this morning.”

  He chuckled. He’d done his own share of melting. “Goo?” he teased.

  She gave a firm nod. “Oh yeah.”

  Cerviel allowed the tips of his fingers to trail up and down the curve of her back. He smiled when a small shiver raced through her body. “Is goo good?”

  She rolled her eyes. “So good. But stop fishing for compliments and answer my question,” she commanded.

  He paused. Usually he would have responded with a light quip that would have seemingly offered an explanation without telling her anything. He was a master at deflection and he could manipulate any conversation with an ease most politicians would envy.

  But Hallie wasn’t like everyone else.

  She held a special place that was changing all the rules in his life.

  Every second he was with her.

  “I’m not really supposed to discuss the mission,” he murmured, his loyalty to the league in conflict with his burgeoning loyalty to this female. He had to speak to Raphael. Once Hallie was recognized as his mate, things would be different. He would see to it.

  She arched a brow. “Why not?”

  “It’s a secret,” he told her.

  Her lips twitched. “You have a secret identity?”

  He gave a lift of one shoulder. “Actually, I do.” He could practically feel the leader of the Pantera behind him, holding a noose—handing him his walking papers.

  “Hmm.” She laughed, clearly assuming that he was teasing her. “So what is it? CIA? Black ops?”

  He exhaled. He’d never told anyone what he was about to reveal to her. “It’s the PSL,” he said. “The Pantera Security League.”

  She laughed again, enjoying what she assumed was a game. “So you’re a puma Jason Bourne?”

  That quip he couldn’t ignore. “With a better taste in clothes, I believe,” he said.

  Something in his expression made her still, the smile fading from her lips.

  “This isn’t a joke?”

  “No,” he assured her, wondering what she would think of his work. Granted, he would never be able to tell her everything, but he fully intended to give her what he could. “It’s the truth, Hallie. Cerviel isn’t even my real name, my birth name.”

  She eased away from him, studying him with a searching gaze. “What is it, then?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t even recall it. It’s dead and buried. Each of us in the league took a new name. The name of an angel. Both light and dark.” His brow lifted. “We thought it fitting.”

  Her eyes were wide and stunned as she took in what he was telling her. “Who was Cerviel?”

  “He was a Principality angel.” He felt his chin lifting as he explained, pride in the work he’d done over the many years. “He brought wisdom and encouragement to those facing challenges.”

  Her expression changed from shock to a soft understanding. “That does sound like you,” she said with a gentle smile. “What does the league do?”

  “Our leaders occasionally face decisions that aren’t entirely black and white,” he said, giving her a brief glimpse into his complicated life. “I work inside those gray areas.”

  Her lips parted, as if to demand a far more detailed explanation. But instead she lifted her hand to lightly touch his cheek. “Is it dangerous?”

  Cerviel’s heart missed a startled beat. He’d expected her to be curious, maybe even disturbed by the thought that he accepted duties that would make most people cringe. But at that moment, there was nothing but pure concern darkening her eyes.

  “It can be,” he slowly admitted.

  She frowned, clearly troubled. Then, as her gaze searched his lean features, her lips twisted into a rueful smile. As if she’d caught something in his face that he barely recognized himself.

  “You like it though, don’t you?” she asked. “Putting yourself at risk?”

  Yes. “I like helping those in need, and I like facing impossible odds and overcoming them,” he said. He preferred to think of himself as a problem-solver rather than an adrenaline junkie. Far more dignified.

  “Because it keeps you from remembering the past?” she pressed.

  He grimaced. This whole “ability to see into his very soul” was going to take some getting used to.

  It was true that he kept his mind occupied and his body in constant motion so he didn’t have to deal with the lingering guilt.

  But that wasn’t the whole reason he remained a part of the league.

  That he’d left everything and become a ghost.

  “I want my life to have meaning,” he told her. “More than ever after Evie died. Taking care of my pack, even if it’s from the shadows, gives me the purpose I crave.”

  She nodded, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Is that all you crave in your life?” she asked, her eyes taking on an entirely different glow of curiosity.

  She was pretending. Acting as if his answer didn’t matter. But Cerviel didn’t miss the tentative yearning in her expression.

  Nothing had ever mattered more.

  “That’s what I thought.” He leaned in and brushed a soft kiss over her lips before lifting his head to hold her gaze. “Now, it seems, I have a new purpose.”

  He could feel Hallie’s tension easing as he allowed his cat to glow in his eyes. As a male he could offer his heart, but his puma could offer his soul. An unbreakable bond that promised protection, devotion, and unwavering loyalty. And Raphael will heed me. It was time to revisit—or hell, rewrite—the rules on the PSL and mating.

  Her fingers moved to trace his lips before she released a soft sigh. “How many are in the league besides you?”

  “There are six of us,” he said. Leo. Nathanael. Ramiel. Zagan. Elyon.

  “Do they all have something to prove?” she asked.

  Cerviel shrugged. He’d never truly thought about the glue that held the league together. Maybe they did have something to prove. To themselves. To someone else. He sure as shit had.

  He did know that the reason they stayed was their loyalty to Raphael and the belief in his cause: protecting the species, the Pantera, at any cost.

  “You’ll be able to ask them in person,” he assured, stealing one last kiss before reluctantly glancing toward the opening of the cave. It was still dark, but dawn would be arriving soon enough. “It’s time.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I figured.”

  “You ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said with a rueful sigh.

  After making sure Hallie had her gun tucked into the pocket of her hoodie, he took her hand and headed toward the opening.

  “Let’s go.”

  Stepping out of the cave, Cerviel hesitated long enough draw in a deep breath. He caught the scent of rich pine needles, the crisp frost that coated the rocks in a slick shimmer of crystals. And a nearby den of chipmunks.

  No indication that any humans had passed through the area.

  Resisting the urge to keep her hand in his, Cerviel took the lead as they headed up the narrow pathway. There might not be the scent of humans, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any dangers ahead of them. He wanted to be prepared to fight if necessary.

  They moved in silence, climbing over the boulders that blocked
their path and weaving their way through the towering pine trees. At last they reached a trail that led over the ridge and down toward a shallow valley.

  A pinkish glow was painting the edges of the sky as the trail widened and the forest thinned. The ground became treacherous as the loose dirt that was covered by tiny pebbles slipped beneath their feet.

  Concentrating on his footing, Cerviel abruptly halted as the breeze stirred and he caught a familiar scent.

  Two human males.

  His nose wrinkled. Two unwashed human males. Did Donaldson’s employees not understand basic hygiene? Or was the ex-congressman too cheap to offer them soap and water?

  It wasn’t the body odor, however, that made a growl rumble through his chest. It was the distinct metallic smell that warned the humans were heavily armed.

  Glancing around, he sought a means to continue down the steep slope without using the main pathway.

  “There,” he at last murmured, pointing through the shadows toward a huge boulder that looked like it had been picked up and dropped by a giant to crack in two pieces. “Do you think you can squeeze through there?”

  She gave a sharp nod. “Yes.”

  “Good. Head through and take the path to the bottom of the hill. The chopper should be arriving within fifteen or twenty minutes.”

  She frowned. “What about you?”

  “There’s at least one guard watching the trail. I’m going to provide a distraction.”

  She reached to grasp his arm, giving a shake of her head. “No, Cerviel.”

  He tossed her a quick smile. “Don’t worry.” He gently tugged free of her grasp, stepping back. This was what he did. Divert. Attack. Destroy. Simple as pie. “They can’t catch me.”

  Her lips thinned. “Not even you can outrun a bullet.”

  A slow, smug smile curved his lips. “Don’t bet on that, kitten,” he warned, reaching out to give her a small push. “Go.”

  Her hands clenched, but she at last accepted that he would continue to put himself in danger until she was safely on the chopper. She sent him a glare that he assumed meant she was going to do bodily damage if he did anything stupid, then headed directly toward the boulder.

  She moved with a silent elegance that revealed she had even more Pantera blood in her than he’d originally suspected.

  Glorious female.

  His female.

  Waiting until she’d disappeared from view, Cerviel took a second to clear his thoughts, then with a lethal focus he melted into the lingering shadows.

  There wasn’t a sound to mark his passing. He might have been a ghost as he skimmed along the rim of the foothill, pausing as he reached the spot where the guards were stationed to keep watch on the trail.

  Climbing onto a perch directly above the human, he studied his enemies.

  The closest human male was thin, with long, greasy hair. He was clearly bored as he studied a spot on the sleeve of his too-large uniform. No doubt a token from his dinner the night before. The second male was much larger, with the bulk of a man who gained his muscles from steroids. He was staring into the distance as if he was a computer who’d powered down and was waiting for instructions.

  Creepy as fuck.

  Cerviel slowly straightened, allowing the first rays of dawn to outline his body.

  He waited for the men to notice him. And waited. And waited.

  With a roll of his eyes, Cerviel kicked a small rock, aiming it directly between the two men. As it clattered onto the ground, they at last glanced up. A momentary shock held them frozen in place. Cerviel smiled, giving them a finger wave before he was leaping onto the back of the smaller man.

  The human crumbled beneath the impact, smacking his head on a rock hard enough to knock him unconscious.

  Cerviel kicked the limp body out of the way. He didn’t want to trip over the idiot.

  The larger guard grunted, grabbing his gun and squeezing off a wild shot. No surprise that it went wide. Cerviel doubted the man could hit the broad side of a barn even if he was aiming.

  With a roundhouse kick, Cerviel knocked the weapon from the man’s hand. Then, staking a spot on higher ground, he spread his legs wide. He waited for his opponent to either try and charge him, or flee in terror.

  He wasn’t disappointed when the man decided to charge.

  Cerviel’s hunger to destroy Donaldson extended to the bastards who wore his uniform.

  Waiting for the man to take his first swing, Cerviel grabbed the massive fist. Crushing the man’s fingers, he lifted his free arm to use his elbow to smash his nose.

  The man shrieked like a howler monkey, backing away to cover his busted nose with his mangled fingers. “You son of a bitch,” he whimpered.

  Or at least that’s what Cerviel thought he said. It was difficult to understand the words as his face began to swell.

  Cerviel smiled. He could have toppled the guard backward with one shove. The bulk of his upper body not only impeded his ability to fight, but it made him top-heavy.

  But what was the fun in that?

  Instead he again aimed a kick at the man, connecting his heel squarely against his ‘nads. There was a piercing screech. An octave above a high C. Cerviel took a second to appreciate his handiwork, then, strolling forward, he planted the tip of his finger between the man’s crossed eyes to give him a small shove.

  The guard fell backward, landing against the side of the hill. Then, blessed gravity took over as the loose dirt beneath the man’s heavy frame gave way.

  Toppling head over heels he tumbled down the hill, picking up speed until he hit the bottom with shuddering force.

  Cerviel peered over the edge.

  The man lay spread-eagled, his head tilted to an odd angle as he stared blindly at the sky.

  Satisfied, Cerviel stepped back. Time to head to the…

  He abruptly stilled as he caught a familiar scent.

  Donaldson.

  Well, well. The man had gone to the trouble of personally climbing the mountain, just so Cerviel could kill him.

  Pretty damned thoughtful of him.

  Cerviel hissed in anticipation.

  Time for a little fun.

  Hurrying toward a pile of large rocks that created a natural barrier, he waited for the approaching male to round the tip of the rocks. Then, with a smooth motion he stepped forward.

  “Hello, Donaldson.”

  The man jerked to a halt, his arm lifting to reveal the small silver pistol he held in his hand.

  “Don’t move,” he commanded.

  Cerviel smiled with a lethal anticipation.

  The man looked like a toad with his short, squat body. Despite the chilled air a film of sweat glistened on the dome of his head, trickling into the fringe of hair that refused to concede defeat.

  “I was afraid I might not get the opportunity to kill you with my bare hands,” Cerviel drawled. “You’ve made it so much easier.”

  The pale gaze flickered over Cerviel’s shoulder. “Where’s the female?”

  Cerviel shrugged. “Out of your reach.”

  Donaldson stretched his lips into what was supposed to be a sneer, but instead was just a weird contortion of his face.

  “Come out, Hallie,” he called out loudly, waving his gun. “Before I shoot your Prince Charming.”

  Cerviel stilled, afraid the dumbass might shoot him by accident. “I told you, you piece of rotting shit,” he said, stepping forward as the man started to backtrack, “she’s long gone.”

  “Don’t move,” Donaldson snapped, giving another wave of his gun.

  Idiot. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Cerviel drawled, taking another step. “I can’t rip out your throat from this distance.”

  More waving of the gun. “I’ll shoot. I swear.”

  Cerviel laughed, glancing down at the pistol. “And you think that will hurt me?”

  The man looked briefly confused. As if wondering whether or not Cerviel was crazy. Then realization hit him with enough force to make him gasp.
<
br />   “Shit,” he breathed. “You’re a Pantera.”

  Cerviel pursed his lips, releasing a low whistle. “Well, well. You’re smarter than you look.” He flicked a gaze up and down the man’s toadlike body. “Of course, that’s not saying much,” he conceded.

  The broad face drained of color. Unfortunately, his fingers tightened on the gun. “I might not kill you, but I can disable you until my guards arrive,” he blustered.

  Cerviel came to a halt, and lifted a hand to cover a yawn. He’d always found the best way to deal with a bully was to refuse to react to their provocation. “Ah,” he drawled. “About your guards.”

  The man licked his lips. “What about them?”

  Cerviel used his thumb to gesture over his shoulder to where the first guard was still sprawled on the ground, blood leaking from his forehead.

  “One is napping,” he said, then jerked his thumb to the steep hill to their left. “And the other decided he preferred the view from the bottom of the mountain.”

  “Christ,” the man hissed, his pallor replaced with an ugly flush of fury. “I suppose you really do get what you pay for.”

  Cerviel gave a lift of his hands. “And now it’s just us,” he said, closely monitoring the man in front of him. He wanted to see if Donaldson’s gaze strayed to the rough terrain. That would indicate he had another guard lurking around.

  When the man merely gave a disgusted shake of his head, Cerviel allowed his attention to focus squarely on Donaldson.

  “What do you want?” the man demanded.

  Cerviel heaved a disappointed sigh. “Weren’t you listening? I told you I want you dead.”

  A twitch developed beneath the man’s pig eyes as he forced a sharp laugh. “I don’t believe that. Everyone wants something.” He cleared his throat, taking an awkward step backward. “Money? I can put a hundred thousand dollars in your hand within the hour.” More eye twitching as Cerviel gave a shake of his head. “Power? I can get you direct access to the congress. You can get whatever you want for your kind.”