Leopard's Blood Page 8

She rolled her eyes at him. "You've been a cop so long I think you're looking for a case. It's probably very quiet around here."

  "Rafe Cordeau, the man who owned the estate just up the road from here, was a mobster. I'm uncertain whether the man who bought the property after him has taken over his business, but I suspect he has. Half the police department was on Cordeau's payroll. Believe me, honey, I don't have to go looking for work. It's all around me."

  Sonia stiffened. She hadn't seen evidence that Joshua Tregre was in the mob. "I just came from there, Bastien. Jerry sent me to do estimates for repairing the damage done to the house and property. He told me he works for Donovan Security. It's international, and he heads one of the teams."

  "Donovan?"

  She nodded. "Jerry said Tregre rescued kidnap victims in other countries. Why do you think Tregre is a criminal?" Because if he was, she wasn't having anything to do with him. She'd leave everything behind if she had to and run again.

  Bastien frowned. "He's good friends with Elijah Lospostos and Alonzo Massi. Elijah's family is well-known mafia, and he took over the family business some years ago. He's married to Siena, Antonio Arnotto's granddaughter. She inherited Antonio's crime business and appointed Massi as her business manager. It's known Massi took over the crime side of the business. He has a massive territory, and already there's been a war started with other factions. Massi and Lospostos make a powerful combination."

  "And my neighbor knows these people?" That was scary. Very, very scary. She wasn't about to get anywhere near the mob. She'd heard of Siena Arnotto. Her grandfather had had a very successful winery. The family was very wealthy and had been written up in tabloids for years. When Arnotto had been murdered, it had come out that he'd been the head of a crime family. The scandal had occupied the newspapers and gossip columns for months. She'd felt a little sorry for Siena Arnotto. Who wouldn't for someone under that scrutiny? But then the woman had married Elijah Lospostos. The man's family went back generations in the crime business.

  "Yes, he does," Bastien said. "But to be fair, so do I. It doesn't make Tregre a criminal, but it does make him someone to keep my eye on. When you're there . . ."

  "I'm not spying." She was adamant. If she saw anything suspicious, she was gone. She wasn't reporting it, she was just plain gone.

  "I don't want you spying. In fact, just the opposite. Do your work. Concentrate on that. Don't go anywhere you're not supposed to. If you do see something suspicious, just walk away."

  She liked that he was so protective, but this new development was frightening and she wanted both Molly and Bastien gone so she could think about it and decide what to do.

  Bastien stalked to the door and held it open, waiting for Molly. Molly hugged her. "Thanks so much for a great evening. It's the most fun I've had in a year. The food was delicious and the company and conversation even better."

  "Thanks for giving me so many pointers for my yard. I love the ideas you came up with. If we land this job, I should be able to plant most of the bushes and ornamental trees as well as the flowers in the next month. That will give them time to grow while I work on my house. The roof should come first. I can't have any leaks when the rains come again."

  "I'll come back soon," Molly declared. "And don't forget we're having dinner next week at my house. I can't cook like you do, but I won't give you food poisoning."

  Bastien took Molly's elbow. "I think the two of you could set a record for the longest good-byes."

  "Well, I'm fairly certain I should be a candidate for a couple of halls of fame, so throw my name in the ring for that as well," Sonia said cheerfully. It felt good to know she had a friend. She really liked Molly. "Don't forget to do that walk-through," she added.

  Molly widened her eyes in a shocked, what-are-you-doing stare. Bastien nodded. "I won't forget. She'll be safe. I'm following you home, Molly, so don't speed."

  "I never speed. That's Sonia."

  Sonia shrugged. "Seriously? No one is ever on these roads. I don't speed in town."

  "It's still breaking the law, Sonia," he said.

  She rolled her eyes at him. "It's a stupid law when no one is on the road but me."

  "It's designed to keep you safe."

  She didn't like safe. She liked dangerous. She wanted safe, it was more comfortable, and now that she was out of danger, she thought it was exactly what she wanted. Then she met Joshua Tregre, and safe wasn't nearly as important as she'd thought it was. She ran both hands through her hair. She was messed up. Seriously screwed up. After the things that had happened to her, why would she even consider a relationship with Joshua? After the information Bastien had imparted to her, she should be packing. Running again. Instead, she stood on her porch and waved to Molly and Bastien. Once their taillights had faded away, she still stood there, listening to the sounds of the swamp.

  Those crooning insects made up a lullaby just for her. The frogs chimed in for the chorus and continued to belt out a frenzied call and answer, while the swamp cicadas provided the endless melody. She loved the night sounds in the swamp. Loved them. Sometimes she lay in her bed with the window open, and other times she couldn't resist sitting outside on her balcony falling asleep to the music.

  She wrapped her arms around her middle and rocked for a moment, trying to stop her body from burning. If her brain would stop thinking about Joshua, she would have a chance to figure out the intelligent thing to do and then actually follow through. Unfortunately, Joshua had set up a terrible addiction in her. The moment her company had disappeared, her body began to coil tightly, pressure building, her desire becoming a need.

  Sex was temporary. It would burn out, and then she'd be left with a bossy dictator who probably would run around on her. And that was if he stayed--which he wouldn't. Men like him didn't stay. She was in for serious heartbreak if she was stupid enough to try to have an actual relationship with him.

  She sighed and went back into the house. As she walked, she pulled out her phone and stared down at it. She didn't text him. She had to believe she was disciplined enough to go another night without him. It had been bad enough that she'd met him every night in the swamp because she hadn't been able to stay away, but she could blame Gatita's heat. She didn't have that excuse now. If she texted him to come, it would be on her. She would know she was too weak to resist him, and if he was a criminal, if he in any way was mixed up in mobster-type behavior, she was as good as dead.

  She took a long, cool shower and pulled on a pair of red stretch boy shorts. They were a favorite because they were so comfortable. The lace stretched over her hips and made her feel feminine, even when she was working with hammers or a nail gun. She especially liked to sleep in them on hot nights. The matching camisole clung to her full breasts, but surprisingly gave more support than she thought it would, making it a favorite to sleep in as well. She knew better than to go barefoot, so she slipped on thin ballet slippers and went out to the back verandah to add soft easy music to that of the swamp.

  It sometimes took hours for her long, thick hair to dry if she washed it at night. She played her favorite songs and let the breeze play through the wet strands. The chair she liked best was an egg-shaped swing suspended from the ceiling by a chain. She curled up in it and rocked gently while her fingers idly turned her cell phone end over end. It was going to be a very long night.

  You're sad.

  She was. Very sad. Not like when her mother died and she'd been so lost. It had been the two of them for so long. Her beautiful mother, who had cleaned houses for a very wealthy Russian family after her husband had died. "Murdered, Gatita," she murmured aloud. She lied so much about her father dying in an accident that she needed to hear the word.

  "Papi was murdered."

  I know. I am so sorry. We are safe here.

  "They made me believe they were our friends. Mami worked for them, and she knew. All that time, she knew they murdered her husband. Can you imagine how awful that must have been for her? That night, when I found out my own
husband was going to murder me, I also found out his father, Nikita, that man I thought loved us, forced her to sleep with him. I overheard him talking to Sasha. He said it was stupid to fall in love with me. In the end, he would have to kill me and it just made it harder if he loved me. Sasha agreed with him." Sasha, her husband. The man she'd trusted. The only human being she'd had left in the world.

  Gatita soothed her, purring gently, so that the insides of her body vibrated, almost to the comforting music of the swamp.

  "Nikita always acted like we were important to him. Always. I would never have believed this about him if someone had told me, but I heard him myself. And Sasha agreed with him. I thought Sasha truly loved me, that he'd fight for me."

  She hadn't realized tears were falling, but one slid off her chin and dripped onto the upper curve of her breast. She wiped at them. She'd done enough crying when she realized how the Bogomolov family had taken advantage of her. Nikita Bogomolov, head of family, had ordered her father Roberto's execution. He'd been tortured first because they'd believed he had stolen money from them. Maybe he had. He had a lot of pride and didn't like his wife or daughter working. Roberto had brought them from Cuba, and he'd had connections to the Bogomolov family, so he'd had work immediately.

  "It wasn't right, Gatita," she whispered. "Even if he stole from them, they didn't have to kill him. What were they looking for? Why would they have Mami work for them, use her like that and then pay for all her cancer treatments? She had round-the-clock care until she died." She knew the answer. Sasha. He'd made certain her mother had been taken care of. He'd been Sonia's rock throughout it all.

  "I thought he loved me," she repeated sadly. "Nikita said we were not the type of women to marry, only to fuck. Not to love. Not to have children with. We weren't women to take into society. I hate how that made me feel."

  Sasha had agreed with him. Her world had been shattered. She'd been seventeen when her mother was diagnosed and two months into her eighteenth year when she'd died. Sasha had taken care of the nurses, the hospital, paying the bills, organizing the service and burial afterward. She had looked to him for everything.

  He said he loved you and he didn't lie. I would have heard it.

  "Did you know that Nikita killed Papi?"

  How could I? You were never around a conversation regarding your father's death.

  Sonia scrubbed a hand over her face, removing more silent tears. They'd made their try, planting a bomb in her car--the car Sasha had given to her when they'd married to encourage her to get her license. The car had been blown to bits, crashing with a fiery orange-red and black tower of smoke and flames into the ocean.

  She would have been a burned corpse, dead at the bottom of the sea, had it not been for Gatita. She hadn't known Gatita existed. The leopard had risen, bursting through skin to take over, leaping from the vehicle just as the bomb went off. The blast had catapulted the cat to the edge of the road on the far side from the ocean. Even injured, the leopard had known to run fast and get under cover.

  They'd made their way back to the huge Bogomolov estate, where Sonia picked up the keys to the safety deposit box her mother had opened and told her to use for stashing money just in case. It had become a habit. No one was to ever know about the box. A few times she'd been tempted to tell Sasha, but she'd heard her mother's voice warning her it was only for emergencies and no one should know. She had a "go" bag, something her mother and father had always insisted she keep ready. It had clothes, identification, papers she would need and cash. Lots of cash. That had been kept away from the house along with the key to the safety-deposit box.

  "Mami knew I would need money," she whispered to the leopard. "There was so much cash I have to wonder if Papi did steal from the Bogomolov family."

  We are safe here.

  "We were safe here," Sonia corrected. The slight breeze slid across her body, touching her burning skin. "Now I'm not so certain. You heard Bastien. Joshua Tregre very well could be a member of a crime family. If he is, Gatita, they're all connected. Sooner or later, we'd slip up, and he'd tell Nikita and Sasha we're alive."

  He wouldn't turn us over to them.

  "Technically, I'm still married to Sasha, at least I think I am. It isn't like I could file for divorce. He'd know I was still alive." She rubbed her temples. It was all very confusing.

  He tried to have you killed.

  "I'm very aware of that, thanks, Gatita."

  Absently she ran her finger over her breast, tracing the soft skin through the lace. She tapped her thigh with the phone in her other hand. Over and over. Keeping beat to the music playing through her head. Drumming to the sounds of the swamp and the love song she listened to. The finger on her breast found her nipple. It was hard and aching. Because Joshua was back in her head. Nothing she did seemed to keep him out, not even when she thought of the past.

  "One would think I would learn," she said. "What's wrong with me that I can't learn?"

  You need to sleep.

  "I can't sleep. I'll have to go running until I can't move like I did last night." And every night after refusing to give Joshua her phone number or last name.

  I like running. Gatita stretched languidly.

  That made Sonia smile. "You just hope we're going to meet up with your mate."

  So do you.

  Sonia groaned. "I hate it when you're so smug."

  You hate when I'm right.

  "That too." Sonia jumped up and paced across the long length of the verandah. The wraparound porch was very long, just like the house. That gave her a lot of room to pace and she took full advantage. "He's so bossy. Doesn't it bother you that they boss us around? Even Sasha didn't tell me what to do."

  No, but he did try to kill you.

  "Maybe it wasn't Sasha. Maybe it was Nikita."

  I smelled Sasha's scent. Papi made bombs. He let you plant dynamite charges when you were working with him, learning to build things. You learned to plant charges in the rock. You knew Sasha built the same kind of bombs. You smelled the chemicals on him when he came home.

  She hadn't asked him about it either. She'd told herself it was because she didn't want him to know she had such a keen sense of smell. She'd known she smelled things others couldn't, and the few she'd told had accused her of lying. Mostly she hadn't told him because she'd been afraid to know what he was doing. By that time, she'd learned the dynamics of the household. The secrets. She'd always been good with languages, and her parents had spoken some Russian. She'd picked up even more living with Sasha.

  She had been young enough and shocked enough by her mother's death to enjoy the privileges of being his wife without question. Once the shock was over and the wild grieving lessened, she'd taken the time to look around her, to listen when no one thought she was.

  She had to admit, she had begun to suspect the Bogomolov family was involved in crime and that Sasha was a big part of that. She'd made up her mind to ask him, but she never got that chance. Her class at the college, the one on historical architecture, had been canceled due to a professor's illness. She'd gone home early and overheard the conversation between her father-in-law and Sasha. Her world had once again crashed.

  She'd snuck more money and clothes into her "go" bag every chance she got, planning her getaway down to the smallest detail. She hadn't known that while she was planning to run, her husband and his family were plotting her death. She couldn't go to the police because some might be on the Bogomolov payroll, but more, she didn't have anything of value to trade for her life. She'd never heard one single deal go down. Not one. In her presence, they'd talked business, but it had always been a legitimate one.

  Sonia pressed her fingertips to the corners of her eyes to try to stop the tears from leaking out. She'd loved Sasha and she'd believed in him. Looked up to him. If he'd been able to deceive her like that, what would happen with a man who didn't have his smooth, polished edges? His gentlemanly ways? His charm? Sasha had expected her to agree with him over most things, but he hadn
't minded an argument and had listened to her. Joshua appeared to be a first-class dictator. It occurred to her that was a leopard trait. So was temper and moodiness, if her leopard was anything to go by--and Gatita wasn't in the least bit alpha.

  Oh God. She was back to Joshua. The road always seemed to loop back to him, and she couldn't have that.

  5

  SHE wasn't going to text him to come to her. Joshua Tregre paced back and forth along the upper balcony of the plantation house. In the past two hours, he'd looked over toward Sonia's home a hundred times. Evan had told him repeatedly he was going to wear a hole in wood that had withstood a hundred years or more of wear and tear.

  "She's afraid, Joshua. Look at you. You're intimidating as hell and you scared her," Evan pointed out.

  He knew that. He didn't want to hear it. He'd been crazy with her. He couldn't keep his hands off her. "Never thought I'd find her," he admitted to his best friend. "Never. Not in a million years, and certainly not now, not when I've got this mess on my hands. We've got a huge deal coming up and I can't afford to be thinking about my runaway mate." That was all he was thinking about.

  Normally, Joshua was known for his cool. His utter calm. He wasn't a hothead like so many leopards, that was why he'd been chosen to take over Rafe Cordeau's territory. He didn't get ruffled no matter the circumstance. Until Sonia. She was beautiful, sexy, intelligent and scared to death.

  Shadow, his leopard, gave him impressions of a fiery car dropping into the ocean, of Gatita and Sonia running for their lives. Gatita hadn't shown much else, only giving the big male the impression of the two females dead and that meant they were safe. From that, he'd gleaned that someone had tried to kill them and thought they'd succeeded. That was unacceptable to him.

  "She's in trouble, Evan, big trouble, and she isn't going to tell me about it."

  "Have your leopard get it out of his mate."

  "He had the impression of a car blowing up and falling into the ocean. That's it. Nothing else. When he pushed her for more, she ignored him."

  "Sonia knows bombs. She recognized that the blast that took out the porch was deliberately directional," Evan volunteered.