Shadow Shifters: Shifter's Claim Part 8

"I'm out of town and that's all you need to know. Look, I have to go," she told him. "I'll text you later."

Priya hung up before Lolo could ask another question, which was clearly his intent as she could hear him talking as she hit the END b.u.t.ton. Tiny spikes of guilt p.r.i.c.ked her temples, initiating the start of what she knew would be one of her marathon migraines.

Now she was sitting on the soft leather couch, legs crossed, drumming her fingers on her knee as she tried to think of what to do next. They wanted her to expose Roman and his friends, to report on the catlike people, but Priya needed evidence. The story would never make it to print without something concrete to back it up. Maury, her editor, was a stickler for having all his ducks in a row and he would give her h.e.l.l if she cut any corners. They wanted the report out by the first of next month, twenty-two days away.

What they didn't know was that she was also trying to figure out who the h.e.l.l they were, in the hopes that she could get to her brother first. With that thought in mind she riffled through her purse until she found what she was looking for. Holding the business card in her hand she read over the name and the telephone number: Dorian Wilson, DEA. The last time Malik had been arrested he'd cut a deal with the Feds in exchange for a lighter sentence. They apparently were going to do an even bigger favor for him by putting him back on the streets, as their informant.

Now, Malik was gone. Priya's first instinct after receiving the e-mail had been to contact Agent Wilson to tell him what was going on. It was like her e-mail stalker could see into her mind because another message had come through with the simple words: Tell anyone and he dies right now. So she hadn't told. But she'd had Lolo trying to trace that d.a.m.ned IP address each time a new message surfaced.

Still, she had nothing, on either end, and she was getting d.a.m.ned frustrated by that fact.

"h.e.l.lo," a female voice sounded and Priya nearly jumped off the sofa. Instead her movement knocked her purse onto the floor and as she scrambled to retrieve it she noticed a really great pair of red shoes. Instantly switching to her wannabe-fas.h.i.+onista mode, Priya sat back on the couch and looked at the complete package. Around five-foot-three- or four-inches tall in the flat red patent leather shoes, skinny jeans, and a paisley-print silk tunic. Hair and eyes that said hey-look-at-me and a smile that said I'm-not-really-this-outgoing, quite an amazing contradiction, Priya thought to herself.

"I'm sorry if I frightened you," the female said in a gentle voice that only added to Priya's a.s.sessment.

Standing finally, Priya extended her hand. "No, it's no problem. Just daydreaming, I guess. I'm Priya Drake and you are...?"

She accepted Priya's hand in a quick shake. "I'm Jewel. I work here at Perryville. I was told to bring you breakfast."

"Oh. Well. Thank you," Priya said for lack of another suitable comment. She was thinking this was one fancy outfit for staff when Jewel moved to a tray she'd obviously brought in with her.

As Priya followed her across the room she thought she'd have to work on being much more observant if she expected to find information. This woman had come into the room with a tray of food and Priya hadn't heard a sound.

"I didn't know what you like so I told them to give you a variety." She talked while removing the chrome domes from plate after plate.

Priya wasn't a picky eater by any stretch of the imagination; blame that on living in a household where you ate whatever was provided, never really developing a palate for anything special, because there was rarely ever anything special.

She reached over, grabbing a slice of bacon and taking a bite. "So you work here?"

"Yes," Jewel replied.

"How long have you worked here?"

"About three years."

"And you're allowed to come and go in the owner's suite as you please?"

Jewel's head tilted a bit, her green eyes surveying Priya. She folded her hands in front of her and took a slow breath. "I'm Jacques's a.s.sistant. Jacques works very closely with Mr. Perry. So if Mr. Perry asks me to do something, I do it."

Did everyone do what Mr. Perry asked? Priya wondered.

"Really?"

"Yes. Really. You should have no worries that there is something personal between Mr. Perry and I. I'm just an employee."

Priya laughed at that, a sound that obviously shocked Jewel. "Oh honey, you're the one who doesn't have to worry. There's nothing personal between Bas and myself. I'm just here..." Priya paused, catching herself as she figured it probably wasn't a good idea to tell everyone who she was and why she was really here.

"We're just acquaintances," she finished.

"Oh," Jewel said with a nod. "Right."

The woman didn't believe her but Priya didn't really care. She was still trying to figure out if Jewel could help her.

"Actually, I just met him a few days ago. I don't really know that much about him," she began, grabbing an English m.u.f.fin and b.u.t.tering it as she talked.

"Would you like to sit down?" Jewel asked.

Priya shook her head, dropping the knife and taking a bite. When she finished chewing she continued. "Does he bring a lot of women here?" The question came out even though that wasn't what she really wanted to know. Okay, she sort of did want to know that, but only in the sense that maybe the type of woman he preferred would lead her to the type of man, or animal, he really was.

"I haven't seen any," was Jewel's reply.

"That's strange."

Jewel looked confused. "Why do you say that?"

Priya shrugged. "I just figure a real important man like Bas, with all the security he travels with and all these high-tech gadgets in this place, that he must be a hot commodity."

Jewel waited a beat before replying this time. "He's a wealthy man, if that's what you mean. And he has a lot of people working for him."

And I'm not about to tell you any more, was what Jewel hadn't said with words but conveyed quite successfully by looking away from Priya.

Luckily, that action hadn't deterred Priya at all. "Perryville Resorts are renowned all over the world. He seems to have found his niche," she began. "Funny, I would have never pegged him for a politician, though."

Jewel blinked before shaking her head. "I don't think Mr. Perry is into politics."

"Well, his friend Roman Reynolds is," Priya replied easily. "I saw them at a fund-raiser for the president in D.C. a couple of days ago. Good to know where their support lies."

"Mr. Reynolds is a nice man, as well," was her stilted reply.

"So you've met Reynolds. How about Delgado and Markland? Do they all come here a lot?"

The woman paused. Her hands dropped from in front of her and she traced a finger along the rim of the cart that stood between them. It was an absentminded sort of gesture that at the same time should have told Priya a lot about who she was talking to.

"I don't know them," Jewel answered eventually.

Yet her beautifully arched eyebrows had lifted at the mention of their names. Priya finished the English m.u.f.fin and sipped from the gla.s.s of orange juice, all the while watching the pretty woman standing across from her, the one who wasn't saying as much as Priya figured she could. There was definitely something going on with her, something deeper than the red of her shoes and hair, but Priya wasn't here to psychoa.n.a.lyze this woman. She wasn't a part of her story. This quiet, jittery woman did not possess the same confidence as Bas and his friends so Priya didn't think she was one of them. Still, she wasn't dismissing that she could be helpful-at least Priya was fairly sure of that fact.

"So what do you do for fun around here, Jewel? I'm not sure when I'll be leaving so I guess I should enjoy myself while I'm here." And you would be just the one to show me around, Priya thought. This woman worked for the man who worked closely with Bas, most likely one of those goons he'd been with last night. What better way to find out what was really going on than to spend some time with her? In the next moment Priya knew that wasn't meant to be.

"I'll be in charge of your entertainment during your stay."

Priya didn't even bother to turn at the sound of his voice. She knew who it was and what she would find if she did, so she simply stood still. Jewel, on the other hand, tensed immediately.

"I was just finis.h.i.+ng here, Mr. Perry," she told him, moving hurriedly to get away from Priya and as close to the door as she could.

"It was nice meeting you," she yelled to Jewel, receiving no reply.

"Well," she said, finally turning to face him. "I see I'm not the only female in your harem."

The words were easy enough to say, but looking at him was much more difficult. She couldn't help thinking that this story might come a lot easier if he weren't so d.a.m.ned good-looking.

Bas took a couple of steps, closing the gap between them in slow, confident strides. Everything about him breathed a.s.surance and masculinity. To say that he was too d.a.m.ned fine for his own good somehow seemed like an understatement. As a matter of fact, all of them were too d.a.m.ned fine, Reynolds, Delgado, and Markland. She was beginning to think that couldn't just be a coincidence.

"We'll start with a tour of the resort and some of the local sights, and then we'll have dinner at La Selva," he told her without wavering.

"And then I'll be locked in this room again," she added to his self-made agenda.

He took a seat in one of the leather chairs, crossing an ankle over his knee. The gaze he gave her was one of patience, of kindness to what might have been the mentally ill and Priya bristled instantly.

"I am not kidnapping you, nor am I keeping you under lock and key. You are free to roam about as you will. In fact, I encourage you to take full advantage of the resort's amenities. We're especially proud of our spa and its holistic Native American treatments."

He sounded like a commercial, a very smooth and cleverly rehea.r.s.ed one.

"Look, why don't I make this easier for both of us," she said, sitting on the couch across from him. "We can tour your resort and your sights and then we'll have dinner. At which time I'll ask my questions and you'll give me straight answers. Then I can pack my bags and get out of your hair. You'll be free to do..." she hesitated, "whatever it is you do around here without me snooping around."

With his arms outstretched on the sides of the chair, Bas asked, "What makes you think I haven't given you straight answers already?"

"Because I can sense when someone's not being completely honest with me. I think you know something about what I saw but for whatever reason you don't want to tell me."

His expression never changed. "Did it ever occur to you that when people don't give you the answers you want, it's for a reason? Mainly, because they don't know what you're talking about."

Priya immediately shook her head, not at all appreciating his smooth rebuff. "No. That never occurred to me."

He actually smiled at her reply. It was a slow spread of his lips that put a light in his eyes and sent a punch of l.u.s.t through her gut.

"I'll get my purse and we can get this tour underway," she said, standing up and hurrying to put as much distance between them as possible.

Chapter 13.

Phoenix, AZ "They never showed up," Black told Palermo. "And I went back to the site this morning. The tunnel's completely cleaned out."

"So they stole the rest of our s.h.i.+pment?" Palermo leaned his tall, lanky body against the side of the hotel they'd spent the night at in Phoenix. They'd been scheduled to leave Arizona today and head back to Albuquerque where a house had already been purchased to store their stash. That was thanks to Sabar's master plan to rule the world. Seems more than one person and/or s.h.i.+fter could have the same plan but execute it in an entirely different manner. Palermo had come into the scenario in the later stages and through channels that n.o.body, not even Darel, knew about. So his agenda was his own, and he planned to keep it that way. As long as everyone did the things he needed them to do.

He'd hated the fact that he and Black had to bail on the drop last night before everything was done, but he'd lifted the scent of shadows and didn't want to battle with the other s.h.i.+fter while making such a sensitive exchange. That, Palermo now realized, had been a colossal mistake.

The three humans that had been hired by one of Darel's contacts to help them get set up were now mysteriously missing. And with them was a total of a quarter of a million dollars' worth of drugs and guns that were to be used to set up their dealers and get the money rolling in. And the special packages that only Palermo knew were going to be included in the s.h.i.+pment. Those were the ones that worried him the most at the moment.

"I'm not so sure it was their plan to take the goods and run," Black offered.

Palermo wasn't so sure of that. Still, he doubted the dumba.s.s humans had a clue as to what had been in those other two crates or how important they were to some very powerful people.

Frowning, he looked at the s.h.i.+fter that he'd had no choice but to bring along on this part of the mission. They were supposed to keep a low profile while they were here. The people that Palermo was working with did not want to be identified or connected in any way to what he was doing. Unfortunately, Black wasn't one for being discreet. His physical attributes almost made that completely impossible, with his larger-than-normal frame, and all-black clothes covering just about every inch of his skin even in the hot Southwestern climate. The locals had been staring each time Black had walked through the hotel lobby, no doubt taking in every detail of this stranger in town.

"What do you mean? My s.h.i.+t's gone and so are those ladres!" Palermo exclaimed, trying like h.e.l.l not to lose his temper even though somebody obviously thought he could be played for a fool.

Black shook his head, his thick neck looking as if it were trapped inside the material of the s.h.i.+rt collar wrapped tightly at his throat.

"When I was in the tunnel I picked up a scent. Shadows," the big s.h.i.+fter stated simply.

He hadn't needed the other s.h.i.+fter to tell him what he already knew. Still, Palermo cursed long and fluently at that point. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed quickly.

"We've got a problem," he announced immediately when the line was answered. "Tell me again, which one of those b.a.s.t.a.r.d FLs are in charge out here?" he spoke into the phone.

When he received the answer, Palermo nodded, then he smiled, a slow and very satisfied smile. "No. I don't need you to send me any information on this one. We go way back."

Because he wouldn't hang up until he did, Palermo gave a brief synopsis of their situation, and then felt his smile turning into a frown as he listened to the bulls.h.i.+t threats coming from the other end of the phone, before thankfully clicking it off and stuffing it back into his pocket. The immediate order was to kill the FL of the Mountain Zone, but that was the least of Palermo's worries. He wanted his stash back, needed desperately to find those d.a.m.ned crates from Comastaz. Then he would take care of Sebastian Perry, with more pleasure than he'd allowed himself in ages.

"What's doing?" Black asked, his big beefy arms folded over his chest.

"We're taking a little side trip," Palermo told him. "To a place called Perryville."

Sedona The original plan had been to take her away from Perryville for a while, to give Jacques time to do his background check on her and plant all his devices to track her. There were some favorite places Bas wanted to take her even though he'd never taken any other female to those particular spots before. He didn't bother to question why, it would only land in the pile of growing questions he had where Priya Drake was concerned. So he'd ignored it, taking her from the room and guiding her along the halls of the resort he was beyond proud of owning and operating.

She hadn't asked any questions during the tour of the resort. Well, at least not any questions about the story she was after. Instead they'd shared small talk that had him admiring her even more than he'd been afraid he already did.

The change in her mood had come quickly even though she'd tried to hide it. Luckily, Bas was very perceptive; okay, his s.h.i.+fter senses were more the culprit in this instance. Her excitement was a burst of hibiscus and jasmine that sifted through his nostrils with the stark memory of his visits to the rainforest. That would be the only other place that Bas could safely identify with scents like hibiscus and jasmine. There was a place just at the base of the Gungi where he'd made sure to visit each time he was there. The ground was cus.h.i.+oned with damp foliage, the canopy providing heavy shade above so that it almost appeared the world in the jungle was in a perpetual darkness.

The atmosphere rang with the endless drone of cicadas and crickets. In the distance there was a waterfall, its rush of activity giving a semblance of relief from the heavy damp air. Tree ferns burst from the ground, branches spreading like eagle's wings, tiny leaves soft as dewdrops to the touch. Just north of the ferns a gentle clearing was invaded by jagged rock, ghostly wisps of white spray rolling downward, kickback from the waterfall.

This woman, this reporter that he didn't want to give in to, reminded him of this place. Her smile, her thirst for information, and undoubtedly her fresh and exuberant scent took him back to the Gungi in a way that made Bas more than nervous.

It made him wonder.

Presently-because that's where Bas's mind needed to focus-the sun was beaming brightly over smooth red clay-covered walls as they walked first through the outside area of the Alma spa. There was a side entrance as well as an entrance directly through the resort. Since they'd come out of the front door and walked around they had used the side entrance, which opened at the pool. Slate-colored lounge chairs were perfectly aligned around the six-foot-deep, pebble-lined pool that stretched from one end of the deck area to the other, about twenty feet.

"I love to swim," was her first genuine comment. "This looks absolutely refres.h.i.+ng."

The water did look tempting as the heat of early afternoon had begun to settle upon them. She walked a little ahead of him and his gaze was immediately drawn to the tight pull of denim across her delectable a.s.s. She had a compact little body that moved with the same energy as her mind. He was still thinking of how much courage it took for her to leave her home and travel across the country for a story. Then again, reporters did this every day. They worked tenaciously, sometimes methodically, to uncover every fact they could to support their story. What most reporters didn't do was attend a five-hundred-dollar ticketed political fund-raiser wearing a dress with the price tag still attached, nor did they make sloppy attempts to break into a private suite of a prominent businessman. And no reporter had ever followed him across the country in an attempt to expose the one thing that Bas lived to protect.

"We didn't swim a lot when I was younger," she'd been saying as she stooped down to put her fingers in the water.

The statement brought a plunge in her mood, a shadow of hurt and pain clouding the bright flowery scent of her previous excitement. It was a lightning-fast change, one that concerned Bas and irritated the h.e.l.l out of his cat.

"Really? The summer months get pretty hot in D.C.," he commented, a.s.suming that was where she'd been born and raised. By the time Bas returned to his office, Jacques would have a complete background report on Priya Drake and Bas would know all he needed to know to make a decision on how he would deal with her. At least he hoped so.

"Our only option was the public pool, which was a couple of miles away from where we lived and had usually reached its capacity by the time we got there, which was normally late afternoon. My mother wasn't a morning person."

Her voice had held a desolate tone as she talked, her gaze still focused on the water.

"You didn't have any siblings that could take you?" Bas asked, suddenly very interested in the woman, not the reporter.