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He took an experimental step. The leg felt stronger and his head didn’t hurt anymore. He rubbed one hand over his face. Stubble rasped against his palm.
“I need a shave,” he said.
“When you’re done, I’ll have breakfast ready.” She ducked ahead of him in the hall and tossed a pair of jeans and a shirt into the bathroom. “The towels are clean. I put a plastic bag out, so you can shower without getting the bandage wet.”
Before he could thank her, she was heading down the hall. Her braid swayed with each step, as did her curvy hips. He stared after her until she turned the corner.
By the time he’d made himself presentable, he could smell food cooking. He followed the delicious odors past two more offices, through a door marked Private and into a small living room.
“Faith?” he called.
“In here.”
He maneuvered the crutches around the maple coffee table and rocking chair into a cheery yellow kitchen. A Formica table stood in front of a bay window that looked out into the forest. The stove appeared to be older than he was and the refrigerator older still by ten years. But everything gleamed in the morning light. He sniffed, smelling mint along with the cooking.
Faith looked up from the stove. “I hope scrambled is all right.” She motioned to the table. “Have a seat.”
She’d set a place for him and lined up all his medications in a row. A glass of orange juice sat next to a cup of coffee. He looked at the setting, then at her. “Very nice. Thanks.”
He pulled out a chair, sat down and sipped the coffee. She served his breakfast, then poured herself a cup and took the seat opposite him. A stack of papers rested in front of her. As she studied them, she nibbled on the corner of her mouth. Was it worry or simply a habit? Who was this woman who took in stray lions and spies? He buttered the toast she’d made, then sorted through the jars of jelly.
“What are you looking for?” she asked.
“Mint. I can smell it. Can’t you?”
She looked down. “Yes.” He could have sworn her shoulders were shaking.
“What’s so funny?”
She looked up, her face expressionless. The innocence didn’t fool him. “Nothing,” she said.
“Sure.” He cautiously took a bite of the eggs. “This is great. I was half-afraid you’d feed me cat food.”
“Eggs are cheaper.”
He heard a rumble, like a low-flying plane. The sound continued for several minutes as he ate, then it stopped. He chewed a mouthful of food and swallowed. “What do the cats eat?”
“Anything I can get my hands on. Chicken mostly. The bones keep their teeth clean and exercised. Sometimes hunters leave me extra venison.”
“Must get expensive.”
She nodded. “The biggest cats eat up to fifteen pounds a day.”
The rumble started again, broke, became an almost coughing sound, like someone sawing wood, then resumed. “What the hell is that?”
“What?”
“That rumble. Can’t you hear it?”
She chuckled. “I’m so used to it, I only notice when it’s not there.” She glanced at his plate. “Are you done?”
“I guess.”
“It’s never a good idea to have food around when you meet Sparky,” she said.
“Sparky?” He remembered his vision of the mean black alley cat. That was when he’d assumed Faith’s cats had been the ten-pound, domestic kind. “Sparky isn’t what I think, is he?”
“Probably not.” She pursed her lips together and whistled softly, first a high, then a low tone. “Sparky,” she called. “Come.”
From a room beyond the kitchen, the rumble stopped for a moment. Cort heard the scratchy coughing noise again, then the sound of a thick chain being dragged across the linoleum floor. What he thought was a shadow cast by the overhead lights quickly became a very large, very black, leopard.
“Holy—”
The animal approached slowly. Yellow eyes, more almondshaped than round, flickered around the room, then settled on him. As the cat walked over to Faith, the smell of mint grew. Cort realized it came from the animal. “Sparky,” she said, patting its head. “This is Cort.”
The black leopard continued to hold his gaze. The rumbling went on. The cat’s massive head rested on Faith’s thighs. Powerful muscles rippled as the animal sat down. A faint pattern of spots was barely visible in the dark coat. Its long tail moved back and forth in a slow but menacing rhythm.
“Is this your idea of a pet?” Cort asked, wondering what Jeff had been thinking of when he’d sent him here.
“No. Edwina is the one who took him in. He was less than four weeks old when his mother died. He was hand-raised after that. Edwina couldn’t bear to put him in a cage, so here he is.” She rubbed the animal’s forehead, then scratched behind its ears.
Like a huge house cat, the leopard arched toward the stroking and butted his head against her leg, asking for more. This gentle butt, however, nearly knocked her out of her chair.
“Easy,” she admonished, giving the animal a slight slap on its shoulder.
Sparky was properly cowed and broke his gaze with Cort to glance up at Faith and yawn.
A perfect domestic scene, if he ignored the glistening teeth designed to rip and tear flesh and bite through bone.
“Why does he smell of mint?” he asked.
“Leopards conceal their own scent. In the wild he’d use certain herbs or animal dung.”
“I can see why you’d want to discourage the latter.”
“You bet. There’s a mint patch for him out back.”
“Where does he sleep?”
“In the office.” Faith continued to stroke the leopard. “Or with me. Give me your hand.”
He offered his left.
Faith grinned as she took it. “You’re right-handed, aren’t you?”
“I don’t take chances.”
“Sparky won’t hurt you without provocation. He’s just a friendly little kitty, aren’t you, boy?” She found a particularly sensitive spot behind its jaw, rubbed vigorously, and the purring deepened.
Faith laced their fingers together. “Sparky,” she said. “This is Cort. He’s going to be staying here awhile.” Her soft voice, slightly higher pitched than her normal speaking tone, soothed both him and the cat.
The leopard remained indifferent to the stranger’s hand being drawn closer and closer to his head. Faith continued to stroke the cat. She moved her free hand lower onto the animal’s shoulder and placed their joined hands on its head.
Cort resisted the impulse to pull back. The short black fur felt coarse under his fingers. Thick, not at all like a domestic cat. But everything else seemed familiar, just on a larger scale. Ears moved back and forth as if following the conversation. The rumbling purr continued, unbroken, except when Sparky shifted to lean more heavily on Faith.
Power, Cort thought, looking at the long legs and thick ropes of muscle visible under the fur. A perfect killing machine. Elegant. Beautiful. A creature without a conscience. Is that what Jeff saw when he looked at him?
“He likes most people,” she said, patting Sparky with his hand, then slipping her fingers away.
He hesitated. Their eyes met, and he continued stroking the cat. “Most? When do I find out if I’m one of the lucky ones?”
“He wouldn’t have come in here if he didn’t like your scent.”
Sparky straightened, as if he’d just realized Faith wasn’t the one touching him. He rose to his feet and walked the two steps over to Cort. Even though the kitchen chair was relatively high off the ground, Sparky practically stared him in the eye. The cat sniffed at his hand, then his arm. Cort wanted to get the hell away, but he held his position. He knew that much.
Predator to predator. He recognized Sparky’s need to understand the intruder. If this was her chaperon, it was no wonder Faith wasn’t married.
Sparky made the coughing sound again, then turned away and walked next to the refrigerator. The one-inch-thick chain trailed behind him. The rumbling purr became a humph as he laid down, then resumed.
Faith began to clear the table. When she went to put the butter away, she nudged Sparky out of the way so that she could open the door. Cort wasn’t sure if he should respect Faith or have her committed.
“Do you want to drive around the compound?” she asked. “I’ve cleared my morning so that I could show you anything you would like to see.”
Before he could respond, a loud shriek pierced the morning. Even Sparky stopped purring.
“Damn,” Faith muttered, apparently more annoyed than concerned as she walked out of the room. “What are you two up to now?”
Cort grabbed his crutches and followed her. The shrieks came again, this time followed by plaintive mewing.
“You can’t be hungry,” Faith said, moving down the hall toward a dim light in a room on the right. “I just fed you.”
The mewing got louder. Cort continued to hobble behind her. When they entered the room, he saw a big cage that filled most of the floor space. Inside, blankets formed a soft nest. Newspapers lined a far corner of the cage. The striped bundle in the middle of the blankets moved as they walked closer. Two white tiger cubs looked up and mewed piteously.
“Here they are,” Faith said as she crouched down beside the babies. “Jeff sent them along to me last week.”
“This is what the reporter was after?”
“Yes. They were confiscated at the border. Something about being added to the collection of some big-time crook.” She looked up and smiled. “Think you can keep them safe?”
* * *
William Thomas paced the small motel room. He needed a drink, but he couldn’t afford to miss his phone call. What would happen to him now? he wondered for the hundredth time. What would they do to him? Second chances didn’t exist in his organization. But it hadn’t been his fault. They had set the rules. No killing, they’d insisted. If he’d iced the border control officer none of this mess would have happened.
He swallowed thickly and again wished for that drink. Maybe he could run to the liquor store across the street. It wouldn’t take long and—
The ringing of the telephone cut into his thoughts. He picked it up immediately.
“Yes?” he said curtly.
“I’m very disappointed, Mr. Thomas.”
“I know. It was an accident. The rules I had to work under were too restrictive.”
“I don’t care about accidents. I want the job done.”
“Of course.” William forced himself to speak calmly. The fact that they hadn’t killed him yet meant he might be given the chance to redeem himself.
“Our mutual employer is still out of the country,” his caller said, the voice low and cold. “You have exactly twenty-one days until his return. If the cubs are recovered by then, he would be very forgiving of your little accident.”
“I can get them back. As soon as I find out where they are—”
The man on the phone cut him off again. “They were on the news last evening.”
“What? The cubs?”
“Yes. A reporter, a James Wilson, filed a story. Locate him and you’ll locate the cubs.”
“Consider it done.”
“Mr. Thomas, I shouldn’t have to remind you that you can’t afford to make another mistake.”
William wished he could ignore the implied threat, but doing so would cost him his life. “I need to be able to do whatever is necessary,” he said. “You can’t tie my hands and then complain that the job isn’t done.”
“Recover them. At any cost."
William nodded. He’d just been given permission to get rid of anyone who stood in his way. Better. Now he could finish the job. “You can count on me.”
“Twenty-one days, Mr. Thomas. Our mutual employer spent a lot of money on the cubs. They are the centerpiece of his collection. If you don’t succeed, we will be forced to discontinue our association. Do you understand?”
Who wouldn’t understand a .45 slug between the eyes? “I understand.”
There was a click, and the line went dead.
Chapter 4 (#ulink_4453ca1b-708e-52ac-bc20-ec051d19244f)
“Hush, babies,” Faith said as she crouched down and opened the cage. “Come on. We’re here.” The larger of the two tiger cubs tumbled toward her, mewing loudly. “You’re lonely, aren’t you?” When the kitten reached her, she picked it up and cradled it in her arms. “All this fuss over twenty pounds of trouble.”
Cort looked stunned. He reached out to pat the cub. The white-striped cat made a garbled sound that was supposed to be a growling hiss and hunched back against her.
“Hold your hand out,” she instructed. “Let it sniff you.”
“It?” His gold-flecked eyes met hers. He shifted his weight and leaned on the crutches, offering his fingers to the cub.
“One’s a boy, the other’s a girl, but I still have trouble telling them apart.”
“How old are they?” he asked.
“Around three months. We can’t be sure. They can see what’s going on around them, and that doesn’t happen until about two months. You want to hold it?”
