Technically, Suzanne’s shopping spree was not a violation of the rules of Telegirl that Ginny had laid out so plainly. Justin had given her spending money—thousands—as a bonus; what she did with it was not considered a gift from him. Ginny was pragmatic enough to allow for things like that.
As Mack drove her down into the city to the shopping district, he could tell that there was something a little different about Suzanne this morning. She wore a constant smile. In and of itself there was nothing unusual about that. Women always came away from his boss’s bed smiling. (Sometimes barely walking, but always smiling. Mack had seen on visits to the gym when they traveled together that while Justin was a bear inside, the contents of his trousers would intimidate a moose.) But Mack was sure that something had changed. He just was not sure what it was.
During the meet-and-greet in the ballroom last night, Mack had done his own mingling while keeping his eye on his employer and Suzanne. He sat with them at dinner, and he had stood nearby during the ceremonial howling. All that time, nothing seemed unusual about either Suzanne or Justin. They seemed to be enjoying the evening. They seemed to be enjoying each other—while fully dressed. And they certainly seemed to be enjoying the way Justin was showing her off to all his fellow high-and-mighties.
But then Mack had found himself a pretty brunette werewolf heiress who was impressed to know whom he worked for, and when Justin and Suzanne retired for the evening, Mack had called it a night as well—a long night of enthusiastic humping in bed with the heiress.
That was last night. As of this morning, Mack was convinced that between the time they had called it a night and the time a short while ago when he joined Justin and Suzanne for breakfast, something—something—had changed. He was too discreet to ask what it might be. As Justin’s employee it was not his place. And he was certain that whatever it might be, he would know soon enough. Justin told him everything.
Suzanne was quiet on the ride into the city, more quiet than Mack had previously known her to be; a quiet that told him something was definitely up.
His duty today was to squire his employer’s date—the euphemism for what Mack knew Suzanne really was, but did not say—around Ambrosian City to all the places she had found in the online city directory where she wanted to shop. Taking a woman shopping was hardly Mack’s favorite duty for his boss.
Like most men, Mack did not care for a woman’s shopping style, wanting to browse everywhere and look at everything instead of knowing exactly what she was looking for, going directly to it, buying it, and going home. But it was part of his job, and at the base of it, he liked Suzanne. If nothing else, it would be an outing in town and they would have a nice lunch together. And Mack would have his reward for a job well done tonight in bed when he saw his heiress again.
So it was that Mack took Suzanne, as she wished, to the best fashion salon in Ambrosian City and sat patiently and indulgently on a nicely cushioned bench as the clerk, a very pretty and efficient young lady who knew everything about every stitch of clothing in the place, trotted Suzanne in and out of the changing room in a series of the smartest dresses and ensembles from the toniest designers in the world. Mack was actually surprised at how entertaining he found this whole thing.
He had expected to be bored, sitting in a shop for women watching Suzanne try on outfit after outfit that had been sashayed down runways in Paris and Milan. But he found Suzanne’s enthusiasm for it infectious and touching, and gave honest and sincere opinions when she asked him how she looked in this thing or that thing. Truth to tell, he thought she looked great in all of them, and he knew that for her it was like being back home on Rodeo Drive, or on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan. As it worked out, they were both having fun.
Of course, that could not last.
Suzanne was strutting out of the dressing room in a light, flowing, off-the-shoulder thing from Paris when Mack’s phone rang and he reached into his jacket to take it out and look at the called ID, which showed an unidentified number.
“Is that Justin?” asked Suzanne.
“I don’t know. ‘Unknown caller.’ I’d better take it. Anyone who’d have the number I use when I’m working, it must be important. Excuse me, I’ll just be at the front of the store.”
And Mack got up and walked away to the big display window near the storefront. Across the street was a courtyard with benches and trees between two other stores. Mack thought nothing of the figure sitting, facing away from him, on one of the benches. He answered the call: “Mack Mitchell. How can I help you?”
“Mack!” said the woman’s voice on the other end. “Long time, no hear.”
The voice struck a cold and shocking chord of recognition in Max. It made him feel almost as if his back could break out into wolf hairs. Lowering his own voice almost to a growl, Max acknowledged the caller. “Mariah. What do you want?”
“That’s a little rude of you, Mack, after how well we used to get along. I just thought I’d like to catch up a bit; it’s been so long,” Mariah answered.
“It could be longer,” said Mack without warmth.
“You’re a good wolf, Mack,” said Mariah. “Always so protective. I guess today you’re protecting that blonde that Justin’s been shagging. Pretty one, isn’t she?”
Mack’s brow creased with alarm. “What the hell do you know about who Justin’s been seeing? What are you up to?”
“I’ve seen her, Mack,” said Mariah. “She makes perfect arm candy, doesn’t she?”
Growling a bit louder, but not loud enough to carry back to where Suzanne was, Mack demanded, “Where did you see her?”
“I’ve seen her everywhere you’ve been since you got here.”
This made Mack’s eyes widen. His muscles tensed hotly, and now the hairs on his back, under his suit, actually were starting to bristle. “ ‘Since we got here…’?”
“Look out the window, Mack.”
He did, and spotted her instantly. The woman on the bench across the street stood up and turned around, phone in hand, and smiled a sinister half-smile at him.
Through clenched teeth, Mack mouthed his reaction: “Shit!” Aloud, into the phone, he said, “What are you doing here, Mariah?”
“Come out and see me, Mack,” she replied.
“No,” he said flatly. “I’m not leaving Su…,” he caught himself, “I’m not leaving Justin’s date alone. You know better than that.”
“I have people here in town helping me,” Mariah warned. “I can make her disappear right out from under you.”
Mack could barely contain his anger at that. “Try it, bitch,” he snarled. And not letting her get in another word, he cut off the call and headed back into the shop.
Halfway between the storefront and where he had left Suzanne, Mack went into texting and sent a message to Justin. Mariah is here. Spotted us and knows what Suzanne looks like. Taking her back to the Premier. Excuse yourself and meet us back there.
When Suzanne came out of the dressing room in a pink designer frock made for the beach, she did not like the look on Mack’s face, a look both perplexing and frightening. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Has something happened.”
“Can’t explain,” Max said curtly. “Just get your own clothes. Whatever you want, have ‘em wrap it up and send it to the hotel on Justin’s account.”
Suzanne protested, “But I can’t do that! I’m supposed to use the spending money he…”
He cut her off, sharply. “Do it! Make an exception! Just get your own clothes; we’re getting the hell out of here. NOW!”
Having never heard Mack speak that way, and truly shocked that he would use that tone on her, Suzanne was suddenly terribly afraid, and doubly so because she did not know why. Gulping, she hurried back into the dressing room to slip out of the frock and retrieve her own things as ordered.
She was back in her own blouse, tight jeans, and shoes, purse over her shoulder, and feeling more frantic by the second with Mack holding her hand tightly and leading her quickly to the side entrance to the store—not out the front, in view of Mariah. All the while she asked fearfully, “Mack, tell me what’s going on. Is it some business enemy of Justin’s? Did someone he crossed up in business do something? Mack, is he in trouble?”
Mack only said, “We’re all in trouble. Just be quiet and come with me back to the car.”
“But why aren’t we going out the front?”
“Never mind!” Mack now sounded actually frightened himself, which scared Suzanne all the more. What could possibly frighten him?
Squeezing her hand urgently, Mack hustled her out the side door and onto the street. Suzanne was afraid to ask him anything else. All she really wanted now was to see Justin again.
They walked as quickly as they could without running across the side street to the next block where the parking garage was. Along the way, Mack said, “Stay as calm as you can. There is a problem. It’s not another business enemy, it’s just…someone we have to deal with.”
“It’s another morph, isn’t it?” Suzanne guessed. “Another morph who’s mad at him for something. Is it another bear? A wolf, a dragon?”
“It’s not a morph,” said Mack. “Just someone…that Justin has a problem with.”
Suzanne grew more worried with every step they took back to the parking garage, through the gate, into the elevator, up to the level where Mack had left the Jaguar. Who was it that was not a business rival and not a metamorph, who had issues with Justin and could actually put Mack on high alert? It occurred to her that there were humans, some who were as rich and powerful as Justin, some of whom did not like morphs and might resent the success of a billionaire werebear, who could be as dangerous as any shape-shifter,if not more so. Had someone like that targeted Justin? Were they coming after her to get to him?
The Jaguar was parked at the far end of the fifth level of the garage, across the way from where the elevator let out. Keeping Suzanne’s hand firmly in his, Mack marched her through the driving space between the rows of parked cars. “We’ll just get right in the car,” he half-muttered, “and get the hell out of here. Justin will be waiting for us at the hotel…”
Suzanne and her heartbeat both kept pace with Mack. In a moment, the spot where he’d parked the Jag came into view. She could see the rear bumper of the car. They both quickened their step. And then, from around the corner of that row of vehicles, a tall, feminine figure in a tight two-piece sleeveless jumpsuit strode into view.
Mack halted in his tracks, and Suzanne with him. She studied the look on the jumpsuit-clad woman’s face. It was a look of ironic, mock friendliness—the kind of “friendly” that is really hostility and pure menace.
Confusion tumbling through her mind, Suzanne looked from the woman to Mack. Was this the one that Mack considered so dangerous? Or was she working for the real threat?
“Shit!” Mack rumbled, stepping in front of Suzanne.
“Nice to see you again too, Mack,” said Mariah. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to Justin’s friend?”
Suzanne peered out from behind Mack’s shoulder. There could be no doubt. This woman, whoever she was, was the threat.
Without missing a beat, Mack drew his pistol from his other jacket pocket and aimed it right at Mariah. “Get away. You know I’ll use this.”
“And I’ll use these,” Mariah grinned evilly.
Suzanne gasped and flinched at what happened next. Mariah raised her hands, and they turned to something between a woman’s human hands and the massive paws of a lioness, with claws extended. Her arms thickened, golden-brown fur covering them. Her eyes turned green; her pupils became slits. Her ears changed shape and flowed up her head, reforming as a big cat’s ears, while her face became a big cat’s whiskered snout. She hissed at Max, showing a mouthful of lion fangs. Suzanne took a terrified step back.
Everything that followed seemed to blur into one motion. Mack shifted partly to wolf form, his head and neck turning canine, his hands becoming half-paws, his body growing more massive and his suit bulging at the transformation. He growled at Mariah, keeping the pistol aimed.
Menacing each other now, Mack and his feline foe began to move in a half-circle. Mariah, hissing and spitting, lunged with claws reaching forward. Mack fired, the explosion of his shot resounding shockingly, cruelly, in the parking space. The shot grazed Mariah’s side. The human lioness roared, her lunge carrying her through the space between herself and the werewolf. The two of them hit the garage floor, roaring and rolling and thrashing. Barely aware that she was doing it, Suzanne got her phone from her purse and hit the speed dial for Justin.
She held the phone to her ear and stood still, unable to take her eyes from the terrifying sight of the lion woman and the wolf man rolling, snapping, beating and slashing at each other on the floor. Over the phone came Justin’s voice, filled with fear: “Suzanne? Suzanne, are you there? Talk to me! Say something!”
His name—“Justin…”—was all that Suzanne could feebly get out before she saw Mariah rear up from over Mack, who now lay still on the floor, his clothing torn, rivulets of redness leaking from his body and onto the concrete. Mariah’s claws were stained with the same redness. Her green feline eyes fixed themselves on Suzanne.
In a blur, Mariah lunged forward again.
Suzanne’s phone fell to the concrete floor with a cold, rude clatter. The space in the parking lot rang with the awful sound of her terrified scream.
Through the phone on the floor came Justin’s voice, with a tone of utter terror to match the echo of Suzanne’s scream. “Suzanne? SUZANNE!”