CHAPTER SIX
Around ten o’clock in the morning, Hastings—attired in new clothing he’d sourced from somewhere—escorted an assistant from Sal’s agent’s office up to the apartment. Nick met them at the door and double checked the assistant’s identification. Sal verified that she knew this person, and he allowed them a few moments in the living room—although he kept an eye on them from the kitchen area—to discuss the changes in her schedule.
Nick noted that the woman called Sal by the nickname he’d seen in some of the tabloids—Sully. Somehow, it didn’t seem to fit and he wondered about the different nicknames she seemed to use. Was he the only one who’d been invited to call her Sal? And if so, why?
Nick shook off the question for another time. It wasn’t really that important, after all, what Sullivan Lane wanted to be called. The most important thing right now was her safety.
The assistant had also dropped off a small box filled with paper. Scripts, she’d said when she’d handed the box off to Sal. Nick sniffed the air cautiously, though he hid his actions from the humans. He scented only paper. Nothing dangerous.
After the assistant left, Sal sat on the couch in a late morning shaft of sunlight and started to read the contents of the box. Nick sat at the kitchen island, working on his own plans and staff schedules, though Hastings was handling the actual scheduling for his people. Still, it was up to Nick to make it all work. There were still the men from the day and evening shifts from Halibut to work into the mix. Not all of them, but a few would be helpful on the ground, freeing up Hastings’ people for the aerial work they excelled at.
Not all of Hastings’ people were bird shifters, though he’d brought mostly hawks with him on this particular mission. Still, it was said Hastings hired all kinds of shifters, as long as they had superior investigative skills, fighting ability, experience in field work, and would have the qualifications he required. He took only the best of the best and took on some of the most difficult cases in the paranormal community.
For today, and especially tonight, he and his team were covering the security on the condo. The Halibut guys had the day off, but they’d be worked back into the schedule tomorrow afternoon, when Sal returned to her busy routine of appearances, meetings, fittings and gala events. The Halibut men were the experts in those kinds of situations, and Hastings’ people liked to keep a lower profile than being the center of a paparazzi scrum all trying to get at Sal.
Nick made a call to Linelli late in the morning to report on progress. Linelli offered to come over and talk to the client, but Nick told him not to. Everything was under control. He hoped.
When he returned to the main area of the condo, Sal was still there, reading. She’d gone through about half the box of scripts, separating them into piles. She was reading again, so he went past without interrupting her. He’d make lunch. Maybe she’d eat some, if he could figure out what might tempt her.
That thought in mind, he went to the fridge and pulled out ingredients. He had a few dishes he’d liked enough to learn how to cook. Chicken was one of those things he could prepare with some confidence, in several different ways. He opted for a simple sauce of pineapple, soy sauce, and a few spices that wouldn’t add a lot of extra calories. Maybe she’d like that, and he would feel good about feeding her something healthy and filling.
He tossed a salad for good measure and put some rice in the cooker. She might not go for the carbs, but he’d present the option and see what he could learn about her eating habits. He’d have to get to know what she liked if they were going to spend the rest of their lives together.
When it was ready, he didn’t even have to call her. Apparently, the scents wafting from the kitchen area had captured her attention all by themselves.
“Something smells yummy,” she said, sniffing the air as she came into the kitchen, carrying her tea mug. “I didn’t realize you could cook.”
“I’m full of surprises,” Nick answered, plating the chicken and rice and setting it on the table.
“Indeed you are,” she agreed, following the food as if drawn to it. “And I’m very glad of it, because right now, I’m famished.” She had a big smile on her face that made his heart feel light. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No. Just sit down. I’ve got this,” he said gently, glad he’d made the effort. Feeding one’s mate was a primal need for a shifter. His inner cat hadn’t been happy when she had declined breakfast.
Now, the jaguar was sitting at attention, watching her every move. It wanted to see for itself that she was taking care of herself. Eating properly. Appreciating good food.
Nick shouldn’t have worried. When he placed the serving dishes on the table, Sal went for the rice first, taking a huge scoop over which she placed a few cuts of the chicken. She’d taken a healthy portion for a small female, which pleased him to no end. He had to laugh as she bypassed the salad, though she did put a small portion on the side of her plate, taking half the cherry tomatoes he’d used as a garnish. And she didn’t pick the oil and vinegar set he’d put out, but instead grabbed the ranch dressing bottle he’d put closer to his own plate. She didn’t use a lot, but she definitely put a dollop of it on her tomatoes that had a little bit of lettuce underneath.
“Why are you smiling?” She looked up from her plate, giving him a sideways look.
“I guess I’m just surprised to see a woman in this town actually eating carbs. I half-thought you might grab the entire salad and say that was all you needed.”
She laughed, the sound unexpectedly touching him deep inside. “Oh, I like my food. Probably too much, if you go by the standards in this crazy town. But when I’m not actively filming, I don’t starve myself. If I have to cut back for a role, I do it, but I don’t like it. Mama likes to eat.”
They both chuckled at her exaggerated tone, and then, there was only the sounds of cutlery and chewing for a few minutes. She wasn’t kidding, he was glad to see. She went for the chicken and rice first, only occasionally adding in a creamy tomato or a spring of lettuce.
“This is fantastic,” she enthused at one point, when she came up for air. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was. This morning, I just couldn’t face a big breakfast, though it was sweet of you to offer. I just felt sick to my stomach when I remembered last night.”
“Understandable,” Nick said quietly. He’d been insensitive, he realized.
She was human. Unused to violent situations that were his stock in trade. She’d probably never been threatened like that before. He should have thought about that and been more understanding.
“I’m glad to see you’re feeling better now,” he added while she reapplied herself to her lunch.
“Yeah, getting back to work helped,” she told him a minute later, after she had chewed and swallowed. “Some of those scripts are really good. My agent wants me to lock in at least three more deals while I’m hot, as he put it. He claims he can get me top dollar, right now, while the timing is right. I’m not keen on the idea of tying myself up for that long, but I told him I would at least read through the scripts he’d selected. I’m glad I agreed now because some of those are juicy roles and incredible stories that will probably make great movies.”
“Three movie projects?” Nick asked. “What kind of time commitment is that? A year? Two years?”
“Oh, my part in filming only takes a month or two, depending on how involved the character is in the story. Depending on when they want to start filming—they have to secure funding, locations, costume design, sets, travel, and all that kind of thing—three movies could be done in six months or a year. But they’d probably do a staggered release because you don’t want to over-saturate the market. Too many Sullivan Lane movies coming out all at once might compete against each other.”
“I suppose a lot of planning goes into each project,” Nick surmised.
“Yeah, scheduling is one of the biggest considerations. Timing is everything in this business, or so I’ve been told.” She cleaned her plate and seemed to be eyeing the rest of the chicken.
Nick had to stifle a laugh. He’d been worried about nothing. She ate. She wasn’t a foolish woman. His mate was strong of will, body and mind. She was perfect.
“You can have the rest, if you want. I had a big working breakfast with Collin,” he told her.
Her eyes lit up. “I hope you don’t think I’m a pig, but this was so good…” She went ahead and dumped the remainder of the rice and chicken on to her plate.
Nick decided to gather the empty dishes while she finished her seconds. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, sitting there staring at her while she ate.
After lunch, she went back to her reading while he cleaned up. He’d declined her offer of help with the dishes because he didn’t think he could take sharing the limited space in the kitchen without kissing her some more. He wanted to kiss her again more than anything, but it was too soon. He had to be patient or he’d scare her away, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.
In the middle of the afternoon, Linelli himself showed up at Nick’s door. It wasn’t unexpected. Linelli was the point man from Halibut—one of the three partners who had signed the contract with Miss Lane. He had a vested interest in keeping her happy and making sure she was all right. Frankly, Nick had expected Linelli to show up sooner. The fact that he’d waited this long meant that he trusted Nick more than Nick had realized. Oddly touched by the trust Linelli had placed in him, Nick ushered him into the opulent apartment.
Linelli whistled low, between his teeth as he got a look around. “Man. I must be paying you too much.”
“It’s a rental,” Nick told his human friend. “And Mark’s paying for it.”
“You’re still working for Mark Pepard?” Linelli asked, though he probably already knew the answer.
“He’s my best friend,” Nick answered honestly. “Even if I’m not officially on the payroll, I’d walk through fire for that guy.”
While true, that wasn’t even the half of it. Mark Pepard was the jaguar Alpha. Nick was loyal to him for that reason, but also because they’d grown up together and really were best friends. They were as close as brothers, though Nick was glad to give Mark and his new mate some space, right now, while they celebrated their honeymoon and Nick took care of this little problem for the Clan.
“So, what you’re saying is that not all billionaires as assholes,” Linelli summed up with a smirk.
“In my experience, definitely not. At least not Mark. And his wife is good people, too,” Nick put in.
“Yeah, I’d heard he’d gotten hitched. She’s from old money, right? A society gal?” Linelli was clearly fishing, but Nick was happy enough to spread the news that Mark’s mate was a straight arrow.
“She’s a professional, actually. Her father was rich, but he’d had a reversal of fortune in recent years, so she became an architect. She designs houses for a living—mostly for that elite social circle her family was part of, true enough—but she’s not a snob. Far from it. She’s actually very sweet.” Nick didn’t want to think about the hard time he’d given the woman when he’d thought she might be involved in a plot to assassinate Mark.
They’d both agreed to forget their first meeting, but he still thought about it and winced every once in a while. He’d been rough on her. Even threatened to make her disappear. He really hoped she could truly forgive him in time, but for now, he still sensed a certain reticence when she had to deal with him.
The two men entered the living room to find Sal still sitting on the couch, reading. She looked up and smiled when she saw Nick, lighting his whole world.
“Miss Lane, please let me express my regret over the incident last night.” Linelli launched into his appease-the-client shtick, and Nick just stood back and watched. This was Linelli’s show for the moment. It was Linelli’s business reputation on the line. Nick wouldn’t interfere.
He watched them chat back and forth for a bit. Linelli being apologetic and Sal being forgiving and very gracious. He realized she really wasn’t upset with Linelli or the guys from Halibut, which was very big of her, but Nick wondered why she was so ready to forgive the oversight that had let her be menaced by a madman in her own bedroom.
Was there something else going on here than what appeared on the surface? Nick frowned. Something wasn’t kosher, but he was very hesitant to accuse Sal of anything. She was his mate, after all. That fact alone earned his loyalty. He was convinced—based solely on instinct—that whatever she was hiding, it wasn’t something evil. His mate could never be evil.
Nick let Linelli sit with her while he went into the room he was using as a study and got his laptop. While Nick might prefer pen and paper, Linelli was a computer guy all the way. Nick would show Linelli the details of the plan he and Hastings had come up with and email the big-picture items. Nick didn’t trust the details to the uncertain security of the World Wide Web. Not when dealing with systems he hadn’t had vetted by his own Clan’s tech experts.
Halibut may think they had state-of-the-art protection on their electronic systems, but Nick wasn’t taking any chances. Luckily, Linelli was content to let Nick run this show the way he saw fit, and the minutiae of scheduling each and every operative wasn’t something Linelli needed to know beforehand. He understood operational security as well as Nick did, and was willing to give Nick the authority to make those decisions on his own.
When Nick came back out to the living room, Sal was gone. He could hear her faint footsteps going down the hall toward her bedroom and didn’t worry. She was giving them some privacy to discuss business matters. His mate was considerate that way. And as long as she was in the apartment with Hastings’ people in the sky and on the ground, she was as safe as Nick could make her.
Linelli left after the meeting, and Hastings reported that his first shift of operatives hadn’t seen anything or caught any scents. He’d already dispatched a ground-based team of shifters—a werewolf and a werebear—to see if they could follow the scent trail left by last night’s interloper at the mansion, but the trail had gone cold after a mile or two when the feral had taken time to cross a few highways then go down into a culvert. The residue of water in the culvert had dissipated the scent enough that the tracker team couldn’t reacquire the trail, no matter how many times they tried.
Nick wasn’t happy with the results and would have preferred to give his own nose a try at the scent trail, but he couldn’t leave Sal. He had to trust that Hastings’ people had done their best and move on from there. He’d get another crack at the feral. And with any luck, next time, he’d get to the bastard before he got near Sal again.
She came out of her room after Hastings had left, and Nick was just finishing up with the laptop, sending the overview report on last night’s incident to Linelli’s email address. He looked up, and the sight of her stole his breath. Damn. She was not only gorgeous, but as he’d gotten to know her over these past hours, he found himself attracted to everything about her. Her quick wit, her no-nonsense attitude, even her willingness to lay low today while they sorted out her security arrangements.
A stereotypical spoiled Hollywood starlet wouldn’t have done that. Nick had been around a few bratty humans in his time, and he knew that type would insist on having things their own way, regardless of the difficulties that might create for others. Not Sal. She seemed to put other people’s comfort before her own. She was a kind soul that hadn’t been damaged by the Hollywood environment. At least, not yet.
If he had his way, she never would be. She was his to protect, not just now, but for the rest of their lives—if he could get her to agree to those terms. He had time yet, to figure out the best approach. They’d only met a few days ago, but already, she trusted him with her safety, and given the choice, she had opted to stay with him, in the condo. That meant a lot to him.
“What do you feel like having for dinner?” he asked. “I thought I’d order in, since I got sidetracked with work and lost track of time.”
“Oh, I don’t expect you to cook for me,” she told him quickly. “I could cook…” she said, then trailed off, glancing at the clock.
“That’s okay. I know a few different restaurants that deliver. I know a great burger place, Chinese, Mexican, a good steak house…” He ticked off all the choices.
“Burgers sound good,” she told him, surprising him yet again. Most women he’d known would opt for something more exotic, but his own first choice would have been the burgers, so they were definitely on the same page.
“Burgers, it is,” he replied with a smile. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a stack of printed menus. Locating the one for the burger joint, he handed it to her before putting the others back in the drawer.
All of the menus were from local establishments owned and operated by shapeshifters of one kind or another. Nick had vetted them all personally, patronizing their restaurants one at a time since he’d moved in. He trusted them to deliver wholesome, delicious food in a timely manner.
Sal made her choices, checking off items on the menu with a pencil that had been lying on the table. Nick was pleased to see that she didn’t skimp and even ordered dessert. He called in the order and was given a delivery time of forty-five minutes. He then called down to the men on duty, to give them the heads up that they would be receiving a delivery.
“I’ve got one more script to get through,” Sal told Nick as she stood from her seat at the table. “I’ll probably be able to finish it before the dinner arrives. Just give me a shout when it gets here, okay?”
Nick agreed, watching her walk away. She really had the nicest ass. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on her, but he understood the need to win over her heart, as well. He knew he could seduce her body. He’d never left a woman wanting in his life. But he wanted it all. Her luscious body, her quick mind, her tender heart, and her very soul.