The Billionaire Jaguar's Curvy Journalist: BBW Panther Shifter Paranormal Romance (16 page)

The man shrugged.

The first man sighed. “Guess it doesn’t matter. Don’t think she’ll be taking this mess on. Pretty soon he’s off in la-la-land and she ain’t gonna try to carry him out by herself. Doc said this should be enough to put him to a nice, quiet sleep but watch his breathing, she wouldn’t know for sure without weighing him.”

They want him alive. To ask questions? Find out what he knew? Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good, she was sure of that.

She clutched the panther statue to her chest. It might be her only weapon, but it was big and heavy, at least. Smooth, though, a little too smooth: she had to keep her fingers tight onto it. It was marble, she thought. Some kind of polished stone, at any rate. Big and heavy. Just hang on to it. It might be your only hope.

Should she crouch down? Move? What the hell should she do? When would they realize she was there?

She couldn’t let them drug Aaron. Who knows how he’d actually react to the drug. The woman had just guessed. It could hurt him. Kill him.

There was only one thing she could do. She had the element of surprise, and she had to use it.

“Hey!” she cried.

They both turned in her direction, and she threw the statue, as hard as she could, at the man with the syringe.

“Shit!” the syringe guy said, and she ran, as fast as she could, behind the kitchen counter, grabbing a knife out of the rack on her way down.

She heard another shot, and then a growl. A cat’s growl. Was that Aaron waking up, or was it Paul?

She moved, slowly, carefully as she could. Maybe if she played dead—

“Deal with her later!” That was the guy with the syringe again. “Help me!”

Another fierce, ferocious growl. That was Aaron, she was pretty sure. He was fighting back, and they didn’t want to kill him. Good.

She put her head around the edge of the counter, trying to get a better look. The three of them were still struggling, but Aaron didn’t look good. Had he been tased? His paws were massive, but they were shaking. He looked helpless.

The statue had rolled back across the floor. She ran for it. She had to help, however she could. She couldn’t just cower under the counter and wait to be rescued.

The man who hadn’t talked heard her and turned his head just as she swung the statue at his head, as hard as she could.

She caught him between his neck and shoulder, and he cried out in pain, trying to stay on his feet. She hit him again, harder this time.

“You—” His fist waved wildly in the air, and she stepped back. What was she going to do if this didn’t work? What was the other man going to do?

Her back hit something—someone—solid.

She knew immediately it was Paul.

Relief flooded through her. “Help me,” she said.

Paul had already stepped past her. He grabbed the second man by the shoulder and hit him with a heavy punch. The man dropped, just in time for Paul to catch him in the stomach with a second hard blow.

Abby held the statue over the other man. “They don’t want me—or you probably. Just the cat.”

Aaron growled again. He sounded pained.

She and Paul wrestled the man who hadn’t spoken to the ground, Abby sitting on his feet and Paul getting his arms twisted together.

“There’s kitchen twine in the drawer,” Paul told her.

“Got it,” she said, and ran back, pulling drawers open until she found it. It probably wasn’t enough to hold anyone for long, but it was certainly enough to keep him slowed down while they called 911 again. At this rate, she was going to be good friends with the operator. She wrapped the twine around the man’s wrists over and over. He moaned a little when she pulled it tight.

Good,
she thought.

It was the first time he’d made any sound at all.

“He talk?” Paul asked. He was holding the other man down, watching Aaron, who finally seemed to be coming back to normal. The Taser was just past the man’s reach, but Paul was ready if he tried to grab for it.

The guy’s wrists were as tied as they were going to be. She cut the twine with the knife and started on his ankles. “Haven’t heard him, no.”

“Huh,” Paul said. “This other guy talks, though, right?”

“Yeah. He said, ‘Here, kitty, kitty’ and everything.” She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, creative. I wonder how long he thought that up.” He leaned over. “How long did you think that up, guy?”

“Screw you,” the man spat, and began to struggle again. Aaron got up and settled on him, which stopped the struggling pretty quickly.

“I wouldn’t push my luck if I were you,” Paul said calmly. “That’s a pretty big animal on top of you. What’d you think it is, Abby? Panther? Jaguar?”

She couldn’t repress her smile. “Jaguar, I think, but I don’t think it wants to tell us.”

“Might have to Google it later.”

“We better tie this guy up, too, let the gentleman be on his way.”

“Might be a girl,” she corrected.

“That is true,” he conceded. “I’m sorry I made assumptions about your gender, Mister or Miss Jaguar.”

“Ms,” Abby said.

“Now you’re just needling me.” He took the twine from her. “I got this. You call 911.”

“Again,” she sighed, but she got up and walked to the phone.

They didn’t just call 911. Paul knew someone from the FBI, and he figured two attempted kidnappings would be more than enough to get them interested. The police took a lot of notes, too. They’d let Aaron sneak out the back door after the two men were tied up, figuring that if anyone asked they’d just say when a wild animal that might weigh two hundred pounds decided to go, you let it go.

Abby certainly wasn’t going to run out of things to write about any time soon. The biggest challenge would be making sure everything that had happened to her didn’t overshadow what she should be writing about. Brisbane Chemical had leaked something into the water, and it was pretty clear they’d been in trouble before. She’d already filed a few Freedom of Information Act requests about some of the settlements that had happened. The EPA and some other local agencies had been involved, in a few different states, but most of the records were sealed as part of some kind of settlement. They’d paid a big fine, though. A really big one.

Were they up to their old tricks or trying to find some new ones? Too soon to tell. Maybe Paul’s friend would be willing to dish.

“I think I owe you that dinner,” Paul said, when they finally got out of the police station.

“It’s not that late—is it?” She reached for her phone.

“It’s three,” he said. “I was thinking early dinner, since we didn’t really have lunch.”

She was starving. “Have you heard from Aaron?”

“He’s fine, though he wishes he’d listened to me and put an extra set of clothes in his glove compartment right away. He borrowed some boxers from me, but apparently he had to be pretty careful sneaking back into his car.”

She laughed at that. It was funny; she’d felt so scared at her own apartment, but somehow she’d managed to keep her cool at Paul’s. Had she realized he’d be close, that he wouldn’t let her be hurt? Or was it just being in his space, his territory, that had made her feel safe?

They twined their hands together as they walked to Paul’s car, and that felt good too. Natural. Like they’d known each other for years, not just a few days. Being with Paul made her feel like there was a place she belonged. Where she would always belong.

“I heard from Joel too,” he said. “That’s my friend at the FBI. His people are going to be at the lake, probably tomorrow. He couldn’t say for sure, because he’s not allowed to tell me...but I think we should swing by.”

“Reporters have a right to be on public property,” she said, happily.

“My thoughts exactly.” He unlocked the car and held the door open for her.

“You don’t need to do that,” she said.

“I know I don’t,” he said. “But you’ve had a rough couple of days. Let me be nice to you.”

“I can’t believe you’re used to dealing with kidnappers and...people like that, either,” she said.

“No, but I’ve had close calls of a different kind. Like I said, I told Aaron to put extra clothes in his glove compartment for a reason. Once you’ve been a naked seventeen-year-old boy trying to sneak back across the neighbor’s lawn to your own house, you pretty much get nerves of steel.”

“You’re going to tell me that story,” she said. “And soon.”

“But not today,” Paul objected, as he opened his own car door and slid into the seat. “I’ve been through enough.”

They went to the Ram’s Head, where Karen recognized Abby and ushered the two of them to a booth near the back. “What the heck, Abs?” she said. “Don tells me the cops were out at your apartment yesterday!”

“Yeah, it was—I mean, it was kind of scary, but it’s not really a big deal,” she said. “I was out by the preserve and some guys thought I was getting in their business or something, I guess. Cops say they’ll figure it out. And Paul’s been taking care of me—Paul, this is Karen Choi, she co-owns the restaurant and kind of does anything that needs doing.

“Sophie’s on bed rest,” Karen said. “As of three am.”

“No!” Sophie was close to her due date, but not that close, and she’d been planning to work as long as she could to save up for more time off when the baby came. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, they’re worried about her blood pressure, but it should be fine as long as she stays off her feet. I’ve given her some ordering to do so I can pay her, and that way I’ll have a little less on my plate. Tim Regan wanted to pick up extra hours, but he can’t until the end of the month, so I’ll probably just have to make do with what I’ve got until then. By the time I had someone else trained, he’d be ready to go.”

Maybe I could wait tables for a little while if I resign from Salem Beach Now, Abby thought to herself. Put that together with some freelance work—

“Abby, you there?” Paul asked gently.

“Oh, of course.” She rewound what Paul and Karen had been talking about while she was out to lunch. Karen had asked what she’d wanted to drink. “Um, just a ginger ale, I guess.”

“No wine?”

She shook her head at Paul. “Not in the state I’m in now. I’m having enough trouble staying focused.”

“I don’t mind,” he said.

“I do.” Especially if Paul heard more from the FBI. No way she was letting her leads drop.

“I guess I’ll stick with water, for now,” Paul said. “Thank you.”

Karen listed the specials—a steak drenched in ‘beer-drowned onions’ caught Abby’s attention—and left them to pore over the menu.

“Any recommendations?” Paul asked.

“I haven’t been here in a while, actually,” Abby confessed. It had never seemed to be in her budget. It was always easier to grab a sandwich or something from the co-op just down the street if she wanted to eat something better than fast food. “They usually get good seafood in, I know that. Tina’s told me. Nice and fresh and high-quality.”

“Not big on seafood?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Dad always liked it, but Mom didn’t, so we didn’t eat a lot of it.” They’d never had a lot for expensive restaurant meals in their budget either.

“What about oysters?” His eyes looked wicked. “They’re supposed to stimulate the romantic appetite, you know.”

“I think my romantic appetite’s probably stimulated enough. But...I’m not sure I’ve ever had them.”

“Then you should try some,” he said. “I’ll eat what you don’t want, all right?”

“Okay,” she said. “I think I’m going to try that steak special. What do you think?”

“I haven’t had Seafood Newburg in just short of forever,” he said. “If your friend says the quality’s good, I think it’s time to try it again.”

“Tina says they need to update the menu, but that’s too popular to get rid of.”

“It’s a little old-fashioned, but there’s nothing wrong with that,” Paul said. “Especially if it tastes good. And when it’s done well, it tastes divine.” He winked at her. “I’ll let you try some.”

“Only if you take some of the steak too,” she said.

“If it’s rare,” he said. “I won’t eat well-done steak, that’s just a crime.”

“Lucky for you, I like it rare.” He leered at her, and then almost started giggling. Probably just as well neither of them were drinking in the state they were in. They were both pretty tired.

“I don’t even know what to say to that,” she said, just as Karen came by for their orders.

As promised, she ordered her steak rare, and Paul ordered oysters on the half-shell for an appetizer along with his meal.

“I know it’s rude to check my phone at the table,” Paul said, pulling his out of his pocket, “but I do want to know if Joel’s gotten back to me yet.”

“Your FBI friend? You can have the phone in the middle of the table for that.” She was dying to know what he would say.

“I’m afraid you’re far too important for me to do that,” Paul said. “And I haven’t heard anything from him anyway. The phone should vibrate but once in a while—” He shrugged as he slid it back in his pocket. “I’ll check after the meal. This is time for you and me now. And you’re the most important thing in the world to me, so I’d be pretty pathetic if I didn’t give you my full attention.” The emphasis he put on
full
made her heart pound and her insides get squishy.

She only realized that oysters on the half-shell were raw when Paul offered to pour one down her throat. “You’re sure they’re safe to eat?”

“People have eaten them like this for thousands of years,” he said, gently. “And you told me yourself the seafood here is very high quality.” He balanced the shell in his fingers. “Now you don’t have to try one, but I can assure you that they are delicious.”

She looked at the oyster. It was...weird-looking. But it smelled all right.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll try it.”

He held the shell for her, and she hoped that it was all romantic and not faintly ridiculous.

But the oyster did taste good as it slid down her throat. Really good. “All right,” she said. “Maybe you have a point.”

He smiled. “Let me serve you another.”

She felt her face heating a little. “I’m not sure—”

“There you are,” a male voice said. “Sorry to interrupt your meal, but with what you told me—”