The Great Disapurrance: BBW Shapeshifter Surprise Pregnancy Romance (Chicago Catastrophe) (3 page)

D
ays dragged
on as Sienna had to get accustomed to her new life of being Holland’s in-house masseuse. The room he put her up in was nice, but no amount of amenities could make her forget she was a prisoner.

She was only allowed to leave the house to give massages to other members of the Crimson Claws, and was always accompanied by either Bill or Logan when she did. Holland was trading sessions with her for favors from other high-ranking Claws goons, and she was beginning to be in high demand.

Who knew the mob liked massages so much?

And ones without happy endings, at that
, she thought dryly.

Not that they hadn’t asked. But after practically elbowing a guy in the crotch for it – by accident,
of course
– the requests had not too surprisingly stopped.

To get over the indignity of essentially being a massage prostitute with no free will of her own, Sienna resorted to petty acts of vengeance. She couldn’t lie, she was taking way too much pleasure in those.

“Oops,” she said, wide-eyed, after spilling a glass of red wine on one of the couches in Holland’s living room.

“How did that happen?” she asked, feigning innocence after a mysterious clog in the drain, consisting of rolled up tissues, resulted in a flooded bathroom.

“I’m so clumsy,” she smiled, after knocking over a vase in the lobby.

Sienna knew her actions did little more than annoy Holland, but she so enjoyed watching that little blood vessel near his temple throb as yet another glass or plate slipped out of her fingers and shattered on the floor. Holland liked his things the way he liked them and it was that reason which made it so fun to mess with him.

“I must still have massage oil on my hands,” she shrugged, batting her eyes at Holland, who was seated on the couch after the vase incident.

Holland got up slowly, his cold eyes fixing on Sienna in a way that made her gulp. It looked like his patience had finally run out. Her eyes flicked side to side, looking for a way out, or something to defend herself with. Ultimately, she knew it was pointless.

Just like it had been against someone far too much alike Holland all those years ago.

Not now,
she reminded herself, taking a calming breath.

Flattening herself against the fridge, she could only wait as Holland marched up to her, fingers twitching. He raised his hands like he was going to wrap them around her throat, but seemed to reconsider at the last moment and let them fall to his sides with a growl instead.

Sienna’s heart was pounding as she contemplated how close she had come to getting the life squeezed out of her. For whatever reason, Holland had changed his mind, but she wasn’t sure if that was entirely a good thing, seeing how agitated he still was. There was some sort of punishment yet to come, that much she knew.

She silently cursed herself for pushing too far, but her little acts of rebellion were all she had. It was about more than just making a nuisance of herself, it was about feeling like she still had control over her actions. No way was she going to be scared into submission, not again, not the way she had been when...

Holland grabbed onto her arm and yanked her out of the kitchen, muttering something about that vase being a one of a kind. Sienna yelped, being dragged along.

A small sliver of a memory forced its way to the surface, of being in the kitchen of a house even more opulent than this one. Of strong hands shoving her to the ground, the sharp nose of a boot smashing into her stomach as she sobbed quietly...

Taking deep breaths, she did her best to shove the memory away and focused on pulling her arm out of Holland’s grip, even though it was a completely useless gesture. She’d have better luck trying to lift a car over her head.

“Bill!” Holland growled after showing her only to a couch.

The large man strolled into the living room moments later, raising his brows when he saw the mess of ceramic shards on the floor.

“Yes, sir,” Bill said dutifully, hands clasped behind his back.

Holland rubbed at his temple, not even really paying attention to the man.

“Where’s that new guy... Liam?”

“The driver, sir?”

“Yes, that one, get him in here,” Holland replied, waving his hand around.

I have a really bad feeling about this.

Bill disappeared to follow orders. Gathering up her remaining courage, Sienna quietly spoke up, her fingers digging into the edge of the couch as she got more nervous by the second.

“What are you doing?”

An ugly smile stretched across Holland’s lips.

“Teaching you a lesson.”

Just as she was about to ask what that meant, Bill returned, accompanied by a man she could only guess was Liam. He looked young, barely in his twenties, with thick reddish-brown hair and thin lips. Bill pushed him towards Holland before taking a step back to stand at the entrance to the living room.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Liam asked, wearing an apprehensive smile.

Holland didn’t even look at him, staring at Sienna instead.

“Since you don’t seem to care about your own life, I thought I’d make a point by using someone else’s.”

A coldness swept through Sienna’s gut as she tried to interpret what his words might mean. None of the options were good. Her eyes went to Liam and for a moment, both he and she seemed suspended in some horrific nightmare together.

Liam’s smile faltered.

“Liam came to us just last month, looking to make some extra cash to help support his family. Who am I to say no to a fellow shifter in need?”

Liam started to look uneasy, catching on to the edge in Holland’s voice, while Sienna was on the verge of panic. Grinning as his right hand slipped behind his back and into the waistband of his slacks, Holland pulled out his gun.

He’s not going to hurt the kid, is he?
Sienna thought frantically, even though she already knew the answer.

He was exactly the kind of man who would inflict pain just to prove a point. Especially against someone who couldn’t fight back.

Holland aimed the weapon at Liam, who had started to slowly back away, hands raised. His face was ashen.

Sienna leapt to her feet, ready to apologize, to promise to not cause any more trouble, to say anything Holland wanted to hear.

“Please, don’t,” she whispered. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

“But I haven’t taught it yet,” was all that Holland said before squeezing the trigger.

She caught the exact moment that the bullet dug into Liam’s skull. Blood and brain matter exploded all over the walls and floor as Sienna sank to her knees, covering her mouth with her hands before looking away from the gruesome scene in front of her.

Liam’s body was crumpled on the floor, a life wasted for no reason at all other than to intimidate her. Bile rose in her throat as she squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to be anywhere else but here.

Thick fingers dug into her jaw, angling her face towards the carnage.

“Open your eyes,” Holland boomed.

Sienna complied reluctantly, tears streaming down her face.

“This is what you made me do. I want you to think of this moment, any time you even think of disobeying me.
This
moment, right here.”

Unable to speak through the sobs racking her body, she only nodded. Holland had made his point.

She belonged to him now, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Not again,
Sienna thought, her whole body racking with shudders.

A
rlen looked
through the scope of his sniper rifle, staring down at what he was sure was Holland’s private residence from an adjacent rooftop. Losing his line on Lotto had been a setback, but at least tailing the guy had given him a solid lead on Holland’s location.

Finally
.

He hated when a job refused to come together.

He wasn’t even sure what the Crimson Claws’ lieutenant looked like. All the building’s windows were tinted and he couldn’t get a look inside. Right now, he was stuck doing reconnaissance and hoping something jumped out at him, either metaphorically or literally. He knew Holland was being even more reclusive lately, so he had to stay patient.

Pulling his leather jacket tighter around him as a gust of wind chilled him straight to the bone, Arlen crouched lower.

The job just
had
to be in Chicago.

Everything annoyed him. From the lady crossing the street too slowly when he needed to run the light to keep his tail, to the wind being too damn cold on his stakeout.

The way his tiger thrashed inside him nonstop was making sitting around and waiting very difficult. His heat was close, he could feel it, and it was making him question his decisions. Everything was tinted with a haze of primal need, and the more he tried to ignore it, the more violent his animal side became. It was as if his tiger was reminding him of the finality of his choice to remain unattached, urging him to reconsider.

If he didn’t bond to a mate soon, his chance to have an heir would be gone.

Tigers were different from most other shifters that way, only being able to reproduce with that one person they claimed as their other half during their period of heat. Arlen wasn’t really interested in making a lifelong commitment like that, especially seeing that his longest relationship to date had been with his rifle.

Movement at the front door made him refocus on the task at hand. There would be plenty of time to be more than irritated at biology and everything that came with it when he got the job done.

A wide-set man in a navy suit exited the house, with a Latina woman following closely behind.

Her again?
he thought, as his pulse quickened unexpectedly.

He had seen her exit and enter the building regularly during the last couple of days, always with an armed guard. As far as he could tell, she was staying there, as she was always brought back for the night.

Now who would Holland keep in the house with him and only let outside with an escort?

The woman had to be his girlfriend, it was the only conclusion that made sense. It was a conclusion he didn’t like one bit.

Arlen kept her in his sights, giving the woman a closer look, like he’d been doing every time she came into view. Her long, dark brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail that tumbled down her back in loose curls. She had a full face, with large eyes and a pouty mouth with the most kissable lips he’d ever seen.

Gorgeous.

His tiger roared again, the sound echoing throughout his body this time. Arlen took deep breaths, trying to calm his mind and hoping his body would follow suit. It took a couple of seconds for his animal to quiet down – far too long considering his strict military background. It should have happened instantaneously.

Another sign that the heat was getting way too far into the process.

Regardless, he sighed in relief, able to think again.

The man she was with led her to a red sports car, opening the door for her. Arlen would have thought it was because he was being polite, but the way he stared at her ass as she got in told him it definitely wasn’t because he was a gentleman.

In the same situation, Arlen would have probably done the same. At least if she was the one he was helping into the vehicle, anyway.

The man in the suit closed the car door. Instead of getting in himself, he ran back toward the house after exchanging a few words with the driver already inside the vehicle.

Forgot something?

Without even really knowing why, Arlen decided to tail the car this time. It was like something clicked inside of him and he
had
to do it, knowing it was the right thing to do. He packed up his rifle with practiced speed and within a few seconds left the roof and bounded down the steps of the apartment building. For a man as large as he was, his steps were almost completely silent.

He had his own car parked out of sight in an alley. Jumping inside, he pulled out of the back street just enough to get a line of sight on the Mustang in front of Holland’s house. The large man was rushing back out, adjusting the back of his shirt. He got in and the car pulled out of the driveway.

Arlen waited a while before following at a safe distance. The red car weaved through the dense traffic, coming to a stop some twenty minutes later in front of a townhouse. All the while, Arlen had kept on him, though at a reasonable distance as not to draw attention to himself.

He parked down the street, not needing to be close to see exactly what was going on. The woman and the man in the suit got out, but the car itself sped away. She took his breath away.

Stop it. Focus on the work. Foster is not exactly interested in this being drawn out any longer than it has to be,
Arlen thought, his hands gripping the steering wheel a bit too tight when thinking about his boss.

The woman climbed the steps of the townhouse and stepped inside. The man stayed standing at the door.

Probably visiting a friend,
Arlen’s thoughts offered.

He wrote down the address of the building and settled into his seat, gaze darting between the escort out front and the windows of the townhouse. The curtains were drawn, but he still kept an eye out for any movement.

Nothing of note caught his attention and an hour ticked by before the woman reappeared. He’d barely just calmed down when seeing her again made his engines rev at full force. She stood on the front steps alongside her companion as they seemed to wait for their driver to return.

He couldn’t help but wonder what she smelled like.

Pulling a hair-tie out of her hair, the woman let her curls fall all around her, running a hand through the thick locks and angling her face towards the sun. She was standing on her tiptoes as if she was getting ready to fly away. Her chest rose as she took in a deep breath, closing her eyes in the process.

The guard at her side kept looking around, throwing glances at his watch.

This is it,
something inside Arlen called out.

He needed more information about his target and having leverage over Holland wouldn’t hurt either. What better way to kill two birds with one stone than getting his hands on the man’s girlfriend? And here she was, just standing there, with only one guard to watch her.

It sounded like a perfectly rational plan. So how did Arlen know that needing more intel was just about the last reason why he wanted to get closer to her?

A lot of things could go wrong,
his rational side warned.
And I’ll be stuck with a hostage.

But Arlen’s tiger already had its teeth bared and was ready for action. His muscles coiled and tensed, itching to put the hurt on someone, to release some of that pent-up energy. Rage bubbled up inside, for no apparent reason.

He opened the car door and jumped out, only half in control of his actions. The heat was clouding his judgment, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He was stomping towards the townhouse and had already gotten the guard’s attention.

The woman shifted uncomfortably beside the guard, her eyes widening as Arlen drew closer. He stared at her for a couple of seconds as he approached, his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, managing to forget why he was even there.

“Hey! Stop! Who are you?” the large man asked as Arlen neared the steps.

Oh, right.

“I’m the new security guy,” he replied, pointing his chin towards the house.

The man looked him up and down, raising a brow at his casual attire.

“All of Jack’s guys wear suits,” he commented as his hand slid behind his back and in between his waistband.

Arlen already knew what the guard was reaching for. With a snarl, he bound up the steps with two huge leaps. The man had already pulled out his gun and was lifting his arm to aim it at Arlen. The woman flattened herself against the front door, eyes swinging between her guard and Arlen.

She didn’t have anywhere to run and that was probably for the best. Yet when the gun came into view, all Arlen could think about was that it was her who was now in danger.

Nothing can happen to her…

Arlen grabbed hold of the guard’s right arm and pulled it downwards, bending it over his raised knee. The following crack of bone made his tiger roar in satisfaction and the man yelp out in pain. The gun fell to the ground and clattered down the stairs.

He knew his eyes must have been glowing yellow from excitement, his facial muscles twisting and contorting with the pulse of his animal.

That much was confirmed when he looked up at the woman and she stared back, gasping when her eyes met his. She was obviously scared, but there was something else mixed in that Arlen couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He wanted to know more.

The guard didn’t let his broken radius and ulna slow him down for long. Cradling his arm, he used his left shoulder to barrel into Arlen, making him lose his balance and sending him tumbling down the steps, landing in a heap at the bottom.

That’s going to leave a mark,
he thought, colliding back-first with the hard pavement.

He jumped back up with a growl, reaching for a knife on his belt. Pushing back on his haunches, Arlen propelled his whole body at the guard rushing toward him.

The man went down with a loud thud as they collided, his back cracking against the stone steps. Arlen landed on top of him, his knees smashing into the guard’s thighs and his hands pressing down on his shoulders.

Without a second thought, Arlen stabbed the guard in the neck, digging through flesh and muscle. He pulled away only to dive back into the guard’s mangled throat, ripping out chunks of his flesh with each rushed, violent motion.

Blood gushed everywhere as the man’s gasping breaths turned into a gruesome gurgling sound and Arlen dropped him on the steps to bleed out.

Soft footfalls turned Arlen’s attention away from the dying man underneath him. The woman was running down the stairs, leaping over the carnage to make a break for it down the street. He shoved the knife away, brushing some speckles of blood off his jacket.

She was agile for a human, but she was no match for a shifter, even with a head start. A head start that Arlen didn’t
have
to give her, but the sight of her running from him was too delicious to ignore.

It only took Arlen a couple of fast strides to catch up to her, grabbing her by the arm as gently as he could. She screamed, punching his chest and kicking at his knees. He got a closer look at her pretty amber eyes, framed by long, dark lashes, and that delicious complexion as she stared up at him, her face twisted in terror.

She did him in immediately, and as much as he wanted to blame the heat, he couldn’t really bring himself to do it.

Feisty little thing,
Arlen mused, inhaling her fresh scent.

The sound of an engine reached Arlen first, but the red Mustang wasn’t far behind. It barely came to a stop in front of the townhouse before a tall, built man jumped out and broke into a run in their direction. It wasn’t exactly hard to figure out what was going on here, after all.

“Please, let me go. I won’t tell anyone! I won’t go to the cops, I’ll leave town,” she whispered urgently, looking from Arlen to the driver and tugging at his grip on her.

Nothing she said made sense, and neither did the fact she looked frightened of her own guards. Still, he felt bad for scaring her. Maybe she didn’t even know her boyfriend was a mobster?

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he quickly replied.

And he meant every syllable.

He didn’t have time to explain or dissect the woman’s words. Her obviously pissed off guard was already mere feet away, hands balled into fists that were ready to be unleashed his way.