CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

While Tate played his fingers through her hair, Havana studied the dessert menu. She’d eaten at the pride-owned steakhouse with Aspen and Bailey a few times in the past—the food was good, especially the desserts. This was the first time that Tate had brought her here, though.

Over the past week, he’d taken her to various places—most of which were owned by his pride. One morning, he’d taken her for breakfast at the café. Another day, it had been lunch at the deli. Yesterday evening, he’d taken her to the ice cream parlor. They’d already made plans to go to the movie theater this weekend. It was as if he was intent on making a distinct effort to spend time with her outside of sex. Or maybe he saw it as making up for lost time, since they hadn’t gone on actual dates during their fling.

Now, well, he was doing a good job of slotting himself into her life and ensuring he was commandeering as many hours of her day as he could. She hadn’t really given much thought into what kind of mate Tate would be. If she’d had to guess, she would have said he’d be solid and steady and overprotective. Which he in fact was. But she wouldn’t have guessed he’d be so … attentive.

It was little but touching things. Like always filling her tank with gas. Like keeping her favorite brand of coffee at his house. Like buying things for her to use while she was there—a replica of her toothbrush, a satin robe, her favorite snacks, her brands of shampoo and conditioner.

He’d also emptied one of his drawers “just in case” she wanted to stash her clothes into it rather than leave them in her overnight bag. His expression had been all “no pressure.” So she’d used the drawer. And then he’d emptied another “just in case” she needed more room for her stuff. It was kind of cute that he thought she didn’t know he was trying to move her into his house little by little.

He’d formally introduced her as his mate to pretty much every pride mate they brushed past, seemingly wanting Havana to get to know them and feel comfortable around them. They all appeared to be happy for him, and none had been rude or unwelcoming toward her.

He was always firing questions at her—some big, some small. But even more, he freely shared with her now. There was no holding back at all. No rules. No hesitations. No boundaries.

He was almost always touching her. Which should have felt uncomfortable because she wasn’t all that tactile. But with him, it didn’t bother her. It just felt right.

They’d let their animals run together a few more times. Her devil had softened toward his cat. She was beginning to soften toward Tate, too, but she didn’t show it much—determined to make him work to prove himself worthy.

If he wasn’t too busy throughout the day, he sometimes appeared at the center to see Havana at random times. She knew he regularly checked in with Deke and Isaiah—she often heard them talking to him via cell phone. Gideon hadn’t struck again, but no one was getting complacent.

Aside from when she went to work, she never ventured far from home. She also never balked at Tate’s hyper-strict security measures. The harder she made it for Gideon to get to her, the more agitated he’d become, and the more likely he’d be to make a mistake.

Tate splayed his hand on her thigh and squeezed. “Have you decided what you want yet, babe?”

She hummed. “I’m gonna go with the pecan pie.”

Tate called over the waitress, who was one of his pride mates, and placed their orders.

Havana snapped the menu shut and slotted it back in its holder, accidentally jabbing him with her elbow. “Sorry. You know, you’d have more room if you sat on the other side of the table.”

“I like looking at you, but I also like touching you. I can do more of that when sitting next to you than I can when I sit opposite you.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, and then his lips were there, sipping from hers. “You taste better than anything here.”

“Dude, you don’t have to ply me with compliments—you’ll get laid later for sure.”

Tate chuckled, liking the back and forth they had. It felt easy. Comfortable. Intimate. “Good to know.” He put his mouth to her ear and whispered, “If we weren’t in a restaurant full of shifters, I’d be stroking your pussy with my finger right now. But I don’t want them to know how you smell when you’re desperate to come.” He was far too possessive for that.

“Neither do I, so I appreciate your restraint.”

He rubbed her thigh again. “So … has Aspen and/or Bailey told you if they’ll join the pride, or are they still reluctant?” They’d asked to have a few days to think about it.

“I spoke with them about it again earlier. They said that if you and I mate, which will instantly make me a member of your pride, they’ll join—providing they’re allowed to continue working at the center.”

“No one would expect them to stop working there. And there’s no ‘if’ you and I mate. We will mate. It’s only a matter of time. Which is why there’s no reason you can’t just officially join the pride now.”

“Yes, you’ve made that clear before. On several occasions, in fact.”

Okay, yeah, he’d mentioned it a few times. Maybe more than a few. “Because it makes sense.”

She took his hand in hers. “I’m not going to rush any part of this relationship. You think your cat doesn’t have commitment issues after all. But you could be wrong. I don’t want to push any buttons for him. I don’t want to make him feel pressured or as if things are moving too fast.”

Realization dawned on Tate. “That’s why you haven’t branded me yet.”

She nodded.

“He wants you to mark me. I want you to mark me.” Neither Tate nor his feline liked that she held back on that. They’d wear her brand with pride.

“I don’t want to risk spooking him. Plus, my devil needs time, too. She’s lost some of her anger toward you, but she doesn’t fully trust that you won’t give me up again.”

“That’s not going to happen. Tell me you know that.”

“I don’t think you’ll walk away again, because I understand all the issues surrounding your reasons for giving me up. She’s too much of an elemental creature to process any of it.”

He let out a long exhale. “I want to wear your mark. I want you living with me. I want you in my pride.”

Havana had to stifle a laugh. “Well, aren’t you cute?” And so very, very spoiled.

His brows snapped together. “Cute?”

“I get that you’re used to people dancing to your tune, your Alpha-ness, but I’m not going to be one of those people—you know this already.” Havana gave him a look that said he could pester her until he was blue in the face, but she wouldn’t budge. She could see that he still wanted to push, though.

Well, of course he did.

Tate wasn’t a man who let things stand in his way. He was used to getting what he wanted when he wanted it. And he always looked so endearingly perplexed when it didn’t happen. It made her devil snort in amusement every time.

He sighed. “All right, fine.”

She felt her lips twitch. “You can’t say that through gritted teeth and think I’ll truly believe you mean it, Garfield.”

He tossed her a dark glower that promised retribution.

Just then, the waitress appeared and set down their desserts.

Havana thanked her and then picked up her spoon. Alone again with Tate, she cast him a brief sideways look. “Something bad is going to happen.”

He frowned. “Why do you say that?”

“Okay, so can you hear the song that’s playing right now?”

“Yeah. Something Wicked This Way Comes.”

“Right. Well, as we were passing the café, I saw someone through the window reading a book with the same title. And I saw a poster in the bookstore advertising the Wicked musical. It said, ‘Coming soon.’”

“Okay,” he said carefully.

“The universe is warning us. The least you could do is acknowledge it.”

“I’m acknowledging that, coincidentally, you came across the word ‘wicked’ in virtually the same context three times today.”

Oh, he was beyond help. “If you want to ignore the signs, fine.”

A smile playing around the edges of his mouth, he spooned some of his ice cream. “Does it come as a surprise to a lot of people that you’re superstitious?”

Havana’s head almost jerked back. “I’m not superstitious. I get why some people are—it helps them feel more in control of their lives, and if something goes wrong, they can blame it on a black cat that crossed their path or whatever. But they have to know it’s impractical to view the world that way.”

“And it’s not impractical to believe that the universe sends out ‘signs’ to guide or warn us?”

She blinked. “Why would it be?”

Tate just shook his head. “No one would guess looking at you that you have this streak of whimsy in you. I kind of like it, even though I find it somewhat neurotic at times.”

“Neurotic?”

“I say that with affection. I probably shouldn’t find it cute, but I do. I don’t know what that says about me.”

Just then, the music changed. And Kylie Minogue’s Tell Tale Signs began to play.

Havana grinned. He just sighed.

Once they’d finished their desserts and Tate had paid the bill—she’d wanted to go halves on it, but he’d insisted on paying—they left the restaurant. Standing on the sidewalk, she said hi to Luke and Farrell, who’d been waiting there the whole time.

Spotting Aspen and Bailey further along the street chatting to some Olympus cats, Havana smiled. The girls gave her a brief wave. Havana’s smile faded as she caught side of Ashlynn on the opposite side of the street, holding hands with a male Havana hadn’t before seen.

Ugh. This seemed to be Ashlynn’s new thing. Parading males in front of Tate. She allegedly hadn’t reacted well to hearing that he and Havana were mates. In fact, Ashlynn had apparently thrown a tantrum right in the middle of the pride’s flower shop—ranting that Tate had to be mistaken; that he could do better; that Havana would never hold him.

The female hadn’t confronted either he or Havana, though. She’d done nothing but smile at them each time they crossed paths—and she was always cozied up to a guy. Havana would love to think that Ashlynn had given up on Tate and was ready to move on. But anyone could see how often the bitch glimpsed at Tate, as if needing to witness his reaction to her touching another male … just as she was doing right then.

“That girl is such a tool,” said Havana.

Tate slid an arm around her shoulders and began leading her along the sidewalk toward his cul-de-sac. “Just ignore her. I do.”

“Either she hasn’t yet accepted that we’re mates, or she simply doesn’t consider it a deterrent to her plan to win you back. But then … her own mate failed to claim her, didn’t he? Maybe that would be enough for her to cease from viewing you as a lost cause.”

“I honestly couldn’t give a shit.” Tate kissed her temple, breathing her in, wishing he could bottle up her scent, looking forward to it mixing with his own. “She doesn’t matter. You matter. What we have and what we’re building matters.”

“Oh, I agree.”

Tate frowned as a glint of metal caught his eye. Several things registered at once. A dark blue Charger cruising along the road. A window partially lowered. A face covered in a balaclava. A gunaimed at Havana.

“Fuck.” Tate pushed her to the ground, taking cover behind a parked car, while Luke’s body blanketed them both. Gunfire rang through the air. The vehicle shielding them jolted as bullets thudded into metal, windows smashed, and air hissed out of a tire. Then the fuckers were speeding away. Tate looked up to see the shooter firing at the enforcers that tried stopping the car—then it was gone.

Tate looked at Farrell. “Follow them!”

The Head Enforcer pulled his phone out of his pocket and shifted into his avian form. The bird shook off the torn clothing and took to the air in a flash, his talons clutching a cell phone.

Tate helped his mate to her feet, raking his gaze over her, his heart pounding like a fucking drum. “Baby, tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m not hit,” she assured him, her eyes wide. “You good?”

“No, because those motherfucking fuckers came at you in my own backyard.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Told you something bad was going to happen.”

He just stared at her for a few seconds. Then he hauled her against him and hugged her tight, needing to feel her safe and warm and alive in his arms. Several of his pride mates crowded them, including Luke and Alex—both of whom looked ready to burn shit down.

“Oh my freaking good God, what the hell?” Aspen burst out as she and Bailey shouldered their way through the crowd. “Are you both okay?”

“We’re okay,” said Havana. “Though my heart is racing a mile a minute.” She looked up at Tate. “Thank you for shoving me out of harm’s way.”

He kissed her forehead, not loosening his hold on her. His muscles hurt with the effort to hold back his cat—the feline wanted to shift, hunt, and kill.

“That was the same Charger from the drive-by,” said Bailey, her eyes narrowed.

“I know,” said Tate, his voice like gravel. “As soon as Farrell calls and tells us where those assholes stopped, I’ll be heading their way.”

“And I’ll be going along with you,” Havana announced. “No, Tate, don’t argue. I know you want to stick me in your sock drawer where I’ll be nice and safe, but no coddling. This shit has everything to do with me. I want in on it every step of the way. You wouldn’t stay behind if our positions were reversed.”

He opened his mouth to argue, even though he couldn’t deny that she was right. But then he thought better of it. He had no chance of earning her devil’s trust if he treated Havana like she didn’t know her own strength or couldn’t take care of herself. She was an alpha, and he had to treat her like one—especially since he planned on making her his Alpha female. “Fine. Let’s get to the SUV. I want us to be ready to move in an instant.”

Soon enough, a bunch of people were piling into the pride’s seven-seater SUV. Luke slid into the driver’s seat, Tate rode shotgun, Vinnie and Alex sat in the second row, and Havana settled on the rear passenger seats with Aspen and Bailey, who insisted on coming.

It wasn’t easy to sit still when adrenaline and anticipation pumped through his veins. His cat was pacing, just as eager to get to the people who’d targeted his mate yet again.

It didn’t take long for Tate’s phone to start ringing. “Where are they, Farrell?” he answered.

Farrell rattled off an address. “They’re both packing a bag, Tate. Looks like they’re getting ready to run.”

“Sit tight unless they try to leave before we get there. We’re on our way.” Tate ended the call and spoke the address out loud.

“Got it,” said Luke, pulling out onto the road.

“Now I need to find out who lives there.” Tate sent a text to River, asking for the details of whoever resided at the address. “According to Farrell, our boys are packing a bag. They probably don’t want to hang around to tell their boss they failed him again.”

“This was probably their chance to redeem themselves for failing Gideon once before,” mused Alex.

“It’ll be best not to interrogate them at their home,” said Tate. “If Gideon decides to go looking for them and then realizes they’re dead, he’ll suspect we questioned and killed them. We don’t want him to know that we’re getting closer.”

“I had that same thought,” said Vinnie.

Tate turned to his brother. “If they haven’t finished packing by the time we’ve arrived, do it for them and make it look like they bailed.”

“Will do,” said Luke.

Silence reigned right up until Tate received a text message from River. “The house is owned by a human who is currently renting it to both Malcolm Taggart and Vernon Clementine,” said Tate. “They’re humans, apparently. But they could be lone shifters posing as humans to their landlord. We’ll soon find out.”

After that, no one talked much throughout the drive. Everyone sat up straight as Luke parked the SUV in a somewhat shady neighborhood.

“The plan is simple,” said Tate. “We apprehend them, tie them up, and bring them back to my dad’s apartment for questioning.” There was a spare room they used specifically for that purpose.

Tate twisted in his seat and skimmed his gaze over Havana and her girls. “You three stay here and keep watch over the SUV. We’ll be back soon.”

“Okay,” the trio said in unison.

Tate blinked, surprised they hadn’t insisted on coming along. Then again, the interrogation wouldn’t be held here, so the women would only be missing out on watching Malcolm and Vernon get apprehended—it wouldn’t exactly be entertaining.

Tate locked eyes with Havana. “Call us if anything happens out here that we need to be aware of,” he said, so that they’d feel that they had something to do.

“Okay,” they again said at once.

All right, now they were just being creepy.

“Let’s get moving,” said Tate.

As a group, he and his pride mates slipped out of the SUV. The street was empty, so no one saw them as they silently hurried over to Farrell, who stood in the gap that separated the house from its neighbor. Tate heard muffled voices coming from inside, but nothing else.

Noticing an open window at the side of the house, Tate headed right to it. He signaled at Vinnie and Farrell to cover the rear of the building and then gestured at Alex to watch the entrance. It was important to have every exit blocked, because the men were bound to run.

Tate and Luke stealthily climbed through the open window and then found themselves in a small dining room. They stood still for a moment, familiarizing themselves with their surroundings. The place was shabby. Peeling wallpaper. Sparse, worn furnishings. Stained carpet. The scents of dust, charred meat, mold, and …

“Cheetah,” mouthed Luke, his nostrils flaring. He clamped his mouth shut, fighting a smile.

Yeah, cheetahs, just as Havana had predicted. Fuck, she would never let that go.

Footsteps hurried around upstairs. Someone was definitely in a rush. The only other sounds seemed to be coming from the living room—cursing, heavy breathing, a zipper shutting.

“Goddammit, Vern, hurry up!” yelled the shifter in the living room, who had to be Malcolm Taggart.

“Two minutes!” Vern bellowed.

Tate pointed from Luke to the ceiling, gesturing for his brother to handle the shifter upstairs. As Luke disappeared up the staircase, Tate headed for the living room.

The cheetah was standing in the middle of the small space, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, muttering beneath his breath. The guy was so lost in his thoughts that it took him a few moments to sense that he wasn’t alone.

Taggart’s head snapped up. He froze. Then his eyes fell closed as he cursed. Shoving a hand through his tousled dirty blond hair, Taggart let out a shaky breath. “I think I can guess by the look on your face that paying you to walk away ain’t going to work.”

Clenching his fists, Tate moved to stand directly in front of him. “Good guess.”

“What I did … it wasn’t personal, all right,” Taggart told him. “I just did what I was paid to do. I have no beef with you.”

“You do now.” Targeting Tate’s mate was very personal to him.

The cheetah rubbed at his nape. “Look, I get that the loner is under your protection … although I didn’t know that at first—not until the boss ripped me another asshole over the phone for failing to kill her. He said something about the Olympus Alpha being a smug fucker. I asked what he meant. He said the devil had your protection.”

“She very much does.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“But then you did, and you came after her again.”

Taggart winced. “It was either I killed her for the boss, or I be killed by him. I chose me.”

“And that was your mistake.”

Taggart flew into motion, leaped onto the sofa, launched himself off the piece of furniture, and landed in the doorway. Fuck, bastard cheetahs were fast.

Tate pursued him as Taggart rocketed through the dining area toward the kitchen—

A mamba lunged out of nowhere and twined herself around the cheetah’s leg. Her weight tripped him, making him fall to the floor. He kicked out, trying to shake off the mamba with absolutely no success.

A bearcat leapt off the bannister and landed hard on his back, making something crack. He twisted with a sharp cry, ramming his elbow into the animal. Snarling, she scuttled up his back and sank her teeth into his nape. He growled a sound of pain, but then he froze … because a blood-curdling shriek came out of the shadowed hallway just before a goddamn devil raced toward him and clamped her jaws around the arm that had batted the bearcat.

Tate could only stare. This shit was … yeah, he hadn’t seen it coming. At all.

The females hadn’t simply aimed to subdue and take Taggart down. They’d swarmed him and held tight to ensure he wouldn’t let his inner cat surface. No shifter would change forms in this situation, because in that moment when a person transitioned from human to animal, they were extremely vulnerable.

Tate cleared his throat, amused. “Thank you, ladies. Your help was most appreciated. I’ll take it from here.”

Only once the three females had backed away did Tate roughly pull Taggart to his feet. A single uppercut knocked the fucker unconscious. Tate let out a loud whistle, signaling for his pride mates to come inside. And then a bullet fired upstairs.

Tate’s heart jumped in his chest. “Luke!”

“I’m good,” his brother called back. “Vernon, however, is not.” Luke jogged down the stairs just as Vinnie, Alex, and Farrell raced into the house. “He and I had something of a struggle,” Luke went on. “I didn’t mean for the shot to be fatal, but he twisted at the last second. The bullet sank into his chest. He’s a goner.”

“At least we have this guy,” said Alex, helping Tate bind an unconscious Taggart with zip ties. Meanwhile, the females shifted back to their human forms and returned to the SUV without a word.

Holding two duffels, Luke looked at Tate, his eyes smiling. “So … your mate called it. They’re cheetahs.”

Tate threw him a dark look. “It would seem so. On another note … I need to call some enforcers here to get rid of Vernon’s body. One of them can also drive the Charger somewhere to help it look like the pair bailed.” Once Tate had made the call, he turned to his Head Enforcer. “Farrell, I want you to stay local in your avian form just in case Gideon or some of his men turn up here looking for Taggart and Clementine. If they do, follow them and then report their location back to me.”

Farrell nodded. “No problem.”

After dumping Taggart in the trunk of the SUV, the men piled into the vehicle. They all turned to look at the three loners sitting on the rear passenger row. The females stared right back at them, utterly composed and completely casual … like they’d been sitting there all along patiently waiting for the men to return.

Tate twisted his mouth. “All right.” He faced forward and nodded at Luke, who then switched on the ignition.

“Told you they were cheetahs,” said Havana.

Tate felt his lips thin. He didn’t respond. But he did shoot his brother a scowl for chuckling like a fucking loon.

“You can’t expect me to remain quiet and leave this to you and Alex,” said Havana as they all stood outside the room within which their captive was being held. No one worried that he’d try to escape—they’d injected him with a serum that temporarily suppressed shifting.

“I wouldn’t expect that of you, given that he fired the bullets that almost killed you,” Tate assured her. He’d want to have his say, in her position. “I’m just saying that Alex and I will be leading the interrogation. I’m aware that you have skills in this area, though I have no idea where those skills come from.” He intended to find out at some point. “Feel free to contribute. My father and Luke will do the same.”

Havana, Aspen, and Bailey shared an odd look he couldn’t quite decipher. Then Havana nodded and said, “Okay.”

Tate narrowed his eyes. Because he was beginning to learn that her “okays” could be translated into, “You do your thing; I’ll do mine.” He sighed. “Babe—”

“No, I get that it’s better for Taggart to have two people at most to focus on,” said Havana. “I’ll just contribute, like you said.”

Tate sensed that she meant it. But he got the feeling that her contributions wouldn’t be a mere question or two.

Luke materialized beside him. “Found this in the photo gallery on the guy’s cell phone,” he said, having earlier used Taggart’s thumbprint to unlock the device while the cheetah was unconscious. “There’s plenty more of them. They could prove useful.”

“They could indeed.” Tate took the cell. “Any exchange of text messages or emails between him and Gideon?”

“No,” replied Luke. “But Taggart received calls from someone who could quite possibly be Gideon—all were made through a spoofing site. You can tell because the number of the caller comes up as gray rather than the clickable blue. Anyway, the most recent call was made last night.”

So it could very well have been Gideon instructing Taggart to make a second attempt on Havana’s life. “Now that he’s conscious, let’s go get some answers.”

Tate entered the small box room first. The others slowly followed him inside. It was once Damian’s room, but the kid now stayed in Tate’s old bedroom. The walls had once been blue and covered in posters and decals. Now the walls were a plain white—no pictures, no posters, no mirrors, nothing. There was no furniture aside from two chairs, one of which Taggart was bound to, his eyes wide, the tendons in his neck bulging.

Whereas the room once smelled of Damian, dirty laundry, and teenage boy, it now reeked of cheetah and fear. The male’s heartbeat thudded so loud and hard, it was a wonder the organ didn’t burst out of his chest.

Tate’s cat let out a pleased growl, liking that their captive was afraid. He should be. The cat had felt fear when he thought he might lose Havana. Now it was this asshole’s turn.

The cheetah’s breathing picked up as they all spread out and took up positions around the room. He cast Alex an exceptionally wary look. Well, no one wanted to anger a wolverine—those ferocious bastards fucking ate their prey, teeth and all.

Staring down at Taggart, Tate felt his hands clench and his back teeth lock. This piece of shit had tried to kill his mate. It was an honest to God’s struggle not to slice open the bastard’s throat. No, that death was too quick. Too painless. Tate had bigger plans for him.

Impatient by nature, his inner cat didn’t want to wait. Didn’t care to make the bastard sweat. He only wanted to surface and avenge Havana. But he did understand that it was important to get answers if they were to track down the bigger danger to her, so the cat stayed calm, his muscles bunched, his upper lip quivering to bare a fang.

Taggart’s gaze snapped to something on the floor, and he jerked in his seat. “Fucking fuck.”

It was only then that Tate noticed the black mamba slithering along the wooden planks. He looked at Havana, who gave him a reassuring smile and said, “It’s fine, she won’t bite.”

She probably wouldn’t unless ordered to by Havana, but Taggart didn’t look so convinced of that. He was eyeing the serpent like it had come straight from the bowels of hell.

Exuding an air of cool that he absolutely did not feel, Tate grabbed the spare chair, twisted it, and then straddled it. “It’s Malcolm, right?” He twisted his mouth. “I had an uncle named Malcolm. Distant uncle. He was an alcoholic. Compulsive gambler, too. Died in a car accident. Very sad.”

“I thought his name was Mick,” said Luke, his brow creasing.

Vinnie shook his head. “No, it was Malcolm. That man was his own worst enemy. He never knew what was best for him.” Vinnie looked at the cheetah. “I hope for your sake that we can’t say the same about you.”

“If he knew what was best for him, he wouldn’t have shot Havana,” said Tate, flexing his fingers.

Taggart swallowed. “I told you, I didn’t know she was under your protection.”

Like that made a single bit of difference to Tate or his cat. “Maybe you didn’t initially. But it doesn’t really matter either way. The fact is you did come after her. And so we came after you. Now, this boss of yours … tell me about him.”

“I don’t know his name. He never gave it. He called me one day, said someone recommended me to him, and told me that he’d like to add me to his payroll. When he wants someone dead, he calls me.”

Alex slipped his hands in his pockets. “And you make it happen, huh?”

Taggart forced a shrug, doing a poor imitation of nonchalant. “I do what I gotta do to survive.”

“Bullshit,” said Alex. “You chose the easy way. You could have done what the three loners here have done. You could have lived a normal life, worked a normal job, sought protection in other ways. You decided not to.”

Tate tipped his head toward Havana. “You see that mark on her neck, Malcom? I put that there. Not just because I’m somewhat possessive, but because I like seeing my mate wear the imprint of my teeth on her skin.”

Taggart’s eyes widened, and the blood left his face. His legs tensed, as if he were getting ready to run. But no one had to point out that he wasn’t going anywhere. “Look … I didn’t know she was yours, man.”

“Doesn’t matter if you did or you didn’t,” said Tate, his voice dangerous. “You pumped three bullets into her. Into my mate. That’s not something a man like me would or could ever forgive.” Tate still couldn’t get the footage of the drive-by out of his head. He wasn’t sure he ever would.

Taggart flinched as the mamba began to ever so slowly slither up his leg. “I told you, it wasn’t personal.”

“It was just a job, right. The shifter who tried kidnapping Havana told us that very same thing. Your boss sent him after her. He likes to sell loners at auction. Did you know that?” By the sheer shock on Taggart’s face, the answer was no. “He’s pissed because she apprehended her kidnapper and none of us will simply forget what happened.”

“I didn’t know he was doing that shit.” Taggart flinched again as the mamba slid along his thigh toward his chest.

“I doubt it would have made much of a difference to you if you had. Now … it seems your boss has jaguar shifters working for him. Do you know anything about that?”

Taggart’s eyes sharpened. “Jaguars?”

Everything in Tate stood up and paid attention. “Tell me what you know.” Because it was clear the asshole knew something.

The cheetah licked his lips. “What’s in it for me if I tell you?”

“Simple.” Tate held up the cheetah’s phone, showing one of the photos Luke had found. “I won’t hunt down and kill the woman you’re all cozy with here.”

Dread flashed across Taggart’s face, but he quickly blanked his expression. “She’s no one to me. I hardly know her.”

Alex snorted. “You’re not a very good liar, Mal.”

The cheetah squeezed his eyes shut as the mamba put her head level to his. She flicked out her tongue, letting it touch the side of his face. “Can someone please get it off me?”

“She won’t bite,” Havana assured him, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. She shrugged one shoulder, adding, “Well, not unless I tell her to.” And after listening to him try to justify the fact that he’d tried to kill her twice, Havana was seriously tempted to signal for the mamba to strike. Her devil would rather take care of him herself.

Aspen’s nose wrinkled. “Well, there was that time she bit a hyena without your say-so. You remember?”

Havana waved that away. “She was pissed that day.”

“She’s pissed today,” said Aspen.

Havana slanted her head. “You make a valid point.” She almost chuckled when Taggart swore beneath his breath, trembling.

He opened his eyes but didn’t look at the snake, as if intent on pretending she wasn’t there.

“We have shit to do, Malcom,” said Havana. “We don’t have time for you to deliberate on just how much the life of that woman in the photo means to you. Either she matters to you or she doesn’t. But be aware that we will get the information out of you one way or another. You might as well willingly part with it and save her life in the process.”

Sweat beading his upper lip, Taggart stared at her mate, a plea in his eyes. “I wouldn’t have hurt the devil if I’d known she meant something to you.”

“So you’ve said before,” Tate told him. “I don’t know why you keep repeating it.”

“Apparently he thinks it’ll be enough to make you let him go.” Luke snickered. “Even if you could forgive him, Havana wouldn’t. And, Mal, just one word from her will have that mamba sinking her fangs into you. Appeals are pointless.”

“Utterly pointless,” Tate agreed. “You’re going to die tonight. It’s going to hurt. A lot. And none of us will feel in the least bit bad about it, considering you not only shot Havana, you’ve been executing people for a while now. But if you tell me what you know about those jaguar shifters, I will not hunt down this woman in the photo—I swear that to you. I will leave her be and forget she exists. But if you don’t tell us what we want to know, I will do to this woman what you did to mine—only I won’t give her a quick death. No, she’ll suffer. Hard. Maybe I’ll even keep you alive so you can watch it happen. And you can explain to her that she wouldn’t have had to go through that agony if you had just done the right thing by her.”

Fear flickered across the cheetah’s face. “Fuck.”

Havana knew that, in reality, Tate would never hurt a woman. Knew he would never make one person pay for another person’s actions. But Taggart clearly believed Tate meant what he said, which was what mattered.

Tate lifted a brow. “So, what’s it gonna be?”

The cheetah briefly closed his eyes. “You swear you won’t touch her or send anyone after her if I tell you what you want to know?”

“I swear it,” Tate promised.

Taggart’s head jerked when the mamba’s tongue flicked his ear. He looked at Havana. “I’ll talk, I will, just get her off me.”

“But she looks so comfortable there,” said Havana. “It would be a shame to disturb her. She gets cranky when disturbed. So cranky she can just … lunge and bite.”

Taggart cursed again.

“Don’t look at Havana,” Tate told him. “You look right at me and start talking. The sooner you’re done, the sooner the mamba will slither away.”

Taggart took in a long breath. “I don’t know much about the jaguars, really. But I saw them one night when I was at a casino—Ace in the Hole, a place near the docks. Three girls were singing on stage. They weren’t very good, but one was hot as hell. Asian. A female jaguar. Long legs, big rack, purple streaks in her black hair. I bought her a drink after the show. We exchanged names. I told her she had a nice voice. She said I should tell her boss that because the old bastard had informed her that tonight’s performance would be her last—he was hiring a new act or something. Then, two guys showed up. They were jaguars, too.”

“Descriptions?” asked Alex.

Taggart reeled off quite detailed descriptions. Havana noted it all down on her cell phone’s notepad app.

“What happened next?” Tate asked the cheetah.

“The one with the ponytail got pissed and territorial, he told me to stay away from her. I apologized and said I didn’t know she was spoken for. He studied me hard, like he thought he might know my face from somewhere. Then he smiled and said, ‘Malcolm Taggart.’ He told me we had the same boss, said he’d heard good things about me from his boss and that I should keep doing a good job because it ain’t wise to disappoint him.”

Havana stilled, asking, “You know this jaguar’s name?”

Taggart frowned thoughtfully. “When he got all possessive, the woman tried calming him down. She called him Enrique. I don’t think they were tight. She looked kind of scared of him.”

Tate tapped his fingers on the chair. “Did you catch the other jaguar’s name?”

“No,” replied Taggart. “He never said a word. Not one.” He gulped, because the mamba chose that moment to curl up on his lap, her head perilously close to his inner thigh.

“What about the woman? We don’t wish her harm,” Tate quickly added when Taggart hesitated to answer. “We just need her name. We may need her help to find this Enrique.”

The cheetah sighed. “Lola,” he said, his voice low and defeated. “She introduced herself as Lola.”

“Lola,” Alex echoed. “Anything else you can tell us?”

Taggart shook his head. “That’s all I got.”

“So you don’t have even the slightest clue who your boss might be?” asked Tate.

Again, Taggart shook his head. “Not one.”

“I do,” said Tate. “You’ve been taking directions from Gideon York.”

Taggart’s face went slack. “That guy is dead.”

“No, the twisted fuck is just underground. And you’ve been serving a man who massacred an entire wolf pack and then killed most of his own loyal followers. Just thought you might be interested to know.” Tate slowly got to his feet and casually pushed the chair aside. “You were very informative, Mal. I appreciate that, I do. I like it when people are cooperative. But not enough for me to go easy on you. And let’s be honest, if someone did to your woman what you did to mine, you’d expect them to pay, wouldn’t you?”

Taking a step toward the cheetah, Tate felt his hands ball up. “You’ll pay for agreeing to kill my mate. You’ll pay for putting those bullets in her body. You’ll pay for almost taking her from me twice.” Tate leaned forward and said quietly, “And then you’ll pay all over again.” He slammed his fist into the bastard’s jaw.