Talon was instantly intrigued.
If his enemies wanted this person, then it was imperative the Pantera got their hands on him first.
“You have some idea who this person is? Man or woman? Human or Pantera?”
Bitter envy twisted the man’s expression. “That info was above my pay grade.”
Talon made a sound of impatience. “Where is the warehouse?”
Derek abruptly spit in Talon’s face, using the momentary distraction to yank out the gun he’d had holstered at his lower back.
Talon belatedly realized why the man had been so eager to answer his questions. He’d simply been trying to keep Talon distracted long enough to get out his weapon.
“That’s enough questions,” the man roared. “Die, you fucking animal.”
“Not today.”
With a speed the human couldn’t hope to match, Talon wrenched the gun from the man’s hand, and with one swing of his arm he’d knocked Derek off his feet to crash head first into the wall.
The man landed heavily on the floor, blood flowing from the cut on his forehead. He was injured, but Talon could hear the steady beat of his heart.
Grimly he forced himself to turn and leave the room, closing the door behind him.
There was nothing he wanted more than to cut out the man’s heart and feed it to the gators, but he was a Hunter who understood that sometimes the best way to catch his prey was to use bait.
Once Derek woke up, his first instinct would be to return to the Mother Ship.
Or in this case, the warehouse where Lon and his crew were hidden.
Talon intended to make sure the bastard was followed.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he hit speed dial. “I need a surveillance team in New Orleans. Oh, and there’s a stiff to clean up.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Isi was standing in the kitchen with pretty white cabinets and a black and white tiled floor, trying to work up enthusiasm for dinner, when Talon strolled through the back door.
Immediately she glanced toward the granite countertops for something to throw at his head.
The ceramic cookie jar would make a satisfying projectile, but it probably wouldn’t cause much damage. While the knives stuck in a wooden block would draw blood, but only if he couldn’t dodge them.
Highly unlikely.
She was debating between the coffeemaker and the blender when he prowled forward to toss a white paper bag on the polished oak table that matched the china cabinet filled with family heirlooms.
“Here.”
She glared at him, hating the fact that her body was already reacting to his presence.
Not just the easing of her nausea that had become progressively worse during his absence, but the immediate awareness that shivered through her.
God. How could her nipples be hardening beneath her sweatshirt and her pussy already be dampening in preparation for his hard, uncompromising entry?
Okay, he was gorgeous.
A tall, stunningly handsome warrior with a lean, sculpted body and eyes that appeared more jade than gold in fading light.
She was mad as hell at him, but her body craved him as if…as if he’d used one of her love potions on her.
In a desperate effort to ease the destructive tide of lust that was as unwanted as it was unexpected, Isi pointed toward the white bag.
“What is it?”
He leaned forward, pulling out the plastic bowl and removing the lid. “Gumbo.”
Isi’s eyes widened as the mouthwatering smell teased at her nose. There was only one place that made gumbo that smelled like heaven.
“That’s my…” She cut off her words, unwilling to reveal any part of herself to the ruthless Hunter.
“Favorite?” he murmured, moving to the cabinets to open a door and extract a spoon. Returning to the table, he put the spoon in the bowl of gumbo before glancing at her rigid form with an unreadable expression. “I know.”
Her frown deepened.
She knew the Pantera could screw with humans’ minds, but she’d never heard that they could read people’s thoughts.
“How?”
His lips twisted. “I was just leaving your shop when a female stormed up to me demanding to know where you were and why she hadn’t heard from you.”
“Emile.” The older woman owned the restaurant across the street from her shop, and not only made the best gumbo in all of Louisiana, but she watched over Isi like a mother hen. Isi’s heart clenched with sudden fear. “What did you do to her?”
“I told her that you had been ill and that I was taking care of you.” He pointed toward the bowl. “She insisted that her gumbo was necessary to your healing.”
Isi shook her head in disbelief.
Even dressed in a pair of faded jeans and well-worn LSU T-shirt Talon looked like a dangerous, potentially deadly predator.
“She believed you?”
“Why wouldn’t she? It’s the truth.” He pulled out a chair. “Eat.”
She sucked in a deep breath, savoring the scent of seafood and rice in rich broth. It smelled incredible, but her stomach rebelled at the mere thought of indulging in such a spicy meal.
“I don’t think I can.”
His lips flattened. “Don’t be stubborn. I can sense your hunger.”
She folded her arms over her rumbling stomach, hoping that it was the physical hunger he sensed and not the heat that had nothing to do with the steamy bayou night.
“I can’t keep it down,” she muttered.
“Ah.” Comprehension flared in the golden jade eyes. Then, astonishingly, he held out his arms. “Come here.”
She took an awkward step backward. “No way.”
“Stubborn,” he breathed, moving around the table and prowling toward her.
Her ass hit the edge of the counter, halting her retreat.
“What the hell are you doing?” she rasped as he continued forward, not stopping until he was pressed tight against her.
He wrapped his arms around her, lowering his head until she was surrounded in the heat and musk of him.
“Making you better,” he murmured.
“Don’t…” She forgot what she was going to say as the nausea eked away, replaced by a warm sense of pleasure. Even the throbbing pain at the base of her skull disappeared. “Oh, dammit,” she growled, dropping her head against his chest. She knew she should be fighting. The man had called her evil, for christ’s sake. Asshole. But it felt so damned good.
Sucking in a deep breath, she concentrated on the delectable musk that seeped deep inside her, chasing away the last of her sickness.
Not that she wasn’t acutely aware of his hand that rubbed up and down her back with a shockingly tender motion. Or his warm breath that brushed her cheek. Or even the hardening thrust of his arousal that pressed into her lower stomach.
But for now, it was the glorious sensation of well-being that made her sigh in pleasure.
“Can you eat now?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Without warning, Talon scooped her off her feet and carried her toward the table. Then, instead of putting her down, he sat on a wooden chair and tucked her in his lap.
“Talon—”
“Shh.” He reached for the bowl of gumbo, placing it directly in front of her. “Eat.”
Once again she knew she should fight.
This new and improved Talon was obviously some trick.
She didn’t believe for a second that he actually gave a shit if she were suffering.
But it’d been weeks since she’d actually had an appetite and the gumbo smelled so damned good.
Why not enjoy her dinner?
She had plenty of time to be pissed at him after she ate.
Grabbing the spoon, she scooped out a massive bite of the gumbo, shoving it into her mouth with an unashamed lack of female manners.