Savage Shifters Box Set, page 4
But just as he was about to stand up, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Regular phones didn’t work here, but it was a special one handed to them for emergency purposes.
Dean’s voice when Jack picked up was grave, which made Jack tense up. Then he turned cold as he listened.
“The painting’s fake. I had it tested last night, and the results came out today. Did you already jump home?”
“No. I’m still in the market.”
“Then get back here. You need to get the real painting. We’re wasting time as it is. Word’s gotten out, and I believe there’s someone else after that painting.”
“Who?”
“Their kind, of course. I just got a tip. Don’t know who the exact party is yet.”
Their kind. Jesus. Their kind, meaning those violent assholes.
“I’m on it.”
He hung up. Jack glanced at Kasper, who was still busy with a customer but was glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. He placed some money on the counter and slipped out of there, hurrying to find a secure location to open a portal.
If the painting was still with Jillian and their enemies were onto it now, then she was in danger.
She was in very big danger.
Chapter 5
“So how was your Friday night go? Anything special? I hope by asking you to work today you didn’t have to cut a hot date short?”
There was a teasing note in Paula’s voice, one that Jillian would normally appreciate. Paula often made the effort to treat her kindly and eliminate any intimidation or awkwardness between them, and it generally made Jillian comfortable and had her enjoying her job more.
But now, the simple question made her remember exactly what happened last night, and she was torn between being miserable and wanting to scowl. Jillian swallowed all the emotions down and forced a smile out.
“There was no date. And I don’t mind working on a Saturday. It will take my mind off things.”
The call had been last-minute, right after Jillian had called the police and basically realized how stupid she was for not knowing anything about Jack other than his name. The last name he’d provided had been a false name, and all the information they talked about over the week had been the same.
Stupid. So, so stupid of her.
It made her want to mope. Instead, she jumped at Paula’s offer to work and practically ran out of her apartment, eager to start the afternoon with her mind blank and her body moving about. At least that way, she would forget all about Jack.
And how he fooled her into thinking he wanted her when all he wanted was a chance to steal her painting.
“Oh, okay. Well, there are some new arrivals for our gallery, and I was hoping you could catalog them. I normally do it, but my husband and I have an afternoon meeting with a politician who wants to buy one of the vases. Can you do it for me? I really need everything displayed by Monday.”
“Of course. Consider it done.”
Paula and Mr. Grimshaw left quickly after, and Jillian mused at what a mismatch they were physically. Then she dived into the task at hand, delighted to find that the box was filled with a collection of Russian antiques. It had her heart pinging madly as excitement surged in, and before she knew it, she was already in too deep.
She researched. She cataloged. She marked everything in the gallery laptop and took pictures, then visualized where they would be placed and listed down the suggested positions, too. She was just staring at a certain vase’s details when a finger tapped her shoulder, startling her and making her almost drop it. Heart in her throat, she whirled and found her female boss standing behind her, looking amused.
“The meeting’s done? That was fast.”
Paula gave her a quizzical look. “What do you mean? It’s already seven.”
That had Jillian blinking, then staring at the clock behind her. She was so absorbed in what she was doing that she lost track of time.
“Oh, right. Well, I’m done with everything.” She handed the laptop to Paula, giving a brief explanation of how she cataloged the items and the possible placements around the gallery. Her female boss gave approving noises.
“Splendid. Now go home and get some rest.”
“Thanks.”
But before she could leave, her name was called out again. “By the way, Jillian. That painting…I still want it. Aren’t we going to talk about it?”
There it was again. Jillian had made all the excuses she could, not really wanting to offend her new boss so early in her job. But Paula had been mentioning it practically every day now, her tone getting more and more insistent until Jillian knew she couldn’t hold it off anymore. She didn’t think Paula would be satisfied with a no, considering her rather insistent nature.
An idea came to mind.
“It was actually stolen from me last night.”
“Stolen?”
“Yes. The guy I was dating. He wanted my work apparently and got it.”
Jillian expected some sympathy, maybe even Paula making some cooing noises and asking her if she went to the police. But what she got surprised her.
“Are you sure you didn’t hand it to the guy?”
There was something in the woman’s tone that was…odd. It wasn’t aggressive per se, but the tone certainly wasn’t friendly.
“Why would I hand it to the guy? I never wanted to sell it in the first place.”
Something flared in Paula’s eyes before disappearing altogether—a coolness that had a weird chill running down Jillian’s spine. She shook it off and looked at Paula again, but her boss was already looking concerned, so maybe it was just her imagination.
“Ah. I’m sorry to hear about that. I hope you called the police. Do you have a description of the guy? I know a lot of people in the industry. Maybe it will ring a bell.”
Because Paula sounded just a little bit too interested, Jillian decided to give her brief details—brief, because it was hard to talk about said man who duped her. But Paula was back to her insistent self, grilling Jillian about the details of Jack’s cover-up and leaving Jillian with a headache after. She cut it off when she could no longer take it, mumbling that she needed to go. Then she was out of there, not in the mood to discuss it anymore.
It was pointless being reminded how she was charmed so easily by a pretty-faced liar.
Hopefully, a good, quick dinner would get her out of this sour mood and get her back on track.
*****
The pasta she ordered considerably lifted her spirits up, and Jillian was almost light-hearted as she got to her home. An insistent nagging also came to mind, one that had her quickening her steps as she headed to her apartment door.
She wanted to open the real painting and see what the big deal was.
It had been stashed away after Mr. Anderson returned it to her, and she hadn’t really looked at it since it was kept in storage at her old workplace. Maybe her old eyes saw it as ugly and inexperienced, but to them—Paula and Jack-whoever-his-real-name-was—it was something else, and she wanted to see for herself what it was they saw.
Who knew? Maybe she had a masterpiece in hand. More reason not to sell it, then.
She was just inserting her key in the lock and turning the knob when something prickled at the back of her neck. The feeling was fleeting, but it had an alarm kicking in her head, followed by caution as she opened the door quietly. She turned on the lights before she got in, looking around and finding nothing amiss.
Feeling nervous all of a sudden and wondering if the incident yesterday had gotten her emotions wonky, Jillian stepped in and closed the door as quickly as she could. She headed to the kitchen to get herself a glass of water, wandering back towards the front door to make sure that she double-locked it. Then she went to her bedroom and hurriedly got in denim shorts and a shirt—comfortable clothes as she decided that she’d be better off spending some time outside, maybe find some late-night theater that ran classics. A walk near the harbor sounded good, too. She could blend in with the tourists and just enjoy the night, then get another round of food in her stomach and maybe a cocktail.
But first, the painting.
Jillian stepped out of her bedroom, already anticipating opening the safe place she kept it and taking that painting out. A figure standing in her living room had her body freezing, then her eyes widening.
Jack was holding her original painting in a tied cloth in his hand.
“I can explain.”
The words were clear, but Jillian’s ears were roaring too much to care. She reacted before thinking, lifting the vase beside her and throwing it right at his head. He evaded it with a side movement, one so smooth that she could only stare. Then she was lifting an umbrella and pointing it at him, even while she strode over.
“Give that back to me,” she hissed.
“I can’t, Jillian,” he said, and there was a hint of graveness in his voice. “I need to take this somewhere safe. And you need to come with me.”
“Over my dead body,” she snapped back. Weirdly enough, she wasn’t scared of him. But she was mad—so mad, in fact that her body vibrated with it. “Give me my painting back, or I’m calling the police.”
“No, don’t do that. Like I said, I can explain everything. But not now. We need to go.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Jillian, I—”
A knock came, and his words stilled. Before he could react, she was already headed towards it, ready to yell out that there was an intruder. She heard Jack curse but didn’t care. She unlocked the door and turned the knob—
A powerful force swung the door open, knocking her out of the way and towards the floor. She felt a dull pain hit her back before she scrambled to sit up. Beside her, a grunt sounded, and her glass coffee table shattered to pieces.
It was a man—a man with pockmarks all over his face and…claws for hands. The man tackled Jack to the ground, a loud thud that had Jack wincing and cursing. Then they were rolling, with Jack obviously trying to get away from the man.
And the man trying to kill him.
“Get the painting,” Jack barked at her. “Stay in one corner.”
The man looked at Jillian, and her breath caught in her throat at the red eyes that met hers. Her body shook, but it reacted all the same, following Jack’s instructions before she could think and heading towards the door. A peek out determined that there was no one there, and she slipped out.
But she couldn’t very well leave Jack alone.
An ear-splitting screech sounded, and she almost dropped the painting. Then she raised it in front of her as someone stepped out the door, shaking hands ready to plunge it through the head to defend herself.
Jack appeared, a cut on his cheek and blood flowing out. She gasped, torn between asking how he was doing and getting out of his way. But the decision was made for her as his hand clamped on her wrist, his other closing the door.
Then he was dragging her away.
Jillian protested. “I’m not going with you.”
“Yes, you are.”
“There’s a dead man in my apartment!” she almost yelled, then realized she couldn’t have the neighbors hearing—that was if they hadn’t heard all the commotion yet. But Jack’s hand on her wrist was like steel, and they managed to get down one flight of stairs to the ground floor before he finally responded.
“The man’s not a man, and he’s no longer in your apartment,” he said shortly. “I threw him out the window, so don’t worry.”
“Don’t worry?” she echoed. She gaped. His hand loosened a bit as he opened his mouth to explain.
Immediately, Jillian yanked her hand away, kicking him in the stomach and taking the painting with her. She heard a grunt, but she was already flying out the door and into the streets, the fury and panic warring inside her.
Thankful she was wearing sneakers, because she couldn’t make as much headway as she was making now if she was wearing heels. She didn’t look back, instead trying to get to her destination as fast as she could: the gallery, where she could ask Paula for help. There was no one around in the street she was using: an inconvenience more than anything.
The back of her neck prickled again.
Something screeched at her back, and she felt pain slam on her right shoulder before a snarl came.
Then Jack was suddenly there, tackling something off her to the ground. She stopped in her tracks and stared at what he was rolling around with, her mind warring with her eyes and making her wonder if this was all a nightmare. The one he was fighting with wasn’t the same man.
In fact, it wasn’t a man at all.
It was…a creature—one with a hunched back and claws on its hands and feet, its head full of something slimy and sharp yellow teeth marring its mouth. The same red eyes from earlier were also on that face, making her body shake again before she instinctively took a step back.
The creature’s head snapped in her direction. It leaped, but Jack snatched it back.
“Run!” Jack shouted at her. “Goddammit, run and stop staring!”
Her mind told her the same, but her feet were rooted in place. A string of expletives came out of Jack’s throat as the creature almost bit his face off. Then something happened that had Jillian’s blood pounding, had shock filling her and making her go numb.
Jack was changing right before her eyes.
He was turning into something that had claws, too. And teeth. And black fur.
A panther, her mind supplied.
A beast.
Chapter 6
The goddamn demon was as strong as an ox and as mean as they came, playing dirty tactics and practically ripping his face off as they wrestled on the ground. It left Jack no choice but to show his true nature, only glad that there wasn’t a single person in this back alley to witness it.
Except for Jillian.
He managed to remove his leather jacket, even managed to catch her gaze. Then he was transforming, watching shock hit her before his beast took over and continued fighting with the demon.
Now they were almost in equal strength, but he needed to finish the bastard off before more of its comrades came.
Then he’d be in real trouble.
It wasn’t easy because the demon was fighting with all it had. It was the man he thought he’d already killed earlier, then tossed out Jillian’s window without a second thought. But what he thought he killed was now attacking him with all its strength, and Jack had to resort to dirty tactics, too, just to get the upper hand.
He managed to get a claw in, clutching at the demon’s neck. Then he yanked, hearing the pop before he heard the rip. The demon’s head tore off and rolled on the ground, dark blood and pus spilling and almost touching Jack’s panther form.
He leaped out of the way. Then his sharp eyes looked around, noting that there was no one else. When he looked back at the demon, it was already starting to evaporate.
Time to shift back, then.
It took him less than ten seconds to turn back to his human form. He picked up the jacket and wrapped it around his waist, covering his naked lower half. Then he turned to look at Jillian, who was still standing in place and clutching the covered painting as if her life depended on it.
Shit.
“You should have run,” he said, walking towards her. Her brown eyes were wide and staring at the spot where the demon was, and he didn’t think she even noticed that he’d shifted back. He placed a tentative hand on her shoulder.
She jumped back as if electrocuted but continued standing there in shock. Her eyes were on him, unfocused, and she took in the sight of his naked chest.
“Jillian.”
Her gaze snapped up. “You’re not human.”
“Yes. And I’m the only one who can keep you from getting killed from those demons right now. We need to leave.”
As if on cue, his ears caught on to the sound of footsteps—no, not footsteps, but non-human scurrying. He grabbed Jillian’s arm.
“Either come with me, or I’ll have to hold them off.”
“Them?”
The first demon burst out from behind one of the iron cast buildings, running after them.
Jillian’s eyes widened. Then she was shakily nodding her head and running with Jack.
They ran and ran, never stopping. He thought Jillian would be in a catatonic state and he would have to guide her, but no. He only had to give her the address they needed to go to before she was leading the way, running surprisingly fast in and out of the alleys she took him in. The demons fell behind, but his sensitized ears could still feel the vibrating ground and knew they were still on their trail.
Which was why it was a relief when Dean’s gallery came into view.
He took the lead and practically pulled her to catch up, as she was running low on energy. Then he slipped a key in and opened the side door, letting her in first before he followed and locked it. The inside of the gallery was dimly lit, indicating that it was closed, and he ushered her in.
No sounds followed from outside, and he had a feeling he lost them. But they could still smell him and keep following, anyway, though his and her scent would probably disappear once those bastards got in this area.
“Jack—”
The voice had Jack turning, then striding over towards Dean, who was still dressed in his usual pressed clothes. His brows were furrowed again, but they cleared into surprise when he finally took note of Jillian, who was still standing in a corner. Then Dean took in his naked state, hurrying to his office before coming back with clothes, which Jack put on without complaint.
Jack ushered Jillian forward right after, watching her face turn wary as she eyed Dean, who eyed her back rather intensely.
“Don’t intimidate her,” Jack warned.
“I wasn’t.”
“The painting’s here. You were right. Demons are after it.”
Dean nodded, his expression not changing at all. They walked over to the marketplace painting.
