Lizzie Lynn Lee by Night of the Lions Page A

It was in the vicinity of Alpine, Jersey.
    Gabe wrote it down. “I’ll see you there.” He disconnected and dialled Wyatt. Gabe wanted a small, elite team of personal security dispatched to Rossi’s address. He called Ren and gave him the up-to-date situation. Ren, who was at the office working, promised to meet him at the location.
    He paused and took a deep breath. He should’ve seen this coming when she’d demanded to return to her apartment. His mate was a stubborn woman. He hadn’t thought she could fool his brother or Danielson.
    Gabe opened up his safe and took out his piece, a .45 Glock. When he went down to his private parking lot, Wyatt had readied the vehicle and the team. Gabe got into the passenger side of the black SUV. Wyatt drove. They rolled out to the street under the gloomy sky. Five minutes into the ride, a light drizzle pelted the windshield before turning into a full-blown downpour. Gabe glared at the sky. Just great. Why had the weather suddenly decided to be dramatic, too? Wyatt didn’t slow down, even with the heavy rain. He hit the gas and sped towards the highway.
     
    * * * *
     
    Wyatt pulled up several houses down from Veron’s residence. The team jumped down from the SUV and joined with the other security execs that Alexandre had brought. Alex came to him, his face grave.
    “I think we’re too late. Seems like nobody is in the house. The garage is empty,” Alex informed him.
    “I smell her scent. Think she might be in there?”
    “Was. Let’s go check it out.”
    “Go on.”
    Alex motioned to Danielson, who barked at his men. Less than a minute later, the team stormed the house. They informed everyone of their progress with a link. The house was empty.
    Gabe walked through the front door to inspect the house. The foyer and living room were a total mess. It showed signs of a struggle. Near the smashed curio cabinet, he saw drops of blood. Gabe stooped, careful not to touch anything and leave forensic evidence, and sniffed.
    Cat’s blood. He knew its smell. And taste. A wave of rage surged to his head.
    Following his instincts, Gabe trudged towards the kitchen. In the middle of the floor, there was a small pool of blood. He saw a smear of it that resembled rope marks. The trail led to the basement door.
    He heard a small whine. He and Alex traded gazes. The sound came from the pantry. He took out his piece and yanked the door open.
    Alex shouted, “Freeze.”
    A wail in Spanish came out. They saw a middle-aged woman curled on the floor with her hands up. “No shoot. No shoot,” she said in broken English. Her face was streaked with tears and her clothes were dirty and caked with blood. She was sobbing furiously, but she appeared not to have sustained a serious injury.
    Alex lowered his gun. “Who are you?”
    “Must be the housekeeper. Look at her clothes,” Gabe said.
    The woman still wailed. Neither he nor Alex understood Spanish.
    Danielson rushed to the kitchen. “Sir, there’s something you have to see. It’s in the master bedroom.”
    Gabe followed Danielson.
    It looked as if a tornado had visited the master bedroom. Clothes littered the floor. Drawers had been upended and their contents were strewn on the floor. Somebody had packed in a hurry.
    Danielson pointed to the TV screen. It played a looped scene: Catherine had been bound and gagged and shoved into a large wooden crate. A yellow note was stuck on the screen.
     
    It began at the Night of the Lions. It will end there.
     
    Gabe snatched the note and crumpled it in his fist. He met Alexandre’s hard gaze. Without a word, he strode out of the room.
     
    * * * *
     
    It felt like a dream. She had seen blurry faces. The men’s and woman’s voices she had heard. At one time, she thought she had woken up in a wooden box. Then this dim room, which was hot, like a Turkish sauna. She felt sluggish and thirsty as hell. She also had to relieve herself.
    When she was finally able to focus her mind, she found herself