Byron deliberately took Marita to the front entrance of the palazzo with its double doors and marbled stairway. So late at night, the doors were securely locked. He used the knocker ruthlessly. Holding her upright, he whispered the command to awaken her, making certain to plant the memory of a long, fast trek through the mountain path in her mind.
Helena opened the door. She took one look at Marita covered in blood and shrieked loudly. Two servant girls, gathering wraps for the evening to go home took up the cries until the palazzo was ringing all the way to the vaulted ceilings. Marita burst into tears again, wailing to the dead and everyone else in hearing distance. She clung to Byron like glue, holding him prisoner in the midst of drama.
Antonietta. Lifemate. Rescue me. I cannot take these women and their histrionics another moment. Where are you?
She was as calm as ever. Where were you when I woke to find my bed empty?
Byron sighed. The household erupted into total pandemonium. Helena drew Marita into the entryway, speaking so rapidly he could barely understand her. For a brief moment he was free. Marita collapsed again on the floor. He did the gentlemanly thing and caught her before she hit her head on the cool marble. I could use a little sympathy.
What happened?
Marita found a dead body up in the grove.
A dead body? How awful. No wonder she’s carrying on like that.
He had been dead for some time. It is not necessary for her to carry on. She did not see his throat ripped out.
His throat was ripped out? Poor Marita, no wonder she is so upset.
Upset is not the word I would have chosen. And what of me? I am a sensitive man, but you have no sympathy for my nerves when she is screaming so.
Sensitive? You with the dead body and no reaction?
Antonietta. A gentle reprimand when she was having so much fun at his expense.
Was it Enrico? He is still missing.
Bryon paused before answering. Antoinetta was beginning to sound horrified. He didn’t need her joining the other women with their hysteria and shrieking cries.
I do not get hysterical. A heartbeat. Two. Ever.
She was closer. The entryway was crowded with women talking, crying, and screaming. Byron thought he might break into a sweat if he wasn’t rescued soon. Marita leaned heavily against him, clinging with hands that were trembling. Antonietta, move it! I know you are coming as slowly as possible.
Franco rushed into the entryway, caught sight of his wife covered in blood and sagging against Byron’s restraining hands as he held her up. Franco didn’t even pause. He charged Byron, flailing at him with fists, nearly hitting Marita in the head when she bobbed in his way, trying frantically to grab him.
“Enough.” Byron uttered the command between clenched teeth. His voice was ultralow, but the power and force of it swept through the room, could be felt all the way to the highest reaches. Vases rocked. Pictures on the wall shuddered and went still.
There was instant silence. No one moved or spoke. A wind swirled through the room, a rising howl of protest. Antonietta swept into the entryway, Celt close to her side. “Byron, do shut the door. The air’s so cold, and poor Marita is in shock. Helena, quickly, see to it that Marita’s bath is run. Franco, take her upstairs at once while I inform the authorities of the terrible tragedy in our grove.”
The world narrowed and curved until his vision tunneled and the room was gone. The women disappeared. Franco was gone. There was only Antonietta coming toward him. Byron couldn’t help staring at her. Her voice had always carried confidence, but now her tone was even more compelling. She seemed to glow. His Carpathian blood in her body was already enhancing her natural beauty. She carried authority like a mantle, dignified and unafraid while chaos reigned around her. She left him soft inside. Happy. At peace. Whole.
Her family responded to her voice. Marita collapsed in her husband’s arms. Paul and Justine arrived together, breathless and wide-eyed. Tasha hovered near the archway, regarding Byron with suspicion.
“He saved me.” Marita buried her face against Franco’s chest. “I can’t bear to have this man’s blood on me. It was horrible.”
Franco looked up at Byron. “Grazie. I owe you.”
Byron walked straight, purposefully, to Antonietta. In front of her entire family he pulled her into his arms, held her close to him until their hearts picked up the same rhythm. There was pure possession in his posture, a clear signal to the others that he was with Antonietta to stay. She responded immediately, wrapping her arms around him and turning her face up for his kiss.
He bent his head to hers. Her lips were warm and soft and welcoming. Her mouth was hot and moist and exotic. For a moment everything and everybody receded to a distant place. Antonietta tasted of honey and spice. Of love and laughter.
“Funny how he always shows up right when one of us is in danger,” Tasha muttered loud enough for everyone to hear. She glared at Byron.
Byron lifted his head to look at her, his black eyes burning red, his fangs exposed when he smiled. He had enough of Cousin Tasha and her ugly games with Antonietta. If she wanted to play with no rules, he was more than willing. She often made Antonietta’s life very uncomfortable. It wouldn’t hurt the woman to have a taste of her own medicine.
Tasha gasped and stepped back, crossing herself. When she blinked, Byron’s smile was normal, his face handsome. The red flames flickering in the depths of his eyes were merely a reflection of the many burning candles scattered around the entryway.
Tasha shivered, but she deliberately walked straight to her cousin’s side, her huge, dark eyes angry. “How did you happen to come upon Marita and a dead body, Byron?” There was a challenge in her voice.
“Thank the good Dio you found her, Byron,” Antonietta said. She touched Tasha briefly. “You must call the authorities at once. Say there has been a dreadful accident in the grove. Ask the good captain to come. Tell him our people are already used to his presence, and with everyone so nervous, I would appreciate it if he were to come personally.” I sense her uneasiness. What are you doing to her?
What am I doing to her? She practically accused me of assaulting Marita.
Antonietta made a small gesture of acceptance. That is just her way, to strike out when she is upset or afraid.
Byron set his teeth. Cousin Tasha needs manners.
Tasha nearly leapt for the phone, forgetting her determination to save Antonietta from her own folly in the hopes of seeing the handsome captain. “Of course, Antonietta.”
“Paul, go to Nonno and let him know what is happening. I don’t want him any more upset than necessary.”
Franco led a sobbing Marita away, with Helena clucking soothing nonsense and promising a bath immediately.
That was it, Byron decided. Antonietta was blind, yet she knew who was in the room, and she took instant command. She was incredible. His heart was beating loud, and he calmed it. Pride for her. It both amused him and alarmed him that he could read her thoughts of confusion in her relationship with him. She believed they would have a short-term affair, he would go on his way, and she would continue her life. She was slowly coming to the realization that she didn’t want him to go, but she still expected it. Neither of them had a choice, but she had no way of knowing it, and he had no intention of compounding her resistance by enlightening her.
Antonietta moved closer to him, fitting her body into his, resting on his strength in the midst of the hysterics. She rubbed her face along his chest, went ramrod stiff, and stepped away from him. You’ve been with another woman. The accusation was a statement of fact, the words shimmering in his mind, orange red with flames. It was another betrayal, and it shattered her. He could feel the waves of anger mixed with a ferocious grief.
There will never be another woman. Never. Not for me. He used his purest tone, one unable to utter an untruth.
“Antonietta,” Justine said. “We have to talk, all of us. Paul, you, even Bryon and me. We can’t let this continue.”
Antonietta lifted her chin, her body slightly swaying toward Byron’s as if for protection or comfort. The small, telltale gesture turned his insides to mush. Byron put his arm around her and gathered her beneath the protection of his broad shoulder, sheltering her from the pain of Justine and Paul’s treachery. He could feel Antonietta wanting to believe him, struggling against the purity of his tone and her own senses.
“This is hardly the time for me to try to make sense of what you did, Justine. I am too angry and hurt to listen to either of you. As for Paul shooting us, I still have no idea what to do. I suggest he stay out of the way of the authorities when they arrive.” There was that faint haughty note in her voice that Byron was beginning to recognize as more of a defense than an offense.
I still can smell her on you.
He bent and kissed the tip of her nose. My sister has arrived from my homeland. She has taken a villa with her life mate and son near the city overlooking the sea. I believe we discussed Josef and his peculiarities. He wishes to paint, so they are allowing him the opportunity.
The suspicion in her mind cleared at once. Antonietta flung her arms around his neck. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I doubted you.
Betrayal is a way of life in your family, Antonietta. It is not in mine. I say that only to reassure you. It is a natural conclusion when you wake alone, and I return with the scent of another woman on me.
Justine planted her body firmly in front of Antonietta even as Paul hurried off to his grandfather’s room, carefully avoiding Byron’s gaze. “Antonietta. I made a terrible mistake, but you can’t just throw away thirteen years of friendship. You know you’re my family. My only family. This is painful.”
Byron’s hand came up to massage the sudden tension from the nape of Antonietta’s neck. His fingers were gentle, his mind soothing so that she was able to keep from shaking with anger and hurt.
Antonietta was silent a moment. “I’m glad it’s painful for you, Justine. It should be. It’s painful for me to know you would betray everything we had simply because you’re sleeping with my cousin. I can’t imagine the man I am with asking me to do such a thing, and if he did, I can’t imagine complying or staying with him. Paul uses people. He’s very good at it, but then you knew that going into the affair.”
Justine turned a dull red, her eyes avoiding Byron. Her lips quivered for a moment, but then her chin went up, and she turned abruptly on her heel and swept away. Byron watched her go, noted that her back was ramrod stiff and her hands were clenched into tight fists.
“What are you going to do about her?” Byron asked. His hand moved from her nape to the small of her back, continuing the soothing massage.
“I have no idea. I should fire her, tell her to pack her bags and go, but I don’t know if that’s hurt talking or good business sense. Justine is just as entitled as everyone else to her mistakes.”
Treachery. The word hissed through his mind, a clear, scorching burn that left black smoke and a bad taste behind. Byron liked none of it, but Antonietta’s sense of loyalty and responsibility to her family and friends was enormous. He tried hard to understand why she loved them so much. Why it was so important to her to help them. He wanted to see the things in her family she saw. He wanted to care for them as she did. Don Giovanni had earned his respect and loyalty. He doubted the others ever could, but he was determined to give them every chance.
“I wish you could grow to love my family, Byron,” Antonietta said.
He could share her mind and view them the way she did, but Byron wanted nothing to inhibit his senses when it came to her family. “We will work it out.”
“Is your sister really here, Byron?” Antonietta didn’t want to think about either Paul or Justine.
“Yes, she is really here. Do not sound so happy about it. She has brought young Josef, and that alone is enough to have us all running for cover. If you think you have strange relatives, you have not met Josef.”
“They must come for dinner,” she said. “Tomorrow night. You’ll invite them, won’t you?” She rubbed her face along his shoulder much like a cat. “That way I can meet the infamous Josef. I’m really looking forward to it.”
He groaned deliberately to make her laugh. “You just want to make me squirm.”
“Well, there’s that, too.”
“Do you think it will help Tasha to remember I was not found under a rock?” There was wealth of amusement in his voice.
She tipped her head back as if she could see him through her dark glasses. “You honestly don’t care whether she likes you or not, do you?”
“Not particularly. I have never cared one way or the other. Does it change who or what I am? My honor demands a certain code of behavior. I cannot change it for someone else.”
“Can you really read minds? Literally? I have ideas, like a thought or image in my head, and I know I’m picking it up from someone else, but I can’t read minds,” Antonietta admitted in a burst of confidence when she was normally very discreet about her unusual gifts.
He laced his fingers through hers and brought her hand up to his mouth, nibbling on her fingers. “Sit down with me a moment in the solarium. After all the screaming, I could use peace before the captain arrives.”
She went with him, intrigued by the idea he might be able to read other minds. They were connected, she accepted that, but it seemed different that he might be able to hear the thoughts of others. “Is that what you do,” she asked curiously, “do you hear their thoughts?”
“I have the ability to scan minds.” He held the door courteously, eager to be alone with her. He needed to be alone with her. “It is not so easy in this particular region or with your family as with most. You have built-in barriers, some more than others. I suspect it is due to your bloodlines. Marita is easy enough. I picked up the image of a man. She was obviously on her way to meet him.”
“That can’t be,” Antonietta denied again. “I’m telling you, Byron, she loves Franco, almost to the point of obsession. She would never do anything to lose him. She loves being a Scarletti almost as much as she adores Franco. She would never have an affair. Is that what you’re implying? I will never believe it of her.”
“And why is amour the only reason for a woman to meet a man clandestinely?”
Antonietta allowed him to seat her in the deep, comfortable chair facing the waterfall. She loved the chair not for its comfort but because she could feel the spray of droplets on her face. “You’re right; of course it had nothing to do with an affair. It could have been any number of reasons.”
“She was meeting a man, Antonietta, and she was going to deliver a package to him. For all I know, it was the gentleman found with his throat torn out.”
Antonietta shivered. Byron sounded so matter-of-fact, even when discussing infidelity or brutal death. His fingers on her nape were soothing, gentle, tender even. “I highly doubt Marita was going to meet a man for any purpose. What package? You never said a word about a package.” Celt pushed his nose into her palm, and Antonietta obediently scratched his silky ears.
“In all the excitement, Marita forgot she was carrying a package, but I am willing to bet she will remember when her head clears of fear and distaste. She did not want anyone to see. That was very important to her.”
“I don’t like this. I feel in the middle of a great conspiracy. I have no idea what’s going on around me, or even why.”
“I just happened to pick up the package when Marita swooned.”
“She swooned? She is very good at that. Tasha is jealous and wants to be able to drop gracefully to the floor at a moment’s notice. I doubt if anything is capable of making me swoon.”
He leaned into her, kissed her hard, possessively. “I can make you swoon if you wish it.”
She loved the way he sounded. Mischievous. Laughter in his mind. In his heart. He had a way of making her world right again. “I seriously doubt it.”
“I will take that as a challenge.”
“Did you open the package?” She had to ignore him. It was the only sensible thing to do when little flames licked over her skin at the heat in his voice.
“I waited for you.” He pulled the brown wrapper from inside his coat and turned it over so that the paper rustled with invitation. “Would you like me to open it?”
“Have you looked into Paul’s mind, Byron?” Her voice was suddenly tight. She caught at him. “Did he try to kill me? I love Paul. I’m not certain I can bear his wanting to murder me. Or worse. If he wanted to harm Nonno.”
For a moment, a black violence swirled in his belly, a reaction to her pain. His hand caught her chin. “I would take you away from this place and these people. We would love and live and never look back if you simply said the word to me.”
She heard the words in her head. Felt them in her soul. Byron was magical to her. If she was asked to explain it, she couldn’t, but she longed to be with him. Not for a few stolen moments but always. In his arms. Listening to his voice. Laughing at his antics. His sense of humor appealed to her. He appealed to her on every level.
“This is my home.” There was a trace of regret in her voice. “I love my family. I worked hard for my career. Would you be happy here, with me?”
His gut lurched. The doubt in her tone had him tossing the package aside and pulling her right out of the chair and into his arms. “I can be happy anywhere, Antonietta, as long as I am with you.” He pulled her to her feet, into his arms.
“I don’t know what you are, do I?”
“Does it matter? Will you love me anyway? Can you? Does it matter that I am not Jaguar? Or human? Can you share my mind and know I am of the earth, a Carpathian male, with honor and integrity? Can you not see what I stand for?” His fingertips brushed her face, down her arms to slide up inside her white lace blouse. Her skin was warm and inviting. A lush temptation far too exotic for him to ignore. He cupped her breast, took the weight in his palm, his thumb sliding in a caress over her nipple. Celt, a little privacy would be nice.
The borzoi shifted positions, padding a few feet away and dropping down to curl up, no doubt thinking him crazy.
“Can anyone see us?” Antonietta’s knees were already weak with desire. Her body flooded with hot need. How could she possibly want him, no need him, so quickly? So completely? It was actually frightening to think she could be so out of control at a mere touch. So out of character for someone who thought through her every move and planned everything down to the smallest detail.
“Does it matter?” He demanded, “Tell me, Antonietta, will you want me if I am not what you expected?”
She pushed her breast deeper into his palm, savoring the way her entire body responded to the friction. Behind her dark glasses, her lashes drifted down. “You aren’t at all what I expected. This terrible hunger I have for you isn’t at all what I expected. You make me feel desperate.”
“I am feeling a bit desperate myself.”
“You’re distracting me from the package.”
“We would not want to forget the package.” He leaned down to brush a kiss on the top of her head. His fingers massaged her body. “I cannot take my hands off of you. I am trying. But it is not working.”
Antonietta found it fascinating the way her body tightened and clenched in reaction to the stroking caress of his fingers. She wanted him right there. Right at that moment, in the solarium with its glass walls and hanging plants. With the waterfall in the background and her body wrapped around his.
“You are not helping,” he said, confirming he could easily read her mind.
“Someone could see us, Byron, walk right in, couldn’t they?” The package was beginning to be a distant memory. She should have been embarrassed that he could read her mind, read her every erotic thought, but she was grateful. She wanted him to take her, wanted to feel his body plunging deep and hard inside of hers.
He replaced his hand with his mouth. Antonietta cried out with the wave of sensations swamping her. Her arms circled his head to cradle him to her breast. Ravenous hunger rose to swamp her. Her legs shook.
“Byron? What’s happening to me? I’m not like this.” She was always cool and confident and in control in her dealings with lovers. She was never a flame burning with the raw force of a firestorm. Uncaring where she was. Whether someone might see her. She was a private person. Sex was never intense and hungry. The most important thing in the world to her at that precise moment was ripping away Byron’s clothes.
He took her glasses from her nose and set them aside. “No one can see us, Antonietta. It is impossible. Even if there was someone in the room with us, I could shield us from view.” His voice was husky. He drew her shirt over her head and let out his breath at the sight of her breasts. His senses were heightened by her needs. He could feel her through their mind link, the terrible pressure building and building deep inside of her. The heat. The shimmering fire.
Antonietta shuddered. “What are you doing to me? I can feel you in my head, feel what you’re feeling.” There was a dangerous edge to his hunger. To his need. His body was heavy and full and thick, pressing tightly against her. And he was without clothing. Her hands found his broad back, traced the muscles there. Her neck throbbed and burned. A spot over her left breast throbbed and burned. In her deepest core, small miniexplosions seemed to be going off, rocking her, making her weak.
Byron dragged her slacks down, stripping away her lace panties. “Keep your arms around my neck. Hold on, Antonietta. Hold tight.”
She wanted to protest. She should have protested if she had an ounce of decency. Instead, she wrapped her arms securely around his neck and held on tight. He lifted her. Easily. As if she had no weight to her at all. “This is crazy. And too fast. How can I want you like this?” And she was much too heavy for acrobatic lovemaking.
“Wrap your legs around my waist.”
The catch in his voice destroyed her. She obeyed him, her body open and vulnerable to the invasion of his. Antonietta cried out as he pressed against her very core. Wave after wave of sensation rocked her. Rocked him. She could feel herself through his mind. Hot. Wet. Slick. A velvet fist wrapping tightly around him as he entered her. She thought she might have screamed with the sheer ecstasy of it. But it might have been him, calling her in her mind. Pleasure shimmered around her, over her, and through her. Through him. He moved, his hips surging into her hard. Deep. She rose up, using her strength, slid down the length of him with exquisite slowness, paying particular attention to how she made him feel.
The breath slammed out of his lungs and he burned for her. Antonietta accepted her own power with a very feminine smirk and took the initiative. She began to ride him, using his mind to guide her, searching for the perfect move, her muscles milking and gripping strongly. It was heaven. Paradise. She didn’t want to ever stop.
His hands massaged her buttocks in time to the wild ride, driving the passion up another notch, while flames licked from their toes to the top of their heads. Breath mingled, air disappeared, lungs burned. Nothing mattered but the waves of pleasure washing over them. The pressure continued to build. She could feel it like a gathering volcano in him. He could feel it like a racing storm in her.
Antonietta suddenly tightened her arms around his neck, leaned into him, her teeth finding his shoulder as he plunged deep, dragging her hips downward to meet his body. Flames crackled and sizzled. Colors burst behind her eyes. Or maybe it was his eyes. It didn’t matter. His mind was solidly in hers, his body sharing hers. The earth around them rocked, rippled with life, exploded into a thousand pinpoints of light.
Antonietta lay on his shoulder, unmoving, uncertain she could move. Wondering why they both weren’t a puddle of water on the floor. The most energy she could summon was to touch her tongue to the bite mark on Byron’s shoulder. She could feel the tiny indentation with her tongue. “I bit you.”
“You do not sound sorry.”
“I think it was in retaliation. I’m fairly certain you bit my neck the first time we made love.”
His rumbling laughter caused an electrical vibration to sizzle through her body. Just that fast, it brought another orgasm. She rode it out, savoring every shudder. “I could just stay here forever.”
“I would not mind,” he agreed companionably, “but we have company.”
The door to the solarium rattled, stuck for a moment, then fresh air circulated through the room, taking the combined scent of their lovemaking and dispersing it immediately. Misters on timers began a soft spray of the plants.
“Where are you?” Tasha demanded. “I swear they came in here,” she said to the captain. “Antonietta? Byron? Diego is here. You don’t mind me calling you Diego, do you?” Her voice was sultry with heat.
Byron lowered Antonietta carefully to the ground, holding her until her legs stopped shaking enough to take her weight.
“There’s her dog.” Tasha spotted Celt. “Antonietta hasn’t gone anywhere without that dog since she got him a few days ago. She’s in here somewhere. She loves the exotic plants. Over this way.”
Antonietta stiffened, buried her face on Byron’s shoulder. She was completely naked and only a large leafy plant separated her cousin and the policeman from her. Byron’s large hands cupped her buttocks, pressed her tightly to him. They cannot see us here. Have no fear of discovery. He reluctantly let her go to drag her shirt over her head and settle her dark glasses back on her nose.
Antonietta stood in silence and darkness while he retrieved her slacks. She jumped when his hand slipped between her legs, his finger pushing inside of her. I want to be alone with you, cara mia. I hate that we can never be alone. His finger stroked deep. Her highly sensitized feminine muscles convulsed around him. She clung to him while her body went up in flames again.
Byron’s hair brushed her face as he leaned close to help her into her slacks. You are my lifemate, always in my care. He was fully clothed.
I don’t think I can breathe. Carry me upstairs. Let’s run away together.
His mouth settled over hers, a long, leisurely kiss.
“What in the world is this?” Tasha picked up the package lying in the middle of the floor. There was a smear of blood on the brown wrapper.
I fear it is too late, my love. Byron moved them so that they appeared together, walking around a giant potted palm, hands linked. Tasha found the package, and we need to know what is inside of it. We must reveal ourselves.
Antonietta tried to appear calm and cool and not at all as if she’d been having wild sex only moments earlier. Laughter was bubbling up, a very unlike Antonietta characteristic. She hardly recognized herself anymore.
“Grazie, Tasha.” Byron took the package right out of her hands and gave it to Antonietta. “I was not certain where we left that. Good evening, Captain Vantilla.” Byron bowed low at the waist.
“Signor Justicano, its good you were there to rescue Signora Scarletti.”
Tasha made a sound of annoyance. “Diego, didn’t you listen to a single word I said? What were you doing wandering the grove so late at night, Byron?”
“Tasha, you go too far,” Antonietta said quietly. “I want you to stop. There is more at stake here than your petty jealousies.”
Tasha’s breath hissed out. “Call it what you will. That man is dangerous, and I refuse to allow you get involved with him.”
Byron studied her scarlet face. She was humiliated in front of the captain, yet she persisted in spite of Antonietta’s warning. It seemed at odds with her sense of self-preservation. Could she really be afraid for you?
You’re the one who reads minds.
She would know. If I push beyond her barriers, she would know I was there. I am uncertain if I could fog her memory enough to make it worthwhile.
Who knows why Tasha does and says the things she does? Antonietta sounded weary enough that Byron swept his arm around her and dragged her to him, giving her shelter against the steady rhythm of his heart.
“You do not seemed surprised, Captain,” Byron said. “Is this the first kill? You must tell us what you know.”
The captain pushed his hand through his hair, a clear sign of agitation. “This is not the first person killed in this way.”
“Do you mean to say you’ve known of this creature, and you didn’t warn everyone?” Antonietta was outraged.
“It has been in the newspapers, signorina. We brought in the best trackers we could find. The cat has not been found.”
“In the meantime, my cousin’s wife could have been killed. That’s completely unacceptable.” There was a soft whip in Antonietta’s voice. “I have employees who walk from the city to my home daily. I don’t want to lose any of them to such a hideous fate as a wild animal killing them.”
“It doesn’t bear thinking about,” Tasha contributed with a shudder. “Marita had blood all over her. No wonder she collapsed.”
“No one should be walking around alone at night.” The captain pinned Tasha with a steely eye. “There is no reason to be in the grove until this animal is found. I believe the gentleman we found is most certainly one of your groundskeepers. Signor Franco Scarletti identified him.”
“Oh, no.” Antonietta’s fingers curled around Byron’s, hung on tight. “One of ours? We must hire security to escort our people back to their houses until this creature is caught.”
“And this has been going on for some time?” Byron prompted, his voice a compulsion for truth.
“Unfortunately, yes. In other areas for some time. Our first discovery was a young woman’s body by the sea with her throat torn out. We have plaster of the paw prints. It was identified as a jaguar, a rather large one. The general belief at the time was that someone had one of these cats as a pet, and it either escaped or, like so many others when the laws went into effect against exotic pets, it was dumped in the middle of the night.”
Tasha sank into a chair. “Our grounds are extensive, the wildest country around, and little Vincente and Margurite play all the time in the maze. They were in such danger, and we never knew.”
Diego put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I have three children at home. Madre mia takes care of them, and she is old and frail. I’ve given orders that they remain indoors, but the two oldest get away from her. I worry myself. I do know how you feel. The killings have been far between in a range of well over a hundred miles. We didn’t put it together until several months ago.”
“When did this start around here, Diego?” Tasha asked.
“The first body was found in our area nearly two years ago. We searched, of course, but nothing was found. There were two bodies found prior to that one, but it was thought they were dead and wild animals got to them. It took us awhile to put it together that one cat might be actually preying on humans.”
“And what does your wife say to this? Why does she not stay with your children?” Tasha asked.
The question was unexpected, and Diego answered truthfully before he could stop himself. “My wife did not want our children or a policeman for a spouse. She left after the bambina was born and does not want to see any of them again.” It was a painful moment for him, humiliation and anger shimmering in his dark eyes.
“Poor little bambini, abandoned and unwanted,” Tasha said softly.
“I want them,” Diego said adamantly. “They do not need a woman who will not love them.”