Tempting Faith Read online

  “Sparky won’t hurt you without provocation. He’s just a friendly little kitty, aren’t you, boy?” She found a particularly sensitive spot behind its jaw, rubbed vigorously, and the purring deepened.

  Faith laced their fingers together. “Sparky,” she said. “This is Cort. He’s going to be staying here awhile.” Her soft voice, slightly higher pitched than her normal speaking tone, soothed both him and the cat.

  The leopard remained indifferent to the stranger’s hand being drawn closer and closer to his head. Faith continued to stroke the cat. She moved her free hand lower onto the animal’s shoulder and placed their joined hands on its head.

  Cort resisted the impulse to pull back. The short black fur felt coarse under his fingers. Thick, not at all like a domestic cat. But everything else seemed familiar, just on a larger scale. Ears moved back and forth as if following the conversation. The rumbling purr continued, unbroken, except when Sparky shifted to lean more heavily on Faith.

  Power, Cort thought, looking at the long legs and thick ropes of muscle visible under the fur. A perfect killing machine. Elegant. Beautiful. A creature without a conscience. Is that what Jeff saw when he looked at him?

  “He likes most people,” she said, patting Sparky with his hand, then slipping her fingers away.

  He hesitated. Their eyes met, and he continued stroking the cat. “Most? When do I find out if I’m one of the lucky ones?”

  “He wouldn’t have come in here if he didn’t like your scent.”

  Sparky straightened, as if he’d just realized Faith wasn’t the one touching him. He rose to his feet and walked the two steps over to Cort. Even though the kitchen chair was relatively high off the ground, Sparky practically stared him in the eye. The cat sniffed at his hand, then his arm. Cort wanted to get the hell away, but he held his position. He knew that much.

  Predator to predator. He recognized Sparky’s need to understand the intruder. If this was her chaperon, it was no wonder Faith wasn’t married.

  Sparky made the coughing sound again, then turned away and walked next to the refrigerator. The one-inch-thick chain trailed behind him. The rumbling purr became a humph as he laid down, then resumed.

  Faith began to clear the table. When she went to put the butter away, she nudged Sparky out of the way so that she could open the door. Cort wasn’t sure if he should respect Faith or have her committed.

  “Do you want to drive around the compound?” she asked. “I’ve cleared my morning so that I could show you anything you would like to see.”

  Before he could respond, a loud shriek pierced the morning. Even Sparky stopped purring.

  “Damn,” Faith muttered, apparently more annoyed than concerned as she walked out of the room. “What are you two up to now?”

  Cort grabbed his crutches and followed her. The shrieks came again, this time followed by plaintive mewing.

  “You can’t be hungry,” Faith said, moving down the hall toward a dim light in a room on the right. “I just fed you.”

  The mewing got louder. Cort continued to hobble behind her. When they entered the room, he saw a big cage that filled most of the floor space. Inside, blankets formed a soft nest. Newspapers lined a far corner of the cage. The striped bundle in the middle of the blankets moved as they walked closer. Two white tiger cubs looked up and mewed piteously.

  “Here they are,” Faith said as she crouched down beside the babies. “Jeff sent them along to me last week.”

  “This is what the reporter was after?”

  “Yes. They were confiscated at the border. Something about being added to the collection of some big-time crook.” She looked up and smiled. “Think you can keep them safe?”

  *

  William Thomas paced the small motel room. He needed a drink, but he couldn’t afford to miss his phone call. What would happen to him now? he wondered for the hundredth time. What would they do to him? Second chances didn’t exist in his organization. But it hadn’t been his fault. They had set the rules. No killing, they’d insisted. If he’d iced the border control officer none of this mess would have happened.

  He swallowed thickly and again wished for that drink. Maybe he could run to the liquor store across the street. It wouldn’t take long and—

  The ringing of the telephone cut into his thoughts. He picked it up immediately.

  “Yes?” he said curtly.

  “I’m very disappointed, Mr. Thomas.”

  “I know. It was an accident. The rules I had to work under were too restrictive.”

  “I don’t care about accidents. I want the job done.”

  “Of course.” William forced himself to speak calmly. The fact that they hadn’t killed him yet meant he might be given the chance to redeem himself.

  “Our mutual employer is still out of the country,” his caller said, the voice low and cold. “You have exactly twenty-one days until his return. If the cubs are recovered by then, he would be very forgiving of your little accident.”

  “I can get them back. As soon as I find out where they are—”

  The man on the phone cut him off again. “They were on the news last evening.”

  “What? The cubs?”

  “Yes. A reporter, a James Wilson, filed a story. Locate him and you’ll locate the cubs.”

  “Consider it done.”

  “Mr. Thomas, I shouldn’t have to remind you that you can’t afford to make another mistake.”

  William wished he could ignore the implied threat, but doing so would cost him his life. “I need to be able to do whatever is necessary,” he said. “You can’t tie my hands and then complain that the job isn’t done.”

  “Recover them. At any cost."

  William nodded. He’d just been given permission to get rid of anyone who stood in his way. Better. Now he could finish the job. “You can count on me.”

  “Twenty-one days, Mr. Thomas. Our mutual employer spent a lot of money on the cubs. They are the centerpiece of his collection. If you don’t succeed, we will be forced to discontinue our association. Do you understand?”

  Who wouldn’t understand a .45 slug between the eyes? “I understand.”

  There was a click, and the line went dead.

  Chapter 4

  “Hush, babies,” Faith said as she crouched down and opened the cage. “Come on. We’re here.” The larger of the two tiger cubs tumbled toward her, mewing loudly. “You’re lonely, aren’t you?” When the kitten reached her, she picked it up and cradled it in her arms. “All this fuss over twenty pounds of trouble.”

  Cort looked stunned. He reached out to pat the cub. The white-striped cat made a garbled sound that was supposed to be a growling hiss and hunched back against her.

  “Hold your hand out,” she instructed. “Let it sniff you.”

  “It?” His gold-flecked eyes met hers. He shifted his weight and leaned on the crutches, offering his fingers to the cub.

  “One’s a boy, the other’s a girl, but I still have trouble telling them apart.”

  “How old are they?” he asked.

  “Around three months. We can’t be sure. They can see what’s going on around them, and that doesn’t happen until about two months. You want to hold it?”

  She looked at Cort. The scar on his chin looked less raw this morning, and the shadows under his eyes had faded. Except for the crutches and the gaunt hollows in his cheeks, she wouldn’t know he’d ever been injured.

  “Sure,” he said, shifting his weight so he leaned against the wall. He set the crutches next to him, securing them near the cage.

  “Here, baby,” Faith said, moving close to him and petting the cub. “They thrive on attention. In the wild, they’re totally dependent on their mother. They won’t even stray from her side until they’re more than a year old. They want to be cuddled, don’t you?” She softened her voice and nuzzled the kitten’s soft ears. “You’re a sweet baby. Hold your arms out, Cort, and cradle it while I’m still holding on.”

  She moved until she
was inches from him, then felt his hands slip between her and the cub. His knuckles brushed against her belly. A shiver raced through her, and she had to fight not to jump. What on earth…?

  “You got it?” she asked.

  “I think so. God, he’s so soft. Come here, monster,” Cort said, keeping his tone low and calm. “Get a load of those feet.”

  She gave the cub one last pat and stepped back. “They’ll both grow to be several hundred pounds.”

  “That’s a lot of kitty.” Cort held the kitten in his arms. The animal looked from her to Cort, then mewed and snuggled close to his chest.

  “It likes you.” Something sharp nibbled on her ankle. “You want attention, too, don’t you?” She leaned down and picked up the smaller cub. Icy blue eyes stared back at her. The small triangular nose quivered as it inhaled her scent. “The changes have been hard on them. I don’t know how many people have handled and fed them, but it’s pretty obvious they haven’t had a stable life.”

  “So now you’re doing cat therapy?”

  “Cort!”

  He grinned. “How rare are white tigers?”

  “It depends,” she said. “Some people are breeding white tigers, but they aren’t true mutants. You can tell by the eye color. A true white tiger has blue eyes. Just like yours, huh?” She scratched the cub’s head. The baby arched back against her hand and wiggled to get closer. “They have brown stripes on white fur, and the nose and lips are pinkish gray.”

  “I never thought of tigers as having lips.”

  He held the cub securely, but without too much pressure. The lonely cat sniffed at his neck and face, making throaty noises and generally looking pleased.

  “Not quite the same as fighting warlords and terrorists, is it?” she asked.

  Their eyes met. She felt that same shiver again, but this time he wasn’t even touching her. Her heartbeat clicked up a notch, pounding harder and faster in her chest. Her palms suddenly felt damp, and she fought the urge to moisten her lips. What was happening to her?

  “So who takes care of them?” he asked. “You?”

  “I’ve been sharing the duties with the kids, when they’re here, but it would be better to have just one person. After all the cubs have been through, they need some stability.”

  Cort shifted suddenly and disentangled the cub’s claws from his shoulders. “I’m not a scratching post,” he told the animal. “They’re feisty little buggers, aren’t they?”

  “Yeah, and hungry. They get fed every few hours. They have to be rubbed down and massaged to keep their circulation and bowels going. They need attention and affection and a lot of other things I don’t have time for.”

  “You want a volunteer?” he asked.

  “I wasn’t hinting.”

  “Yes, you were.”

  “Okay, maybe I was. But it’s a lot of work and time.”

  He glanced around the small room. “Once I get the security system installed, maintenance shouldn’t take much of my day. If they don’t object to a gimpy role model, I’ll give it a try.”

  She told herself the sensation of nerves in her stomach came from relief and nothing else. Certainly not from being near Cort. He was here to protect her and the cubs. She knew better than to risk being attracted to any man.

  “Are you sure?” she asked. “I really didn’t mean to make you think you had to help. Keeping the cubs safe is my main priority.”

  “Mine, too.” He gave her a slow smile. It caused lines to crinkle by the corners of his eyes. She felt her own lips tug in response. “I’m here because of them, Faith. If I help you with feeding and whatever else you do, I’m also looking out for them.”

  It seemed easiest to accept gracefully. After all, she really didn’t have time to take care of the cubs along with all her other duties. “Thanks.” She placed the baby she was holding back in the cage and reached for the other one. “Let me show you the feeding schedule. Then we can tour the compound. By the time we’re done, it’ll be time to feed them and you can get your lesson in Tiger Mothering 101.”

  She secured the cage. Cort collected his crutches. The cubs stared up at him and began to mew. He looked at her. “How do you resist them?”

  She shrugged. “Practice, and the knowledge that if they had their way, someone would be with them twenty-four hours a day.” She shook her head. “That’s the worst of it. People smuggle in rare animals because they want to own something unique, but they don’t bother to consider the animal itself. They don’t think about the special diet and attention, the needs of babies this tiny.” She crouched down and patted the smaller of the two through the wire cage. “Poor sweeties. We need to find you a good home, and fast.” She rose and started out of the room.

  “How long will that take?” Cort asked, hobbling behind her.

  “It depends. It’s not that easy to hand them over to a zoo or a breeding center. Tigers are expensive to keep and cubs are demanding. Most facilities don’t have the room, the personnel or the funds. Jeff wants to make sure he gets it right the first time. That’s why they’re with me. I can hold them longer than most places.”

  They entered her office. Photos of big cats lined the walls. Her scarred, thrift-store desk took up a good portion of the space. File cabinets and a couple of chairs filled the rest. Faith waved him into the seat in front of her desk. Cort settled into the chair and placed the crutches on the floor.

  “How’s the leg?” she asked as she pulled open a file cabinet drawer and withdrew several forms.

  “Not bad. I should be walking without help in a day or so.”

  “Good.” She turned around and looked at him.

  In his jeans and long-sleeved cotton shirt, he looked like any local. Most of the men living on the mountain did physical work for a living, so his broad shoulders and defined muscles wouldn’t set him apart. It had to be something else that made her heart flutter foolishly. Maybe it was the shape of him—lean and graceful with a concealed power. Even with the bandaged leg and crutches, he reminded her of her cats, moving carefully, deliberately, the wary instincts of a predator never far below the surface.

  “These are the forms I use to keep track of the cubs’ care.” She handed him several papers. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble with them.”

  He glanced at the sheets and nodded. “Looks simple enough.”

  “When we feed them, I’ll go over the amounts of formula each needs.” She closed the file cabinet and sat in the old rickety wooden chair behind her desk. “They usually just scarf down whatever we give them. These are not picky eaters.”

  “Good.” He read on. “Playtime?”

  She nodded. “They need a certain amount of social interaction. You’ll probably want to wear gloves.”

  The flecks in his eyes seemed to glint with amusement. He smiled. “Gloves?”

  “You’ve seen their claws.”

  “Felt them, too.” He rubbed his shoulder. “Could be worse, I suppose. You could be asking me to wrestle Sparky.”

  She smiled. “Not until you’re feeling better.”

  “Great.” He leaned forward and placed the papers on her desk. He bumped several other sheets, and they fluttered to the ground. “Got ’em,” he said, reaching down and grabbing them.

  “Thanks.” She took the offered forms and grimaced. “Government paperwork.”

  “Aren’t you used to it?”

  “No. We’re privately funded. I’m helping Jeff with the cubs as a favor, but for the most part, I don’t work with government agencies.” She stared at the papers stacked on her desk. “Most of these files are for a new project I’m thinking of starting. I counted. There are one hundred and eighty-seven forms there. Who knows how many agencies and bureaucrats for me to deal with.”

  “What for?”

  She tossed the sheets on the desk and leaned forward, lacing her hands together. “I want to breed snow leopards.”

  She half expected him to laugh. She’d mentioned the project to one of the way s
tation’s contributors, and he’d patted her on the head and told her not to bite off more than she could chew.

  “Why?” Cort asked.

  “They’re almost extinct. I bought some land a few years ago in North Dakota. It’s away from everything. The climate is good for the leopards. If I could get a few breeding pairs and mate them in captivity, in a couple of generations there would be enough to release several back into the wild. They would help not only with the numbers, but by increasing the gene pool. That’s the problem when a species becomes endangered. There aren’t enough genes to create a healthy population.” She stopped suddenly, aware of how she was going on.

  But Cort seemed interested. He adjusted his injured leg, then rested his hands on the arms of the chair. “What’s all the paperwork for?”

  “I have to get permission from federal, state and local governments. I have to have the approval of all the neighbors. There are zoning permits, financial qualifications. I’ve seen an attorney, and she gave me some direction, but I’m a little overwhelmed by the whole issue.”

  “Why? You run this place.”

  “It’s not the same. The way station was already established when I arrived. Edwina was a little eccentric, but she had a head for business as well as cats. My changes around here have been minor.” Faith fiddled with a pencil, fighting the familiar feelings of inadequacy. “I have a two-year degree in animal husbandry, but no formal business training, which presented a problem. Before her death, Edwina had asked me to take charge, but several of the board members tried to get it away from me.”

  One gold-blond eyebrow raised slightly. “Why? You’re damn good at your job.”

  “How would you know?”

  He pointed at his leg. “You did a terrific field dressing.”

  “Why, thank you. I’ll explain that to the IRS and my attorney when I set up the nonprofit foundation.”

  She was smiling, but Cort saw the faint worry lines puckering between her brows. He was intrigued by what Faith was telling him, yet knew better than to get involved. Until the cubs had been moved somewhere else, she and this facility were his responsibility. When the danger was over, he would be long gone. It was one of the advantages of his job.