Tiger Family Business: Lumbercats, #4

By R.R. Born

Silas Balakin doesn't like people on the best of days and his inner tiger likes them even less. As the CEO of Two T Trees logging company, he has sent the only person he can trust as an undercover lumberjack to assess the struggling Ramsey Logging as a potential acquisition, but three months have gone by without a word from his best friend who he thinks of like a brother. Catching the first flight to Washington state, he will use every means possible to find the one person he calls family.

 

Infiltrating businesses, working undercover, being outdoors and getting paid for it. Mal Park lives for that shit. But he never expects this routine recon job to lead to her. Something about her calls to his inner beast. She's put some kind of spell on him, and he can't walk away from her.

 

Monday Ramsey feels like her family's business is under attack from all sides.

Machinery sabotage.

Employees being lured to other companies.

Inflation.

Now, some jerk from Texas wants to waltz in and take it from her. Not on her watch.

All she needs is time to convince her father that she can run the company on her own. She'll do whatever it takes to keep the family business

• Language: English
• Publisher: R.R. Born
• Release date: Apr 30, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224816798

Book preview

Chapter 1

Missing

From a wall of windows in a high-rise corner office, Silas Balakin watched the sun rise over Houston. He tapped his earbud when the voicemail began.

Goddammit, Mal. What the fuck are you doing up there?

Three months.

That’s how long it had been since he’d last spoken to the young man he took in and pretty much raised, but thought of him like a brother and best friend. Silas's inner tiger swished his tail with annoyance; even he didn’t like that. The kid was off the radar and the cat didn’t like most people, but Mal was family.

He’d sent him to the Pacific Northwest to check out a logging company he wanted to acquire. They had spoken every day during his first month, but now, dead silence.

Mal had infiltrated many logging companies and exposed poor business practices, mistreatment of employees, mismanagement, and sometimes straight-up theft of services, time, and goods. This is the type of work he excelled at. He wasn’t irresponsible by any stretch of the imagination, even though he was only twenty-two years old.

Mr. Balakin, good morning.

Silas looked up. His assistant, Alexandra Bessinger, walked in. To most, Lexi would be any man’s wet dream if they liked the librarian type. At five foot eight, she had more curves than the law should allow. Her deep chestnut hair was tied in a tight chignon, low at her neck. Her square, dark-rimmed glass hid light golden eyes that always saw too much.

The company didn’t have a dress code, but her attire always seemed to match his, a variation of black, white, and sometimes gray. Today, she wore a pin-striped pencil skirt with a man’s white Armani button-down.

One thing Silas knew, she wasn’t a witch. He hated witches and usually could smell them a mile away. It was something about their particular style of magic. The spells they cast prickled his sensitive sense of smell. If he had to guess, she was some type of clairvoyant, not that she’d ever brought it up.

Will you be needing the jet today, sir?

He’d grown accustomed to her knowing ways. Inside, a little part of him smiled every time she did this amazing thing. Not that anyone had seen him smile in a long time. Maybe not since before his parents were killed.

Yes, Lexi. That will be perfect.

Will you need just an overnight bag, or shall I have Jones pack a suitcase?

His butler, Jones, was a cantankerous old cat. Silas hated when that man packed anything for him. In one of his last out-of-town meetings, Jones had packed bright red and plaid neon green socks with white slacks and a green plaid suit jacket.

Nothing ever matched.

That man’s sense of style was a hard mixture of the eighties…1880s and 1980s.

An icy breeze hit his spine just thinking about it. Nope, Jones wouldn’t be laying a finger on anything in his closet.

You know, I’m not sure how long I’ll be away. I will pack my own bag.

Very good, sir. Lexi walked out.

He procrastinated leaving the office by finishing up a few pending issues at his smallest lumber yard in Mont Beau, Texas. If he were being honest with himself, he was waiting for that damned cub to call.

Safe travels, Mr. Balakin, and I’m sure he’s okay. Lexi gave a tight smile with a nod.

Silas didn’t smile; he never smiled but nodded in response. Hopefully, the young woman’s clairvoyant powers were firing on all cylinders, and Mal was just being a damn lazy cat. That way, he could kill him for making him worry. Not that he would ever tell him that.

Call me if there’s an emergency, but I…we should be back in a few days.

Lexi closed her eyes and shivered. Her eyes snapped open; her body stilled as her lips tightened before she turned around.

Stop. He knew she’d just seen something. What is it? If he hadn’t known the signs, he would have missed it.

Lexi finally turned around but still didn’t speak.

Lexi. It sounded like he was reprimanding an errant child. He wanted to grab her but instead he crossed his thick arms over his chest. Holding himself so taught that it caused his suit jacket to strain at the seams. Only when the one imperious brow rose that she finally seemed to have given in.

Her body slumped with a sigh as she walked to stand in front of him. Sir. You may not know this, because I don’t really talk about it. All of her words ran together.

Breathe, woman. He guided her to the nearest chair, and she sat down. Now, tell me what you saw.

Her big, golden-colored eyes went wide. You know? About me?

Not all the particulars.

His answer seemed to calm her. I’m not a witch if that’s what you’re thinking. I know how you feel about them, she said, adamantly shaking her head.

He nodded. That much I do know. I suspect you have an affinity for soothsaying.

Lexi’s brows lifted as her lips tightened into a waning smile. Something like that. Sir, normally everything is clear - like a movie, but, she shook her head, right now, nothing is clear. I don’t know exactly what you’re going to find, but I can tell Mal, she cleared her throat, I mean, Mr. Park is alive, but there’s something dark around him, and he can’t seem to find his way out.

❖

Lexi's words played on a loop as Silas walked through Mal’s temporary rental apartment. He stood in the doorway and inhaled. There wasn’t any lingering smell of blood, and there wasn’t a sign of a struggle. He didn’t need to turn on the lights because of his excellent night vision. He ran a finger through a layer of dust on Mal’s game console. At home, the boy never went a day without playing.

What could make him not play?

Mal’s place wasn’t large. Silas opened the bedroom door. The room was immaculate. Like Mal had had a designer set up the room for a showing. This normally wouldn’t surprise him. His friend had always been meticulous about his surroundings, but this room barely even carried his scent. The only way Silas knew Mal had ever been in the apartment was because of the dirty clothes in the hamper.

Silas slammed the closet door, and an unfamiliar aroma tickled his nose.

Perfume? Could all this worry be because he’s chasing some pussy?

He hoped that was it; nevertheless, the boy’s lack of communication was disturbing.

Hae-Jin Park, call me.

Silas couldn’t remember the last time he’d used Mal’s real name. In tiger form, Mal was a rare Asian Maltese tiger. Most would say he looked like a blue tiger, but in actuality, his coat was a steel gray with black stripes.

Silas was a man of few words on a good day, but these emotions made him more grouchy than usual. Besides hunting down his missing best friend, he also had a few meetings to get to. In his current mood, they might not go as well as planned. What he really needed was some vodka, but coffee would have to do. Business was business, and he needed to get this deal done.

Thirty minutes later and fully caffeinated, Silas stood in the parking lot of Ramsey Logging. An empty two-mile road led him to the office building. The dead grass and various patches of weeds revealed the evidence of where raw tree trunk material once lay. The drive-up made him feel like he was headed to a funeral. When he arrived, the vibe wasn’t much different.

Behind the Ramsey Logging office, the lumber yard held cut trees, and trucks moved the product in and dropped it off at the mill. At least, Silas was a smidgen more enthused to see that there were some signs of life in the company. He could bring a business back to life but couldn’t revive the dead.

Mr. Balakin?

A young man in a pale button-down, blue jeans, blue plaid bow tie, and a walkie on his hip stood on the steps of the small building. He was tall and slim, with clean-cut dark hair and wire-rimmed glasses, and looked as if he spent more time working on a computer than using a chainsaw. He wasn’t aware that Ramsey had another son. None of his investigators came back with that information.

Silas gave a nod.

I’m Fielding, Mr. Ramsey’s assistant. He’s been expecting you. Please follow me. Fielding tapped on his iPad, then turned to walk inside.

A cool breeze flowed over Silas, and he caught a whiff of Mal’s scent. So, the young punk has at least been coming to work.

There was something else in the air, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. At the far end of the office building, a young woman in a red and black plaid dress held her hands up as she backed away from a man dressed in khakis and a long white shirt. They weren’t yelling, but his supernatural hearing made it clear, as if he were standing next to them. They were definitely having a disagreement.

I don’t care who or what you are. Stay the hell away from me, the young woman said before she stormed off.

Mr. Balakin?

Silas looked up to find Fielding