Read The Seven: A Taste for Jazz: Book 3 of The Seven series for Free Online Page B

here. But where? If Burns wasn't a client then what was his connection?
    She went through the desk drawers, looking for a clue. The bottom drawer contained file folders, labeled only by dates. She pulled out the folder titled 2012 and opened it. Inside were tax returns. She almost closed it but something caught her eyes.
    The gym was owned by Ed Nash and R. C. Burns. "Well, I'll be damned," she murmured to herself and closed the file. Now to find an address for Burns. She remembered Ed's address book, an old ratty affair that was at least a decade old. He kept it in the desk under his ledger.
    She located it and flipped through the pages. There was no entry for R. C. Burns. Odd. You'd think a man would keep an address on his business partner, or a phone number or something.
    But such was not the case. She wasn't going to find anything else here. Might as well leave. She'd just have to find a way to get the information from Ed.
    Rock entered through the front door, keyed in the code to the alarm then locked the door. He didn't bother to turn on the lights. He'd leave the locker room door propped open after he changed. That would be plenty of light.
    He started for the locker room then stopped. A line of light came from beneath the office door. Thinking that Ed had forgotten to turn off the light, he changed directions and made for the office. Before he reached it the light went out.
    Rock shifted without conscious thought, taking the shape of a large black leopard. Braced and ready, he waited for the door to open.
     

 
    Chapter Four
     
    This was supposed to be a piece of cake and maybe it would be if I could find the damn mark. My "locator beacon" has been binging like a damn sonar for weeks and still I haven't gotten a bead on this Burns character. What the hell?
    It can't be my case of girl wood for Rock that has me failing. I mean, yeah, I want to jump him in the worst way but I can't believe it's preventing me from finding this Burns character. Something's hinky here.
     
    Jazz let her eyes readjust to the darkness after turning off the office light then cracked open the door and eased out, relocking it and pulling it to before turning to leave. That's when the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She wasn't alone.
    She sensed more than saw the attack, feeling a disturbance in the air. Without thinking, she went on the defensive. She deflected the first blow, but winced at the rake of what felt like claws across her back.
    A low growl told her that whatever had attacked her, it wasn't human. She wasn't afraid to go one-on-one with a man, but whatever it was that was in here with her, it wasn't a man. She froze and searched the darkness, eyes darting one way and then another.
    When the gleam of green eyes caught her attention she couldn't stifle the gasp that emerged. The enormous black cat inched closer. Holy shit. It was a not just a cat, but a panther, sleek and muscular and intently focused on her.
    Jazz inched back from it. This was one of those times when it was wise to pull a Hank Snow and hit the road. She continued to inch backwards until she was far enough way she thought she had a chance. At that point she pivoted and ran. As fast as she could during the direction of the door.
    There was no sound behind her but her inner radar alerted her to another attack. She whirled around to face the cat. Only it wasn't a car attacking her. It was a man. She waited until the last possible moment then stepped out of the path of her attacker. Her counter-attack was deflected, followed by a rapid two-punch combination. One blow passed over the top of her head, alerting her that her attacker assumed her to be taller. The second found a mark in her diaphragm, hard enough to have air exploding from her lungs.
    Whoever this was he was all too human and he was meant business. Did that mean she had more than one enemy to battle? She dismissed the thought and went after him, landing one kick on the side of his face, and hearing a