Her Wild Protector

She hit the clicker repeatedly.

“Stop, please wait, I need to talk to you,” he called.

The door handle slipped from her sweaty palm. She cursed and pulled again.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He’d arrived at her car just as she managed to open the door.

“Damn right you’re not,” she said, jumping into the car. He grabbed the door before she could shut it.

“I just want to talk to you for a minute. Please. I promise not to harm you.”

“Then talk through the window,” Tara said, and pulling hard, shut the door and clicked the locks. She shoved the key in the ignition with shaking hands, started the car and slid the window down a crack.

“Tell me what you saw back there,” he said.

“I saw you with that woman who was in that horrible car crash. Right after you kissed her. Don’t worry, I’m not going to tattle. I don’t get involved in office gossip.”

“You saw something else, didn’t you?”

The fearful look in her eyes must have given her away, but Tara was not about to reveal what she’d seen, or thought she’d seen.

“It’s important that you tell me. You could be in danger.”

“I said I won’t blab your secret. Lots of people play kissy-face after a few drinks. It’s no big deal. Now, let go of my car, I need to leave.”

“You have to give me a chance to explain. I’ll meet with you somewhere, in a public place, wherever you feel safe. You work in accounting, right? I’ve seen you there."”

“Hey Marshall,” a voice called and looking around the body blocking her window, Tara saw a man running up to them. So Mr. D & D’s name was Marshall. Good name.

“There’s a cop here. He wants to talk to all of us who were having drinks with Annette. Right now.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, we’ll meet,” Marshall said to her and backed away from the car.

Without a backward glance, Tara took off and drove home as fast as she could, her hands shaking on the steering wheel. When she got to her building, she sprinted up the stairs and didn’t stop moving until her front door was securely locked and bolted. Then she leaned against the door and slid down the length, sitting on the floor to catch her breath.

What the hell just happened? This had to be one of the strangest days she’d ever had, pleasantly so up until the end. Did someone slip a hallucinogenic substance in her drink? Tara put her face in her hands and winced as she touched her forehead. No, probably not a mysterious drug—it had to be her injury. The blow to her head had her seeing things. People and cars did not glow.

She rose, poured herself a glass of wine and undressed, deciding to call this an early night. Even if that man, Marshall, wasn’t actually glowing blue the way her eyes told her that he was, she was convinced that he had something to do with the woman wrecking her car. Tara was sure. She detected an air of danger around him and more importantly, it was too much of a coincidence that he was so close to Hyena Woman moments before she crashed. He did something to her, maybe something much more ominous than a kiss. He had somehow impeded her driving ability. And Tara hadn’t stopped to gawk, but she was fairly certain the poor woman was dead. Her car was wrapped around that pole like stripes on a candy cane.

Marshall knew that Tara had seen him with that Hyena Woman Annette and because of that, he was overly eager to talk to her. Something was very off here. Thank goodness she had an unlisted number, because she did not want to talk to him. That woman was dead. And what she’d told him was true—she did not get involved with workplace politics or relationships, and if he had some bizarre agenda going on that involved people dying, all the more reason to stay far away.

Tara took a long, steamy shower then climbed into bed and forced herself to read a few chapters of her book. Eventually her nerves settled down and she slept.

* * *

All the next day Tara fought a sense of unease. When she concentrated, she was still able to zip through her tasks as quickly as she had the previous day, but her mind kept wandering to the strange events of the evening before. Though curious by nature, warning bells dinged loudly and her intuition told her not to get involved in this strange incident. She knew whatever was going on spelled danger.

The day finally ended, and just as she was about to head home, her work phone rang.

“Hello, you’ve reached Tara in accounting. How can I help you?”

“Meet me at the Crazy Bean Coffee Shop in fifteen minutes. This is Marshall. From last night.”

Tara’s pulse skipped a beat.

“How did you get my number?”

“I have resources. I need to talk to you and if you won’t meet with me I’ll come to your office.”

His tone held no room for argument and he’d already hung up by the time she came to her senses enough to protest. Tara believed he would make good on his threat and come up to her area in the office, so she quickly finished shutting down her computer, grabbed her purse and headed down the hall.

To her utter annoyance, she found herself drawn to the bathroom mirror where she slid on a smidge of lipstick and fluffed her hair before leaving the office. Marshall’s voice on the phone, abrupt though it had been, contained an underlying tone of sensuality and sent a ripple of pleasure through her. Though she fully intended to keep the conversation brief and was only going along with his demand so he would leave her alone, she wanted to look good doing it.

She stepped outside and was greeted with a gust of wind. So much for primping. Her hair flew everywhere and she squinted with her hand held over her eyes. It was bright, sunny and breezy—a perfect day. The Crazy Bean was not far away, so Tara decided to walk. She didn’t plan to spend much time in the establishment and figured she could get away easier on foot if she needed to. Besides, the coffee shop was always busy. If Hot and Crazy tried anything, a loud yell would bring help.

Her heart did a little flip when she saw him sitting at a table. Even if he was a lunatic, he was a damn fine-looking one. Today he wore blue jeans and a long-sleeved button-down shirt. It was open just enough that she could see a patch of dark hair on his chest. As she got closer, the faint scent of an enticing woodsy aftershave or cologne reached her nostrils and made her pulse skip a beat. He still had on those sunglasses, and though they made him look hot as hell, people who wore shades indoors irritated her. She slid into the seat across from him.

“So talk. I don’t have a lot of time,” she began. In reality, she had nothing but time this Friday night, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.

A server took her order, then he leaned in close and lowered his voice.

“When I saw you yesterday, you said something about seeing some kind of light. A blue light. Is that correct?”

“I was having a problem with my eyes. Too much staring at a computer, that’s all.”

“You’re a poor liar, Tara. This is important, so please tell me the truth. You saw me change to another form last night, didn’t you?”

Tara tried to keep her face neutral, but was sure he saw her eyes widen.

“Have you ever seen anyone do that before?” he asked, studying her closely.

She shook her head and he reached over and lightly moved her bangs from her forehead. A tingle danced through her body at his touch.

“You’re hurt. Did this just happen?”

She nodded, speech eluding her.

“Maybe that’s why you could see me change,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I need to talk to you more, find out what you can and can’t see. You’ll have to come with me to a more private place.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Tara said, finding her voice at last. “Whatever I saw yesterday was a hallucination, from this bump on my head.”

“You’ve been seeing other things, haven’t you?” he asked. “Colors a little off, shadows where they shouldn’t be, flashes of light?”

Tara stared at him, dumbstruck. That was exactly what she’d been experiencing since she hit her head.

“What’s going on? Do I have a serious injury?” Even as she asked the question, she knew that wasn’t the reason for the weirdness she’d witnessed. A blue light had come from this enigmatic man sitting in front of her, not from a figment of her imagination or the bump to her head.

“I can’t tell you any more here. Please, come with me. I promise you’ll be safe.”

“Take off your sunglasses,” she said. There would be no further discussion until she could see past the mirrored surface.

He pulled them off and her jaw dropped. His eyes were extraordinary, a deep emerald color, flecked and ringed with gold. Her own eyes were hazel and had been called beautiful, but were nothing like what she gazed into now.

Then he smiled and she was lost. The face that had struck her as ruggedly handsome now became so sensually appealing, her mouth curved unconsciously. He radiated confidence and warmth, and the sincerity she saw caused her defenses to crumble.

“Please, say you’ll come with me,” he pleaded.

“I…” she began, but stopped as Marshall suddenly stiffened. He swore under his breath and she followed his gaze to a man who had just walked into the shop.

“We should go. Now,” he said in a quiet voice, and put his glasses back on.

The man stepped up to the counter and spoke to the cashier, then turned to look at them. He smiled at Marshall, and as he did, his features changed swiftly. His face and form shifted until suddenly, a large cheetah was standing a few yards away, holding a paper cup.

Yet he was not just a cat. This creature was part animal, part man, and totally freaky. Tara’s blood froze. She yelped, and then jumped up from the table, spilling her coffee.

“Don’t move. Sit down,” Marshall said quietly, urgency in his voice.

She put her hand over her mouth.

A scream threatened to emerge and Tara couldn’t understand why no one else in the shop seemed concerned that there was a wild animal in their midst.

“Sit down,” Marshall said in a deep, low voice that was almost a growl.

“Th-that man,” she stuttered.

“I know. Sit down and look away before he sees you looking.”

It was too late. Cheetah Guy stared right at her. She took a step back and knocked over her chair. His eyebrows drew together initially in puzzlement, but in a moment his gold eyes flared with anger. He lifted a lip in a snarl, showing long, pointed teeth. Tara let out a shriek.

Marshall put a hand on her arm but Tara shook it off, grabbed her purse and ran to the door. To her horror, the large cat followed with Marshall right behind.

Regretting her decision not to drive, Tara pushed open the door, kicked up her heels and ran. She was halfway across the parking lot when she heard Marshall yell.

“Get down!”

Tara whirled and saw a figure standing halfway between her and the coffee shop, pointing an object that looked like a gun directly at her. It was the man from the coffee shop, no longer in cat form. She had never seen him before in her life but she knew he intended to kill her.

All this registered in a split second. Without thinking, she dove under the nearest car, as a strange sound zinged through the air. She felt a crackle of electricity, almost like the electrical shock she’d received two days before. From beneath the vehicle she saw the man’s feet as he ran toward her. Did he just fire that odd-looking gun at her? She heard Marshall’s voice again.

“Stop! Back away.”

She slid out a tiny bit to see Marshall pointing a weapon at the man.

“You’re not going to shoot me,” he said, then pointed his odd-looking gun behind Marshall. “You do, and I’ll blow up that building and everyone in it, I swear.”

The man kept the weapon pointed at Marshall and backed away, then turned and ran.

Marshall started to run after him, but stopped and headed toward Tara instead.

“Are you all right?” he asked as she dragged herself out from under the vehicle.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me. Go get him!”

Marshall sprinted to his vehicle, his gaze turned toward the fleeing assassin. Tara jogged over to join Marshall.

“There,” she pointed. “I see him.” She pulled the door handle.

“What are you doing? Get out of here.” Marshall jumped in and started his Jeep.

“No, I’m going with you. It was me he was shooting at.” She hopped in. “Go!”

“You can’t come with me—it’s against regulations. Get out of my car!”

“We don’t have time to argue. He’s getting away.”

Marshall exhaled loudly but put the car in reverse and started to back up. He suddenly slammed on the brakes and Tara jerked forward.

“Shit!” He smacked the steering wheel and Tara looked out the back window. A large Cadillac with a short, white-haired driver was inching out of the spot directly behind Marshall’s car, blocking him in. Though Tara longed to lean on the horn, she knew it would do no good. The little old woman would either have a heart attack or would reduce her pace even more just for spite.

Slowly, slowly she drove. Tara saw Marshall’s jaw tense and could almost hear his teeth grind. He finally had enough room to get out, and just as he backed up, the would-be assassin’s car drove past. He flipped them the bird as he flew down the road.

Marshall cursed.

“Aren’t you going to go after him?” Tara asked.

“He’s gone. There’s no way I can catch him now. Besides, he’s not the real problem.”

“Oh? Someone shooting at me isn’t a problem? I kind of think it is. What is the real problem?”

“The fact that you can see us is a huge fucking problem.”

“See who? You need to fill me in and there’s no need to curse at me.” Tara crossed her arms, partly in anger and partly to keep Marshall from seeing how hard her hands were shaking.

“Yes, we do need to talk.” Marshall put the vehicle in drive and moved forward.

“What are you doing? I need to go back to my car.”

“You’re not going anywhere until I figure out what’s going on. I have to check in with headquarters.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“My house. It’s not far from here.” He settled back with a grim expression on his face.

“I don’t want to go to your house. Let me out of here right now.” Tara tugged the door handle. In retrospect, hopping into this stranger’s car had not been the best idea, but she’d been so pissed and anxious to catch her assailant she hadn’t thought of the consequences.

“This is for your own safety. Stop pulling that, you’re going to break it. The door is locked. Now be quiet so I can concentrate.”

Tara opened her mouth to protest further, but a look at Marshall stilled her. He frowned with cold fury and though he still had his sunglasses on, she was sure his eyes were as dark as a moonless night. She leaned back in the seat and focused on getting her breathing back to normal. Her heart raced, and to her annoyance she felt tears prick her eyes as the reality of the situation hit her. She could have been killed! She bit them back, determined not to show weakness in front of this man.

After several minutes of slow inhalations, a degree of calm settled in.

“Can you at least tell me who you are?” she asked as they sat at a stoplight.

To her surprise, he took off his shades, turned in her direction and looked at her with those remarkable green eyes. Though his mouth was still tight, his expression softened a bit.

“I will, I promise. Right now I want to get you to my house where you’ll be safe. What exactly did you see at the coffee shop?”

“A gigantic cat, sort of. It looked like a cheetah, but still like a man.”

Marshall sighed and put his glasses back on. “Not good.”

The rest of the short trip was spent in silence.

Chapter Three

Tara’s state of calm evaporated as they turned off the main road to a side street, then onto a dirt driveway where the Jeep bumped along slowly. Large trees lined the path providing shade, and she heard an array of birds chirping. It was all very bucolic yet surreal after the events at the restaurant. As she often did when in a strange and potentially dangerous situation, Tara pictured herself talking to the police to explain her actions, after something horrific had happened. She feared hopping into a car with a stranger and letting him take her to his house in the woods would not be considered a prudent move.

Too late now; they were at his garage. He pulled the Jeep inside, and she was relieved to see the area was clean and organized. Shelves were stacked neatly with garage items, and his recycle bin was half-full. Surely, if he was a demented killer there would be signs of his madness. Maniacs didn’t recycle.

He got out, then came around to her side and opened her door, a gesture Tara hadn’t had performed for her in ages. That settled it—he couldn’t be crazy, he was far too polite.

Walking into his house was like stepping into the pages of a magazine. Care had obviously gone into choosing the furnishings and everything was tidy and in its proper place, quite the opposite of her cluttered home.

“You don’t spend much time here, do you?” she asked.

Marshall tossed his keys on the kitchen counter. “No, I don’t.”

There were no pictures on the walls, no books or magazines cluttering the tables. Tara glanced around for anything that would give her a clue to Marshall’s personality, but there was nothing.

“I have to make a few calls. Help yourself to water. Glasses are over the sink.”

Tara opened a cupboard to reveal a set of sparkling glasses and mugs, neatly arranged on the shelves. She thought of her own chipped, mismatched thrift store purchases and sighed. Even wild men lived better than she did.

Marshall paced the floor in the living room as he talked on the phone with someone, and Tara observed him while she sipped her water. He did not sound happy with the conversation.

“It’s Denzel. He’s in the area and he saw me and the woman. Yes, she’s here with me now. She’s safe. No sir.” A pause. “But sir, I think I would be better suited to…” Another pause. “Yes sir.”

He finally hung up and turned toward her. Though his expression was grim, Tara was again struck by the beauty of his piercing eyes, now focused on her.

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