Another Tiger Bites the Dust

by ML Guida

  She clasped her shaking hand over his. “I’m going to go now. If I don’t come back out…”

  “I’ll come running. Don’t worry.” He kissed her on the lips so softly that the touch eased her beating heart.

  She inhaled a deep breath and forced herself to walk nonchalantly to the bathroom. She gripped her purse close to her side. The bathroom had one stall opened, but the one she needed was closed. She pulled out her lipstick and primped in front of the mirror.

  Finally, an older woman came out of the bathroom. She darted in front of a little girl and the old woman cast her a dirty look that made Lara wince.

  She closed the door and looked behind the tank. She sighed a sense of relief. The USB drive was safely taped to the back. She quickly removed the USB drive and stuffed it into her purse, then used the toilet.

  She came out of the stall and exhaled a pent-up breath. No one was there. She quickly exited and hurried back to where Griff was waiting. He was a beacon of safety, her rock.

  Someone came out of the male restroom and she froze. Her heart was scurrying around in her chest like a spider. Grant Sellars blocked her view, but he didn’t turn around and headed toward the counter.

  She couldn’t move. Her knees were crashing into each other like cymbals.

  Griff moved at light speed toward her.

  Grant stopped then glanced over his shoulder. His evil smile sent the blood running out of her face.

  Griff shoved him against the wall. out of the way. His muscles were bulkier and his face darker. He was one step away from shifting.

  “Griff.”

  Grant twisted. “Let go of me, convict.”

  “Where were you last night, buddy?” Griff tilted his head toward Lara. “Did you torch her car last night?”

  “I said…”

  Griff put his mouth right next to Grant’s throat. “Think before you answer. Think very carefully.”

  His face was more animal then human and his upper lip was pulled back revealing sharp teeth.

  Lara edged backward, a dried up a scream lodged in her throat.

  Grant’s eyes were super wide. “It wasn’t…It wasn’t me.”

  Some men were coming toward them. She broke into a scared, shitless sweat.

  Lara clasped Griff’s arm. “Please.”

  He glanced at her, then immediately released Grant who skidded around him. He ran his hand through his hair.

  “Is everything all right here?” A tall older man glanced between all of them.

  Lara recognized him as being the manager.

  “Yeah, we’re fine.” Grant edged away, running his hand through his hair. “Just a misunderstanding.”

  “I think you two should leave.” The manager gestured toward the door. “Or I’m going to have to call the police.”

  Griff hadn’t taken his you’re-dead gaze off Grant, but he said, “Yeah, we’re leaving.” He put his hand on Lara’s back and maneuvered her out of the cafe.

  Lara couldn’t stop trembling. Griff was panting hard and a vein throbbed in his temple. His upper lip was still curled up into a sneer and his teeth were sharper than normal. He was obviously battling not transforming and ripping Grant to pieces.

  He lifted her onto the bike and climbed up. He tore out of the parking lot, cutting off a taxi who honked.

  She sucked in her breath, too scared to scream. Her lungs squished shut. Her heart rippled blood through her. She was drenched in sweat. She gripped him tightly and buried her face in his leather jacket.

  Griff zoomed in and out of lanes. The sun’s warm rays fell on her face and back, but her body was ice cold. Her fingers had turned numb. Everything was racing inside her.

  Except for her mind.

  Her mind had stopped, focused on Grant. Grant had been shitting bricks when Griff attacked him. She didn’t think he was lying. But if he hadn’t set her car on fire, then who did?

  The scenery changed back to residential. Griff took the route she usually did when coming home for work. Chills edged down the back of her neck. She jerked around to look over her shoulder.

  The green sedan was there. With its dark windows, she couldn’t see who was driving.

  “Griff, it’s here. The green sedan.”

  He took a hard right at the last minute. The sedan shot by. Brakes squealed. Griff rocketed down a side street. The bike leaned to the left. Black pavement lunged at her. Her heart nearly jumped out of her throat.

  He barreled down another side street. Wind spun her hair around her face. She looked over her shoulder.

  No green sedan.

  She exhaled a stifled breath.

  But this wasn’t over.

  The green sedan would be at her home waiting.

  Griff raced down her street.

  Surprisingly, it wasn’t here. He parked the bike. “Get inside.”

  “What?”

  “Go. Now. It’s coming.” His angry voice made her jump.

  She didn’t argue and clutched her purse, but she hid behind her large maple tree in the front yard. She didn’t want to go into her house by herself and she couldn’t leave Griff alone.

  The sedan roared down the street, then halted to a sudden stop.

  Griff headed toward the sedan. He grew two times his size and then transformed into a tiger. He lunged for the sedan and landed on the hood of the car. He raised his paw and smashed the window. Crack and bits of glass flew in all directions. He snarled and his tail twisted.

  The sedan roared and shifted into reverse. Griff jumped off, snarling, his ears laid back. The sedan squealed down the street, smoke swirling out of the tail pipe.

  The tiger hissed, but walked back across the street and changed back into Griff. She ran into his arms. “Griff, you could have been killed.”

  “I know.”

  She was surprised he was shaking, but she bet his heart wasn’t racing as fast as hers.

  “But I couldn’t let them hurt you again.”

  No man had ever risked his life for her. The wall that she had built up crumpled. Her feelings––feelings she didn’t want to acknowledge–softened, and she realized she’d do anything to protect him, even if it jeopardized her career.

  Blood dripped down onto his pants. “Oh, my god. Your hand’s cut up.”

  He shrugged. “One of the hazards of being a shifter. What happens to my animal happens to me.”

  She grabbed his wrist. “Come inside. Let me look at your hand. There could be glass embedded in your flesh.”

  He pulled his hand free. “I’m fine.”

  She grabbed his elbow and directed him toward the front door. “Don’t ‘fine’ me, Tony the Tiger.”

  He flashed her a teasing smile. “Of course, Nurse Nightingale.”

  She unlocked the door and walked inside, determined to attend his wound.

  And be safe in her own house.

  Everything was as she left it. Or at least, she thought it was. Embroidered red pillows were on either end of her leather couch. Knickknacks and pictures where she always kept them were on her end tables. In the office, books were lined neatly on the bookshelf. Her laptop was on her desk closed like she always left it.

  Maybe no one had been in here.

  “Wow.” Griff looked around. “Little bigger and definitely on the richy side.”

  “I like antiques and nice things.” She walked taller and couldn’t hide the defensiveness in her voice.

  He stepped in front of her and rubbed her arm. “I didn’t mean anything about it. Just never been in a house this nice.”

  “You haven’t?”

  “No. My brothers and I grew up poor, remember?”

  She’d forgotten. “Yes, I remember. High school was rough for me, too. Fat girls were at the bottom of the food chain.”

  “You’re not fat. You’re curvy. My curvy mate.” His strong tone ignited a heat inside her.

  She cleared her throat. “The bathroom’s between my office and the living room.”

  “God, this
bathroom’s bigger than my hotel room.”

  She looked it as if for the first time. Unlike his bathroom, hers had a marble shower and a sunken tub. A double sink, a huge mirror, and a vanity loaded with thick, lush towels.

  She turned on the silver faucet and put his hand underneath it. Water washed away the blood.

  She brushed her thumb over a nasty cut down his palm. “I don’t feel any glass.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t feel any. It’s not bad. I’ve had worse.”

  “Okay, Mr. Tough-Guy. Appease me.” She pulled out a bandage and some rubbing alcohol out of the cabinet.

  “Lara, you really don’t have to do this.”

  “Yes, I do.” She put her hand on his chest. “Please, sit.”

  He rolled his eyes, but did as she asked. She wiped his skin with a wet cloth, then soaked the cloth with the alcohol.

  She held the rag up hesitantly. “This may sting.”

  “I can take it.”

  She dabbed it on his cut. He hissed.

  “Sorry. You need stitches.”

  Between clenched teeth, he said, “I’ll be fine.”

  “Yes, I can see that.” She grinned. “By the way, you’re sweating.”

  “It was from attacking the sedan. I didn’t see who was driving. It was too dark, but I know it was a man. A very scared man.”

  “I bet.” She rapped the bandage around his hand. “There. Hopefully, this will stop the bleeding.”

  “Now that you’re done playing nursemaid…” His voice was hard.

  She frowned about ready to argue, but merriment flashed in his eyes and her scowl died.

  He picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Thank you.”

  The hair on her arms stood straight up, and she shivered. She couldn’t take her eyes off his lips, remembering how masterfully they’d been, and wanting to feel them on her flesh.

  “Do you want to open up that USB drive or go upstairs to your bedroom?”

  “Yes.”

  He lifted his eyebrow. “Which one?”

  She shook her head and wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. “I mean the USB drive.” She stood, afraid if he kissed her, they’d never find out what was on the drive.

  She hurried out of the bathroom and picked up her purse from the entryway. She grabbed the USB drive.

  Griff leaned against the doorway with his arms folded across his chest. “Let’s see what’s on that damn thing.”

  “Something must be on it or everybody and their brother wouldn’t be following me.” She sat on her computer and inserted the USB into the hard drive.

  Griff leaned over her shoulder, his intoxicating scent making her want to rip off her clothes.

  Concentrate.

  “Wait a minute.” He picked up a picture off her desk. “What in the hell is this?”

  “The firm’s annual picnic.”

  His face was stricken and a tremor rippled in his cheek.

  “Griff, what’s wrong?”

  “What is Kevin Brown doing in this picture?” His voice was sharp.

  She got her gander up. “Who?”

  He pointed to someone in the photo. “Kevin Brown. Don’t you remember? He’s the one I told you that Grant and I went to buy weed from.”

  She looked. A twenty-something man, who looked like he just pledged a fraternity with his polo shirt and khaki shorts, stared back at her. “That’s Kevin Brown?”

  “Yeah, he was the one. I’ll never forget his face.” Anger filled his voice.

  Ice stalled her heart, sending goosebumps running over her arms, and cutting off her breath.

  She clasped his hand. “Griff, that’s not Kevin Brown.”

  He jerked his hand away. “Don’t tell me that.” He shook the picture repeatedly. “I’ve never forgotten his face for these last four years. He was the one who could have cleared me.”

  She stood. “Griff, listen to me.”

  “What?”

  “That’s not Kevin Brown.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Don’t––”

  “If you would just listen to me. That’s not Kevin Brown. That’s Kevin Hartley. Mr. Hartley’s only son.” Her voice was enough to pierce through him and silence him.

  He tore his gaze away from the picture and his eyes burned with hate. “Christ, now we know wh you’ve been followed, why your car was torched, and why I spent four years in that hell hole. Your boss was protecting his damn son.”

  She rubbed her sweating forehead with her quaking hand. The question was how much further would he go?

  Chapter 10

  Griff plopped down on Lara’s window nook bench that was filled with frilly pillows. He couldn’t take his gaze off the photo of her firm’s annual picnic. Lara stood next to Mr. Hartley and his screwed-up son, all of them holding a beer with bright smiles on their faces and without a care in the world.

  “When was this picture taken?”

  “Last year.”

  He couldn’t breathe. His vision turned dizzy. He clenched his fists, willing himself to stay in control, but sweat seeped through his skin. His tiger hissed. He was one step away from changing into a man-eating tiger.

  Lara clasped his knee. “Griff, I’m so sorry.” Her soft voice and touch calmed his beast and he could breathe.

  He clutched her hand, desperate to hold on to his sanity. “No wonder no one could find Kevin Brown. He didn’t exist.”

  She squeezed his hand. Tears welled in her eyes. “I know.” The emotion in her voice grounded him.

  He cleared his throat. “Do you think your lousy boss would frame me to protect his son?”

  “In a heartbeat. He’s always bragging about Kevin’s accomplishments.”

  “You mean like being a drug dealer?” He couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice and couldn’t understand why the hell she wanted to work for such a twisted fuck.

  She clicked on the USB drive and waited for it to load. “Apparently, he forgot that one.” Her voice was low and a tinge of red flashed over her cheeks.

  “Is there anything worth looking at in that thing?”

  She nodded. “I only had time to vaguely skim over it before I was forced to hide it.”

  Pictures of the fire burning through the complex appeared–close ups of him transforming into a tiger and saving the two children.

  He turned ice cold, and he felt the sense of his fingers and toes turning numb as if all the warmth in his body left. He frowned. “How did he get these pictures? I don’t remember any of these being at my trial or in the news.”

  But those weren’t the pictures that made his lungs freeze up.

  Pictures of him passed out in Kevin’s apartment flashed across the screen, the filthy basement where candles and paper were littered all over, flames eating through the basement like a fiery monster, and a blonde woman with bright green eyes stared into the camera.

  Lara looked at him, her face pale. “Oh my God, the arsonist took these pictures.”

  “No, shit. The question is whether it was your boss’s son or Grant Sellars.” His bitter voice was strained and more of a snarl.

  She glanced at him warily. “Are you okay?”

  “No.” He was losing control. He’d lost four years, four years of his life, because of her dip-shitted boss who never gave a hang about Griff rotting in prison. His heart betrayed him, sending adrenaline pumping through him. His muscles rippled underneath his shirt, his fingernails lengthened, his bulk thickened. He gulped down deep breaths and gritted his teeth, barely containing his tiger.

  “Mr. Hartley would only care about his son. He’d turn on Grant on a dime.”

  She clicked on the slides of the same blonde woman getting into a car, going into a new apartment, shopping at the grocery store.

  “Who are all these pictures of this woman?”

  Lara shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  The hair on the back of his neck stood up and chills scampered down his spine. “Wait a minute.” Griff gripped Lara’s arm. “
Isn’t that Gerri Wilder with her?”

  A photo of Gerri was with the blonde woman. They were walking into Texas Roadhouse together.

  “I think I know who this is. I need to call Cora and see if Gerri is still with them.”

  Griff ran his shaking hand through his hair. “It’s Sandy Mason, isn’t it?”

  The next frame left a burning bitterness in his throat that slid down to his bubbling gut. Fiery flames were devouring what used to be a car, the same shape car that early pictures had shown Sandy getting into.

  Griff clenched his fists, fighting to keep his tiger at bay. “There are times and dates of these photos.”

  “I know.” She quickly pulled out her cell. “Hi, Cora. How are you?”

  “Good. Yes. Griff and I were both fine. We’re safe.” A lie. He could hear it in her voice.

  Griff stared at those pictures, damning pictures. Whoever took them wouldn’t want anyone to see them. Why the hell did her boss have them?

  “Good. Is Gerri with you? Yes, I need to talk to her.”

  Griff peeked out the window that went into her backyard. She had too many damn lilac and dogwood bushes where someone could hide.

  “Hey, Gerri.”

  He closed the blinds. This wasn’t good. How had Lara gotten this information without getting her fool self killed?

  “I need you to ask you a question about Sandy. Did she mention anything about someone having a camera at the crime scene?”

  “No, not cell phones. This would be a high end camera.” She stared at Griff, her voice turning five shades of gray. “Gerri, this is really important…Don’t tell anyone what you just told me…” Her voice turned extremely sharp. “Yes, it’s important.” She smiled. “Thanks.”

  Griff rubbed his frigid hands together, still not able to shake the cold. It was as if his heart had just given up and a river ice flood through his veins. “Sandy was murdered.”

  “I believe so. She told Gerri about the guy taking pictures. She even described him.”

  He put two fingers on the bridge of his nose and his thumbs on his chin. “He looked like a pirate.”

  “No. A frat boy.” Her even voice sent chills down his back.