Her Wild Protector (Paranormal Romance)

by Naomi Bellina

  “Someone will care about me, you shithead,” Tara said, hot anger replacing the fear as she pictured her mother and sister crying over her coffin. Recalling a move Marshall had shown her from their tai chi lesson, she stomped on the top of his foot with her heel and jerked out of his grasp. Marshall grabbed her and pulled her in to his body, wrapping his free arm around her. She whimpered and hugged him tight.

  “Oh, I see, that’s the way it is.” Denzel chuckled. “Come on, man. You’ve had your fun with her, it’s time to get down to business.”

  “Why did you kill the Hendersons?” Marshall asked, his gun still trained on Denzel.

  “They were supposed to be helping me out with this assignment, but they changed their minds at the last minute. I guess they liked your little friend, too. They were going to tell you what was going on and shoot me. How rude. Now let her go and let’s finish this. The boat’s coming by in the morning to pick me up. I’m going to be on it. What about you?”

  “That’s all I needed to know.”

  Before she realized what was happening, Marshall shoved her to the side, swung a kick at Denzel and knocked the gun from his hand. With a roar and a surge of heat, his body transformed into a large wolf.

  “Holy shit,” Tara muttered under her breath, and backed up against the wall.

  “So that’s how you want to play it, motherfucker!”

  In the next instant, Denzel shifted, and a cheetah stood in his place, teeth bared.

  Chapter Seven

  With a roar, Denzel leaped, pushing Marshall out of the bedroom into the hallway. The two animals rolled, snarling and biting, down the hall into the living room. Tara stood frozen for a heartbeat, then grabbed the lantern and scrambled on the floor for the gun.

  She dashed to the other room and watched for a moment as the two beasts fought. She smelled blood and saw patches of wet on the floor. Holding the lantern with one hand, she found the safety catch on the gun with the other. Which way had Marshall said to push it? She gave it a nudge forward with her thumb, pointed the gun at the ceiling and fired.

  Both animals paused at the sound, and holding the lantern out, she took aim. It was so dark. Was that Denzel or Marshall? It looked like the cheetah, but she wasn’t sure. Knowing she did not have time to hesitate, Tara fired. The animal howled and she heard a thud. She raised the lantern higher and took a step back, not sure which man moved toward her. Into her circle of light walked Marshall.

  Tara dropped the gun and lantern and threw her arms around him. He squeezed her back.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked.

  “Only a little. Pick that gun back up and give me the light. I need to take care of Denzel.”

  She handed him the lantern and followed him to where Denzel lay, now back in human form.

  “Did I kill him?” she asked in an unsteady voice.

  “No, he’s knocked out but still breathing. The bullet went through his shoulder. While he’s unconscious his body will make repairs, but I need to have him sleep longer.”

  Tara watched as Marshall laid his hand on Denzel’s head. A faint blue light shone, the same as she’d seen that day at the port. He stayed there for several moments then took his hand away.

  “He’ll be out for a while,” Marshall said.

  “What do we do now?”

  He stood. “We have a stiff drink, clean up my wounds, then have another drink.”

  “You’re bleeding.” Tara touched his arm. Even in the dim light she could see liquid running down his leg and chest.

  “It’s just scratches. I’ll disinfect them and I’ll heal quickly.”

  “I was afraid I shot you. I could have killed you.” Tara’s voice broke and Marshall wrapped his arms around her.

  “You had to take the shot, Tara. You did good.”

  She buried her head in his chest, drawing strength from his warmth.

  He went to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from the cupboard.

  “Drink up,” he said pouring them both a shot.

  “I don’t drink whiskey. It tastes like lighter fluid.”

  “You do after you’ve shot a man. It’s a time-honored tradition.”

  The liquid burned going down her throat but produced a pleasant warmth in her stomach. A slightly numb feeling took over after the second shot, and Tara let out a deep breath.

  “There’s peroxide and antibiotic under the bathroom sink,” Marshall said, handing her the lantern. “I’m going to get more light out here and see about keeping the rain out of this house.”

  “You Metamorphs are tough on doors, aren’t you?” Tara asked as they both glanced at the demolished entryway. She was rewarded with a faint smile from Marshall. She took a step toward the hall, then stopped. “You’re a beautiful wolf, you know that?” she asked.

  “Thank you,” he replied quietly.

  She located the first-aid supplies, and when Marshall returned, Tara cleaned his wounds in silence. The scratches weren’t deep and she watched in wonder as they healed even as she worked. She tried to keep her mind on her mission but was distracted by the proximity of Marshall’s naked body. He did not appear to even be aware of his state of undress. His masculine scent was stronger, possibly because he’d shifted to his animal form and back. Combined with the tantalizing scent of sex, his aroma stirred her senses and to her dismay, she felt arousal building again.

  This was ridiculous! She’d just avoided an attempt on her life and had shot a shape shifter—something she hadn’t even known existed until a few days ago. She should be terrified or at the very least, highly frightened. She should not be so incredibly horny, wanting nothing more than to go back to bed with Marshall. Reminding herself of the danger they were still facing, she gathered up the medical supplies, stepped away from Marshall and focused her mind on the situation at hand.

  “If DOSA can make your body so efficient, why can’t they repair my brain?” she asked. “Do you think Denzel was telling the truth, that my condition can’t be fixed? Do they really want me dead or was he just looking for an excuse to get rid of me?”

  “I don’t know. I need to do a little digging, contact some friends in the agency. Either way, we’re getting out of here tomorrow when the boat arrives.”

  “Is it going to be able to dock in this weather?”

  “The last I saw, the storm will be over by midmorning. It’s already calming down.”

  Tara listened and realized he was right. The wind and rain were lessening just a bit.

  “Help me tape the shower curtain to this doorway, then let’s try to get some rest.”

  Marshall headed to the bathroom and Tara held up the light, straining to see Denzel. She knew he was unconscious but didn’t want to get any closer. If she had her way, they would tie him up and lock him in the shed.

  “Do you have a plan for tomorrow?” she asked Marshall as he rummaged in the kitchen. He appeared back in the living room with tape and more candles, which they lit and positioned around the area. Their glow had been comforting earlier in the day. Now, every dancing shadow seemed to be a menace, a monster ready to leap.

  “Yes I do, but you don’t have to worry about it. We can talk further in the morning.”

  Tara paused as she tore a strip of duct tape. The dismissive tone of his voice made her give serious thought to inflicting another wound on his body.

  “Marshall, don’t keep me in the dark. I’m not a child. I need to know what’s going on.”

  “I’m just trying to protect you. What you need to do is rest and not worry about what’s going to happen next.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a delicate flower. I’ve managed to make it through an incredible amount of shit in the past few days. Seriously, do you think a little more stress is going to be the pivotal factor in keeping me awake the rest of the night?”

  Marshall sighed, then chuckled.

  “All right, I suppose you are tougher than you look. Here’s what I have planned. When t
he boat comes for Denzel, we’ll be ready. You’ll distract the captain, get him to come on to the island. I’ll sedate him and tie him up. We’ll have a few hours to get to an airport and get out of here. Then we can catch a flight from Nassau to Costa Rica.”

  “What happens there?”

  “We lay low for a while. I’ve got a few friends there that can keep us hidden. If what Denzel says is true, DOSA will soon come after us both. It’s time to start playing dirty.”

  “How do you propose to do that?”

  “I know where a lot of bodies are buried. Figuratively and literally. If DOSA doesn’t agree to leave you alone and let me quit the agency, I’ll expose them.”

  “You’re going to quit DOSA?” Tara stopped what she was doing, a piece of tape dangling from her fingers. “They’re not going to like that.”

  From what she’d learned about the agency he worked for, Tara didn’t think they’d take kindly to threats. She was also sure they would have no problem killing one of their own if he became a liability to them.

  “No, they won’t.” He continued fastening the curtain to the doorway.

  “You don’t really want to quit working at DOSA, do you? Don’t do this just for me.” The thought of Marshall giving up his life’s work to protect her was gallant but alarming. Tara did not want the responsibility of forcing him to alter his life.

  Marshall paused, then took one of her hands and squeezed it. “I’m more than ready for a change. This job is becoming intolerable. The things they’re having me do…” His voice trailed off and she saw the tension in his face. His brows drew downward and his mouth set in a hard line.

  “You’ll miss it, parts of it,” she said.

  “Yes, I will.”

  They were both silent as they finished the job, then Marshall, grabbed their glasses and put them in the sink. He kept the bottle of whiskey in his hand.

  “How long will this take? I can’t hide out on a tropical island forever,” Tara said, admiring the play of his muscles in the dim light. His silhouette on the wall closely resembled the magnificent wolf she’d seen earlier. Her libido stirred again and the thought of a few weeks together with Marshall actually sounded like a fine idea.

  “I don’t know, Tara. It could take months.”

  “Months?”

  “Possibly, though I hope not. Come on, let’s go to bed. We can get another few hours of sleep.”

  “Denzel…”

  “He’s fine. He’ll remain unconscious for a long while.”

  Lying in bed, Tara tossed and turned. Though part of her had wanted a repeat of their lovemaking and to cuddle up with Marshall, she needed time to be alone with her thoughts and sensed he did also.

  Here she was again, going along with what a man told her to do, never mind what her needs were. Circumstances were entirely different than with her ex-husband, she knew. Marshall would not be in this situation if it weren’t for her and they didn’t have many options, but the feeling of being trapped enveloped her like a thick fog. Her chest constricted and apprehension coursed through her. Eventually, she calmed enough to allow sleep to take her.

  * * *

  Tara woke to the sound of a loud engine, the smell of coffee and the sight of sunshine edging its way around the shutter on her window. She lay in bed for a few moments, savoring the remnants of her last dream. Though her sleep had been fitful, with images of large-toothed animals, the last vision she’d had was one of Marshall, running his hand through her hair. She finally rose, pulled on her last set of clean clothes and went out to the living room.

  Marshall was at his desk, staring at the computer screen.

  “Is that the generator I hear?” she asked. He nodded, preoccupied with his task. “It is noisy. I can see why you don’t like to use it more than necessary.”

  “But it’s a lifesaver when we need electricity. All right, if the boat gets here soon, we can go to Nassau and head to Costa Rica this afternoon before DOSA notices we’re gone. I’ll make sure Denzel and the boat captain stay asleep long enough for us to get a good head start. Give me your full name so I can buy your plane ticket.”

  “What about Emma and Craig?” The thought of the happy, charming couple lying in a puddle of blood brought a fresh spurt of fear and sorrow to Tara’s heart. Though they had originally meant her harm, according to Denzel, Tara knew they were just doing their job. That they had died because they chose to protect her increased her anger toward an organization that put its employees in that position.

  “I have a phone number for a family member. I’ll call her when we get to Costa Rica. Find yourself something to eat. It’s going to be a hectic day and we need to be ready to leave here quickly.”

  Tara pushed aside the shower curtain to reveal a completely different vista than the night before. The sky was blue with puffs of white clouds and a gentle wind blew. Palm fronds and other debris littered the ground. Mother Nature had done her spring-cleaning. She could see the dock from the house and it appeared to be intact, much to her relief.

  She rummaged in the kitchen. She had no appetite but knew Marshall was right; she needed to keep up her strength. In the refrigerator she found a platter of leftover fruit and cheese that still felt cool. A taste assured her it had not spoiled, so she snagged several pieces then brought the plate to Marshall.

  “Is this how you live, on the edge, all the time?” she asked him.

  “No, my life isn’t in danger every day, but there is a lot of pressure involved with this job. I can tell it’s taking its toll on me. That’s another good reason to quit the agency. I want to get out before I damage myself beyond repair with the stress.”

  “Do you really think DOSA is going to let you resign? You know a lot about them.”

  “Like I said, it won’t be easy. I signed a contract and they have time and money invested in me. I’m counting on them deciding I’m too much trouble to keep around. They’ve continued to experiment with the Metamorphs and I have to believe they’ve come up with more efficient models. Along with my threat to expose some of their ‘questionable’ activities, I hope I’ve become obsolete enough they won’t miss me when I’m gone.”

  “So, what if they decide to just kill you, too?” Tara sniffed the orange juice, trying to determine if it had gone bad. “That seems like the best option, and according to Denzel, they like to choose the easy way out.”

  She glanced at the rogue, who was still unconscious. Marshall had moved him to a far corner but she could smell him from across the room. Though it looked like Marshall had tried to clean up, patches of brown blood dotted the floor. The memory of the previous evening sent a chill through her body and she longed to get off this island.

  Marshall looked up from the screen momentarily and Tara saw resolve in his eyes.

  “I’ll just have to stay one step ahead of them. Is that juice still good?”

  Tara poured them both a glass, then headed to the bathroom, hoping the water was warm enough for a long, curtainless shower. She missed her home already and wondered how she would get through these next few days, weeks and possibly months. Though she’d assured Marshall she was resilient, she was not an experienced traveler. Strange surroundings made her nervous.

  As she gathered her dirty clothes and shoved them in her suitcase it occurred to her that she actually was pretty tough. She had faced these past days with a great deal of courage. She’d always had a lively, energetic spirit but had let herself be dragged down with Karl and his negativity during their life together. After escaping from that horrible marriage, she hadn’t done much to test herself, preferring to play it safe.

  Now, she was looking at the challenge of a lifetime. She was about to go to another country, live for an undetermined amount of time with a strange man she hardly knew while being chased by not one but two groups of people intent on killing her. Added to that, she now had some type of abilities that she was only beginning to explore and understand. How they would affect her was anyone’s guess.

 
; Tara paused for a moment and sat on the edge of her bed. Was she up to this trip? The dangerous, life-threatening aspects of the adventure were frightening enough, but the truly scary part was Marshall. She barely knew him—how were they going to get along together? What if he habitually left the toilet seat up? Squeezed the toothpaste from the middle of the tube? Drank milk straight from the carton? She could be stuck in paradise with a man who drove her crazy.

  But she didn’t have a better plan. She didn’t have any plan; she was at the mercy of a man who, though he’d revealed pieces of himself and they’d shared a night of delicious passion, was still a stranger. She was connected to him, of that she was certain, but was that bond enough to sustain them? Tara exhaled deeply and resumed her task, worry and frustration knotting her stomach like a shoelace.

  An hour later, she and Marshall were both packed and ready. They sat at the kitchen table playing cards. Tears formed when Marshall brought the deck out, as she remembered the fun they’d had with Craig and Emma. As though he’d read her thoughts, Marshall put a comforting hand on hers.

  “Don’t worry, Denzel will not get away with what he did to the Hendersons. DOSA doesn’t let botched missions go unpunished and I know eliminating two useful agents was not part of the plan. The agency has given him plenty of leeway—I wouldn’t doubt he’ll be taken in for adjustments. One less person for us to worry about.”

  Tara was about to ask what “adjustments” were, but decided she’d had enough horror for the time being. A shudder ran down her spine at the thought of what would happen to the man, but if anyone deserved a nasty fate, it was Denzel.

  “The Hendersons…” she began hesitantly. Marshall looked at her over the top of his cards. “They were going to kill me, weren’t they?”

  Marshall went back to studying his cards and was silent for a moment.

  “When we sign up with DOSA, we swear to protect our country. We understand that sometimes we will have to do things that seem wrong at the time but are necessary. I took no joy in killing Annette, or any of the other people whose lives I ended, but as a good agent, I followed instructions, trusting that commands given to me were for the greater good. Gin,” he said, laying a card facedown and spreading his winning hand.