by Carol Devine
Amanda hadn't realized there were ranks in wrestling but after reading the report she could see that Masterson, after starting in a rinkydink local league a decade ago, had worked long and hard to make it to the big time. The Global Wrestling League was as successful an entertainment and business enterprise as there was.
League matches were televised regularly all over the country. GWL productions filled Olympic size stadiums with adoring fans, they had pay-per-view deals, a corny children’s cartoon show and even a line of toys. And the Beastmaster was a GWL superstar.
The quintessential anti-hero, he was very much a celebrity in his own right. No wonder her photograph had been splashed all over the tabloids. He earned huge fame traveling the country, fighting those ridiculous opponents, using one of the lions, the black leopard, a panther and the tiger alternately in his act.
Amanda sighed and closed the file. He might be a macho man jerk, but that didn't make him a criminal. She'd overplayed her hand and squandered far too much time and money on him already. Yet whenever she considered dropping the suit, she would remember her humiliation at being carried out of the arena, kicking and screaming. There was a larger issue here, one that was dear to her heart. No person had the right to victimize another, no matter what the circumstances. Her father had given his life to protect civil rights. She had dedicated hers to do the same.
Masterson had to be stopped. Permanently. If she let up, the GWL would reinstate him and his popularity would soar at her expense. The lawsuit was the only way. After what happened in her office, a settlement was out of the question. And she certainly wasn't going to risk talking to him again. He'd probably drop his pants.
Instead of busying herself with more work, which she now recognized as a rather desperate ploy to divert herself, Amanda grew still. She already knew what Abraham Masterson looked like without pants. That leopard loincloth of his didn't hide much.
Wincing, she tossed the file in her desk drawer, snapped the locks on her briefcase, shrugged into the pink linen jacket of her suit, tucked her purse under her arm, heaved the case, turned out the lights and quickly walked past the vacant cubicles along the hall.
An old ‘60’s tune came to mind and she hummed under her breath. It took her a full minute before she realized the song was "Wild Thing."
Definitely time to go home.
Waiting for the elevator, she used the time to glance around the office floor. Deserted buildings always gave her the creeps. She tolerated working late on Friday because the place was quiet and she could catch up on enough work to start the week fresh. There were no interruptions by the cleaning crew as there were on other weeknights.
When the elevator doors slid open, she entered briskly, punched L and poked her head out the door when she hit the lobby. "Tom?" she called.
"Be right there."
She held the door as she waited for the security guard. After seven p.m., employees must be accompanied to the parking garage by a guard. The reasons for the policy had to do with safety but since the publicity from the lawsuit had not fully died down, Amanda wouldn't put it past a nosy reporter to be lurking by her car. The parking garage was supposedly off-limits to the public but an officer at the entrance and at the exit produced less than perfect results.
Tom appeared, a yellow grin on his gray-whiskered face. Coarse comb marks tamed his unruly head of pewter hair, making his bushy sideburns and eyebrows stand out. Dividing the ample midsection of his khaki uniform was a thick belt bristling with flashlight, nightstick, walkie-talkie and holstered gun.
"Nine o'clock. Right on schedule, Miz Tarkenton.”
"I didn't know I was such a creature of habit. How are you tonight?"
"Can't complain. You want me to carry that briefcase for you?"
The familiar question always made Amanda smile. Tom was very clear in his views about proper behavior between men and women. Chivalry, at least in the form of this gray-haired grandfather, still lived.
"Thank you," she said and relinquished the case.
"Heavy tonight." He held the door when they reached the basement parking lot. "You shouldn't be taking so much work home."
"Just the usual. How's your wife doing?" Amanda stepped by him and fished the key from her purse. They walked the twenty steps to the lone black Cadillac parked along a concrete wall marked ‘D.A. Authorized Vehicles Only.’ A distinct breeze from the open top on the concrete walls, cool for late August, scoured away the usual smell of gas fumes which tended to linger in the multi-level concrete structure.
"Mildred's fine."
"Is she fully recovered from her gall bladder operation?"
"Can't lift the grandkids yet, but then, I told her she shouldn't be doing that anyhow."
Amanda opened the trunk of the car and Tom carefully lay the briefcase inside. He jumped when a sharp sound like a cracking whip split the night quiet.
Amanda spun around. "What was that? It sounded like a gunshot."
"Came from the street, if I'm not mistaken." Tom cocked his head and listened, but the sound wasn't repeated and there were no calls from security. "Probably just a car backfiring. All the same, I'd better check it out myself." He made sure the trunk was closed and started for the ramp leading down to the street level. "You have a nice weekend, hear?"
"Thanks. Be careful, will you?"
She watched as he headed for the exit, walkie-talkie in one hand while the other rested on the flap of his holster. Amanda knew very well his claim that a car had backfired was Tom's way of reassuring her. Gunfire, especially in this neighborhood and time of night, was far more likely.
Just the thought of it made her shudder. Guns. How she hated them.
"Tom?" she called after a moment. "Is everything okay?"
No answer. Amanda tamped down her rising concern and told herself to stay calm. Tom could simply be out of earshot. She opened her car door and decided to look for him on her way out, to make sure all was well, before she drove home.
Another backfire sounded, this time from a different direction. Alarmed, she tossed her purse across to the passenger side and climbed in. A throaty snarl rose from the rear seat.
With a thin scream, Amanda scrambled out and slammed the door.
Her heart filled her throat. A carpet of tawny orange cut by black stripes angled up, filling the back seat of the car. The length of fur rippled with life. A long tail separated from the bulk. Lashing, it snaked around to run the width of the rear window.
Amanda reeled backwards with a gasp. A tiger's tail. But it couldn't be.
A furry triangular head poked out of the rear passenger window on the far side. In her hurry and fatigue, she hadn't even noticed the open window. She never left the windows open. Or the doors.
The white-whiskered head swiveled to stare at her. The nose was orange, the eyes tawny yellow. Sooty lines curved around each glowing orb. It was a tiger all right. And she knew only one person in the whole world who would dare put a real live tiger inside her car.
"Beautiful, isn't she?"
Amanda whirled. Abraham Masterson lounged against a concrete pillar, one long jean clad leg crossed over the other. A strip of white t-shirt glowed in the shadow cast by his blue denim jacket. His shoulder length hair feathered the sheepskin collar and framed the square-jawed face, making him look as savage and unpredictable as the tiger.
Adrenaline rushed through her. Part of her had expected him to pop up like this, indeed, had been looking forward to it. That realization alone made her back up a little. "You are in complete violation of the restraining order," she said.
"So sue me."
Goaded by his grin, she recovered her poise and stood her ground. "I'll call the police."
"I don't think Tasha will like jail any more than I did."
Amanda eyed the tiger. The last thing she wanted was the animal hurt in any way. "Get her out of my car and I'll forget you arranged this little surprise."
"I've got a better idea." He uncoiled from his slouch and star
ted toward her. She quickly retreated, careful to keep herself between him and the exit. He halted, which didn't comfort her in the least, especially when he sent a narrow penetrating stare her way. "I can't believe the self-righteous Ms. Tarkenton is actually showing signs of human emotion. You're scared."
"Simply cautious, Mr. Masterson. We didn't exactly part on the best of terms the last time we saw each other. How do I know you didn't come here to hurt me?"
"The thought crossed my mind," he admitted.
"Is that why you brought the tiger?"
"Come on. Tasha wouldn't hurt a flea. For that matter, neither would I."
"My experience with you would indicate otherwise."
"It's true I behaved like a caveman the first time we met. My visit to your office only made matters worse. Would it help if I apologized for my uncivilized behavior?"
"It's a little late for apologies, don't you think?"
"I thought you might say that," he said. "So I'll offer a little inducement. My word that I'll behave like a perfect gentleman while giving you a tour of my ranch. I want to show you exactly why I can't afford this lawsuit."
He stood loosely, waiting for her answer, but there was nothing gentlemanly about the way he watched her. A restive light glinted from his eyes. Underneath the drawl and the loose stance was a very determined man. Despite what he'd said, there was no way she'd trust him at his word. "Must I remind you, Mr. Masterson, that we've had a similar conversation? I know what you're trying to do. My answer hasn't changed, nor will it. I won't drop the suit."
"The name's Bram. Considering all we've been through together, I think it's time we were on a first name basis."
"Our relationship can hardly be categorized as familiar in any way, shape or form. I thought you understood that after your recent appearance before Judge Hampton."
"Judge Hampton doesn't understand my predicament."
"He understands mine. You've already been arrested once for harassing me. The judge won't be so lenient the second time around. Get that animal out of my car now or I really will call the police."
"Her name's Natasha. Tasha, say hello." He raised his arm in an obvious signal. The tiger roared.
The combination of wild challenge and throaty delight made Amanda shiver. As usual, Masterson had seized the advantage. She was too good an attorney to let him keep it.
She faced him squarely, arms akimbo. ”You seem to be under the mistaken impression that this is a social event. It isn't. I've been working hard all day. I'm tired and I want to go home. Furthermore, the restraining order says you're not supposed to be within fifty feet of me."
He retreated several paces before swinging around, the smug smile very much in evidence. "Is this far enough away?"
"You forgot something." She jerked her thumb at the car.
"You mean Tasha? But she's within fifty feet of your lovely person. Or are you inviting me over there? Pity the restraining order doesn't cover these contingencies."
"Do you want me to call the police? Do you like jail so much?"
"I hate to be caged as much as Natasha does."
"Then why are you doing this?"
"So you can meet my animals."
Caught off guard by this blithe logic, Amanda hesitated. She'd never been close to a tiger before. Or a lion. What would it be like to touch one? To run her fingers along a tawny spine? She shook herself, horrified to find she would even consider the idea. "You've got more than one?" she parried, wary about revealing how much she already knew about him.
"A whole menagerie."
"The rest are glass I hope."
He chuckled. "You think pretty well on your feet, Ms. Tarkenton. I admire that about you."
Amanda didn't like how this observation fed her ego. She didn't want to be charmed by this man. Or his animals. Turning on her heel, she marched toward the elevator. He fell in step beside her.
"Where are we going?"
She cast a baleful glance in his direction. "We are not going anywhere. I am going to fetch the security guard."
"I'll save you the trip. He's not there."
She eyed him up and down. How could he be that incredibly sure of himself? “How do you know?"
Masterson reached inside his front pants pocket and held out his hand. Several firecrackers lay on his broad palm. "He's busy checking around. There's been a number of suspicious noises."
"Do you have any idea the trouble you caused? Tom and I both thought a gun had gone off."
"Tom?"
"The security guard."
"Ah, yes. Good old Tom." He shrugged. "I needed to get you alone. The firecrackers were a diversionary tactic, nothing more."
"A sadistic tactic. I've had enough of your adolescent pranks."
"My, my. Now I'm an adolescent prankster. Is that a step up on the evolutionary ladder from an overgrown gorilla, Mandy?"
"The name's Amanda," she retorted and realized how neatly he'd trapped her into saying her first name. It implied permission for him to use it, an impression she didn't care to give. "Ms. Tarkenton to you," she amended, glowering. "And making light of this won't work with me. When people trample over my rights as a human being, I take that very seriously."
"Vengeance is mine, sayeth the lawyer. To hell with anybody else. For some reason, Mandy, I'd thought you'd be more original."
"That does it. I'm calling the police. I’ll figure out what to do with your tiger later."
"I hope you weren't planning on using your cell phone. Tasha thinks they’re mighty tasty."
Amanda's fists balled into her sides. Her phone was in her purse. The purse was in her car. She halted to face him. "Why would she possibly want to eat my phone?"
"Tigers will eat just about anything."
"They eat meat, not fiber optics."
"Remember that when you open the car door. Go ahead, make my day. Meanwhile, I’ll make myself scarce." He headed for the exit stairs. Amanda hurried to the elevator and stabbed the down button but she already knew Tom was not the answer to her problems. Even a police squad would not solve this problem. No one except Masterson knew how to get the damned tiger out of her car. Cursing under her breath, she turned around.
“Wait!”
He cupped a hand over his ear. “You called?”
“Please get her out of my car. I don’t want her hurt and I don’t want her to hurt me. I just want to go home, eat something and go to bed. Is that too much to ask?”
He stalked towards her. “It is too much to ask when you’ve got me by the short hairs. Drop the lawsuit and you will have a nice quiet empty car to drive home in.”
His bullying posture stiffened her spine. “I won’t give in to blackmail.” She turned her back on him and stabbed the elevator down button again.
"While you're busy calling the cops, I'll remove Tasha from your car. By the time the police get here, we'll be long gone."
"Fine by me." Amanda replied as the elevator doors opened. After crossing the threshold, she pivoted to look him straight in the eye. "What I want is my car, devoid of all animal life. Including yours."
Chapter Six
For a large man, Masterson moved in a flash. His cowboy booted foot crossed the elevator threshold, forcing the door to stay open. "You always get what you want, Mandy?" he drawled.
"Don't call me that."
"Why not? It suits you when you're all riled up."
"I am not--"
"You're also spoiled. That's one of the first things I noticed about you. You're a Tarkenton. You’re used to getting your own way. Well, not with me. If you insist on making me the heavy in all this, I'll play the part. You'll see my ranch even if I have to pick you up and carry you there myself."
"You lay one hand on me and I'll have you in prison so fast it'll make your head spin. Kidnapping is a felony, mister, and with your record of harassing and manhandling me, I’ll make sure the charges stick. We're talking twelve to fifteen years."
The elevator buzzed and the doors started
to close again, only to be stopped by Masterson's foot. He stepped inside and pulled the stop button without taking his eyes off her. Amanda refused to budge, despite the sudden loss of light when the elevator doors abruptly closed. After the blue fluorescence of the well-lit garage, the glow from the weak ceiling bulbs swallowed the walls, casting long shadows .
Carved in black and white, his face was naked of the teasing mask he'd worn before . Obstinacy oozed from every pore. Amanda worked to resist the sheer force of his will. This time she wouldn't allow herself to be intimidated by his size. This time she wasn't going to notice how his eyes changed color with his mood. And his scent would not make her think of soapy skin and steamy showers. Or the fact that she hadn't bathed in more than fifteen hours .
"You and me," he said. "No police, no cameras, no fans, no reporters, no judges, no lawyers. It's time to work this out."
"Then do us both a favor and leave before you get into more trouble."
"I didn't come here looking for trouble."
"Release the stop button then."
"Not until I've had a chance to speak my piece."
"You had your chance in court."
"Look, I didn't come here to fight with you."
"Good. Let me out in the lobby. I'll even wait five minutes before I call anybody. You'll have plenty of time to get Tasha and disappear."
"Will you shut up for five seconds and listen for once? I didn't come here to bargain or mediate or whatever you lawyers call it. All I want from you is a couple of hours of your time.”
"Didn't you listen to what I said? The answer is no! I've worked a fifteen hour day. I'm tired and hungry and I want to go home."
"What about tomorrow?" he pressed.
"I've already made plans."
"Sunday?"
"I've got a seminar to attend the entire weekend. I’m sorry but that’s the truth."
He arrowed a hand through his hair. "I wasn't lying before about not being able to afford this suit. I make a lot of money, yes, but I have a lot of expenses as well. Tasha's welfare and that of my other big cats depend entirely on my salary. The league has me under suspension until the lawsuit is resolved. If I don't fight, I don't get paid."
