Her Wild Protector

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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 (#ue7204cec-ad22-59fd-a376-ddffcc96f2d8)

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.