Her Wild Protector (Paranormal Romance) (12 page)

“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.

“And now?” Tara asked, inspecting his cards carefully.

“Now I no longer choose to follow orders given by an organization I don’t trust or respect. After this…” He looked over to the corner where Denzel lay, then back at her. “It’s time to leave.”

Tara wanted to know more about where they were headed, but decided questions could wait until later. Right now, they both needed to focus all their attention on their upcoming roles. Marshall had told her what to do when the boat arrived, and though it sounded like an easy plan and she trusted his skills implicitly, Tara had butterflies in her stomach.

They played in silence for another twenty minutes, then Marshall cocked his head to the front door where the shower curtain flapped in the breeze.

“I hear the boat. Are you ready?”

She nodded, then rose and headed out to the dock where a man was bent over tying up a vessel. He looked about her age, maybe slightly older, with a medium build and a dark tan. She studied him for a moment, wondering if he was also a Metamorph. A twinge of guilt nudged at her conscience for what they were about to do, but she knew they had no choice. He looked up and she began to jump up and down and wave her arms.

“Come here, quick! There’s something wrong with Denzel!”

He stopped what he was doing and stood all the way up. He was actually fairly large, Tara noted with concern, but remembering how well Marshall handled himself, she put her worry aside.

“I think he’s dying. Please hurry.”

“Where’s that other guy, Marshall?” the boat captain asked.

“He’s, he’s dead,” she said, a quiver in her voice. “Please, Denzel’s in a lot of pain.” She turned and trotted back along the path to the house. It was up to Marshall now.

She heard footsteps following her, then a grunt and the sound of a body hitting the ground. She turned and saw Marshall standing over the man who appeared to be out cold.

“Help me get him inside.”

Tara gripped his feet and the two carried the man into the house. She dropped her end with a thud. “Please tell me we won’t have to carry too many more bodies around.”

“This should be the last. I’m going to put them both to sleep for a long while,” he said.

“How is Denzel?” Tara asked.

Marshall inspected his wound.

“Almost healed. Take our bags and head down to the boat. I need to spend a few moments with these two. I’ll be along shortly.”

Tara grabbed both suitcases, but once outside, she had an overwhelming desire to observe Marshall in his energy form again. She peeked around the curtain in the doorway and watched as he bent over both men. He closed his eyes and a blue light came from inside him, more intense than the night before. She heard a low hum and when she stepped quietly into the house, a warm rush of energy washed over her, similar to when they’d made love.

So he
had
turned on that part of him when they’d been together. What he was projecting now, however, was much stronger. The light got brighter and waves of heat pulsed from him. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and she finally stepped out of the room.

Tara shook her head to clear it. The force that emerged when he emitted that energy was like a cleansing breath of air, but incredibly powerful. Her body tingled from head to toe. She recalled a time when she’d been in a small room with an ozone-generating machine. It had been overwhelming at first but later she’d felt refreshed. Coupled with the adrenaline coursing through her body from her earlier stealthy activity, her senses ran wild. A trickle of sweat ran down the small of her back and her pulse raced.

Remembering her earlier decision not to get involved with a man who spelled trouble, she groaned. Marshall was trouble, danger and excitement all rolled up in one sexy package. Could she handle this? Did she want to take this huge leap outside her safety zone? She exhaled deeply, then grabbed the suitcases again and headed to the dock.

A few moments later Marshall joined her and they climbed aboard the boat.

“Hang on. We’re going to move fast. We don’t have any time to waste. Here’s a bag, if you have to hurl.”

Tara scrambled in her purse for the pills the doctor had given her, then paused. Should she risk taking a product from a man who likely knew she was going to die? The boat lurched in a wave and she gulped the pill.

They took off with a burst of speed and didn’t slow down until they came to New Providence Island. Tara watched the landscape speed by, and now that she was not emptying the contents of her stomach, she enjoyed the view. Glad she’d put her hair into a ponytail, she lifted her face to the sun and let its warm rays and the blowing wind pleasantly distract her. Maybe she would give this whole boating thing another chance.

Once they reached their destination, Marshall pulled into a slip at a busy marina. He helped her onto the dock then handed up their luggage. She followed him down a walkway, scurrying to keep up with his fast pace. A man in a uniform came out of a small shack.

“Sir, you can’t put your craft there,” he exclaimed, waving his hands. “That slip belongs to Mr. Fredricks.”

“It’s all right, someone will be by to pick it up soon. Official business,” Marshall said, flashing his badge and not stopping.

He flagged down a taxi and pressed a bill into the driver’s hand.

“Get us to the airport as fast as you can.”

Thankful she had swallowed that anti-nausea pill, Tara clutched the armrest as the cab swerved and sped through the streets. Marshall squeezed her thigh once.

“Don’t worry, we’re doing fine,” he said, then pulled out his phone and concentrated on the small screen. “We’ll just make our flight. I’m pulling strings to get us through the lines and onto our plane quickly.”

Tara’s heart raced. Everything was happening too fast. They arrived at the airport in no time and Marshall hustled them out of the cab into the terminal. They raced to the check-in kiosk, pulled out their identification and located their gate.

Tara looked at the smiling face of the attendant at the boarding station, saw the long tunnel from the terminal to the plane and froze. Blood rushed to her head and she heard pounding in her ears. She could not get on that plane with Marshall.

“What are you doing? Keep moving,” Marshall said, gently prodding her back.

“I can’t.” She turned to face him. “I just can’t. I’m not going with you.”

His jaw tightened. “Would you excuse us a moment, please?” he asked the attendant.

Her professional smile turned to a look of annoyance. “We’re leaving in ten minutes. You should already be on board.”

“We only need a few moments,” he said, motioning for Tara to follow him to a deserted corner.

Tears pricked her eyelids and a lump formed in her throat.

“I can’t do this. I won’t let another man run my life and tell me what to do,” she said.

“I’m not trying to run your life—I’m trying to save it. You’re out of options, Tara. If you don’t come with me, you’ll be killed.” Marshall’s voice, though steady, held a tone of urgency and barely controlled desperation.

“I could be killed if I
do
come with you. You’re not the safest person to be around.”

Marshall sighed. “I’m so sorry this has all happened to you, but I’m the best bet you have. I can protect you and I will get you out of this mess, but you have to trust me.”

Tara hugged herself, hands gripping her upper arms. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Come here, farther back into the corner,” Marshall said. He lowered his voice to a husky tone barely above a whisper. “Tara, I’m not doing this just because it’s my job to protect you. I care about you, a great deal. Do you remember that feeling, when we made love, it felt like we were connected, like we were joined together?”

“Yes.” Tara recalled those blissful moments and a tingle of pleasure ran through her body. It had been absolutely glorious. She’d never experienced that with another man, that closeness, that feeling of being one.