Her Wild Protector (Paranormal Romance) (8 page)

“What are you going to do to me, Dr. Freeman?” Tara peered at the paraphernalia spread across the table.

“Call me Ned.”

“What can I get you to drink?” Marshall asked her.

“It depends. Do you have sharp needles or electroshock planned?”

“No, no, I just want to run a few preliminary tests today. I don’t have my instruments here to do a complete panel,” Ned said. “Have a seat.”

His calm demeanor put Tara at ease.

“Then I’ll have water,” Tara said. Marshall brought them all glasses then went back to his laptop on the kitchen counter.

“Tell me what happened to you, Tara,” Dr. Freeman said, pushing her bangs out of the way and lightly palpating the bump on her forehead.

Tara related the story of adjusting the volume on her television set, feeling an electrical shock, then falling and hitting her head.

“Why were you in such a hurry to adjust the volume?” he asked as he shone a light in her eyes and ears. “Why didn’t you just turn off the television and wait until you had batteries?”

A blush rose to her cheeks. “The neighbors were making noise. I wanted to drown it out.”

“Noise? What kind of noise?” he asked, pressing a stethoscope to her chest. “Cough, please.”

She did. “Just…noise.” She sneaked a glance at Marshall. He looked up from his laptop, amusement shining in his eyes and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. Damn, he was hot when he smiled. That half grin stirred her heart. She couldn’t imagine what a full-on burst of pleasantness from him would do to her. He’d shown her moments of kindness and she’d even seen a spark of humor. A fun-loving guy lurked inside him, buried somewhere behind his walls, she was certain.

Ned moved a piece of equipment closer to her and attached electrodes to her temples and her wrists.

“I suppose you know it’s a bad idea to use a screwdriver on an electrical appliance when it’s plugged in.” He turned on the machine, and Tara leaned over to look at the screen.

“Just relax. We’re almost done.”

Tara sighed. Despite the stress of the day, she
did
feel reasonably relaxed. The sliding glass doors in the living room were open, letting in the ocean air. The sound of the waves lapping at the shore in a rhythmic pattern calmed her nerves better than any tranquilizer.

Marshall came from the kitchen area and stood behind her. She could feel his body heat on her skin, almost as though he’d caressed her.

“What would you like for dinner?” he asked.

“Are you cooking?”

“No, Emma and Craig Henderson, our caretakers, do that. We don’t have an unlimited menu, but we’ll try to find something you like.”

“Hmm, your body temperature is rising. Are you feeling all right?” Ned asked.

Tara bit her lip, and sneaked another glance at Marshall, his mouth once again twisted in a grin of amusement. He moved back to his spot at the counter.

“There, that’s more like it. It must have just been a random spike. You’re too young for hot flashes.”

“So what
is
going on with me?” she asked as he peeled off the pads.

“I can’t say for certain until I run more tests, but I believe when you simultaneously jarred your brain and sent an electrical shock to it, your cellular structure was altered. Have you had any other symptoms? Give me your arm please. I need a sample of your blood, then we’ll be done.”

“Yes, I did notice odd patches of light and shadows, and it seemed like my mind was working faster the day after I fell. Like everything was clearer.”

“That could be another symptom of the alteration. This will only hurt a little bit.”

“Dinner?” Marshall asked again from the other room.

Tara’s stomach lurched at the thought of food.

“I’m not terribly hungry.” She flinched as the needle went in and turned her head. The sight of her own blood leaving her body always made her queasy.

“You should eat something. You’ll be low on blood after this vampire drains you. Emma makes a mean Caesar salad. I’ll have her prepare one for both of us.”

Tara started to protest. There was nothing that irritated her more than having a man presume to know what she wanted and ordering food for her in a restaurant. The last time she’d been out with a man, the hapless date had done just that and Tara had nearly scared the poor server away by loudly announcing that she could order for herself. In retrospect, she knew she could have been a bit gentler, but at the time she wanted to make a point. It was made, and she never saw the gentleman again.

Recalling Marshall’s words regarding her cooperation, she let go of her pride. He was, after all, just doing his job, which was to ensure her safety and comfort.

“That will be fine,” she said to Marshall. The doctor finished taking her blood and she turned his way. “Okay Doc, let’s say that is what happened to my cells. Can you put them back to normal?”

“Yes, I believe I can. It should be a simple process. I’ll just need to calibrate your biorhythms. Nothing too complicated. I’ve done as much as I can here,” Ned said and began to pack his bag. “Of course, if you prefer to stay like this, you would be a valuable asset to DOSA. We would certainly consider having you come work for us.”

“No thanks, I don’t want to work for your company. I don’t think you could offer me enough hazardous duty pay. Sorry, no offense intended.”

Ned smiled slightly. “You would be under our protection then, you know.”

Tara narrowed her eyes. “Will I need protection? What’s going to happen to me after you fix my brain?”

“Once you can no longer see the Metamorphs, Denzel and the other rogues should leave you alone,” Marshall said.

“Really? Just like that he’s going to quit chasing me?”

“I’ve got word from my supervisor. Even though Denzel doesn’t have much in the way of scruples, he values his life. DOSA tolerates him because he generally stays off their radar. Members of DOSA will contact him and let him know he is to leave you alone or
his
life will be in danger. He’ll back off.”

Marshall sounded so certain, Tara wanted to believe him. She wanted to know she would be safe and this would all end soon, but her instincts told her otherwise. Ned was silently packing his equipment and Tara observed his body language. His shoulders were stiff and he wasn’t meeting her eyes.

“Isn’t DOSA concerned that I’ll tell people about them?”

“Marshall will be sent a contract for you to sign tomorrow. You’ll agree to not speak of our organization to anyone.”

“Or else?” Tara really didn’t want to hear the answer but knew she needed to. She had no plans to tell anyone about her escapade, but members of a powerful government organization would probably not just take her word for it.

“Or else your life will be miserable from this day forward. No, the agreement isn’t worded like that but believe me, that’s what it means. Your job will disappear and you won’t be able to get another decent one. The IRS will take a keen interest in your taxes and you’d better not drive over the speed limit ever again.”

Ned had his back to them both as he delivered this news. Though he remained silent, Tara saw Marshall’s jaw tense.

“One more reason I don’t want to become a DOSA employee. Your human resources strategy sucks. Don’t worry, I’m not going to say anything to anyone. I just want my life back to normal. So what happens next?”

Her pulse was pounding. Though she didn’t appreciate being threatened, she needed to talk to the doctor more. He was hiding something, possibly about her condition, that he wasn’t sharing.

“Arrangements are being made to have you come to my laboratory in Virginia. Until then, stick close to Marshall. He’ll take care of you. He knows what he’s doing. Oh, here is medication for your nausea. I understand you get seasick. We’ve come up with a foolproof formula. It works instantly and has no side effects.” Tara took the pills he handed her. “Thank you. Could I speak with you for a moment more?” she asked him.

“I’m sorry, I really do have to leave. I’ll be in touch.”

“Do you have a card?”

“Marshall can reach me.”

And he was gone.

“Is that how your employer always operates? By threatening people?” Tara fought to keep her voice calm. She didn’t need to take out her anger on Marshall.

“They have to ensure anonymity,” he said, and she heard the struggle in his own voice. His right hand was curled into a fist and his jaw was still tight.

“I have phone calls to make. Emma and Craig will be here soon,” Marshall said, and strode out of the room.

Unsettled by the encounter, Tara got on the computer, and mindful of Marshall’s warning, did not attempt to communicate with anyone, though she longed to check her social media sites. That relaxing, normal activity would be most welcome right now. She noodled around a bit and played some games, and the caretaker couple soon arrived. Marshall reappeared and made introductions.

They were somewhere in their early sixties, Tara guessed, and both in good physical condition. They seemed comfortable with Marshall and the three joked together as they worked in the kitchen. Tara was not a gourmet chef, or much of any kind of cook, so she decided against offering her help. Besides, the kitchen was too small for four people. They were having so much fun, however, she couldn’t resist pulling up a stool and leaning on the counter between the dining area and the kitchen.

Emma was open and friendly, asking Tara general questions about herself but not prying as to why she was there.

“Do you live on this island?” Tara asked. “I don’t even know what it’s called. Does it have a name?”

“We live here most of the time, yes,” Emma replied. “We love it. This is Isle Salus. The island of safety.”

“What did you do, before you came here?”

“We went crazy in the big city,” Emma answered.

“We were stockbrokers,” Craig said, then laughed. “Don’t look so surprised. Not everyone on these islands is a beach bum.”

Tara reddened. “I didn’t think…”

“Don’t let him give you any shit, honey,” Emma said. “He
is
a beach bum. We both are, more or less, and that’s the way we want it. We’re done with that other life. After smart-ass here had his second heart attack and my hair started falling out, we decided we’d had enough stress. We lucked into this job with DOSA and never looked back. How’s your mom doing?” she asked, turning to Marshall.

“She’s fine,” he said and almost imperceptibly nodded his head in Tara’s direction. But Tara caught the movement.

“He’s such a good boy, our Marshall is,” Emma went on, oblivious to Marshall’s shaking head. “Sending his mom money to keep her in that nice home. I should be so lucky when I’m old to have one of my kids treat me so well.”

Marshall ducked his head but Tara caught a faint blush on his cheeks. She opened her mouth to pursue the subject but then closed it. She really couldn’t justify prying into his private life any more than she already had. He’d shared painful parts of his past with her, and unless Emma was an excellent actress, he had been telling the truth about his family. He’d opened up to gain her trust, as she’d asked. Now, she realized, she wanted to know more about him for purely personal reasons.

They all chatted until the meal was ready, and then the Hendersons left, leaving Marshall and Tara to eat. She had to admit the salad and homemade rolls looked good, and this time her stomach gurgled with hunger.

“There are a few bottles of wine here,” Marshall said. “How do you feel about cabernet? And jazz?”

“Both are fine.” Tara rummaged in the kitchen and came up with two wine glasses, and soon the sounds of smooth saxophone filled the air.

They ate quietly for several minutes. Tara was suddenly shy, not sure what to talk to Marshall about. She was not big on needless chitchat and appreciated being with a man who apparently felt the same way. The silence was comfortable to her and she sensed Marshall was also content with the stillness.

The night sounds coming in through the sliding door were peaceful and blended well with the low background music. A few crickets chirped, the waves lapped at the shore and she heard the gentle tinkle of a chime when the wind blew. The wine went down smooth and a state of peace came over Tara. She sighed deeply and leaned back in her chair.

“Do the Hendersons take care of this whole island?”

“Yes, that’s their job. There’s not much to it, but someone has to keep supplies stocked and look after the houses. This is where DOSA brings people, like you, to keep them safe. We also use this as a training facility.”

“Do they know about your, um, special, uh…”

“Yes, they know what I am.” Marshall set his glass down on the table with more force than necessary.

“You’re kind of touchy about being a Metamorph, aren’t you?” Tara asked, emboldened by her second glass of wine.

“I don’t talk about it,” Marshall said.

“Why not? It’s part of who you are.”

“It’s classified, for one thing. Do you see all the trouble that knowing about me has caused
you?
”

“Well, since I already know, it’s not a secret. Tell me more.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

Marshall stood and took their plates to the kitchen.

“I don’t know what to say. This is not a subject I discuss with women.” His voice was tight. She knew she should let it go, but wanted to know more. She liked Marshall and wanted to learn more about what made him tick. Tough as he was on the outside, she sensed he had a gentle nature within.

“You don’t have girlfriends?”

“Not real girlfriends. I can’t share my identity with anyone.”

“You have fake girlfriends? Blow-up dolls?” Tara knew the wine was getting to her but she didn’t care. Despite his reluctance to share, she was enjoying their banter.

There was a hint of laughter in his voice. “No, not blow-up dolls. Metamorphs get together with each other. For sex. It’s easier that way, no complications.”

Tara pondered this for a moment. “But don’t you want a…” She paused, about to say
normal
again. “Don’t you want to get married, have a family, all that?”

“I can’t have children, so the family scenario is not possible. Besides, who wants to be with a monster?”