To Yank a Tiger by the Tail (2 page)

Zhara finished peeling the potatoes and switched over to cutting them into quarters as Willow instructed. On the red-and-white checkered tablecloth before her sat two large pots for the potatoes. Her heart weighed heavy as Zhara picked up Willow’s sadness that her children had been so deeply affected by the incident of infidelity.

“And yet Sparrow still comes and visits. How does that all work out?” Zhara couldn’t imagine having woman who’d come between them popping in would be a welcome occurrence.

“She’s from a long lineage of shifters. You see, Dax didn’t exactly propose of his own will. They’d been dating on their own, but Sparrow’s family made an offer of unity between our Streaks. One which would set a pact of peace.”

“Streaks?”

“Well, Tigers in general are solitary creatures, but we are not fully animal. We are human too, so we have families. Quite normal families. But when speaking of Tigers in plural, one could call them a Streak. Which is why Fin stripped and took off like he did. Sort of a Tiger joke to take off streaking in front of company, which I apologize for.”

A Streak. Huh. Who knew?

“Kind of explains his actions a bit,” Zhara stated, laughing at the inside joke. “So the engagement was pushed on them?” Zhara felt better immediately.

“Yes. Also why Fin hadn’t realized how his brother felt about her. Anyway. Both families agreed to no harm no foul so long as the peace contract stayed intact. Since all was forgiven, we couldn’t very well boot Sparrow out of the picture, but she continues to come sniffing around for a mate.”

“What is she? Butt ugly or something?”

“Who’s butt ugly?” a petite, feminine voice asked from behind her.

“Hello, Sparrow. When did you get back in town?”

Dax snatched the beer from Brom’s hand. Fin’s whole streaking episode, coupled with his mother taking Zhara into the kitchen for this long, didn’t bode well for the upcoming week’s visit.

“Lighten up, little brother. Look at it like this—she’s already seen Fin streaking and probably been told all about your embarrassing kid stuff by now. How much worse can it get?” Brom asked, while their dad shook his head in a manner that seemed to say, “You just jinxed yourself, dumb ass.”

“Whose Beamer’s in the driveway?” Rocky, their cousin, asked, rounding the corner into the den with fresh brews in his hands.

“That’s Sparrow’s new vehicle her parents bought her for. A payoff of some sort, I’m sure,” Mr. Markson stated, flipping a page of the newspaper he was reading.

Fuck! Sparrow was the last person he wanted anywhere near Zhara.

In his haste to get to the kitchen, where he didn’t doubt Sparrow had already arrived, Dax tripped over the side table and knocked the lamp and empty beer bottles clear off.

“Well, hell, son, slow down. Ain’t no fire anywhere, and your girl in there is going to have to be able to fend for herself among the females. If word got out you defended her, they’d be on her like shit on a stick.”

“Dad’s right,” Brom agreed. “You aren’t doing her any favors jetting in like that.”

Deep down Dax knew they were right. But he’d failed in properly alerting Zhara to all she’d be getting herself into tangling up with a shifter. He’d been terrified to scare her off before she had a chance to meet his family.

“She’ll be just fine. Plus, your mother’s in there. She won’t let anything happen,” his dad promised.

“Much,” Brom added, laughing as he cracked open another beer and turned his attention back to the game playing on the widescreen TV.

Dax tried to calm his nerves. He’d pretend to be hungry in a few minutes as an excuse to head into the kitchen. No one would doubt his claim. Then he’d get Zhara out of the hot zone and hopefully into another if she’d agree to go on a jaunt into the forest with him after all the harassment.

There was a cave on the property he’d never even his told his brothers about. It had been Dax’s secret spot as a child. Where he’d go when the world crashed around him. The place he went when he caught his brother Fin with Sparrow. In hindsight he supposed he owed Fin for saving him from a lifetime bad mating.

Right as he rose to head to the kitchen, Zhara came out with a platter of sandwiches. “Hi, everyone. Mrs. Markson asked me to bring this out.”

Dax caught her expression. It wasn’t as relaxed as it had been on the ride over, but she didn’t appear in distress either. As relieved as he should be, something told him shit would be hitting the fan soon.

“You okay?” he whispered while leaning over to grab one of the subs.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m having a ball talking to your ex. I mean, the things one can learn from other’s old partners. Oh, excuse me—fiancées.” Though she’d whispered it, Dax sensed the anger simmering underneath her words. She was pissed. Royally so. He got the drift he’d erred, and seriously so, in not explaining about Sparrow.

Whoops.

Maybe hanging out here with the guys while she cooled down a bit was the better option.

“What? Not heading in to check on your girl?” Brom teased, having obviously guessed what caused the sudden tension in the room. Shifters were able to scent emotions pretty well. Even a non-shifter would have picked up the vibes rolling off Zhara.

Yeah. He had a whole lot of explaining to do later.

His dad, Brom, and Rocky all barked with laughter.

                                                  ***

Ticked as she’d become, Zhara still paid special attention to how Dax’s mom made her homemade mashed potatoes. Her stomach growled at the decadent scents filling the kitchen.

“Now that’s a shifter’s stomach,” Willow commented as she marinated the steaks.

“Oh, you’re not a shifter?” Sparrow asked in what seemed to be genuine shock.

“Sparrow,” Willow said, in what even Zhara detected was a warning tone.

“What? I’m just making small talk. I apologize if I came off too nosey asking,” Sparrow stated after grabbing a beer from the fridge.

Zhara didn’t like the idea Sparrow was so comfortable in Dax’s family home as to just help herself to their refrigerator. She also had no damn intentions of allowing the other woman to realize how much it perturbed her.

“Oh, not at all. You’re fine. Ask away, and no. I’m not a shifter.” Zhara caught the sympathetic look Willow shot her before she turned back to the pans of meat in front of her.

“So how did you and Dax meet?” the petite blonde asked.

“Oh, we met under dreamy circumstances.” Zhara left a pregnant pause before continuing and took pleasure in the angry sparks she caught shooting from Sparrow’s blue eyes. “At the zoo where he works.”

“I didn’t realize Dax worked at a zoo. I’ll assume he isn’t one of the exhibits, so what exactly does he do?”

Sparrow said
zoo
like one might say shit on their shoes. Zhara had every intention of working this to her advantage, and enjoying every minute of it.

“In the gift shop. Why?”

Sparrow rolled her eyes. “Oh, no reason. I just can’t see Dax being happy working in a zoo around caged animals, or living in the city for that matter. It must be awfully suffocating. Poor man probably couldn’t wait to get back out into the country. You know what I mean? Oh, I’m sure you do. Him being so, uh, wild and all.”

Yeah, Zhara got the barb slung her way.

“Oh, I don’t know. He seemed pretty content to me. Free. Not tied down or corralled. Of course making one’s own choices can do that.”
Touché
,
bitch
. If Zhara wasn’t mistaken, Willow snickered at Zhara’s underlying barb.

Sparrow’s face turned pink and as she opened her mouth, no doubt for a retort of some kind, the kitchen door, which led outside, flew open with a loud bang.

Fin stood in the doorway, still as naked as the day he was born and not an inch bashful about it. His large, six-foot frame ate up the entire space, and the fact he was semi-erect—well, he didn’t seem bothered at all by. Balls. The guys had balls. And Zhara meant more than just the large sac that hung from behind his impressive...

“Fin, for the love of God go put some clothes on. Our guest isn’t used to shifter ways yet,” Willow scolded her son.

Another boom, and Zhara turned to find Dax standing in the other kitchen doorway. Only he wore no amused expression. Oh, no. Thunderous seemed more accurate.

“The fuck are you doing, Fin?” Dax’s words, though quiet, screamed bottled-up rage at the point of explosion.

Before Zhara, Willow, or even the snippety bitch Sparrow uttered a word, Dax charged past them all. A grunt, bang, then boom followed Dax’s body slam out the kitchen door and into the grass on top of Fin. Zhara bolted the door in time to see the two large, bull-headed men rolling about on the ground. Fists flew as fast as curses, and when Zhara caught sight of red splotches in the melee she threw down, herself.

“Stop your shit this instant.” Even she was stunned at the commanding tone her words held.

At the sound of pounding footsteps behind her, she momentarily took her eyes off Dax and, in that one moment, Sparrow struck.

The sudden halt of all spastic movements, followed by the gap-jawed expressions of Dax’s brothers, returned Zhara’s attentions to the men on the ground. Only instead of Dax and Fin being in a bloodied tangle of limbs, Sparrow straddled Dax’s lap and her lips were locked on his.

Even Fin seemed lost in what transpired right next to him.

When Dax didn’t move, Zhara bolted from the scene. She would have forgiven his lack of informing her of an ex fiancée, as the circumstances had been forced, but this? Bringing her here without warning her about the drama? Hell no. Inexcusable.

“Zhara, wait.”

She ignored Dax’s pleas. Too little too late.

She didn’t stop for her luggage, only snatched her purse from the kitchen chair as she ran out the front door. Granted, she hadn’t a real clue where in bum-fuck-Egypt she was.

The roar of a cycle up ahead had her sprinting.

Damn, but the Marksons have a long-ass driveway.

Huffing and puffing she stumbled into the road in time to flag down the motorcyclist. She heard the hollers of people behind her, begging her to wait. But she had no intention of doing so. She’d been on her own long enough she would damn well do what she wanted, when she wanted and could easily take care of herself, including finding her way home again.

The burly man on the bike pulled over and, before he had a chance to remove his helmet, Zhara yelled, “heading into town?” over the loud purr of the cycle. Sure, hopping on the back of a motor cycle driven by a stranger, not her smartest ever decision. But she wanted away, and now and saw no other option available. If she had to, she could always tuck and roll off the sucker if she sensed danger.

When the man nodded, she hopped on the back and begged him to go as not only was Dax approaching, but so was his entire family.

All waving and flailing their arms. She was nobody’s chump and from her perspective, she’d just been played by all of them.

Thankfully her woodland he-man hadn’t asked any questions before gunning the engine. Zhara tried to reach the bar behind her for support, but sadly the chrome sat low enough it didn’t offer the security she sought. She’d always been fairly nervous about cycles, but in her current situation she didn’t have much choice. She also didn’t have much choice about where to hold on.

Him. Damn.

The trip ended before she grew too out of sorts, and her knight was a perfect gentleman and took her to the lodge in town. Under different circumstances she would have described the ride as beautiful, the scenery natural and serene.

“You sure you’re gonna be all right, little lady?”

“Thank you and yes. I’ll be fine. Just needed away from there.” Zhara glanced at the fancy lodge they’d pulled up in front of and saw her savings account shrivel like a droplet of water in the Sahara. Between staying and sucking it up or coming up with the funds for a way home, hell yeah, she’d bust what little she’d saved.

“Mind if I ask what the Marksons have done now?” her burly biker asked, turning off his cycle but not making any move to get off.

Crap, he knew them?

“I made a misjudgment which I am now rectifying.” Yeah, she should have never agreed to accompany Dax home, and now she was tucking tail and going back to New York.

“Let me guess. One of the brothers led you on with all kinds of promises and they only wanted a little tail?”

Granted she didn’t know this man and sure as hell didn’t owe the Marksons—or Dax to be exact—any loyalties, but her biker’s snark toward them soured her stomach.

“Sorry. Should have introduced myself. I’m Starl Long. My sister Sparrow had a run-in with two of the deadbeat Markson boys.”

Wow. Sparrow’s brother? He might be able to provide some answers, because by what they’d led her to believe, it was Sparrow who’d broken the marital agreement, not Dax.

“Been a long ride and they’ve got cold beers inside. Can I buy you one? No strings. Just need a break from the bike and no one likes drinking alone.”

She did, and she would. Not because she was interested in him, but for information. Before she hauled ass home, she’d like her questions resolved.

“Sure sounds lovely. A bit of unwinding before heading back.”

“To the Marksons’?”

“No, to New York.”

“Wow, you are a long way from home, aren’t you?” He laughed, and it softened his hard facial features. When he took off his helmet, her stomach did a small somersault. Green eyes came into view, as did a full head of tousled brown hair. If not for her mixed emotions about Dax—rawr. She’d already noticed the way he filled out his black leather chaps.

Yowza.

Fitted enough to uh, accidentally catch the bulge in the center, but not skin tight, which might indicate he batted for the other team. Starl stashed his helmet before holding an arm outwards toward the entrance.

The inn and bar area were as eloquent as the outside suggested the place to be. High, wooden-beam ceilings, cedar furnishings, and brass accents helped give the lodge a warm, rustic feel.

Zhara hopped up on one bar stool as Starl slid onto another. A young waitress, who couldn’t have been much past twenty-one, came over to take their order. While normally Zhara didn’t drink—at all—today called for far more than a diet Pepsi.

“Two shots of whiskey,” her biker man ordered. “Figured you’d like a shot of something strong about now.”

“You assumed right,” Zhara admitted accepting the tiny glass and shooting it back.

“So, tell me. How’d you get mixed up with that bunch?”

This wasn’t going in the direction she wanted. She needed to get answers, not to give them. “I’m an acquaintance. Gauging by your wording, you’re not a fan of the Marksons?”

“Not since one of the Markson boys, Dax, crushed my sister and basically left her standing at the altar, knocked up and heartbroken.”

Knocked up? What the fuck? None of the Marksons had mentioned Sparrow being pregnant in their version of events. “Wow, yeah, that’s a pretty messed-up thing to do. How’s your sister now?” Zhara accepted the second shot and, though feeling the slow burn start, wasn’t buzzed enough yet to spill the beans about having already met Sparrow. For whatever reason, her gut screamed to keep the information to herself for the moment.

“She’s fine. Now. But wow. For a while there...well, we weren’t sure what she’d do. After losing the baby, she just sort of fell into a black hole of sorts.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. She must have been devastated.” She might not like Sparrow, but anyone could empathize with sorrow over such a loss. She tapped the brass footer that ran the length of the bar and began twisting her stool seat back and forth as she contemplated all that Starl divulged.

Zhara lost track of shots and when she glanced at the time again, was shocked to discover they’d been chatting well over two hours. The hour had grown quite late and checking in now seemed a good idea.

“Well it’s near closing time for the lounge better let me walk you over to the office and make sure you get safely checked in.”

Nice. She didn’t even need to make the awkward “gotta go” talk.

He waited politely behind her as she spoke with the skinny, prepubescent night clerk.

“Wow, you’re in luck. We do have an availability. A room with a queen overlooking our pristine lake.”

“Wonderful. I’ll take it.” Zhara began digging through her bag for her card as the clerk punched in her information into the computer.

“The lodge requires a two-hundred-dollar hold on the card, and the room is one hundred seventy-five a night. How many nights do you think you’ll be staying with us?”

She dropped her purse. Flat out dropped the sucker in pure sticker-price shock. Sure, she could swing one night, but she still had to find travel home, and she doubted she’d be able to arrange such before check out time the next morning.

“Um, Zhara, can we chat a second?” Starl asked as he helped her pick up a few of the items that had spilled from her bag. Mortification from her actions reddened her cheeks as she guessed Starl must have sensed her financial surprise.

“Sure.” She didn’t know how else to answer.

“My parents own a bed and breakfast, and I’m sure they have a few availabilities.”

Bed and breakfast? Surely they would charge even more.

“Think they bill about seventy-five a night.”

Hell, yeah. She could afford that.

Once her purse had been tossed back together, she gratefully answered how phenomenal that would be. Her head began to swim from the sudden up and down movements from collecting the spilt items from her purse. The earlier drama at Dax’s and the shock of a moment ago, had the desire to lie down and get her sleep on warring with the need to curl up and have a good cry.

Thanking the clerk for his time, Zhara declined the room and followed Starl back out to his bike, stumbling a tad on the gravel drive. When her ankle twisted the second time, Starl slowed and offered his arm in assistance.

Damn. Man’s going to think me a lush.

Unlike before, he didn’t put the helmet on his head, but on hers, adjusting a few inner harnesses to make sure it fit snugly.

“Ready?”

“As ever.” No, not really, but what other choice did she have?

A short ride later, they rolled up in front of a quaint, two-story Victorian Bed and breakfast. Far removed from the rustic architecture of the Marksons’ or the lodge, this B & B was more in tune with many of the other homes they’d passed on the way.

Blue with white, lattice-style shutters, the home business resembled a Victorian-style dollhouse. Starl motored them around back, where a large deck came off both the bottom and upper floors of the structure, which overlooked a small but inviting lake.

“Wow,” she mumbled as the engine stopped.

“Yeah. Mom and Dad managed a small piece of heaven when they acquired the place.”

“They sure did. Everything is so splendid. Clean, crisp, and invigorating.”

“I’ve always loved coming out to the lake,” Starl said, helping her off the bike and taking the helmet from her.

“Oh, you don’t live here too?”

“With my parents? Hey, don’t get me wrong, I love them and all, but uh, hell no. I live on the other side of town. A good hour’s ride from here. I’d sense them coming long before they ever pulled in my driveway.”

Zhara made another mental note about the characteristics of shifters. Earlier she’d picked up a few things from Dax’s mom, and now, the fact they apparently were able to sense more than their mates, but other shifters were approaching as well.

Interesting.

“So you won’t be staying?” Zhara wasn’t sure whether she wanted him to stay or go. The man’s sexual chemistry was off the charts, so yeah, his leaving would be best. At the same time, she didn’t know anyone here at the B & B and she wondered deep down if she wouldn’t be more relaxed if he stayed.

“I will be tonight because I’m pretty whipped and don’t relish the ride home. Why? Would you miss me already?” He winked at her in assurance he was jesting as he opened the back door and led her in. Everything about Starl put her at ease, and she prayed his family would as well.

“Well, look what the proverbial cat dragged home.” Zhara lifted her gaze to discover a heavyset woman ambling toward them. “Smelled the pot roast, did you?”

“Mom, I’d smell your roast three states away.” Starl tossed his arms around his mother in huge hug.

“Now I know I raised my son better than this. Aren’t you going to introduce your lady friend?”

Zhara giggled at the other woman’s declaration as Starl’s cheeks tinted before her eyes.

“I was getting there. Man has to hug his momma first, you know.”

Starl gave introductions as he led them into the house and toward the decadent beef scent wafting around the air.

“Oh, yum.” Zhara lifted her nose in the air upon entering.

“Gotta keep the guests fed well, and the kid…” She poked Starl in his stomach. Zhara noticed the finger didn’t sink into or even budge his abs. She’d bet the man was sporting a twelve pack. “…to make sure they all come back again,” Starl’s mom finished.

“I know I taught you more manners than Starl. I’m Rebecca, his mortified mother, and you are?”

Zhara extended her hand into his mothers. “Zhara Johnson, pleasure to meet you.”

“Mom’s food is famous around these parts,” Starl announced proudly and obviously trying to butter his mother up .

Zhara remembered the feast Mrs. Markson had been preparing. She figured they’d all chowed down and had a good laugh at the city slicker who’d run home. The thought pissed her off again. She didn’t tuck tail ever. Yet she had.

Dumb ass.

“Well, am I to assume you need a room for the night and some food?” Starl’s mom—Rebecca—asked when Zhara’s stomach rumbled loud enough the entire kitchen echoed from it.

“I would be deep in your debt. Where do I sign in and pay?” she questioned, bringing her purse from her shoulder and unsnapping it to grab her wallet.

“Rubbish. A friend of Starl’s isn’t charged here. Starl, take her up to the atrium room so she can get freshened up for a late dinner. Now, the roast is tomorrow’s meal, but we’ve got some baked chicken and potato salad left over from dinner. Would that suffice, honey?”