Waking the Beast (3 page)

God, he felt like the biggest heel in the world. He’d never realized she had a crush on him, and he should have. Why else would she keep coming to the bar night after night? The nachos weren’t that great, and neither was the ambience. It was a roughneck bar where most of the patrons rode Harleys like he did.

He blocked the pain from his mind, focusing on Abby instead. She was cute with her hair in disarray around her. It was longer and thicker than he’d figured, and damn, it’d felt good against his skin earlier when he’d awoken with her in his arms. So had her breasts, her nice full tits she hid so well beneath the big hoodies and sweatshirts she seemed fond of. And that ass had fit in his palms like it was meant for him. Abby had more secrets than just the crazy man trying to kill him. When they made it out of here, he’d make her spill.

He felt the sharp prick of a serrated blade and glanced down to see Harlan tracing the mouth of his lion with its edge.

Fuck, that hurt like a bitch.

“Maybe I need to focus on your spirit guide.” He sliced over Utah’s skin, and this time Utah couldn’t throttle the cry of pain.

Spirit guide? This guy was bat shit crazy.

“Give me one of the stun guns,” Harlan ordered, and one of his goons jumped to get it for him. “I want to hear you fucking roar,” Harlan screamed as he pushed the gun against the tattoo and sent another charge through Utah’s body.

Utah roared. He threw his head back against the wall and roared for all he was worth. If the fuckwad wanted a roar, he’d give him a fucking roar.

“We’re getting there.” The man sounded positively gleeful. “Give me the syringe! Give it to me now. Quickly!”

“No!” Abby screamed across from him. “You’ll kill him, Harlan. For God’s sake! You’ll kill him.”

Harlan turned back to Utah with a syringe full of something in his hand.

Utah thrashed as much as his bonds allowed.
Fuck! What was the crazed man going to give him now?
He didn’t want to leave Abby unprotected. What would they do to her? Would they torture her like they were him? He roared again, pulling uselessly at the chains.

“Yes! Yes!” Harlan exclaimed and drove the needle deep into Utah’s chest, pressing the plunger down until it was empty.

“Tah!” Abby screamed the nickname he preferred.

He felt a burning in his veins, and this time when he roared, he swore the room shook. He thought he saw a look of shock and terror on Abby’s face. Then everything went black.

Chapter Two

From the journal of Abby Lane

I finally convinced Professor Mueller to accept me into the group heading to Africa! I haven’t been this excited in so long! I wish my parents were here to share in my happiness. I miss them so much. But I refuse to be sad today, even here in my journal. I want to celebrate! I want to jump for joy.

Not only will this be my first anthropological trip, but I’m heading to Africa, the home of the legend that has held me enthralled since I came across it as a child, the paka watu. In my head, I know it is legend, the lore of ages past, people who become great cats can’t possibly exist. But my heart screams differently, and I feel compelled to keep searching as if there is a voice inside me crying out that this is my destiny, crying out I could be the key to waking them.

It is funny considering it was a lion who destroyed my life. Yet, still I love the lion and cast no blame on the species for the act of a lion who was so hurt and wounded, driven by the fear and fever that consumed and sought to kill him.

I will write more when I arrive. I am a last minute addition, and I must pack quickly! Somehow, I know this trip is fated, and that it will change my life!

* * * *

I’m here. Africa. And it is just as beautiful as I imagined. We work long days, but I love every moment. I’ve met some local bushmen, and they’ve invited me to visit. I plan to take them up on it, even though Professor Mueller has expressly forbidden any of us to wander off alone. I’m exhausted and falling asleep as I write this. Hopefully, I will have greater things to share soon.

* * * *

Oh, my God! I’ve found it. I’m almost afraid to confess this here in fear someone may find it, but it is too great to contain inside me. I’ve found what I didn’t even realize I was searching for. The bushmen not only know the legend of the paka watu, but have an oral history of the legend far greater and more in depth than anything I’ve read. Even better…THEY HAVE A NAME! I have a starting point.

The pride leader left his native country on a ship bound for England, under cover of darkness, claiming the identity of a man who would never be leaving Africa.

* * * *

Abby once again found herself kneeling over Utah, trying desperately to wake him. If she felt more fear this time, it was only because of what she still couldn’t believe she’d seen. But there was no time to process it all now. She’d deal with it later, when they were somewhere safe.

“Utah.” She shook his shoulders vigorously, not afraid of waking the dead man who was the only one who still remained with them.

She almost felt sorry for Southy. When Utah had snapped the first chain, Whiney had taken off yelling he wasn’t getting paid to die. Harlan had screamed at him to stop, even as he’d backed away himself. But as another roar rocked the room and the second chain groaned at the force Utah was exerting on it, Harlan had turned and run as well.

Only Southy remained and only because he had the compassion to open the cell door for her. She had no idea what made him do the right thing in the end. Whatever it was, it had cost him his life.

She shuddered as the crystal clear vision of Utah exploding off the wall filled her mind, broken chains hanging from his wrists and ankles. Southy had been reaching for her hand when Utah grabbed him. Had the man meant to help her or use her as a shield against Utah? She’d have to figure that out later, when shock wasn’t trying to shut her down.

Utah had flung the man hard against the wall he’d just torn free of. Then he’d crouched in front of her growling. Southy had taken one look at Utah’s face and backed away in fear.

What the hell had they shot into Utah? She swore his eyes were completely golden, instead of the warm brown they usually were. What was happening to him? Part of her was screaming she knew exactly what was happening. She’d known, and it had terrified her, even as it had excited her.

“Utah.” She slapped him across the face, trying to wake him. Southy’s blood was creeping across the floor toward them as it flowed from where his throat had been ripped out…ripped out by Utah’s bare hands.

She’d screamed Utah’s name, making him turn as Southy dropped soundlessly to the floor. Utah’s face and chest were splattered with blood, so much blood. The hot metallic smell of it seemed to cover him. His eyes flashed brown, gold, brown, as he shook his head and took a step toward her.

“Abby.” Her name had been a mere whisper as he fell, losing consciousness at the most inconvenient time.

She had no idea where Harlan and Whiney had run off to, no idea if or when they might be coming back. She had to get Utah up and going now. She didn’t have a clue where they were. She’d ripped her sweatshirt over her head and used it to towel off the majority of blood from Utah. If there were people outside, it wouldn’t be good to let them see him covered. He’d killed a man, and it wouldn’t matter that he had only been defending himself, not with the vicious way he’d killed Southy.

Utah moaned.

“Utah, please wake up. Wake up. We need to go.”

His eyes flickered open, and she almost sighed in relief at the beautiful warm brown orbs that greeted her. He was back.

“Abby?”

“We have to go, Utah.” She tugged at him, urging him to rise. “They’re gone. We need to get out of here before they come back.”

He glanced slowly around as he sat up. His eyes locked on Southy and he winced. “Jesus. What the fuck? Why’d they do that?”

She just shook her head. He wasn’t ready to hear the truth, and she wasn’t prepared to tell him yet. There were too many explanations that needed to be shared first. Besides, she needed Utah calm and in control to help them get out of here. Telling him, “oh, by the way, you did that,” wasn’t going to accomplish that.

“We have to go!” She let the fear fill her voice and eyes, and if a little of it was directed at him as well now, she’d deal with that later.

He snapped to attention, standing and pulling her up with him. She took his hand and tugged him in the direction she’d watched Harlan run off.

“This way. We have to be careful, Utah. This is the way they went.”

He took the lead, using his broad body to hide hers, forming a shield to protect her. She’d imagined him often as her protector, but never in a situation like this, never with her actually in danger.

“Stay behind me. No matter what you hear. Stay behind me.” He led them around the corner and up the stairs, moving much quieter in his bare feet than she did in her boots.

How was she going to hide an almost naked Utah when they stepped out of wherever they were? A fully dressed Utah would draw attention. In nothing but his tight black boxers? Anyone remotely close by would be drawn to look at him.

“Stay here.” He pressed her against the wall when they reached the top of the stairs and the closed door. He looked at her for a moment then bent and kissed her softly on the lips. He didn’t say anything else as he crouched down and slowly eased the door open. Her lips were still tingling from the brush of his when he disappeared.

She counted to a hundred, twice, then twice more as she strained to hear. She wasn’t sure what to listen for, running footsteps, the angry retort of a gun, a primal roar? She didn’t know what she feared most, but nothing reached her, only the sound of her blood beating fast thudded in her ears. Where was he? Was he okay?

She was just debating the necessity of following Utah through the door when it jerked open, and he was there. She barely held back her shriek of surprise as her heart beat impossibly faster.

“Calm down,” he soothed, rubbing his hand up and down her bare arm. His gaze dropped to her breasts, and she mourned the loss of her sweatshirt. It’d been one of her favorites. “We’re safe for now.”

He’d found his clothes, and the feminine parts of her mourned that as well, though Utah looked just as sexy in his jeans and black T-shirt. He wore black boots now as well. So why hadn’t she heard him coming toward her? At six five and…?

“How much do you weigh?” The question spilled from her brain, off the tip of her tongue and into the air around them.

His hand automatically fell to his flat stomach as if she were calling him fat. “Two-forty-five.”

And it was all muscle. There’d been no missing that fact as he’d walked around in his underwear.

“Why?” he asked.

“I didn’t hear you coming.”

He grinned, and if she didn’t know better, she’d actually believe he might be flirting with her.

“I promise you, honey, next time I come, you’ll hear me.”

She nodded her head. It was probably due to the stress she was under. She needed to calm down her heart rate and breathing. She didn’t want anyone else to sneak up on them without her knowing. “Are they here?”

He gave her a strange look, as if he were expecting her to say something else.

“What?” she asked. “Are they here?” she asked again. “We need to go.”

He smiled and shook his head, lifting a finger to brush softly against her cheek. “We’ll come back to this conversation later, when we have more time.”

“What? Why?” Abby was almost choking on the terror someone would come in and find them. Harlan and Whiney with more men and weapons. Or maybe the cops who would lock them away when they found Southy downstairs. She couldn’t focus on anything else.

“Nothing.” He held his hand out to her, and she took it like the lifeline it felt like. “My bike’s out there. Bastards must have stolen it. I still can’t remember anything past leaving the bar last night after closing. I remember stepping out the back door and…nothing.”

“I remember sitting at home in my favorite chair and closing my eyes. Then waking up here, in that cell with you.”

“We’ve got a lot to talk about, Abby. First we need to get out of here. We’ll head to my place first. We can call the police from there. My phone wasn’t with my stuff.” He glanced down at her as he led them quickly through the building. Now she knew why it’d taken him so long to get back to her. He’d not only dressed but explored as well. He never faltered as he led her to the exit.

“I don’t have my phone on me either,” she finally managed to answer. She’d have to convince him not to call the police when they got to his place. Not when Utah would be the one arrested for murder. She had little doubt Harlan would wiggle out of this with no blame.

Utah blocked her against the wall again, as he slid the outside door open and glanced around the frame. “It’s clear. Let’s go.” He pulled her after him into an alley, where his big black bike sat ominously next to a huge green industrial trash bin.

“I’m surprised no one stole it.”

He glanced back at her as he used the keys he’d tugged out of his pocket and popped open a storage bin under the seat. “It was inside. I just moved it out. They must have been afraid of the same thing.” He pulled a black helmet free and tossed it to her. “Put that on.”

He straddled the bike, his back blocking his movements until the thrum of the Harley’s motor filled the air.

“Hurry up, Abby,” he prompted her, raising his voice to be heard over the bike. “Helmet and jump on.”

She quickly put the helmet on and fastened it as she eased on the bike behind him. She’d never ridden on a motorcycle before.

“Hold tight,” he urged as he took off.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and clung to him like a monkey, her breasts plastered against his back, her head tucked against his shoulder.