Wild (6 page)

“Yeah, he says you're an idiot and a disgrace to bearkind.”

“Got any matches?”

“Why the hell would I carry around matches? Some of us respect our bodies and don't smoke. What happened to that other lighter you had, the green one you've been lighting those cigarettes with?”

“It's in my pack of smokes, which I left in the car.”

Slap
.

“Ow. What was that for?”

“Being a moron. Get your fat ass out to that car and grab it.”

“I'm gonna tell the boss you hit me.”

“Go ahead. He'll probably hit you, too, for whining.”

“Asshole.”

Naked, but still very human, Brody had only seconds before the bear exited the office.

And boy was that thug surprised when he saw a huge Siberian tiger waiting for him with a smile full of sharp teeth.

Brody didn't make a sound. Tigers rarely did on a hunt, but they did so love to pounce.

His front paws hit the man in the chest, and they went down with a hard thump. Unlike a human, though, the man he attacked didn't stay surprised for long. Nor did he remain human. Clothing tore as his opponent's big brown bear burst free.

Teddy! His tiger made a happy chuffing noise.

Now that was more sporting. Brody did so enjoy a challenge. Snarling at the bear's mini roar, they exchanged swipes of their paws. Of course his did more damage. Brody's retractable claws were much sharper and deadlier—he kept them honed on a salvaged piece of wood he kept in his living room that he told visitors was a unique sculpture. Funny what a person could pass off as art.

As he and the bear snarled and snapped at each other, he could hear the other attacker shout, “What the hell is going on out there?”

What were the odds he wouldn't come and see?

Zero.

The other thug stuck his head out of the door. The whites of his eyes widened. “A fucking tiger. Shit. I heard about him. That's Garoux's man. You can't let him leave. Take care of him while I take care of the girl.”

The first was laughable. If anyone was gonna get schooled in this battle, it was the bear who squirmed underneath him. But the part that chilled him was the reference to Lulu. Like hell was anyone taking care of her other than him.

Ignoring the furry toy beneath him, Brody sprang for the door, in time to see the other bear furiously shaking and clicking a lighter. Before Brody could pounce, a feeble flame flickered, not much, not long, but enough to ignite the piece of paper held to it.

The thug waved the lit sheet in front of Brody as he stalked closer. “Stay back, furball, or I'll drop it on the girl.”

Look who was calling who a furball. Another time, he would have taken the time to get offended and draw the bout out. Given the office reeked of whiskey, an accelerant, this probably wasn't the time. The last thing he wanted in here was a fire.

So he did the only thing he could.

Surrender?

Hell no. He blew.

In his mind, it seemed like the right thing to do. It always worked on his birthday cakes, even as the number of candles increased every year. But on a burning, flaking piece of paper?

Embers scattered, the force of his breath actually brightening them as they drifted, much like dust motes, to settle on the desk and all around. Under usual circumstances, they would have flickered out, a paper firefly run out of fuel. But alcohol was a superfood when it came to feeding flames. Drop even the tiniest ember into a puddle and
whoosh
.

The instant ignition created immediate heat and smoke.

Worse, the alcohol allowed the fire to spread wide and fast. In no time, the flames licked the entire surface of the desk.

Dancing and hot. Very hot. He needed to grab the extinguisher from the hall, but that meant leaving Lulu here with the bears and the flames. He needed to get her to safety first before he attempted to fight the flames.

Who was he kidding? By the time he solved the bear dilemma, got his mate to safety, and returned, the fire would have spread too far.

At this point, the only logical thing left to do was escape.

With Lulu, who thus far lay slumped on the floor still clear of flame, but how long would that last?

It seemed the thug saw his dilemma. “What's it going to be, alley cat? You gonna waste time trying to take me out or save the girl?”

There was never any question. Lulu came first, and yet at the same time, he didn't dare turn his back on the other shifter. He couldn't help Lulu if the bastard clocked him from behind.

Sensing his dilemma, the thug laughed. “Guess we're at an impasse.”

Brody snarled and took a step toward the shifter. If he tore the guy's throat out quickly, then he could still change shapes and grab Lulu, making sure they both escaped the spreading flames.

A plan that might have worked better if he'd not assumed the brown bear in the hall would take off.

A heavy body hit him from behind, driving him into the flame-ridden desk. He hit it hard enough that it tilted first away from him then rocked back, spilling some of the burning fuel onto his lovely striped coat.

No.

The burn on his skin, and the retched smell of singeing hair, had him dropping to his side and smothering it. All animals, even shifters, had a healthy fear of fire. A throwback to times when a forest fire could wipe out herds and clans.

While he made sure he didn't turn into a literal tiger, tiger burning bright, the bears left, slamming the door shut behind them.

While he would have liked to chase them, because now he really wanted a bear rug, make that two, for his place, Lulu needed him more.

But she needed a man to carry her out, not a cat.

However, a cat was what she'd get. During his tussle with the bears, or just after, she'd regained consciousness. Big eyes peered at him through the thickening, smoky air.

“What the hell is a tiger doing in my office?” She didn't say anything else as she coughed. Coughed again. She drew the collar of her shirt up to cover her mouth and crawled to the door, smart girl keeping low while muttering, “If you're real, please don't eat me.”

If she could get out of here on her own, then he'd have no reason to reveal his true self yet. Perhaps she'd pass his presence off as a hallucination.

More bad luck. The bears hadn't just closed the door. They'd wedged something under the handle. No matter which way she pushed and pulled and turned at the knob, the damned door wouldn't open.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” she cried, banging open-handed on the door, frustration bubbling. An inhalation of breath had her coughing and doubling over.

Since he couldn't exactly tell her to get out of the way, he head-butted her.

She jumped.

“Holy cow, don't tell me you're real?”

Real enough and big enough that he could throw his body at the door, and while whatever was wedged under the handle didn't give, the frame did.

Which proved good and bad.

Good, she could wrench the door out of the way, the chair beyond it toppling. Bad because all that fresh air got sucked into the room, and the fire behind them whooshed as the smoke billowed.

Lulu slumped, overcome by coughing. He nudged her, pushing her to move up the hall, but she staggered, her steps uneven, her breathing raspy.

She slid down to the floor, her head lolling to the side.

He nosed her.

She didn't get up.

He licked her.

She grumbled but crawled, coughing all the way. His own lungs were getting tighter, and he knew they needed to stop wasting time. He swapped bodies.

Just in time because she slumped to the floor again. Rolling her onto her back, he bent over her to grab her just as her eyes fluttered open.

Puzzlement made her brow crease. “Broderick?”

“Hold on, sweetheart, I got you.” Slinging her over his shoulder, he snagged her and did a one-handed grab at his pile of clothes as he moved rapidly up the hall. Shoving open the door allowed fresh air to rush into his starved lungs. But the air in here wouldn't remain clean for long. Of the bears, there was no sign.

The
EXIT
sign still glowed red at the back. However, the sliver of daylight was gone.

Brody didn't want to emerge onto a street with curious eyes, so he chose the back exit. Before opening the door, though, he took a moment to throw on his pants and his shirt, which he left unbuttoned, but no shoes. His mad grab had netted him only one, and he'd probably look dumb walking around in just one loafer.

And there was no time to go back.

The employee door slammed shut behind him, yet he could still smell the smoke. Was that lit strip coming from under the door the glow of flames?

Time to blow this joint. Flinging Lulu over his shoulder once again, fireman style, Brody hit the bar to the exit door and then cursed as he bounced back.

“Bloody bastards. Don't tell me they blocked this entrance, too.” Should he assume they'd probably done something to the front doors as well?

He couldn't really waste time finding out. He gave another shove at the exit door and was gratified by a groan of metal and the appearance, if brief, of daylight. He shoved again, really putting his shoulder to it, and the metal bin placed against the door screeched as it dragged across the concrete ground. He put Lulu down to the side and out of the way before he took a running start at the stubborn door.

He hit the portal, and the bin went sliding with a god-awful sound. But at least he'd gotten them an exit.

Quickly, he scooped up Lulu and carried her out. Luckily, the alley proved clear, and he made it to his car without getting unduly noticed. Even he would have been hard-pressed to explain his half-dressed state, smelling of smoke, and carrying an unconscious girl. Those kinds of stunts he'd left behind during his college days. Good times.

He lay Lulu along the backseat of his practical sedan. Yes, he drove a Cadillac, one inherited after his grandfather died. Some of his friends mocked him for keeping it. It wasn't exactly a cool car for a tiger of his caliber. In his defense, the thing drove like a dream, had all the bells and whistles, and the trunk was big enough for two bodies.

And, yes, he knew this fact from experience.

Right now all his trunk held was an emergency stash of clothes, protein bars, and a blanket. He hopped into the running shoes, sockless to save time, and snagged the woolly blanket. He tossed it over Lulu, hiding her from the casual onlooker. He needed to get her out of here without anyone seeing.

It was pretty clear at this point that—whatever was going on with the club, between the audit and the bears—she was considered dispensable.

Not to him.

But where could he take her to keep her safe? Her place was out of the question. She needed to hide while he sorted things out. His place? Probably not a good idea either since he should also lay low. The bears had intended for them to both die in there.

Their boss wouldn't be too happy when they found out not only Lulu but also a direct link to Fabian had survived. Those bears might come after him again.

Fun.
His tiger didn't mind, but he did. Safety for Lulu came first.

So with the most likely spots vetoed, what did that leave?

Less than a half hour later, his boss's bellow was probably heard across a few states: “You mentally defective feline. You brought a human here!”

There went his employee-of-the-month steak dinner.

 

CHAPTER 8

Waking to find herself in an unfamiliar place was bad enough, but to wake to a man yelling, making the pounding in her head worse? Yeah, she might have lost her cool for a minute.

“Would whoever is shouting shut the hell up? I've got a bloody mariachi band drumming through my mind, and your lack of control over your temper isn't helping it.”

The haranguing stopped, and a velvety-smooth voice that sounded kind of familiar said, “Are you seriously telling me to be quiet in my own home?”

Peering with one gritty eye, Lulu could have groaned as she noted the unsmiling countenance of one mob lord. “Not you again.” Probably not the most diplomatic thing to say to her boss. “How did I end up here?”

“He”—Garoux jerked a thumb behind him—“brought you. And he's now going to leave with you.”

From behind Garoux stepped Broderick. “You know we can't leave. Where would she go?”

“Home.”

Broderick shook his head. “I don't think that's a good idea. I get the impression those thugs from the club were targeting her.”

“I happen to agree, but just because she's gotten mixed up with unsavory elements doesn't mean she can stay here.”

“Hold on. Back up a minute.” She went into a deep coughing fit as she tried to speak.
What's wrong with my throat?

Last thing she remembered was getting conked on the head. No. Wait. There was more. She remembered fire. Smoke. A tiger?

Her memories were hazy, and she wanted answers, but she could hardly ask questions while hacking up a lung.

Someone thrust a cloth in her hand and said, “Spit.”

She did, the awful taste of ash making her grimace, and yet it was seeing who held the cloth that made her cheeks burn bright. Nothing screamed sexy like hacking up something gross in front of a cute guy.

“Better?” Broderick asked, not seeming to mind her less-than-ladylike act as he smoothed the hair from her brow.

Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.

“That might feel better, but I'll bet your throat is super dry after that smoke.” Broderick craned his head and said, “Can I get a glass of water? Make that two. I could use something to soothe my throat, too.”

“Here. Try this.”

It was a glass of white wine, but parched, Lulu grabbed it. Thirsty, so thirsty. She gulped it, but the strong flavor hit her hard, and she choked, spewing out a large mouthful … right on Broderick.