Her Wild Protector (Paranormal Romance) (6 page)

Once at the airport, Marshall drove to what looked like a large warehouse but apparently was an aircraft hangar. He parked his Jeep and pulled their luggage from the backseat.

“Stay here for a minute while I check to see if the pilot is ready for us.” He headed to a small plane.

Tara got out and looked around. There wasn’t much action at the airfield this time of day. A helicopter came in for a landing, the chop-chop of its blades breaking the silence. In the distance she saw a small plane taxi down the runway. At a nearby hangar, a man in overalls bent over the tire of a plane while another inspected the tail. The wind whipped up her hair and she saw an orange wind sock standing at a horizontal angle. A few white birds flew overhead, claiming their space in the clear blue sky.

“Have you ever flown in a small plane?” Marshall asked when he returned, grabbing the suitcases.

“No, I’ve only flown in a big one a few times. Where are we going, anyway?”

“To an island in the Bahamas, not far. We’ll be in the air a little over an hour. Do you get airsick?”

“I don’t know.” Tara’s stomach turned as she viewed the various crafts. They looked so small compared to the jets she’d been in and she’d felt claustrophobic even on those larger ones.

“I need to make a pit stop first,” she said.

“The bathroom is there, at the back of the building.” Marshall pointed to one of the metal structures. “Make it fast, we need to get going.”

Chapter Four

Tara jogged inside and found the small bathroom. Obviously a male hangout. The bar of soap was dirty with grease and the seat on the toilet was up. She squatted, thankful for strong leg muscles. She washed her hands, put on lotion and ran a finger under her eyes to fix her makeup. Back at her apartment she’d taken just a minute to apply a bit of eyeliner and mascara, and the hurried application wasn’t quite a success. Under the dim lighting in this room, she looked like death warmed over. Of course, considering what she’d just seen, her pallor was understandable.

She pulled out her phone and turned it over in her hands. It wasn’t too late. She could call the cops, run out the back door, find a place to hide…

A light tapping on the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Tara, come on out of there. We need to get moving.” Marshall spoke in a low tone. She opened the door and stuck her head around.

“I don’t want to go.”

“Come here,” he beckoned, crooking his finger, still using the gentle tone one uses with a frightened animal. She emerged halfway from the bathroom. He took one hand and squeezed it, then gently pulled her all the way out. “I know you’re scared and this is all pretty strange to you. I’m going to do my best to make sure you’re safe. I promise.”

“Take off your glasses—look me in the eye and tell me that.”

He removed his shades and stared at her intently. Those gorgeous eyes! She forced herself not to focus on Marshall’s good looks but instead to study him to see if he was telling the truth. Tara liked to think she was good at reading people, but she knew she was far too trusting. Saying “I do” to Karl proved that.

In Marshall’s eyes she saw sincerity. He truly believed he could protect her and her gut feeling told her to trust him.

“I
will
keep you safe,” he said, still holding her hand, and this time the low timbre of his voice stirred feelings deep inside. Her knees wobbled and her heart sped up. A familiar tingle that she hadn’t felt for a long time ran between her legs and heat rose to her cheeks. She ducked her head. She would not let him see the effect he had on her. He would use that to manipulate her, she was certain. Already he’d convinced her to climb into a small tin can and fly to who knows where.

“This is the best option, believe me. If you stay here you’re in danger,” Marshall said, and still holding her hand, they walked to the airplane. The warmth and pressure of his grip gave her comfort but she pulled away, not wanting to get so drawn into his masculine presence that she couldn’t think clearly. She had a feeling that was easily possible.

“It’s got blade thingies,” she said when they reached the plane. It seemed even smaller close up.

“Propellers, we like to call them,”

“What kind of plane is this?” Still stalling, Tara walked around and kicked one of the tires. It felt solid.

“It’s a Cessna Conquest. I ride in them all the time—it’s perfectly safe. Hop in.”

She climbed the steps and looked inside.

“It’s kind of small.”

“There’s plenty of room. Grab a seat and buckle up.”

Tara did so, wiggling around. The chair was roomier and more comfortable than she remembered from her other flights, and there was enough room to stretch her legs. The interior was actually fairly spacious, she noted, now that she was seated. She let out a breath. Claustrophobia wouldn’t be a problem.

Marshall joined her a few moments later, sitting in the seat across from her.

“Hang tight, we’ll be in the air shortly. Use this if you feel nauseous.” He handed her a bag.

Tara gripped her purse as they taxied down the runway. The scenery flew past and suddenly they were in the air. Her stomach lurched and she grabbed the airsick bag Marshall had given her. The droning sound of the engine pulsed and she could feel the plane vibrate.

She turned to find Marshall watching her, his brow furrowed and a look of concern in his eyes. Damn it, she did not want to get sick. She hated to throw up, despised that burning feeling in her throat. She also found, to her annoyance, she wanted to make a good impression on Marshall. Taking a deep breath, she stole a glance out the window and was instantly distracted. The view was breathtaking! Sunlight sparkled off the water where shades of blue and green blended together to form a colorful mosaic.

“Wow, the world looks different from up here,” she said.

Marshall’s face relaxed and he smiled. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? You’re feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I think I’ll be all right.”

“I’ll get us club sodas. That will help your stomach.”

He unfastened his belt and headed to the back of the plane, then returned with two full cups. She took a few sips then put the beverage on the table he’d unfolded between them.

“You might want to hang on to that. We could hit a few bumps.”

Tara drained the cup then leaned back.

“Since we’re going to be together for a while, you can tell me all about the DOSA.”

“I can’t tell you
all
about them, but I can tell you a little more.”

“Hey, what about Tony?” Tara asked. Though he deserved punishment for trying to kill her, she didn’t necessarily want him to die a slow tortuous death from the heat.

“Someone’s coming for him. He’ll be fine. The stun will wear off soon.”

“About this mysterious organization…”

Marshall settled back in his seat and crossed his legs. Tara tried not to let the sight of his powerful, perfectly proportioned body distract her. She needed to know about this group that was able to transform humans into such magnificent yet deadly creatures.

“DOSA does a little of anything and everything related to supernatural beings. There is more going on in our world than meets the eye, and our organization attempts to keep those mysteries hidden. People don’t need to see what’s beyond their understanding. That’s why we have to find out why you you’re able to suddenly see us Metamorphs.”

“Why do you get to determine what people need to see? If there are other beings on our world, maybe we should know about them.” Tara had always enjoyed science, mysteries and the paranormal. She was certain other intelligent life-forms existed and kept an open mind about such things.

“Not if we want to continue to live in peace. Governments in other countries would not be terribly understanding if they knew what we do. More than likely, they would want to use the secrets we’ve uncovered for combat.”

Tara snorted. “You mean to tell me our own kind and benevolent government has never used you, or any other spooky creature for warlike purposes themselves? I find that hard to believe. Those weapons I saw you fire, they weren’t designed for paintball games.”

Marshall frowned and Tara saw his hand on the armrest tighten.

“There is always going to be an element of danger when dealing with the unknown. We prefer to be prepared.”

“The unknown. What other kinds of supernatural beings are there?” Tara asked. “Ones like we see in the movies?”

“I can’t tell you anything more specific. Everything we do isn’t dangerous, though. In fact, DOSA was originally formed when our founder discovered a new species of intelligent plant life underwater.”

“I think some of those plants might be my coworkers. So, how did one of your mad scientists come up with the idea for Metamorphs?”

The frown disappeared and his eyes brightened a shade. “It’s a long story and I’m going to have to say it again—I can’t give you details. One extraordinarily brilliant man found a way to manipulate DNA and produce beings like myself, men and women capable of using all of our body and mind’s capacity.”

“So you can change to a blue light form and an animal. Only one animal?”

“Yes, I’ve only been programmed as one. Others can assume more than one form.”

“You still haven’t told me what exactly Metamorphs do.”

“Most of us are used for security purposes right now. There are plans in the works for us to assume roles as diplomats in foreign countries.”

Tara pursed her lips. “This still all sounds like military operations to me.”

“It’s not.” His eyes hooded again, and sensing she had hit a nerve, she decided it might be a good idea to steer to another subject.

“Tell me what you do for DOSA.”

An actual smile appeared on his face and he leaned back in his seat.

“Right now, I’m working as a quality-control specialist. That’s a nice, ambiguous title for a job that allows me to observe activity at the port.”

“Looking for what? That’s not a military base. There’s nothing secretive going on out there. Is there?”

“Port Canaveral is the fastest-growing cruise port in Florida. Other countries have established a presence there and we need to monitor their activities.”

“There aren’t any foreign companies doing business at the port.”

“Not obviously, no, but they are there. That’s my job, to find them and watch what they’re up to.”

“So, you’re a spy?”

“No, I’m a surveillance specialist, observing the actions of potentially harmful undercover agents…”

“Oh, you’re spying on the spies. What exactly—”

Marshall held up his hand. “No more questions about my work.”

Tara was rather surprised that he’d revealed this much and actually seemed to enjoy talking to her and telling her about DOSA. He took pride in his duties, she realized, no matter how strange the organization or his role in it was.

“Okay, then tell me what it’s like to be a Metamorph. What was that thing you did to Annette?”

“Well, as you know, I can become an energy form when I need to, the blue light. I sent a surge of power to her.”

“When you kissed her.”

“Yes, when I kissed her.”

“Is that what killed her?”

Marshall shifted in his seat. “Yes. She was dead before she crashed. She didn’t suffer.”

“What if she had taken someone else out with her car?” Tara recalled the twisted pile of metal and a chill went down her spine.

“I programmed her vehicle to travel in a straight line then to veer off into that light pole.” Marshall folded the table between them.

“We won’t be in the air much longer. There are magazines to read in that compartment over there. I’m going up front to talk with the pilot.”

“Can I walk around the plane?”

“Yes, but be careful—it can get rough.”

Tara stood, and to emphasize his words the plane bumped suddenly. Tara lost her balance and fell onto Marshall. He put up his hands to steady her, gripping her waist. She was suddenly inches away from him.

As before when they touched, a shiver ran through her. A sudden desire to move closer, to press her body into his, overcame her. He smelled liked wind and fire and radiated power and barely tamed raw energy.

“What kind of animal are you?” she asked, looking into his extraordinary eyes. The flecks of gold deepened and his pupils turned to black pools. She wanted to dive into them and not come up for air. He held her gaze for a moment, then eased her body away.

“A dangerous one.”

Marshall turned and strode toward the front of the plane. Tara plunked down into her seat, leaned back and closed her eyes. Her analytical accountant’s mind sorted through the information she’d been given and tried to make sense of it. A government agency that worked with paranormal elements. That wasn’t so shocking. That they chose to take that technology and use their creations for military purposes did not surprise her one bit, either. The military segment of the government had a huge budget, enough to fund research of this caliber.

Their experiments weren’t perfected, obviously, if they’d produced a man like Denzel. If what Marshall said was true, there was a flaw somewhere in the process.

While the logical side of her brain wanted to sort information, the other side of her brain was irresistibly drawn to thoughts of Marshall. Even though he was nowhere near, her heart pounded madly, as though he were still only inches away. The effect he had on her was unsettling. Could that be a Metamorph characteristic? Maybe they’d enhanced him with extra pheromones, designed to drive women crazy. Whatever it was, she resolved to keep her wits about her and not be taken in by his sensual aura.

That story about his family. He might have made the whole thing up to get her to cooperate, but she didn’t think so. She’d caught glimpses of his face when he was engrossed in the work of hanging her door and knew it had cost him to share his past with her. She sensed he saw his youth as a time of weakness and didn’t want her or anyone to pity him.

She didn’t. Tara admired people who pulled themselves out of difficult situations and overcame trials. It was one reason she never let herself get too down. She refused to be a pathetic woman, one whom others felt sorry for.