Entangled Interaction Page 7

  My chin lifted as the burning lash of his criticism hit. I would show him. I am woman, hear me roar. I waved the Taser gun in the air, like a rallying flag. "Who's going with me?"

  Micah stepped up next to me. A long moment passed while he stared down at me in thought. I met his gaze and stood firm.

  "She's our best chance."

  Meat released a huge sigh, one that said he thought we were making a definite mistake. But he didn't argue further. His hand grabbed my arm while his father took the other side.

  "Everyone else stay here until we return." His father turned to the group, looking at each one as if to reinforce the order. After each one gave a slight nod, his attention returned to me. "We're ready. Take us to Jasmine."

  I bit my lip in nervousness. Jasmine's life and virtue depended upon my getting this right the first time. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and focused on that room. I could see the nasty yellow walls, the broken down desk, and icky couch that looked like it should be tossed into a trash bin rather than inside a house.

  The next second, we flashed into the room where I had been held. Both men let me go, heading toward the door. "I don't know where they have her, but this is where they locked me up," I whispered. They nodded, already in motion.

  "Why don't you poof back home? Or to the club? Somewhere well away from here?" Meat sternly suggested. "If you can't get home by yourself, then lock this door and don't open it to anyone but us."

  Oh, yeah. Why didn't I think of that? Maybe because the silly door locked and opened from the outside? Even if I pushed the small sofa against the door, anyone that wanted in would just have to climb over it. That would deter any big bad wolf. Not.

  I began to pace, torn between dashing after Meat and doing as ordered to stay out of the way and let them do their thing. He wanted me to teleport out. As much as I enjoyed the thought of safety and security back home, I couldn't leave them. What if something bad happened? Maybe there were more than the three wolves and they were severely outnumbered? Sure, I might not be much help, but I could do something. Anything. If their lives hung in the balance, I would move heaven and earth if I had to. Time inched by as the silence became deafening. Just when I thought my nerves would fray, the door clicked open.

  My moment of relief crashed like the stock exchange when the darkest haired wolf with the scar sauntered into the room. He stared in my direction as a sinister smile appeared.

  Chills raced up my spine while I broke out into a cold sweat. The cruel promise in his flashing eyes and taut jaw with the thin grinning lips didn't bode well for my future.

  Without saying a word, he stalked me, those long legs crossing the distance easily.

  I scurried from one side to the next, trying desperately to stay out of a corner while debating my limited options. I didn't want to cry out for fear of distracting Meat and his father or ruining any ambush they had planned. Surely, they were working fast, just not quickly enough in my book.

  I had to stall for time. "Why me?" Great first question. Determine how important I am. The more they need me, the longer I drew breath.

  "You're convenient. A female. And one that might provide a bit of entertainment for as long as I decide to let you live." He sneered, slowly shadowing my motions.

  Well, great. So much for the VIP list.

  "What did you do to Jasmine?" Vague questions. Keep the lunatic talking.

  "She's Montana's. No one tells him no." He lunged toward me.

  I squealed and darted, attempting to dash around his left flank and to the door.

  Unfortunately, the beast moved too fast, grabbing me as I attempted to whiz by. One hand clasped my upper arm tight enough to bruise.

  I started to struggle in earnest. Scratching, kicking, even biting at his hands.

  "That's good. I like the feisty ones. They turn me on. Fight all you want."

  He chuckled until my teeth sank into his forearm. At that point, I must have moved past amusing straight to ticking him off.

  A sound slap landed across my face. Ignoring it, I fought all the harder, using anything and everything I could think of to just escape from his clutches. He hit again, this time hard enough to send me sprawling and landing in a heap against the leg of the ancient loveseat. When I didn't move, he stalked closer, a smile of satisfaction plastered on his thin face.

  I gathered my bearings and took a deep breath. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I could teleport. I could run. I could yell my bloody head off. I could…

  My brain finally clicked when a solid object dug into my lower back. The Taser! I stashed it in my waistband under my loose shirt when Meat left the room.

  Yanking it out, I took a moment to aim, determined not to miss my one and only chance. Releasing my breath, I pulled the trigger with everything I had. I needed to do more than just stun him. That would be almost as bad as shooting him. It would only piss him off more.

  The probe hit and I heard the crackling sound of the Taser as it delivered as many volts as the small weapon could manage.

  His face turned from one of disbelief to outrage before his body began to shift forms. Human. Wolf. Human. Wolf. The transitions came so fast I could hardly keep up.

  At no time did I let off on the trigger. My luck, he would decide on a form, get up, and knock the crap out of me for making him pee his pants.

  In what seemed to take decades, he finally went limp, a naked human form draped across the hardwood floors.

  I eased up on the trigger but held tightly to the gun, just in case. Sure, I heard how Tasers worked against shifters. But no one had explained how long they stayed in this unconscious state or how angry they'd be when they woke. Better safe than sorry.

  The adrenaline began to ease, or at least, my heart no longer pounded out of my chest, although it still sped like a racehorse sprinting for the finish line in the Kentucky Derby. Fear rode the waves of my bloodstream, reminding me of what could have happened. Pains and aches from the struggle began to make themselves known. My face hurt. My arm hurt. Heck, my whole body felt bruised and battered.

  The door opened slowly and quietly, sending me back into the chaos of fight or flight.

  Meat stepped in and paused to scan the room. His eyes landed on the Taser and unconscious body at my feet. Those dark eyebrows shot up, but he remained mute.

  I felt an overwhelming sense of relief at his appearance. No blood or marks marred what I could see of him. Thus, the battle must have gone very well for our team. With that relief came abject fatigue and letdown.

  Slowly and gently, he eased forward, keeping his eyes locked on my face. Reaching out, he deftly pulled the weapon from my numb fingers, tossing it to the loveseat. "I thought you were going to leave the door locked and not let anyone in?" he asked quietly and calmly.

  "He let himself in," I answered on a puff of breath. "Jasmine?"

  "She's okay. Still drugged up, but coming out of it fast. Dad is getting her."

  His eyes held mine as he reached for me. I sidled backward away from his wing span.

  I longed for his compassion, his understanding, his support. Yet, my heart still ached. Standing in his arms would feel too good. I might have wanted the holding and cuddling, even needed it, but pride held me back. Stubborn pride forced me to remain strong in front of him. Prove that I was an independent woman who didn't need to rely on a man. I could make it in this world on my own. With or without his trust and faith. Giving in now would only lead to worse pain down the road.

  He showed his lack of belief in me earlier. Heck, he literally ripped my abilities apart in front of the entire male population of the Familia. So much for supporting the one you love. Or I guess in his mind, maybe used to love.

  Meat's head cocked, and his mouth opened. Before he could say a word, Micah entered the room, holding a woozy Jasmine in his arms. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, his eyes raking over my stinging and probably colorful face.

  I nodded. He glanced over to Meat, and they exchanged a long
look. With a sigh, Micah gave a slight nod. "Let's get out of here then."

  "What about him?" I didn't want to know what happened to the others. I would have enough nightmares as it was without any other details.

  "I'll take out the trash and meet you back at the club in a moment," Meat answered, not moving from his position.

  "You ready to go, young lady?"

  "More than ready."

  "Then grab a hold and we'll be off."

  Micah flashed us back to the club with an ease that filled me with envy. In seconds, a mob of men circled him and Jasmine, asking about what happened, her condition, if everything turned out fine. Most volunteered to go back and make sure those "polecats" as they called them, were gone forever.

  I snuck to the back of the group, easing away from the melee, and headed behind the bar to grab my purse. With the leather bag in hand, I decided to get the heck out of Dodge. Spinning around, I plowed directly into Meat.

  "Where are you going?"

  I glanced up at him, then lowered my eyes. "I need to get home."

  He reached out to me. I stepped back, keeping a reasonable distance between us.

  He sighed and ran one hand through his hair. "You weren't scared of me before." A trace of exasperation and concern laced his voice.

  "I…" I closed my mouth, not trusting myself with speech. I didn't fear him, I feared my reaction to him. I'd be in his arms in a flash if my mulish attitude and stinging feelings didn't adamantly refuse. Been there, done that, had the heartache to boot.

  "Shyanne… I…" He stopped midway, as if considering his words. His face spoke of worry and sadness.

  I dropped my eyes once more. "People will be wondering where I am. I… need to go." With that said, I left the fastest way possible. I teleported home.

  Chapter 8

  Jasmine called the next day. After graciously thanking me for the assist, she invited me to her parents' club that night. A celebration she called it.

  I declined with the excuse that I didn't feel up to socialization and I had to pick the boys up from baseball camp the next morning.

  She accepted my excuse with a promise to get together soon.

  Soon could be a long time coming in my book. I had no desire to go out on the town. Instead, I focused on the boys, the house, the yard and gardens. I wanted to stay home and be a total homebody. Peace existed in my little corner of the world, and, right now, I craved peace more than anything.

  Luckily, the bruising faded quickly, leaving just the barest of shadows by the time the boys returned home. I didn't want them to see that. They needed fun and to enjoy life as kids, not be reminded of the monsters in the world.

  They had been home not even two hours when a documentary came on TV, giving an update on the Haiti earthquake victims and where the country stood now, years after the event. The program reminded viewers that the need still existed, people still did without, and encouraged all to remember the Haitians.

  Both boys tracked me down in the laundry room, where I switched a load from the washer to the dryer.

  "Mommy?" Chance asked.

  "Yes, sweetie?" I tossed towels into the basket and reset the dryer.

  "We need to help."

  I looked at their serious faces and tilted my head. "Help who?"

  Sasha answered. "The earthquake people. From… Ha… Hay…"

  "Haiti?"

  They both nodded.

  I took a moment to start the washer, grab the basket, and gesture them back to the living room. Once we sat down, I began to fold while starting a small think tank. "That's a very noble and worthy cause. What do you want to do to help?"

  They thought about it for a while and talked a bit amongst themselves before coming up with an idea. "Clothes. They said on TV that the kids needed clothes."

  "They can have ours." Sasha echoed his brother's sentiment.

  I considered that a moment and gave them a smile. "I think that's an excellent idea."

  We huddled together and made a plan. I would help the boys go through their closets, pulling out any clothing that no longer fit. Shoes, coats, shirts, jeans, socks, hats, anything they no longer needed, were placed in a cardboard box.

  It took a couple of hours, but we managed to fill nearly four big boxes with clothing to donate. Their closet benefited from the thinning and organization, and both boys smiled with pride and excitement.

  Sasha remembered their toy box. Each boy kept a handful of items, tossing the remainder in another container for donation.

  I followed suit. The earthquake survivors needed the help, and I didn't have any hot dates lined up for the rest of my life, anyway. After the run-in with Meat a few days earlier, I didn't think I would ever board the dating train again, not sure I even wanted a man to share my evenings anymore.

  "What about this, Mommy?" Chance strode over carrying a large red oxford shirt.

  My breath caught as I realized who it had belonged to.

  A couple years ago, I finally made the initial move forward after Wills' death. It took a while, but I gathered up the courage to pull his clothing from our bedroom closet and place it in cardboard boxes. The boxes had sat there, undisturbed since that day.

  I blinked and sniffed, taking a long moment to consider. "I think now is a good time for those. I would like to see someone appreciate them and get some use from them."

  Sasha opened the opposite closet door where the boxes sat. He and Chance soon had them wiggled out from the confined space and sitting next to the others.

  I glanced from their excited faces to the boxes. Then I scanned the bedroom. Maybe the time had come for more than closet cleaning, but to take another big step in putting the past behind us.

  The next few days became a blur. Pictures came off the wall, being placed in photo albums, the frames wrapped and gently laid in a storage container until they were needed once more. I contacted a painter who dropped by to bid on painting a couple of rooms in the house. The Red Cross came to pick up our boxes. The boys spoke to the volunteer, explaining their reasons and how they wanted to help other kids who needed it. The older gentleman listened intently to them, giving them a smile and a handshake. He thanked them on behalf of his organization as well as the people who would benefit from their charitable donation.

  The boys must have made an impression on the man because he made it a point to write their names and address down after checking with me first. He told me he wanted to let the others back at the main office know about what Sasha and Chance had done. He complimented them heartily and told me what an excellent job I had done to have raised such caring boys.

  The boys walked around so proud of themselves for days. I added to their egos, reminding each how thoughtful they had been. It made my heart swell in knowing that such compassion existed in ones so young. They saw a need and gave up something of their own, whatever they could, in order to help.

  By that time, the painter visited, changing my room from off-white to more of a robin's egg blue. The boys had chosen a light green to replace the pastel blue that had been their nursery base color. We ventured out to the home store, purchasing new curtains and bed linens to accent the new décor. I even sprung for a new bed, donating the old one to a worthy cause.

  Later that day, I stood in my bedroom appraising the new look. No more pictures of the past remained. The bed linens were now a butterfly print, reminding one of spring and new life. A painting of the mountains just after a winter snow now hung over the bed, while a couple of floral prints brought out the colors in the room. My closet, newly organized, had tons of room. I feared missing the old look, but realized the new colors, the freshness felt right, as if I turned over a new leaf.

  Determined to keep the motto of finding my new life, I agreed to finally meet a persistent Jasmine at the club. A week had passed since the incident. She begged, threatened, and harassed until I completely ran out of excuses.

  Jessica prodded me to go, volunteering to watch the boys so I could get out of the hou
se for a few hours. She clucked over me, admonished my self-isolation, and lectured me often about time passing me by.

  My assent earned a squeal of delight from Jasmine as well as a promise to make the night into a celebratory gift from the whole Familia to me. I protested, to no avail. She bore the same stubborn streak as her brother.

  Speaking of Meat, my feelings washed back and forth like a ship on the ever-changing tides. One day, I decided to throw caution to the wind, speak to him, and see if we could patch things up. Maybe, just maybe, we could make a go of it. The following day, my mind cranked hard in reverse, opting to look ahead instead of to the past. The alpha's son had had his chance when he showed what he truly thought of me and my abilities. Some days I decided to say good riddance to him. Others, I wanted to race back to his arms, begging him to never let me go. However, in the end, pride won out.

  I would go to their party, put my nose in the air, and avoid Meat. I could and would be civil, but nothing more than casual conversation and definitely no alone time. Safety in numbers.

  I met Jasmine at the club's door promptly at eight. She tossed her hair back with a casual smile. Her jeans and red blouse flattered her assets, while being classy and subtle at the same time.

  "I was about to come looking for you." She sported a happy, relieved grin.

  I smiled slowly in return. "Traffic."

  "Uh huh." Taking my arm, she dragged me into the center of the den of humanity.

  We talked for a little bit, drank a glass of lemonade, and watched the crowd. A few of the faces appeared familiar, but I didn't know anyone by name.

  "Tyger said he would drop in after he gets off work. Mom and Dad said they might stop by too, but you can't always count on them. Way too busy lives." Jasmine sipped her drink and looked over the crowd.

  I picked at the label on my bottle and nodded. Checking my watch, I calculated what time I would make my escape to avoid a confrontation with the liger.