Another Tiger Bites the Dust

by ML Guida

Lara put her hands behind her back. “What time was this?”

  “About seven o’clock.” Gerri seemed so sure, but he was positive that Lara had coached her.

  “Can you tell us what happened?”

  “We were drinking wine when we heard noises next door to an empty apartment.”

  “What kind of noises?”

  “Scratches and furniture moving.”

  John and the bitch librarian scribbled on paper.

  “We thought it was strange. She went to look outside and came inside, saying she thought someone was in the apartment next door that wasn’t supposed to be in there.”

  “Then, what happened?”

  “Nothing, but about an hour later we smelled smoke. We ran out of the apartment and the whole place was on fire. We ran downstairs. Smoke was everywhere.”

  Griff looked down at his hands that were clenched on the table. His heart beat swiftly. The smells, screams, and chaos rolled in his mind as Gerri talked.

  “People were screaming. Two children were trapped in an apartment.” Gerri wiped her eyes and put her shaking hand down. She smiled and gestured toward Griff. “Mr. Reese transformed into a tiger and climbed the burning building to save those two children. Flames and black smoke were pouring out of the apartments. If he hadn’t risked his life, those two children would have died.”

  “Ms. Wilder, many arsonists set fires in order for them to perform acts of heroism.” The tight-lipped librarian, Ms. Doyle, looked down her glasses at Gerri.

  Griff’s muscles tensed and he clenched his teeth. She was damn lucky his tiger was subdued.

  Gerri glared. “I didn’t get that impression.”

  “But you didn’t see who started the fire, did you?” The bitch shuffled her papers.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Ms. Wilder.” Lara stood. “Did anyone else try to go into the apartment?”

  Gerri shook her head. “No.”

  “Thank you.”

  John turned to the rest of the board. “Does anyone else have any more questions?”

  “No,” they all responded.

  “You may step down, Ms. Wilder,” John said.

  “I have another witness, Ms. Sharon Stephens–– ”

  “I think we have heard enough,” Steve Chambers interrupted.

  Perspiration was rolling down his temples as if he were the one on trial. He looked more nervous than Griff. The question was who or what was making the guy sweat silver bullets?

  “I have not finished my presenting my case, Mr. Chambers.” Lara’s sharp tone was like a gunshot. “I have the right to represent Mr. Reese to my full ability.”

  John frowned. “Yes, Mr. Chambers, this is highly unorthodox.”

  Griff hung his head and his heart slowly cracked. It was happening again. He was being railroaded back to prison.

  Steve pulled on his collar. “I believe based on his record and his therapist’s report, Mr. Reese, should be paroled.”

  Griff jerked his head up. Steve was staring at someone behind them. Griff’s chest tightened and chills crept down his spine. He glanced over his shoulder. It was Grant Sellars. He had moved from his seat in the back and was now in the first row, right across from Chambers.

  Something was up. He’d talked to other prisoners about their parole hearings and no one was released quickly. Why all of a sudden was his parole being pushed?

  “Mr. Chambers…” The uptight librarian glared. “I’d like to hear the testimony of Ms. Stephens. If you don’t mind.” Her emphasis on ‘if’ made Steve slink back in his seat and sigh heavily.

  John gestured. “Bailiff Jacobs, if you would call the next witness.”

  “Yes, sir.” He headed back to the double door that opened to the hallway. He returned shortly with the same blond woman he remembered from the worst night of his life.

  She smiled at him as she headed for the witness chair. Her hair was back in a ponytail and her suit was a little tight. He wasn’t sure, but he thought she may be pregnant. She was quickly sworn in.

  “Good morning, Ms. Stephens,” Lara said. “Could you state your full name?”

  “My name is Sharon Stephens.”

  “Do you remember what happened on the night of May twenty-eight, two thousand fourteen?”

  “Yes. I’ll never forget it. My apartment building was on fire–”

  “Graystone Manor?” Lara asked.

  “Yes. My two little girls would have died if it weren’t for Mr. Reese. He jumped from balcony to balcony to reach my babies.” Her voice choked. “He risked his life to save them. I don’t understand why he was arrested.”

  “Have you ever seen him before?” Ms. Williams’s piercing stare and hard voice left little doubt she planned to vote no.

  God, this wasn’t going well.

  Sharon shook her head. “No. I would have noticed.”

  John lifted an eyebrow. “Why?”

  Sharon’s cheeks turned bright red.

  “Ms. Stephens?” John pursued.

  “Because he’s very good looking,” she blurted.

  “Did you have any reason to believe that he started the fire?” Santa Claus finally asked a question.

  “No, I didn’t. He’s not a criminal. He’s a hero. I’d have lost my whole family if it weren’t for him.” She wiped away a tear and her lower lip trembled. “No one else did anything.”

  John looked down at the panel of stiffs. “Does anyone have any other questions for Ms. Stephens?”

  No one spoke.

  Steve leaned into his microphone. “I suggest we take it to a vote.”

  John scowled at Steve. “First, we need to have the witness be excused.”

  “Thank you for your testimony, Ms. Stephens.” Laura gestured for her to leave with her arm.

  Ms. Stephens left as she blew her nose into a tissue.

  Griff held his breath and sat straighter in his chair. He wasn’t sure the testimonies helped and didn’t look at Lara. The board members covered their microphones talked in hush voice with each other.

  John removed his hand from the microphone. “Are we ready to take a vote?”

  “Yes.” The members all said at once.

  He looked at Griff. “Please stand.”

  Griff forced his shaking legs to stand. Sweat slid down his temples and he clutched his clammy hands tight.

  John folded his hands and looked down the row of people who held Griff’s life in their hands. “Will each board member vote yea for parole and nay for parole clearly into the microphone, starting with Mr. Chambers?”

  The walls shrunk Griff’s world into a narrow box. He felt like a coffin was being rolled in front of the committee, and the lid was about to be slammed shut on his freedom.

  He gasped. Air, he needed air.

  Steve didn’t look at him, but looked straight ahead at Grant who was twirling his pen around in his hand. Griff had forgotten that was Grant’s nervous little habit.

  “Aye.” His voice was clear, but he was squirming in his chair.

  Grant stopped twirling his pen and smiled.

  “Ms. Doyle?”

  “Nay.”

  Griff slumped and his hope fled. One nail pounded into his coffin.

  “Ms. Williams?”

  “Nay.”

  Another nail. His heart threatened to burst through his chest. Shit, he was dying.

  “Mr. Evans?”

  “Aye.”

  A peek of light descended onto his darkness.

  “Well, it appears we have a tie on the board, which is never a good sign, Mr. Reese.”

  Another nail pounded into the coffin. The board’s stern faces swirled around and he’d had to draw on his strength not to pass out.

  Death waited for him if he went back to his cell. His tiger whined. Blood roared through his ears, blocking out John’s bored voice.

  “However, Mr. Reese––”

  The air dropped twenty degrees. Chills drifted down Griff’s back. He froze, his lungs, his heart, and
his last dash of hope for freedom.

  “Based on the testimony of these two women, I believe you do have some redeeming qualities.”

  Some? God, their lack of compassion was overwhelming.

  “Therefore, I vote aye.”

  Griff sucked in air and his heartbeat calmed down from rabbit speed to turtle speed.

  “You are hear by paroled.”

  “Thank you.” He managed to spit those two words.

  “You should be released by Friday.”

  Three days. Three days until he could feel the sunshine on his face.

  Lara leaned close. “I told you I’d get you paroled.” Her scent was intoxicating, and in three days, he could do more than just smell her.

  John handed the papers to the bailiff. “Bailiff Jacobs, please escort Mr. Reese to start the paperwork, and we’ll begin the next case.”

  Griff turned around to snarl at Grant, but he was gone.

  He should be jumping up and down, flashing a smile a mile wide, but misery settled onto him.

  The parole had been easy, way too easy. A gnawing unease cramped up his gut. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Grant Sellars had something to do with the hearing.

  Something bad was going to happen. He could feel it in his bones.

  He looked at Lara who was beaming like the Cheshire Cat. “You need to watch yourself.”

  Her grin died. “Why?”

  Bailiff Jacobs re-shackled him.

  “Watch your back. Something’s not right.” His voice was grave.

  She stared at him with her huge eyes, reminding him of a sad cartoon rabbit. He just hoped she wouldn’t do anything stupid like investigating. Investigating would get her killed.

  Chapter 6

  Lara glanced in the rearview mirror. Her heart jumped up to her throat and she gripped the steering wheel tightly with trembling hands.

  “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

  For the three days since the parole hearing, she’d been followed everywhere.

  Her lungs frosted over and dried up like fall leaves. The same green sedan that been parked outside her house was two cars behind her. Then the roar of a motorcycle made her nearly swerve into another car.

  Grant Sellars. Silver motorcycle.

  Move…Move…Move.

  She slammed her foot on the pedal.

  Her car zoomed. She glanced in the rear review mirror. “Oh, God. Leave me alone.”

  He was getting closer.

  She couldn’t breathe. Her vision turned blurry.

  Don’t faint. Don’t faint. Don’t faint.

  She jerked the wheel hard, tires screaming. Dirt and gravel spun into the air. She whizzed, staring straight ahead.

  The guy on the motorcycle ate her dust.

  Only two more miles.

  Gogogogogo.

  The light went from green to yellow. She sped through just as it turned red.

  Someone honked. A man in a red convertible spun around and flipped her off.

  A six-story red-brick condominium building rose higher than the homes like a lighthouse. She squealed into Gerri’s parking lot, then burst out of the car; her arms and legs pumping, she raced toward the building.

  The growling motorcycle roared into the parking lot.

  Then nothing.

  Her breath rang in her ears, and sweat seeped into her eyes.

  “Lara.” A loud husky voice called from behind her and heavy footsteps trailed after her.

  She reached the front glass door and flung it open. Her eyes were burning, her throat was squeezing shut, and sobs beat against her chest. Tunnel vision focused on the elevator button. She stretched out her fingers to press it.

  A strong hand grabbed her arm and she screamed, pounding her fists into a hard chest.

  “You bastard. Grant, let me go.”

  “Stop yelling.” Someone held both of her arms and shook her.

  Adrenaline shot from her heart to her feet. She struggled more and kicked at his shins. Hard lips brutally crushed hers, silencing her screams. A wall of muscle suddenly pinned her against a brick wall, her arms and legs useless. She tried to push her hands against his chest, but it was like trying to move a mountain. He pushed one knee between her legs.

  His arousal pushed against her tummy.

  Shit, no.

  Not here.

  Nononononono.

  Lara was livid. Her body burned with bitterness. She turned her head, but escape was impossible. He seemed to anticipate her move and his lips were frozen on hers.

  She opened her mouth to bite him, but he indulged in the moment and filled her mouth with his tongue, thrusting with hard, deep, strokes.

  She twisted her body in a last desperate chance to break off the kiss.

  He slowly lifted his mouth. He was breathing as hard as she had been.

  “Lara, stop, it’s me.”

  She stopped struggling at the pleading husky voice. Panting, she looked up. Black spots spun around a man’s face, but the spots gradually disappeared.

  Two golden eyes. No patch.

  Dark beard, mustache. Not clean shaven.

  Brownish blonde hair. Not light blonde.

  “Lara, it’s me. Griff Reese.” He stepped away, allowing her to move.

  The terror faded. Her vision cleared. “Oh, my god, Griff?” She wiped her hair out of her sweaty face. “Griff?”

  She flung her arms around his neck. “It’s you. It’s really you. I thought…I thought…”

  His heart was beating as fast as hers. “You thought what?” He gently unlinked her arms from him. “Tell me what’s going on? Why were you so frightened?”

  Lara took a deep, shaky breath, not able to think about what she thought was about to happen. She couldn’t put the terror into words. Didn’t want to put it into words.

  “What…What are you doing here? You scared the living daylights out of me.”

  She stared at the parking lot, but there was no green sedan. Chills rushed down her back. The street light reflected off a silver motorcycle. “He’s…He’s…here.”

  “Who’s here?”

  “Grant Sellars.”

  He whirled around. “Where?”

  “I don’t know.” She gripped his massive arm. “But his motorcycle is here.”

  The tension left his arm. He looked down at her with a bemused look. “That’s my motorcycle.”

  She put her hand on her chest to keep her pattering heart from escaping and sucked in deep breaths. Her heartbeat slowed and the terror subsided. “I didn’t know you drove a silver motorcycle. What are you doing here?”

  ’’I was invited to Gerri’s for dinner, remember?” He raised his eyebrow. “You still haven’t told me why you were so scared.”

  He pushed a lock of hair still plastered on her cheek behind her ear. His gentle touch stirred something inside her, reminding her of his kiss that had been exhilarating and shocking.

  She gazed into his eyes that promised nothing would happen to her. A tiger loomed behind them––a dangerous one.

  “Please tell me.” He picked up her trembling hand and placed it against his beating heart.

  They were alone in the marble entry way. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched, that Grant or someone else, was hiding in the shadows of the tall, thick pines that were in the courtyard or the ash trees next to the condominium.

  “Lara, talk to me.”

  She drew her gaze away from the eerie trees and looked up to his concerned face. Her cheeks were chaffed from his beard and she surprisingly liked it. She wondered what it would feel like to have that same feeling all over her body. His gaze turned intense as if he guessed what she’d been thinking. Heat immediately swelled on her cheeks.

  “Grant Sellars. I thought you were Grant.” The name tumbled out of her lips. At the sudden change in his face, she instantly regretted it.

  His eyes darkened and he released a low growl.

  “You thought I was Grant because we have the same color
motorcycle?”

  He tightened his grip.

  “Ow, you’re hurting me.”

  He immediately released her. “I’m sorry.” He crowded her back against the brick wall and put his hand next to her face and his body on the other side, preventing her from fleeing. “You already mentioned we have the same color motorcycles, but there’s something else. I want to know what it is.” His tone was an ultimatum––talk or be held prisoner.

  She licked her bruised lips where he’d kissed her, debating on whether she should tell him about the last few days.

  But she was tired. Tired of not knowing what to do. Tired of waiting for the guillotine to fall.

  And she wanted answers.

  “He’s been following me.” Her voice was so low she wasn’t sure he heard her, because he didn’t move.

  He studied her for a long minute. Her heart went from thump-thump-thump-thump to tattatatatatat.

  “When did this start?” He leaned closer.

  His spicy breath was heavy and she stared at his lips.

  “The minute I agreed to take your case.”

  “Tell me everything.”

  A spell seemed to fall over her. She didn’t want to keep the secret locked inside her anymore and told him everything that happened.

  “So, you’re telling me that my brother knew this was happening?”

  Oh, crap. This wasn’t going to end well.

  “I didn’t tell him about the last few days.”

  Something dinged.

  “We all came down to see what was going on, but looks like you two were busy getting to know each other without my meddling.” Gerri’s teasing voice made Griff drop his arm.

  With a huge smile on her face, she stepped out of the elevator with Cora and Seth trailing behind her. A flush of adrenaline spun through Lara’s shaking body like a swirling snowstorm. In a split second, Griff mutated into the most menacing, monstrous tiger she’d ever seen. He was longer and bigger than his motorcycle. His paws were twice the size of Lara’s hands. His teeth and claws were razor sharp.

  She put her hand on her chest to keep her trampling heart from jumping out.

  He lunged for Seth who immediately pushed Cora out of the way. Seth didn’t have a chance to transform and was helplessly pinned between the elevator doors below Griff’s immense beast.

  Cora screamed and raced toward them.