Michelle’s boots slid over the pebbles of the back alley like wheels spinning on something low and fast drifting around a corner in Tokyo. She skidded as she careened into another back alley. Keeping her feet under her, with an extra push of adrenaline, she sprinted into a cross alley. She wasn’t completely certain who she was running from, the assholes dressed like slick henchmen, or what was behind them.
She was pretty certain they hadn’t figured out they were someone else’s victims, just as they thought she was theirs. They were wrong. Very wrong.
She heard the muffled grumble of one of the men trying to talk around his puffing breath.
Really, those guys were crazy out of shape. If they were going to chase after some little chica like her, they needed to do more cardio. They should also be careful who they called chica, especially if they were going to be this out of shape.
She bit her lip and looked at the alley in front of her— dumpster, stack of pallets, a fire escape— and then looked at the small bundle in her arms. She needed options and a way out. What she needed was a plan. Those dicks would be here in moments.
She spotted a broken window, low and to her left. Sliding to her knees, she unwrapped the small arms from around her neck.
“Sh, mi niña. Be very quiet, they will follow me. I will come back.”
“Promise?” The little voice was fragile and broken. Michelle felt a stab in her heart as she heard the doubt in the child’s voice.
“Whatever you see, do not make a sound.” With a sharp nod, Michelle rolled away from the window and was back on her feet.
The men were close.
Digging her feet in, she ran. Her feet carried her up the stack of pallets. She launched into the air at an angle; her boots hit the bricks as she used her momentum to carry her up until she could jump on top of the dumpster. From there, she leapt up, grabbing the bottom of the fire escape.
She flipped her legs over her head. Feet and legs first, she slid onto the fire escape, pushing up from her belly the second her entire body was on.
She scampered up two flights and then, launching herself into space again, jumped across the alley to a balcony with no ladder access.
The men below were pointing and cussing. The one in the red t-shirt, and the extra hair gel, pulled out a gun.
“Fuck.” Before Michelle had a chance to duck, or break the window behind her, the thing that had been chasing the men attacked.
The beast made no sound as it approached on large well furred paws that rendered him practically silent. He didn’t leap, or launch himself. He stalked up, and with one platter sized murder mitten, swiped at the man’s arm.
“Holy shit!” His brother in misdeed shouted as he let out a blood-curdling scream.
And that’s when the tiger roared.
Michelle scoffed as she watched a dark stain spread across the front of one of the assailant’s camo cargos. A tiger’s roar could terrify the strongest of men, and make children cry. It made this guy piss himself.
Her eyes darted to the darkness behind the broken window and the bottom of the alley. She could only hope the niña was huddled back to the wall and not looking, not crying.
With a snarling bite, the tiger grabbed at the first man’s pants and shook. The henchman was tossed about like a rag doll until his pants tore. Somehow, he managed to get to his feet and run, following after his buddy who had already abandoned him.
The tiger spit out the fabric. He sniffed his way around the opening to the alley, coming close to the broken window.
Michelle sucked in her breath, ready to yell and scream to distract the big cat.
He left the window alone and slowly walked about mid-way into the alley and looked up. He made that chuffing sound that tigers make a few times and then sat on his haunches.
“You son of a bitch,” Michelle snarled before launching herself into midair. As she descended, she rotated with several flips before landing on her feet. She followed the momentum down, pitching forward and rolling, coming to a stop on one knee, with one hand braced on the concrete, the other one flung back for balance.
Looking up, she no longer faced a tiger. She faced knees. Her gaze lifted over thick muscular thighs, pausing as she remembered the qualities of the dick at eye-level. She didn’t stop, and her gaze continued up a double case of six-pack abs, a broad chest with a familiar stalking tiger tattoo—her tongue knew every line of that ink work—and up to that smirking face.
“You paused. Admiring the view?” His deep rumbling voice held amusement.
In a flash, Michelle was on her feet and bringing her open palm across his rock hard jaw with a crack that echoed through the alley.
“Damn woman, here I thought you needed my help, clearly you can take care of yourself,” he laughed as he rubbed his cheek.
Michelle reached back to swing again. This time the man caught her wrist and held her slap at bay.
“Michelle Cole, what kind of trouble are you getting yourself into this time?”
Michelle wrenched her wrist away from the man and glared at him.
“Hello, Johnny. You know me. I can’t stand to miss a good party. And I really can’t stand when dickheads ruin a good time and pee in the pool.” She smirked and imitated his stance, legs wide, shoulders back, arms on hips.
He was all ego, and good looks, and he didn’t care that he was in some back alley stark naked in broad daylight.
What do you do when your imaginary friends start pestering you with images of sexy male strippers and hot were-shifters? You write stories about them. Well, that's what I did! Oh, and then I combine them and toss them in a kilt for good measure!
Hi, my name is Lulu and I write sexy hot contemporary and paranormal romance. Welcome to my website.
Making the Para "Normal" and the Supernatural Extraordinary.