Protector Panther: BBW Panther Shifter Paranormal Romance (Protection, Inc. Book 3)
Protector Panther
Protection, Inc., Volume 3
Zoe Chant
Published by Zoe Chant, 2016.
Protector Panther
Protection, Inc., # 3
By Zoe Chant
Copyright Zoe Chant 2015
All Rights Reserved
Author’s Note
This book stands alone. However, it’s part of a series about Protection, Inc., an all-shifter private security agency. If you’d like to read the series in order, the first book is Bodyguard Bear and the second is Defender Dragon.
Table of Contents
Chapter One: Catalina
Chapter Two: Shane
Chapter Three: Catalina
Chapter Four: Catalina
Chapter Five: Catalina
Chapter Six: Catalina
Chapter Seven: Shane
Chapter Eight: Shane’s Story
Chapter Nine: Shane
Chapter Ten: Catalina
Chapter Eleven: Shane
Chapter Twelve: Catalina
Chapter Thirteen: Shane
Chapter Fourteen: Catalina
Chapter Fifteen: Shane
Sneak Preview: Laura’s Wolf (Werewolf Marines)
Chapter One
Catalina
Catalina Mendez strolled down the empty street at 3:00 AM, humming to herself.
It was her favorite time of day— night— well, technically morning, even though it was dark as night. Statistically speaking, a high percentage of bad things happened at 3:00 AM. It was a peak time for vehicle crashes, industrial accidents, medical crises, and violent crimes. For an adrenaline junkie paramedic on the late shift, it was the best and most exciting time to work, when she might actually get to save a life. It didn’t hurt that Catalina was a night owl, working at peak efficiency by night and a little sleepy and slow by day.
But right now, she wasn’t just at peak efficiency. She was wired. She’d just flown back from the small European country of Loredana, where she’d been working with Paramedics Without Borders to help restore emergency services after a catastrophic earthquake.
Her return trip had been a catastrophe all by itself. Her best friend and paramedic partner Ellie McNeil had been supposed to pick her up at the airport, but her flight had been delayed, then canceled, then restored so many times that Catalina had finally texted Ellie to forget about it. Catalina was perfectly capable of taking a taxi whenever the hell her flight got in. Which had been originally scheduled for 6:00 PM on Wednesday, but turned out to be 2:00 AM on Friday.
By the time the plane took off, she’d drunk several gallons of coffee to make sure she didn’t doze off in the airport and miss her flight. Then she figured she might as well drink some more, since she was already wide awake. By the time the plane touched down in Santa Martina, she’d worked up a pretty good caffeine rush. Her nerves tingled with anticipation that something exciting and important might happen at any second.
That was when she discovered that her luggage had been accidentally routed to Singapore. Which was certainly exciting and important, but not in a good way. She picked up her purse, which was all she’d taken on the plane, and made her way to the taxi stand.
As the taxi headed toward her home, she realized how little she wanted to go there. It would be boring. And lonely. She couldn’t even reunite with her cats— Ellie had taken them while Catalina was away. Her bed would be cold and empty without any kitties to cuddle.
Thoughts of Ellie and bed led to thoughts of the man who now shared Ellie’s bed, hot bodyguard Hal Brennan. And the other hot bodyguards at Hal’s private security company, Protection, Inc. Ellie had promised to introduce Catalina to them when she got back from Loredana. She’d even offered to send photos, but though Catalina had been impressed with the pics of Hal, she’d declined to look at the ones of the single guys. She’d meet them in person eventually, and she liked being surprised.
The taxi stopped at a red light. Catalina recognized the silhouette of a towering office building a couple blocks ahead. It had been in one of the photos Ellie had emailed her, of her and Hal standing in front of Protection, Inc.
“Let me off here,” Catalina said impulsively. “It’s walking distance from my home.”
The taxi driver craned his head at her. “Are you sure? It’s a pretty long walk. And it’s the middle of the night.”
“I’m sure,” she said.
Catalina paid him and stepped out on to the empty street. Sure, no one would be at Protection, Inc. But she’d at least get a closer look at the place she’d heard so much about. And she needed to burn off some energy before she went home, or she’d never get to sleep. Besides, night was the best time to walk around the city. The air was cool, the sky was a pretty purple-orange with light spill, and you never knew what might happen.
A vision of her mother popped into her mind as she walked down the street.
Walking alone at night in the city! Mom’s remembered voice was loud in her ears. You could be robbed! You could be murdered! You could witness a murder, like your poor friend Ellie! Why are you always so reckless?
It’s a good neighborhood, mom, Catalina replied to the voice in her head, echoing real conversations they’d had a thousand times over. I’m not reckless. I’m just not afraid.
You should be, Mom scolded. Ever since you were a little girl, you haven’t known the meaning of fear. I pray every night that when you do find out, it won’t be too late.
The street was empty and silent. As Catalina came closer to the towering office building that housed Protection, Inc., she saw that she was approaching a dark alley.
Normally she would have walked right past it. What were the odds that a mugger was lurking at a deserted street on the unlikely chance that someone would walk straight past his lurking area— especially when every woman Catalina had ever met, even her brave friend Ellie, would cross the street to avoid that alley?
But tonight Catalina hesitated. An odd feeling made her stomach clench and her palms tingle.
Oh, no, she thought, dismayed. I spent months living in a tent in a disaster zone, and now I get sick?
Then she recognized the sensation. It wasn’t one she felt often, but she knew what it was. It was fear.
She stopped to take stock, wondering what had made her feel afraid. Some little thing in the environment, too subtle for her register consciously, must have signaled that something was wrong. Something was dangerous.
Catalina took a step to the side, meaning to cross the street. She wasn’t completely reckless. If an action seemed both dangerous and pointless, she wouldn’t take it.
A man staggered out of the alley, fetched up hard against the wall of the nearest building, and slid down to the ground.
Catalina ran to him. On her way, she took a quick peek into the alley to make sure the scene was safe before she entered it. That was the part of the paramedic test she’d almost flunked, but it was second nature now. She couldn’t see all the way into the alley, but what she did see was empty and still, with nothing stirring but a few discarded candy wrappers. There was no obvious danger, no pursuing muggers or smoke or sparking electrical wires, so she was free to tend to her patient.
See? She told the mom-in-her-head. Not reckless!
Catalina knelt by the man’s side, giving his body a quick visual scan before she did a more detailed examination. His eyes were closed. He was tall and muscular, but lean rather than bulky. His short black hair looked soft as a cat’s fur. He wore dark jeans and a white T-shirt s
potted with fresh blood. More blood ran down his handsome face from a cut at his temple. His chest was moving evenly, and when she bent over him, she couldn’t hear any sounds that indicated breathing difficulties. His skin seemed pale, but it was difficult to tell in the hard white glare of the street lights.
Airway: good. Breathing: good. Visible bleeding: not severe. He wasn’t likely to drop dead in the next few seconds, so she’d call 911 to get the ambulance on its way before she resumed her assessment.
She opened her purse and pulled out her cell phone, then stared at it in dismay. It was her phone from Loredana, which wouldn’t work in the US. She must have accidentally packed her regular phone in her suitcase. Which was in Singapore.
“Dammit!”
Her patient woke as if she’d fired a gun in the air. His body jerked, he sucked in a sudden breath, and his eyes flew open. They were blue as ice, and they fixed on her with an unsettling intensity.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
Level of consciousness: alert and responsive, Catalina thought.
She spoke in the soothing tones she always used on trauma victims. “I’m a paramedic. Is it all right if I help you?”
Legally, she had to ask permission before she did anything to anyone. Almost all of her patients automatically said yes.
The man patted his hip, then his shoulder. His eyes narrowed in a quick flicker of dismay. “I’ve lost my weapons. And I can’t—” He broke off, looking frustrated. “I can’t protect you. So no. I don’t give you permission to treat me. Get out of here.”
He struggled to get up, but only managed to get as far as propping himself on his elbows. More blood ran down his face. He clearly wasn’t going anywhere.
“Why don’t you lie back down?” Catalina suggested, turning up the soothing. “Just let me take a look at you.”
“No.” Most men raised their voices when they were angry or upset, but this man lowered his. It was more forceful than if he’d yelled.
“I’m a paramedic,” Catalina repeated. Sometimes trauma victims were too shocked or disoriented to take in what she said the first time. “I can help you. Can you tell me what happened?”
He might be a trauma victim, but he wasn’t disoriented. Those ice-blue eyes of his seemed to look right through her, as if he knew things about her that even she didn’t. “If you’re a paramedic, then you need my consent before you treat me. I’m not giving it. Take your phone and go. Once you’re in a safe place, call—”
“That phone doesn’t work in America,” she interrupted him.
The man let out an exasperated breath. He again tried to get up, and again failed.
“Why can’t you stand up?” Catalina asked. “Are you dizzy? Or is something wrong with your legs?”
“Both,” he muttered, sounding reluctant to admit it. “I’ve been drugged. They ambushed me with a tranquilizer rifle.”
“With a tranquilizer rifle?”
She’d once treated a woman who’d been the victim of friendly fire from zookeepers trying to take down an escaped capybara. Catalina had never heard of a capybara before, but it turned out to be a guinea pig the size of a sheep. It had been one of her all-time favorite calls. But that tranquilizer dart hadn’t caused dizziness and paralysis, it had immediately knocked the woman unconscious. And who would use one for an ambush? Criminal... veterinarians?
Then Catalina realized the important part of what he’d let slip. “If you’ve been drugged, it’s the same as if you were unconscious. I can assume that you would consent to treatment if you were in your right mind. So settle down. I just want to check you for life-threatening injuries.”
His eyebrows rose in disbelief, as if it was the first time in his life that anyone had the nerve to stand up to him. Then he took a deep breath, seeming to concentrate.
Her stomach clenched. Her palms tingled. Her heart began to pound. Nothing about the man had changed, but she suddenly knew he was dangerous. Very dangerous. Lethal. She had to run— she had to save herself—
The phone fell from her hand, the screen shattering. She scrambled to her feet, stumbling backward, desperate to get away.
But he hasn’t threatened me, she thought. He hasn’t attacked me.
He was still sprawled on the ground, bleeding, his gaze locked on hers. Deadly. Terrifying.
He’s injured. He can’t walk. He needs help.
All her instincts screamed at her to run. She was gasping, her pulse thundering in her ears, sweat pouring down her face and back. She’d never been so scared in her entire life.
Never abandon a patient.
It was the hardest thing she’d ever done, but Catalina took a step forward. Then another step. Then she dropped back down on her knees beside him.
Her terror vanished as if it had been switched off like a light. The man rested his head on his arms, exhaustion etching lines around his strong features.
“I don’t believe this,” he muttered. “I hit you with both barrels. I laid it on so hard, I wore myself out! How are you still here?”
She stared at him. “You did that on purpose? How?”
“Practice.” He raised his head. His intense gaze again fixed on her, but now she felt no fear. He had beautiful eyes. They were an astonishingly clear blue, like an early morning sky, fringed with thick black lashes.
“I’ve got some very bad people after me. You could get caught in the crossfire if you stay with me. But since you were playing hooky when God gave out fear...” As if against his will, he gave her an ironic smile. It transformed the hard angles of his face, making her notice again how good-looking he was. “If you can help me get up and walk a block, I can get us both into a secure building. Once we’re inside, we’ll be safe. I have friends I can call.”
As an afterthought, he added, “I’ll give you permission to examine me then. I know you’re dying to check me out.”
She couldn’t tell if he was making a double entendre or a statement of fact. Strange guy. Strange hot guy who’d been ambushed with a tranquilizer rifle and could terrify you just by looking you in the eyes. Strange brave guy who preferred sacrificing himself to putting a stranger at risk.
Catalina crouched low. “Put your arm around my shoulders.”
“I know the drill.” He propped himself up on his left arm and put his right arm around her shoulders. It was warm, not cold with shock. Having his arm around her made her feel oddly safe and secure. As if he was protecting her, though he couldn’t even walk.
She gripped his right wrist, unable to help noticing that he had amazing biceps. Amazing arms in general. Even his wrist was thick with muscle. Strange, totally ripped guy.
Strange sexy guy who knew unusual things. He knew how to do an assisted walk, and he knew the laws of consent for treatment.
“Are you a paramedic?” she asked, wrapping her left arm around his waist. He was warm all over.
He shook his head, struggling to get his legs under him. “I mean, yes, I am. But that’s just a qualification, not my job. I’m— I was— a PJ. That’s—”
“Air Force pararescue. Special Ops combat search and rescue,” Catalina filled in. Quoting a poster she’d seen, she added, “Because sometimes even Navy SEALs have to call 911.”
“That’s right.” His breath came harsh in her ear. He couldn’t seem to move his legs at all, though she could feel his attempts through the tensing and flexing of his other muscles against her body. But though he’d said bad guys could descend on them at any second, his voice and expression remained calm. “Did you ever want to be one?”
“Yeah, but they don’t take women.” Then she stared at him. “How’d you know?”
“You’ve got the right stuff. Mentally, I mean.” Then he let out a frustrated breath and stopped struggling to move. “I hope you’ve got the right stuff physically, too, because we can’t do an assisted walk. My legs are completely paralyzed. You’ll have to drag me. Or I could give you the code to the building. It’s only a block away. You could go in
and call for help—”
“Forget it,” she replied. “I’m not leaving you.”
He smiled, but not the same amused, catlike smile she’d seen before. This one held infinite depths of sadness and regret over its pleasant surface. “Never leave a fallen comrade, huh? Are you an airman? A Marine?”
“No, I’ve never served,” Catalina replied. “And I’d rather not drag you. I don’t know what kind of injuries you have. Do you know?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “The tranquilizer knocked me for a loop. I don’t remember the fight too well. I’m not even sure exactly how I got here.”
She glanced at the blood on his shirt. If he had internal injuries, she definitely shouldn’t drag him. “I’ll do a fireman’s carry.”
He gave her a doubtful glance, which didn’t surprise her. He had to be over a foot taller and fifty pounds heavier than her. Then he shrugged. “Okay. Let’s give it a try.”
Catalina wrestled him over her shoulders, thanking her lucky stars that she’d just spent months in a disaster zone without any high-tech amenities. If it hadn’t built up her strength moving heavy equipment and patients, she probably couldn’t even have gotten him into position.
She stood up, careful to lift from her legs, not her back. He weighed even more than she’d imagined. Her knees cracked audibly, and she staggered.
“Easy.” He laid a steadying hand on her forearm. “Find your center of gravity and settle into it.”
“Thanks,” she gasped, regaining her balance. “Which way?”
“Forward. I’ll tell you when we get there.”
She took a step forward, trying not to pitch forward under his weight. Her breath burned in her lungs, and her back and legs and neck ached. She didn’t feel like she could make it five more steps, let alone an entire city block. But her other choice was dragging him over the sidewalk and maybe making his injuries worse. She took another step, and then another one.
Another step. Another.
A quarter of a block.
Her face felt hot and swollen with blood. Her back was on fire.