Page 9 of Stryker
Mom leaped to her feet. “Thank you,” she said to Stryker as my father followed, a bit slower, still glaring at Stryker like he didn’t trust him as far as he could throw him. Within three minutes they were out the door, searching for the car.
“You planned all this,” I said, planting both hands on my hips. He didn’t answer. Instead, He grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the back door. We slipped outside and he pushed me behind a tree. He tilted his chin up, looking toward a neighbor’s house.
“Okay, move.” He urged me out and I just moved as I was told. Fear plagued me. What if my mother turned around and went back the house, thinking she’d forgotten something? What if stress made Dad wreck? Heck, what if he was so rusty at driving he crashed into someone else?
I moved when Stryker told me to. Then he shifted in an open area and scooped me up. A moment later, we were airborne, and I clung to him, my eyes squeezed tightly closed. Heights didn’t bother me all that much, but with this much fear and adrenaline in my blood, I needed to calm down.
When we landed, we were in front of a little cabin in the woods. I stayed close to him as he walked right up and opened the door. With every inhale I became certain there was water nearby and the thick scent of pine and cedar filled the air.
I followed him inside the cabin and that pine scent intensified.
“You’ll be safe here,” he said, turning to face me.
“Are you leaving?” Something in the way he’d said it told me I’d be here alone, and tears filled my eyes. The stress hit me like a thousand angry bees buzzing and stinging and my throat closed up.
“Not at the moment.” He walked into the kitchen and I followed. “It’s a fully stocked safe house.” He pulled open the freezer and I saw a ton of food. “There’s also a standing freezer in the garage with a ton more food and ice cream.”
It had been so long since I had simple pleasures like ice cream and a choice of food.
He led me into the living room. “Help yourself to anything you like. There’s cable, internet, anything you need.” He gestured to the enormous, flat screened TV. “There are laptops in every room, gaming systems, TVs, anything you could want inside. Outside you’re welcome to kayak, take out a rowboat, bike the roads, or take an ATV for a spin. Think of it as vacation, not solitary confinement.”
“I can’t afford this.” I stared around the lovely place, loving everything I could see from the honey-colored pine logs the place was built from to the towering ceilings, the stained glass depiction of an elk by a lake surrounded by birch trees, to the full kitchen that resembled the kind of vacation home I’d only dreamed of before.
His eyes locked on me. “I need you to focus on being safe.”
I nodded, staring at him.
“Your parents will be safe. They have an open line of credit to do whatever they need.”
I snorted. “I wouldn’t have given Dad that.” I wanted to sit down, but I felt dirty and gross and didn’t want to mess the beautiful place up. So I stayed standing.
He lifted his phone. “I can monitor and deny certain purchases. They will be met at the airport by a group of medical professionals to take care of your mom. She’s ailing, right?”
I nearly collapsed from gratitude. My mom would be taken care of. She’d get better. Was there anything he hadn’t thought of?
“And your father will be detoxed at the same time. It’s been arranged.”
Arranged by whom, I wanted to ask. But I didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth. I could see the sincerity and the care in his eyes. It was overwhelming. A dream come true.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “Are you staying with me?” I asked, my mouth suddenly dry as my heartbeat jumped to light speed in my chest. I wanted him to stay with me. I wanted him to protect me. The thought of him standing guard while I slept melted something in me and a dull hum started up low in my belly. How long had it been since someone took care of me?
“I will, part of the time.” His rusty eyes darted back and forth between mine. “What do you want to do first?” he asked.
“Take a shower.” My honest answer seemed to hit him like a blow to the gut, because he flinched a tiny bit and heat filled his expression.
“Should I be afraid of you?” I asked.
He didn’t say a word and I wasn’t quite sure how to interpret that, so I changed my line of questioning.
“Will you show yourself to me again?” I asked.
He shifted suddenly, but not into the huge beast he’d been before. Instead, he stood as tall as a Clydesdale. Stunned, I stepped closer. He backed up a step, his claws tapping slightly on the wooden floor.
“It’s okay,” I said as if he really was a horse I was trying to calm. With one hand, I petted his square nose. He didn’t remind me of the dragons in mythological books.
His body reminded me almost of a cat, but his feet had four toes; three and an opposable thumb with wicked talons on them that looked like they could cut through me like a machete through hot butter. Every scale had a red hue near the middle that darkened to the deepest black and his red eyes had a cat-like black pupil slit.
I rubbed on his face, then ran a hand down his neck. I leaned into his chest, feeling like he was built for me to hug like this. And I clung to him, my own tears coming hot and quick. I’d been so cruel to my father. The last thing I’d said to him was that I was sick of him. What if he died and that was the last thing I ever said to him? How could I forgive myself?
