Circus Wolf

Evernight
Publishing ®

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2014
Lynde
Lakes

 
ISBN: 978-1-77233-163-9

Cover Artist: Sour Cherry
Designs

Editor: Melissa
Hosack

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized
reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of
this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written
permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of
fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to
actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.

DEDICATION

To my supportive husband,
John, and my readers, now friends, who are willing to suspend belief and
venture into the paranormal world of interesting characters in intriguing and
potentially deadly situations, knowing they’ll get an entertaining, satisfying,
page-turning read.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Many thanks
to my
Evernight
Publishing, acquisitions manager
Marie
Buttineau
.
And, of course, to my
Evernight
editor Melissa
Hosack
and
cover artist Sour Cherry.

Appreciation also to the
staff at
Aina
Haina
&
Kapolei Libraries

CIRCUS WOLF

Virgin Wolf, 4

Lynde
Lakes

Copyright © 2014

Chapter One

Tigra Tortella,
Circus Queen, a May 30th Gemini, raked her dagger-nails through her long, wild
reddish blonde mane and paced her dressing room wearing a skimpy costume of two
narrow valor strips of imitation tiger fur. It was almost time for her
performance before a full tent crowd.
Let
everything go smoothly.

The door burst open and banged against the wall as
Rolo charged in and lunged for her. She stepped back and threw her palms up in
a stop position.
Time was ticking away.
“We’ve talked about this, Rolo.”

His eyes were glazed. He grabbed her wrist. “Yeah,
well I’m through talking.”

She thought for a moment that he might hit her.
“What’s wrong with you?” She yanked free of his grip, grabbed up her dart gun,
and pointed it at his right shoulder. “Stay back. This
over-the-top
shouting and bullying isn’t like you.” He was usually mild-mannered. She’d
never known him to use drugs or drink excessively, and she didn’t smell any
alcohol.

 
Glaring at
the dart gun, he inched a step forward. His eyes were too bright, his pupils
pinpoints of rage. He wasn’t a druggie, but right now he looked and acted like
one.

“I’m not kidding, Rolo. This isn’t going to happen.
You’re my ring assistant and nothing more. Now back off.”

He waved his arms like a crazy man. “Why the hell
have you been leading me on?”

“What? Are you kidding me? I haven’t. I wouldn’t. If
I were attracted to you,
which
I’m not, we work
together. Anything beyond a working relationship is off limits.”

 
“Who caught
your eye? Vance Skull? I’m warning you, he’s a bad one.”

Still holding the dart gun on Rolo, she picked up
her cell phone. “Don’t force me to call security. Go cool off, and I’ll meet
you in the ring.”

Narrowing his eyes to slits, he paused, then whirled
around and slammed out the door.

She exhaled.
Thank
God
. She rubbed her wrist, trying to soothe the erratic pounding of her
pulse.

Blast Rolo! If she went to boss man Ralph and tried
to pull Rolo’s part of the act, the boss might think she couldn’t handle her
team.
Darn, I should be able to handle
one mere man.
She didn’t want to fire him. Hands down Rolo was one of the
best handlers she’d ever worked with. But the act was too dangerous not to take
some sort of precaution.

She left her caravan on the run, barely aware of the
cooling evening breeze and the sawdust rustling under her feet. Heart pounding,
she met with the five rear cage handlers.

“Look, guys,” she said, facing the men in matching
yellow T-shirts and jeans. “Be prepared for anything. Rolo is high strung and
off his stride tonight.”

“No problem,” the head handler said. “We’ll watch
your back.”

“Thanks, guys.” She left the crew, forcing herself
to ignore their wisecrack whispers about her being a control freak. She was—and
that was the reason the show always went smoothly.

Tigra paused at the Big Top entrance to catch her
breath, compose herself, and give Rolo time to cool down, get in place, and
start his part of the act.

The parade of elephants with their skimpily-dressed
ladies in sequined slippers and the frolic of mischievous clowns had ended.
With a silver-tipped cane under the elephants’ bellies and behind front legs,
the huge swaying delightful beasts were led out. Then, right on cue, the
twenty-piece band slid seamlessly into one of the difficult
Mephisto
waltzes.

Rolo bowed as he strode for the center cage. He was
an impressive showman. Her disinterest in him had nothing to do with his looks
or his bearing. Bare-chested and wearing black tights, the handsome muscled
Adonis looked confident enough. She closed her eyes,
steepled
her hands, and sent up a silent prayer.
Dear
Lord, help Rolo regain control and keep us all safe.
She blew out a gust of
air and straightened her shoulders.
The
show must go on.

****

Heading for the center ring, Rolo struggled with his
wave of regret. Exploding, shouting at Tigra, and slamming out of the dressing
room
wasn’t
something he’d normally do. Yes, he wanted
their relationship and his career to move faster, and it was often his nature
to push too hard, but tonight he was way out of line. If he didn’t know better,
he’d think someone slipped drugs into his orange juice. He straightened his
spine and, with effort, shucked off his regrets. He’d apologize later.

Locking into his mode of complete concentration
wasn’t working. He rubbed his head.
His
mind felt electrified and an unusual tic at the corner of his eyelid added to
his off-balance, out of control agitation. Why? He’d done this act many times.
Why was tonight’s performance different? Everyone’s initial encounter with a
tiger, even within the confines of the circus, was terrifying. And his first
remained etched in his mind forever.
Now, for some mysterious reason, he was re-experiencing those same first-time
jitters.

The full-house crowd hummed with mounting eagerness;
they were hungry for thrills.

He scanned the stands and sensed all eyes were on
him
.
His trembling hand hesitated on
the door of the center cage.
Stay cool!
This odd inner shaking and paranoia will
pass.

He’d barely stepped inside the enclosure when the
animal hatch thumped open and five

Bengal
tigers charged into the cage. They rushed toward him with their orange bodies
swaying in muscled motion as they circled him growling, with wide, toothy
mouths.

He sucked in a long breath to bolster his waning
courage and snapped his whip.

Still growling, the huge striped beasts took their
places on the pedestals, and with big paws, clawed furiously in his direction.
His job was to pretend to antagonize them. It was the usual warm up to make the
Tiger Queen’s performance appear more frightening to the audience. There was
little danger; it was easy, like humming the same tune each night with old
friends. Candy, the gentlest of the bunch and the most like an overgrown kitten
was in the forefront. He poked at her; she looked directly at him then opened
her mouth wide and growled. Her chilling growl was part of the show.

Oh crap,
but not that rabid-hot look in her eyes!
Something was wrong with her. His blood turned icy and he froze. Candy
lashed out at him with slashing fore paws. Then quick as a bolt of lightning,
she leapt and knocked him down. She tore at his bare flesh with sharp claws and
deadly teeth. Pain radiated through him as he struggled to fight her off. He
inhaled fur, acrid blood, and sweat. He reached for his stun gun; the tiger
slashed at his hand. She was all over him, chewing, slashing.

Above the crazed growling and his own pained
screams, he heard the stunned uproar of the crowd—followed by a shared gasp,
then shocked silence. The sudden quiet from the stands made the growling and
his hellish outcries ring louder.

Over the non-stop growling, the gate rattled and
Tigra’s strong, authoritative voice ordered Candy back. Tigra wasn’t alone. Her
team was with her. Whips cracked to keep the other tigers in line. He was too
busy and injured to feel more than a twinge of relief.

Again, he reached for his stun gun and discovered he
had no right hand and the left was only a bloody stub. It was up to Tigra and
the team to immobilize Candy.