“Keeping tabs?”
“Hardly.”
Living with Emma and Chloe had curbed his dating habits, to some degree. He’d been surfing more and going out less. He was getting too old for the bar scene, anyway. “Maybe I’m in the market for a steady girlfriend.”
“Since when?”
Since your boyfriend left town.
He didn’t say that, of course. He hadn’t really been pining away for her. But he had taken note of Mitch’s departure and considered its implications. “Cordell’s married now. Most of my friends are starting families.”
She went quiet at the mention of families.
“How’s Mitch these days?”
“Busy.”
“What’s the status between you two?”
“Why are you so curious about it?”
“Just wondering.”
“I think we should save batteries,” she said, ending the conversation.
He clipped the radio to his belt and shrugged. It sounded like her relationship with Mitch was on shaky ground. She loved the zoo too much to leave it. Unless her boyfriend came back to San Diego, they were toast.
Josh settled back into his ready stance, trigger finger poised, barrel aimed at the target. Male intuition told him that he could be her rebound guy. He’d seen her eyes darken last night, watched the color wash over her pale skin. They’d be good together. She didn’t have to
respect
him for a down-and-dirty hookup. A weight settled in his gut as he realized that wasn’t enough. He wanted a real connection with her.
Okay, rewind.
He’d taken a little detour into fantasyland. She hadn’t broken up with her boyfriend. Nor had she hinted to Josh that she was on the rebound.
If by some off-chance she
did
want to use him for sex—yeah, right—did he really believe he’d have the strength to say no? Because he’d suddenly developed a prerequisite for hearts and flowers, after bedding a number of women whose names he couldn’t remember?
He needed a reality check.
Focusing on the bait, he waited for his target. The minutes stretched into an hour. He started to feel claustrophobic, as though he was stuck on the pole again. Or stuck in the cabin of his tiny bunk. Stuck on guard duty above decks. Stuck with the body of his fallen comrade, a sailor he’d failed to protect.
The morning sun sizzled on his forearms, relentless. His mouth was dry, palms sweaty. He’d rather be surfing.
Then there was movement in the bushes.
His gaze sharpened and his shoulders tensed. After yesterday, he didn’t know what to expect. Zuma could move in a flash or pounce playfully. This lion did neither. He emerged from the glossy ferns at a slow pace, thick ruff around his neck. It was Tau, and he was immense. Four hundred pounds of power and grace. He made Zuma look petite.
Apparently both lions were out.
Josh didn’t see Zuma, but his gaze was locked on Tau. The big cat glanced up at Josh, well aware of his presence. Although he had a clear shot, Josh didn’t take it. Tau opened his jaws and rumbled out a staccato vocalization as he strolled up to the meat. He sniffed it. Then he hunkered down and started feasting. Josh aimed at his left flank, aware that he might only get one chance. If he missed, and Tau bolted, they’d be back to square one.
Very carefully, he squeezed the trigger.
Bull’s-eye.
Tau flinched when the dart struck his hind quarters. His muscles twitched at the discomfort, but he didn’t run. He stayed right where he was and kept eating.
Josh’s pulse raced with triumph. It was a huge adrenaline rush, bigger than catching a crusher wave. He held his ready position, not taking his eyes off the lion. Helena had told him that the tranquilizers wouldn’t work right away. If Tau tried to flee, or if the drugs didn’t knock him out after twenty minutes, Josh was supposed to tag him again.
About five minutes passed, maybe less. Tau stopped chewing and started drooling. His head weaved back and forth, like he was seeing double. A moment later, he was out. Facedown in the side of beef.
Josh set aside the tranquilizer gun, pumping his fist. Yes! He realized that he had to do something with the rope before the cart started moving again. They might need to reuse the bait, so he pulled it up. This process took several more minutes. By the time he spoke into the radio, he was sweating heavily.
“I got him,” he said, breathless with excitement. “Tau is unconscious.”
No answer.
“Helena? You can bring me back now.”
Still nothing. His pulse kicked up another notch. He wondered if she was pissed off at him for asking about her boyfriend. Maybe her radio wasn’t fully charged. Or maybe she was lying on the floor of the loading dock, bleeding to death.
CHAPTER TWELVE
H
ELENA REVISED HER
opinion of Josh again: He was just as dumb as she’d always figured.
He had a college education from a quality school. With his degree in environmental studies, he could be an animal keeper. He could have a career in a number of important fields. Instead he tooled around the park in his golf cart, smiling at pretty women and pulling pranks. His military experience was wasted here, as well. The park wasn’t a hotbed of criminal activity. He carried pepper spray instead of a gun.
At twenty-nine, he’d already accomplished more than a lot of other men. San Diego was full of beach bums and party boys with no skills whatsoever. Working security wasn’t flipping burgers. He might even make decent money. Keeper wages were low, so she couldn’t judge on that front. What bothered her was the fact that he’d given up after one setback. He’d been accepted to an elite special ops training program, which was impressive in itself. When that hadn’t panned out, he’d veered off to Easy Street.
Maybe he was running from something. She’d opened up to him about the connection between her fear of heights and her father’s death, but he hadn’t told her much in return. Then he’d had the nerve to press her about Mitch.
What a jerk.
Josh’s smug voice broke through her mental tirade. “I got him,” he said on the radio. “Tau is unconscious.”
Tau instead of Zuma? The lioness was the bigger threat, but this was better than nothing. Josh sounded as if he’d conquered the world. Helena rolled her eyes in annoyance. Tau was so mellow he probably didn’t need tranquilizers.
“Helena?”
Not bothering to answer, she disengaged the emergency stop mechanism and pressed the go button. Nothing happened. After a moment of confusion, she realized that she had to turn on the generator again. Josh repeated her name in a demanding tone. She restarted the generator and hit the go switch. The tram whirred to life.
As she reached for the radio on her belt, a strange noise gave her pause. She hadn’t been keeping watch for predators. In her distracted state, she’d been complacent. She’d turned her back on the entryway to the loading dock while she messed with the generator and the controls. Instead of staying vigilant, she’d been cranky and careless. Big mistake.
The gun strap was lying across her chest, the rifle resting against the small of her back. In one not-so-smooth motion, she whirled around and grabbed the barrel of the rifle, bringing the gun forward.
Bambang was in the loading dock. Ten feet away.
“Oh, fuck,” she breathed, retreating a few steps.
The Komodo dragon weighed more than she did, and he was a formidable foe. Quick-moving and bulky, with long talons that scraped the concrete as he scuttled forward. He was dark gray, scaly and tough as nails. He had razor-sharp teeth and a forked tongue.
As a bonus, Komodos were venomous.
It was long believed that bacteria from the lizard’s saliva weakened prey. Zoo researchers, Trent and Louis included, had recently discovered otherwise. Komodos and many other lizard species had venom ducts that released when the animals bit down. The new information was groundbreaking.
All of these details flew through Helena’s mind in a split second. She thought of Gwen, her mother, her coworkers…Josh and Mitch. Again, she felt an emptiness inside her, a blank space where something else should be.
The rifle strap hampered her movements, and terror made her clumsy. Her trembling fingers found the lever action instead of the trigger guard. She couldn’t glance down at the gun to get situated. Not when a giant lizard was coming at her.
She stumbled back another step and bumped into a tram car. This was the opening Bam needed. He rushed forward on sturdy legs, claws scratching the smooth cement, head tilting as he zeroed in on her ankle.
Helena forgot about the rifle and grabbed the only other thing in reach—the safety bar on the tram car behind her.
She held on and lifted her legs, swinging out of harm’s way. Although she tried to climb into the cab, she wasn’t successful.
The door was on the other side.
She clung to the bar in horror as the tram car traveled through the horseshoe-shaped dock, taking her farther away from the predator. And higher off the ground.
She was faced with an awful choice: drop down and battle the lizard, or stay up and fight her own fear. Her hands clenched around the bar, knuckles white. She left the loading dock, dangling ten feet above the ground.
Twenty feet. Thirty feet.
Oh, Jesus. It was too late now. If she let go, she’d break her leg.
Forty feet came, followed by fifty. The fall would be fatal at this distance. She stared at her hands, willing them to stay strong. Her palms were sweaty from panic, her arm muscles sore from yesterday’s debacle.
She considered trying to swing her leg over the side, but terror kept her frozen in place. The rifle might get hung up. She might slip and die. Better to stay still. Squeeze her eyes shut and endure this, the most harrowing moment of her life.
Josh continued to say things on the radio, but she couldn’t hear above the blood pounding in her ears. She could only imagine.
Are you there, Helena? Come in, Helena.
When the tram car reached the first pole, it stuttered over the pulley mechanism. Her stomach dropped to her knees and her heart lodged in her throat. If her weight threw the car off balance, it might get stuck. Then she’d be
really
screwed.
But the car continued forward, and her hands stayed clenched. This process repeated several times. She heard Josh again. Not on the radio, but across from her in another car. He sounded like a raving lunatic. Her shoulders burned and her hands felt numb.
She was slipping.
Almost there.
She didn’t know if Josh said it, or if it was a voice in her head. But she managed to hold on for ten more seconds, counting them like a lifeline. The second loading dock came into view. She gritted her teeth against the need to let go.
Almost there.
The ground rose up to greet her in slow motion. Then there was concrete beneath her feet, but her legs didn’t work. As much as she wanted to let go, she couldn’t relax her clawlike grip. The soles of her boots dragged along the floor of the loading dock. She sobbed out loud, picturing herself going around the turnstile and climbing in height again.
She finally released the bar, rolling into a pitiful heap on the concrete.
“Helena, come in! Fuck!”
Josh had to be at the other end by now. If she could move her arms, she’d pick up the radio to warn him.
“I see Bambang,” he said, calmer now. “I’m assuming you’re okay. I’ll be there soon.”
She managed to crawl to the side of the dock with the rifle. Trembling, she sat forward and hugged her knees to her chest. When the feeling returned to her hands, she planted them on the rifle. Logic told her that Bambang couldn’t be in two places at once, but there were a number of other loose predators. The cheetah, hyenas…Zuma.
Josh continued to clock his progress. He said he was in Heart of Africa. A moment later, his tram car appeared. She stood to help him, but he had no trouble opening the door and leaping out while it was moving.
“Christ,” he said, gripping her shoulders. “You took twenty years off my life!”
She stared back at him in silence, unable to form a response. She couldn’t remember why she’d been mad at him. He looked frantic. His hair was damp and disheveled, as if he’d been tearing it out. The bandage must have fallen off his forehead. He had crazy eyes. Crazy, caring, warm gold eyes.
She felt it again, that missing piece inside her. The empty place.
When he set down their guns and drew her into his arms, she realized she’d been numb all over. His body heat suffused her, enlivening her senses. He smelled like sweat and sunshine and pepper spray. She pressed her nose to his neck and touched his back, where his uniform shirt clung damply to his skin.
A thrill vibrated through her at the feel of his hard muscles. Her fingers spread across the masculine expanse.
He went still.
She inhaled his scent, wanting to wallow in it. To slide her palms under his shirt and dig in her fingernails.
He didn’t seem opposed, despite his inaction. His heart hammered against her chest and his arms stayed locked around her, biceps flexed. They fit together nicely, though the radios on their belts prevented full contact. He lifted his head to study her. She didn’t know what he was searching for; some indication that she was thinking clearly, perhaps.
Well, forget that.
Thinking clearly wasn’t her top priority right now. She needed to be in her body, not in her head. Josh was an excellent candidate for mindless pleasure.
He looked even more like a hooligan today, with his bruised brow and rumpled clothes. The stubble on his jaw was patchy. It grew thicker on his chin and upper lip, where tawny bristles mixed with darker browns. She imagined the rasp of that facial hair on her throat, brushing her tight nipples, nuzzling her inner thighs.
God.
He studied her mouth the same way he had yesterday. She wondered if he was imagining it trailing down his stomach. His gaze had a hypnotic effect, dripping over her like slow honey. Her eyelids grew heavy and her lips parted in anticipation.
He glanced toward the front of the loading dock, checking for predators. Then he pushed her back against the wall, buried his hand in her hair and crushed his mouth over hers. The situation called for intensity, and he gave it to her. His kiss was breath-stealing, life-affirming, heart-twisting. It was exactly what she wanted. A hint of roughness and desperation. His tongue plundering her mouth, his stubble scraping her lips.