My Feline Protector (Middlemarch Shifters Book 6) Page 3

  Sam and Lisa arrived and waved hello.

  “How come you didn’t team up with your friends?” London asked.

  “They grew up here in Middlemarch and their friends asked if they wanted to be on their team before we moved to Middlemarch. Not that I’m worried. I think things have worked out for the best. We met you and Jenny.”

  London wrinkled her nose. “You are a flirt.”

  “Sometimes,” he said. “But I’m not flirting with you. I want to get to know you better.”

  Her mouth fell open, and he tapped her chin.

  “That’s not a line.”

  “Jenny and I are leaving Middlemarch tomorrow.”

  “That’s not what Jenny told Henry.”

  “I…she…” London trailed off with a frown.

  Sid Blackburn, one of the Feline council, climbed onto a dais at the front of the crowd of runners and zombies and raised his hands for quiet. The excited chatter muted, and Sid welcomed everyone to the race.

  “Now, the rules,” Sid said. “Each member of your team has five red ribbons—one life for each kilometer of the race. Your goal is to get to the end of the race with as many ribbons as you can. The goal of the zombies is to deprive you of those ribbons and end your life. If you lose all your ribbons, you are dead and out of the race. Each of the ribbons you keep will contribute to your final score. The judges will combine your score with your time to determine your final placing. There are prizes for individuals and teams. Now, for the course,” Sid continued. “Each competitor is required to complete the obstacles during the race. Five obstacles in total. We’re keeping them a surprise.” Sid chuckled, the sound rusty and full of amusement at the complaints fired from the audience. He held up his hands, still laughing.

  “What else?” someone called.

  “There are observers at each obstacle and each zombie territory. They are eagle-eyed and beyond bribery and will not hesitate to disqualify those who try to take shortcuts. The last thing—because we’ve had so many entries we will start each four-person team at five-minute intervals. Questions?” Sid scanned the crowd. “Zombies, you have half an hour to get to your territories. We will start the competitors running at nine.”

  “When is our starting time?” London asked, drawing near to him when a quartet of zombies brushed too close.

  Amusement filled him, but he didn’t tease. Everyone had their phobias. “Ten twenty,” he said.

  Henry whispered something in Jenny’s ear, and she giggled, standing on tiptoe to kiss him on the mouth.

  “I’m nervous,” London confessed. “I need a restroom.”

  “Come with me. I’ll show you where they’re located,” Gerard said. “Just let me tell Henry where we’re going.”

  He had to tap Henry on the shoulder twice before his friend pulled back from kissing Jenny. “Meet you at the start line. Ten past ten,” he said, slicing minutes off their start time in case Henry got distracted. “Set the alarm on your watch. Don’t be late.”

  “We’ll be there,” Henry said.

  Gerard nodded, feeling more comfortable when his friend set his alarm. “Ready?” he asked London.

  “Yes.”

  He took her hand and was happy when she didn’t pull from the contact. The physical touch soothed his feline, made them both content. Weird, but he was letting instinct guide him in this new relationship.

  Gerard and London wandered around the stalls that had sprung up since the previous night. A variety of things were on offer, ranging from food and drink to commemorative T-shirts and hats and zombie makeup.

  “Sugar, the zombies come in different sizes,” London muttered.

  He turned in the direction she indicated and saw that the Feline council had organized a contest for the best zombie. Youngsters of all ages had dressed in ragged clothes and applied realistic blood and makeup.

  London couldn’t believe Gerard’s patience with her pre-race. Her nerves stomped through the pit of her stomach like a platoon on the move and in a hurry to get to their destination. Thump. Thump. Thump right on her bladder.

  The second time she said she needed to visit the restroom, he winked at her and said, “Nerves are good.”

  The clock ticked inexorably toward their start time, no matter how much her mind protested this race. Sports. Obstacles. Almost enough to send her fleeing to the restrooms again.

  “It’s time,” Gerard said, and he tugged her hand. “We’ll lock away our stuff in the vehicle now and go to the starting line.”

  Somehow, they’d walked around the stalls, taken zombie photos and passed their wait, holding hands. London wasn’t sure why she didn’t protest. Didn’t understand it at all. The only thing that came to the forefront of her mind whenever she considered pulling from his grasp was that this felt right. She was comfortable with Gerard, and she was ruing her decision to sleep alone. If he signposted interest later today…

  London turned her musings from that road and chose the upper path of caution and morals. Gerard might not express any interest once they finished this stupid race. He didn’t believe she was as bad as she’d indicated. Yes, the next few hours held the makings of one of those clusty-f things people joked about.

  “Are you sure it’s race time?”

  “Yes. Chin up.” He grinned as she rolled her eyes. “That’s my girl.”

  His words darted warmth to her heart and muted the worst of her nerves. She exhaled. “Let’s do this.”

  The zombie race start line wasn’t as crowded as she feared. Two elderly ladies had everyone under control, barking instructions and not putting up with tardy racers. They found Henry and Jenny, and judging by the rash on Jenny’s neck and her swollen kiss-marked mouth, they hadn’t spent their wait running to and from the restroom or taking photos.

  She turned to check Gerard’s reaction to his friend and Jenny, her suspicions confirmed by his tetchy expression.

  “I hope you and Jenny have enough energy left to escape zombies.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Henry said, his voice a low rumble.

  “They retired early and slept late. I thought they’d spend the time recharging, not expelling more energy,” Gerard whispered in her ear.

  “Next,” an elderly lady barked. Her glasses sparkled in the sun and not a fingerprint marred the surface. Her gray hair curled with precision and everything in her appearance screamed efficiency.

  “Good morning, Valerie,” Henry said.

  The woman’s nostrils flared and her expression pinched with disapproval. “You, my boy, are a wolf in sheep’s clothing. You are a rogue.”

  Gerard barked out a laugh and Henry glared at his friend. Obviously, a private joke.

  “Where are your zombie ribbons and your racing numbers?” she asked. “I need to check them and make sure they are on a belt and easily tugged free by any zombie who catches you.” She counted each of their ribbons and supervised their placement. “Agnes will record your race numbers and tell you when you can start. Next!”

  London shuffled forward with the others and listened to their hurried strategy session. Gerard had studied their course map while waiting for her and had mapped out the best route, which he communicated to Henry in short-form. She understood little of their discussion. The plan—they’d try to keep together, but there might be times where it would be better to split into pairs. She listened and took several deep, slow breaths. Her palms grew moist, and she wiped them on her leggings.

  The next lady checked the placement of their numbers, wrote them on her chart, then lifted a timer to peer at the face. “Ten seconds to your start.” She studied her timer. “Five, four, three, two, one, go!”

  Henry, Jenny and Gerard bounded forward, London hesitating a fraction before forcing her legs to move. Too late to back out now. She had obstacles to conquer, zombies to escape.

  “London,” Jenny shouted.

  Her sister’s unspoken order prodded her into speed, and she ran, following the others along a grassy track. Spectators c
heered as they passed. The other three waved. London was too busy breathing.

  On the plus side, she was fitter than she had been since she’d done a lot of exercise this holiday. She kept running, taking in the green countryside and the stands of pine trees plus the weird piles of schist rock. Up ahead, she could see flickers of color—perhaps the group of runners who had left before them. Moans and groans and screams floated on the air, and she slowed.

  “Zombies,” Gerard said, jogging at her side.

  “You look as if you’re out for a Sunday stroll,” she gasped out between pants.

  His smile made her steps falter, and she tripped over a rut in the ground.

  “Careful. I’m capable of carrying you if you sprain an ankle but it will be harder to escape zombies.”

  London splashed through a puddle, the cold water and mud clearing her fuzzy mind. “You couldn’t carry me.”

  “Yes,” he said. “I could. I’ll prove it to you after the race.”

  The ground became even wetter, and London concentrated on her footing.

  “First obstacle,” Henry shouted over his shoulder. “Looks like tires.”

  Tires? What did that mean? London scanned the course ahead and saw two women running through the tires with a bouncy spring. Ah, she could do that. She gave silent thanks she’d packed a decent sports bra.

  They ran faster down the slight incline and Henry bolted through the tires without hesitation, one foot placed in each before moving on to the next.

  Jenny followed, then London.

  Okay. Not too bad. London navigated the obstacle, taking care she followed the rules. She’d hate to get her team disqualified. Gerard followed her, and she tried not to imagine him watching her jiggling arse. It wasn’t as if they’d ever see each other again after tomorrow.

  She’d decided.

  She was going home. Her sister could stay if she liked, but London didn’t have the same financial security as Jenny. Besides, as much as she loved New Zealand, she’d need to go home and apply for a working visa from England. That wasn’t something that could be done at the last minute.

  “Good girl,” Gerard said. “You okay?”

  “Run out of puff,” she gasped.

  “Henry, you and Jenny go ahead. We’ll walk for a few minutes.”

  “No, I can’t—”

  “No prob,” Henry said. “Sounds as if we’re almost at a zombie field, anyway. Meet you on the other side.”

  “Run,” Jenny ordered.

  London glared at her older sister. “I’m doing my best.”

  “You should exercise more.”

  Just to shut up Jenny, London took off at a trot. She hated this side of her sister, the bossy, competitive side. This event was a fun event, not life-or-death, and she’d be having words with her sister later. She might have let Jenny back in her life, but she refused to take abuse in any form.

  Now that she was following instructions, Jenny ran ahead to catch up with Henry.

  “Does your sister always speak to you like that?”

  “When she doesn’t think I’m behaving in the proper manner. She means well.”

  “If you need to walk, then that’s what will do,” Gerard said. “You warned us before we started that you weren’t fit. I didn’t care then, and it doesn’t worry me now. The object is to join with the community and have fun.”

  “I do need to walk,” she confessed.

  Screams of laughter and loud moans drifted on the air and when they rounded a pile of schist, London spotted the first zombie field. Henry and Jenny darted through the zombies, passing other slower runners.

  One zombie grabbed for a runner. The man feinted left and went right but the zombie anticipated him. His hand darted out, grasped a red ribbon and jerked it free. He let out a howl of triumph but the man didn’t stop his dash toward the rest of the shambling zombies.

  Gerard halted on the edge of the zombie territory. “Split up and run as fast as you can to the left. The zombies are smaller over that side. Don’t worry if you lose a life. Keep running. Okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll give you four kisses for every life you have left at the end of the race,” Gerard said.

  She gaped at him. Was that a threat?

  “That’s a promise,” he whispered with a wicked smile. “Go. Follow those runners, then split off. Meet you on the other side.”

  The group behind had caught them, but Gerard didn’t seem worried. Jenny’s shouts of horror speared London to action. She sprinted toward two zombies, one tall and skinny, the other chubby and covered with blood. Both sported red ribbons hanging from their belts.

  At the last minute, she dodged to the left, instinct taking over. Her legs pumped. Her arms pumped. Go. Go. Go.

  Mud splattered her calves. Cold water seeped into her shoes. The sun blazed overhead, determined to make her sweaty and plaster her hair to her head.

  A zombie lined her up, and she zigzagged, then burst from the zombie territory, adrenaline keeping her speeding after the runners in front.

  “Well done,” Gerard said, his long strides catching him up. He slowed, keeping pace with her. “Still have all your lives. I lost one.”

  “That was fun.”

  “Told you.”

  “Hurry,” Jenny shouted.

  Henry said something to her, and she nodded, bounding off like a hare.

  She, London decided, felt in charity with the tortoise. “What happens if we don’t catch up with them?”

  “It won’t matter. As long as we finish, we get a time to combine with the others. Come on.” He grasped her hand, and they ran together, his touch giving her new energy reserves.

  The land undulated as they continued to run through and around more schist and into a stand of trees. Gerard released her hand and led the way through the trees.

  Great view. London almost ran into a tree and ripped her gaze from Gerard’s backside. A low-hanging scratchy branch whipped across her cheek and when she prodded the spot, her fingers came away with blood. Great. Jenny would never let her hear the end of that one.

  On bursting through the trees they came to another obstacle. A huge web of rope pegged to the ground for the competitors to crawl beneath.

  “Oh sugar,” she muttered. “My butt is gonna get caught on that.”

  A chuckle beside her made London realize Gerard had heard her appalled whisper. He sidled up to her and patted her on the butt. “I like your shape. All of it.”

  London’s mouth dropped open before a second bark of laughter had her pressing her lips together. Heat started at her cheeks and spread downward, frisking her breasts and settling at the juncture of her thighs. Sugar, this man had a smooth tongue.

  “Truth,” he said. “Should I go first?”

  “Yes. Then I can form an opinion of your arse.”

  A flash of white showed his amusement. “Sounds fair.” He plunged beneath the rope web and crawled at a steady pace that told her he’d done this many times.

  “Go, London,” Jenny shrieked, her voice holding approval and encouragement.

  Ah, that reverse psychology stuff. Trust, Jenny.

  London took a deep breath and followed Gerard. She wriggled and crawled, both boobs and butt giving her trouble. Finally, what seemed like a hundred hours later, she emerged through the gap at the other end.

  “Good job.” Gerard pressed a kiss to her lips. “Let’s go.”

  Before she could register the kiss and decide what he meant by it, they were off again. Now she was breathless for a different reason.

  The next field held more zombies, ranging in size from young to old. They shrieked and moaned and wobbled and shambled from side to side, in their search for food.

  She spied Jenny ahead, laughing and zipping past two gray-haired zombies. One shook her fist in a very unzombielike gesture. Henry’s rumble of amusement carried on the air.

  “Go, go, go,” Gerard encouraged her and she ran into their territory. She darted left. She da
rted right. She ran straight ahead. Hands grasped. Hands tugged at her ribbons. One pulled free.

  She kept running and almost lost another ribbon, her quick feint to the left saving her.

  Once she sprinted over the boundary line, she kept running, knowing Gerard would catch her. She glimpsed Henry and Jenny before they disappeared around a corner.

  London huffed and puffed around the same corner and came to an appalled halt.

  “Why are you stopping?”

  “I’m not good with climbing stuff.”

  “No different than climbing a tree,” Gerard said.

  “I don’t do trees. I’ve never climbed trees.” She watched Henry give Jenny a boost up the rope webbing attached to the wall. Her sister crawled up the wall with ease. For an instant, she rested on the top of the wall, then disappeared over the other side.

  “Keep running,” Henry shouted to her sister. “I’ll catch up.”

  He sounded as if he was having fun.

  “I’ll give you a boost and Henry will help you over the top.” Gerard grabbed her before she could argue. She let out a girlie shriek, instinct making her grab for the webbing.

  “Do you need another shove?”

  “No. Let me catch my breath.”

  “Are you sure? I’d love a good reason to grope your butt.”

  “Stop flirting with her,” Henry groused, although London was close enough to see the quirk of his lips. He stretched out his arm and offered his hand. “Grab my hand and I’ll pull you to the top.”

  London doubted he’d be strong enough to pull her up, but her legs were so shaky they weren’t propelling her upward. She reached up and an instant later, he’d hauled her up and she perched on top of the wall. Then she made the mistake of looking down.

  Chapter Three

  Gerard grinned up at Henry and received a wink in return. “Go! I’ll be with you in a moment, English.”

  “I hate this rope stuff and the way it moves.” Her prim accent held a touch of fear.

  “It’s not far,” Henry said, his tone soothing. “There is a soft landing pad, so no one gets hurt. Close your eyes and go at your own pace. Gerard will come to help you.”