Liars and Tigers

"Down girl! Retract your claws!" The older
man laughed, ducking the flying stapler that had b
arely missed his head
. Misha Miller hissed,
gently clutching the tiny bundle in her left arm.

"You scared the shit out of me, Jack! Learn to
knock."

"How's the cub doing?" he asked,
approaching her
and ignoring her comment
.

Misha's face softened as she gazed down at the
three-day-old Bengal tiger in her arms. She felt herself choking b
ack tears
. "I can't get him to
eat. J
ack?
I don't think he's going to make it."

"Come on, Tiger, if anyone can save him, it's
you. It's not your fault his mama rejected him."

Misha grimaced lightly at he
aring her special
nickname. She knew th
at
she wasn't called
'Tiger' because she was the primary c
aretaker
of the refuge's Bengal
popul
ation
; but rather because she had the grumpy disposition of the mighty cat.
With sharp teeth and claws. Few d
ared to cross
her path, needless to
say.

"Yeah, I know. He's just so tiny and helpless.
He'll suck on my finger, but I can't get him to take anything
substantial."

"What did Doc Holland say?"

"Big help he w
as. The old quack said, and
I quote, 'It's in God's
hands, girl. You can't save them all,'" Misha mimicked the old veteri
narian's
voice
.
"How the hell did that man become a premier exotic wildlife speci
alist
with such a fucked up
attitude?"

Jack shrugged. "He's realistic, that's all.
Now, here's my question to you, little girly; what are you going to do for the
next two days? You're off, and you can't be coming in to take care of this
kit." He looked genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, I can, I mean—"

"Mish, b
aby,
listen… you've been up round the clock since he was
born. You're exhausted and, to be honest, you look like hell w
armed
over
. I've h
ad
three-week-old leftovers that look better than you do right now. It's only fair
that i
f I
have to deal with your lousy attitude
and big mouth
, I deserve to at least
get some enjoyment looking at your pretty face."

"You're an asshole, Jack."

"So you've told me many, many times. What's
your solution? You're putting yourself in danger if you enter the dens like
this. You are too tired and weak, when you need to be alert."

"I've never been attacked. There's no reason
for them to come after me now."

"True, but you were the pride
alpha
. They'll sense your
exhaustion, hon. You know that."

Misha was silent. Her boss was right. She would give
off the scent of debilitated prey. "What should I do then? I can't let him
die," she said wearily.

Jack leaned against her desk, reaching out to stroke
the tiny fuzzy head. He was such a freakin' bleeding heart about these
critters,
and she knew it
. "Take him home with you."

"What? You know my landlord doesn't allow pets!
He would evict me immedi
ately if he found out.
" Misha looked surprised.

Jack shrugged with a grin. "It's not like the
cub's very noticeable right now, or will make a lot of noise. I'll get you a
permit for off-site care too, just in case the refuge has issues. If we have to
lose him, I'd rather he wasn't alone," the older man said sadly.

Misha sniffed, bringing the we
ak
cub to her cheek. The tiny
thing weighed less than 2 pounds, especially since he had not been eating. His
eyes were still closed, and the black stripes against his rich orange coat
crossed all over his tiny body. If he survived, he would be stunning.
If
he survived…

"Okay, let's do it. I'll need formula…"

"I'm on it. Call me if anything happens.
Please," Jack said, kissing the top of the woman's head. Misha nodded,
holding the baby close. She had to believe she had the touch that Jack said she
did—if anyone could find a way, Misha Miller would.

***

"I guess the first thing we should do is give
you a name, little boy," Misha said to the sleeping cub, as she drove her
oversized pick-up truck to her house. She had rented a nice sized piece of
property on the outskirts of Temecula, complete with a sm
all,
manufactured home. It was
cheap and secluded, and that was all she wanted. Her only compl
aint
was that Old Man Riggins hated anything on four legs, and also got his rocks
off by making her miserable at every inopportune moment.

At twenty-eight, Misha was very much a loner, not
caring for the company of people or their drama. She had started working for
the forestry department as soon as she graduated college at UC Davis, as an
expert in wildlife conservation and management. Her specialty was felids. Th
at in i
tself was a twist of f
ate;
she fancied herself more
of a dog person.

As she drove, she recalled how she had ended up with
her infamous reputation—which had ultimately landed her in her present
position. Fires had raged across the higher Nevada range and a litter of pum
a
cubs had been rescued by
the fire sq
uad
. Without hesitation, Misha had demanded to be
allowed to nurse them back to health and reintroduce them to the wilderness.
The on-site vet doubted any would survive, and told her directly not to get her
hopes up or spend too much time on them. Stubborn and determined, Misha dove
into her new career—being a surrogate mother to big cats.

Her success opened the eyes of several sponsors; one
of whom was Alex Hodges, the director of wildlife services for the San Diego
Wild Animal Park,
and owner of a private rescue foundation and exotic animal
refuge
. He w
as
a former Green Beret, and during a jungle training tour, he and his unit had
become famous for disbanding poachers who were capturing infant animals to
sell. The large, work-hardened, and steely man was said to have been reduced to
tears when the newborn panther cub lay limp in his arms, the very first time
the unit had come across the illegal wild game hunters. Everyone in the
business of exotic animal preservation knew it was on that fateful day that
Alex developed an unrelenting passion for keeping wild animals in their natural
habitat. Misha had read his proclamations against poaching and his position
against keeping healthy wild animals in captivity. His words vowing that he
would find a way to hunt down and remove the pure evil of poachers, and those
who finance them, had sent shivers down her spine. He was a man accustomed to
getting what he wanted, when he wanted it. He proved that reputation to be
deserved when, after twelve years of military service, Alex left the Army to
fulfill the crushing need to pursue his goal.
He poured the money from his inheritance,
his he
art, soul, and sweat
into building the rescue center. Once it was
complete, he focused his tr
a
cking skills on finding the unique people who
shared his passion.

The rumors of Misha's talents had rippled through
the community, and resulted in gaining Alex's attention. The arrogant man had
pulled the strings necessary to ensure the woman was relocated from the
northern California Rescue/R
ehab
unit to work privately in his sanctuary. She found
herself facing an unexpected—and unwanted—transfer, laced with
subtle thre
ats. The primary one included the promise that her
new boss had enough connections to prevent her from ever working in her beloved
field again if she failed to appreciate the opportunity being handed to her.
Blackmailed, l
ivid, and hostile, she'd earned the nickname 'Tiger' the very first day
she came face to face with the incredibly handsome, but very arrogant
and
equally dictatorial
, Samuel Alexander Hodges, III.

Despite the generous salary, and opportunity to be
solely responsible for the Big Cat division at the refuge, Misha had adamantly
refused. Her passion was being in the field; researching and rescuing, not
having to perform like a monkey at an overrated zoo. She'd withheld none of her
ardor
as she spit out her
opinion of both the job and her new boss; glaring up into his face fe
arlessly
as she did
so.

Jack Leden, the m
an who had urged Alex to
make the position available to the girl, had
sat back and laughed he
artily
at the peak of the heated exchange—the moment when Misha informed Alex
that she would personally tear off his balls with her bare hands, and feed them
to the cats if she ever had the opportunity.
Alex, for his part, had loomed over the tiny
firecracker of a girl, and threatened to blister her backend if she ever had
the guts to try. Jack's laughter rose to fill the room and temporarily distract
them both from their yelling. The ir
a
te
and
sputtering couple turned
to redirect their glares at him.