Her Mysterious Protector (Her Protector Alpha Male Military Romance Book 1) by Michaela Strong
Authors: Michaela Strong
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Her Mysterious Protector
Dana was running. Again. She was running much faster than her slightly out of shape body could really manage, just to make sure her damn handbag wasn't stolen. Again. For such a tiny town, the elusive purse snatcher seemed to enjoy a wide berth and was able to work his mojo. This had been the third hit Dana had sustained that month and she was taking it real personal. She changed up her schedule; spread her cash to two different banks and even got paid via direct deposit by one client but this guy was good. A pro. An Olympian at making a patsy out of her. Well not today - she hoped.
Dana let her guard down a little and thought she had the strangely persistent purse snatcher outfoxed. So she really wasn't dressed for the 880 meter dash she was engaged in. Her silk wrap-around dress barely had her contained – let alone stabilized – as she booked it down Thayer Street. She was making a pretty good effort in her three inch heels but it was too much and she had to let them go. One. Two. She flung one slingback over her shoulder and gripped the other like a weapon. She thought she might have heard someone exclaim, "Hey" but didn't give it a second thought. Thayer Street was bustling. Lunch breaks were full on and people were taking advantage of the intoxicating unseasonably good weather. The municipal masses were sunbathing in the unexpected sun.
Just as Dana was gaining good ground in her bare feet, she was passed by a blur. For a second, she thought she caught something in her eye, a gnat or something that had impaired her vision but the blur was definitely moving and it was now tackling the heretofore successful purse snatcher. Just as the blur detangled the purse from the clutches of the thief, the thief was off. Out of midst and out of sight.
"Uh, dumbass!" Dana shouted. "You let him get away!"
Dana focused. The blur was now a form that her eyes could totally feast on. A brawny bicep and quadriceps-laden form, with a shock of shiny, spiky black hair, definitely civilian style but everything about the way he moved as he sauntered towards her, said military.
"I got your purse. What do you say?" The look in his eye was a confusion of twinkle and glare. There was something as playful as it was deadly about him and both things stirred her. She wanted to sink into those gargantuan pillowy muscles and lose herself. "What do you say?" he prompted her again.
"You let him get away," she murmured.
"No. You say thank you. I'm Rory Wilson, and you are?"
"Pissed off. I lost my cutest shoes to…" Rory pulled out a shoe and shut Dana up. For a second. She looked at the shoe and looked to him, trying to make sense. "You've been running with my shoe?"
"My shoe," he corrected. "I earned it. I asked for thanks and didn't get it. I'm keeping the shoe. I will ask again. And you are? Your name please?"
"Dana Emery, and thank you," Dana said rectifying her oversight, and held her hand out to receive the shoe.
But Rory whisked it out of reach. "Not unh. Price just went up. You want this back now you have to earn it."
That was it. Dana was done. "You know I'm having a bad day," she declared. She sulked.
"Tsk, tsk. The attitude. You're having a great day. You were about to get robbed and Big Dog rescued you."
"Big… Dog?" Dana gawked. He bounced a puffy finger off his massive, rock-hard chest and smiled. "And you're okay with not only referring to yourself in third person but giving yourself a nick name?"
"I'll take one from you." Dana opened her mouth and he quickly jumped on her words before they came out. "On second thought."
Dana sighed. "Really. Come on. My shoe?"
"I'm not kidding. I'm keeping it. I appreciate you were in a survival situation and we don't always use our manners in those moments but I have the feeling you are in serious need of a lesson. And I would be remiss as a member of the United States Marine Corps and a gentleman if I didn't teach that lesson to you."
"I knew it."
"Knew what?"
Dana was running. Again. She was running much faster than her slightly out of shape body could really manage, just to make sure her damn handbag wasn't stolen. Again. For such a tiny town, the elusive purse snatcher seemed to enjoy a wide berth and was able to work his mojo. This had been the third hit Dana had sustained that month and she was taking it real personal. She changed up her schedule; spread her cash to two different banks and even got paid via direct deposit by one client but this guy was good. A pro. An Olympian at making a patsy out of her. Well not today - she hoped.
Dana let her guard down a little and thought she had the strangely persistent purse snatcher outfoxed. So she really wasn't dressed for the 880 meter dash she was engaged in. Her silk wrap-around dress barely had her contained – let alone stabilized – as she booked it down Thayer Street. She was making a pretty good effort in her three inch heels but it was too much and she had to let them go. One. Two. She flung one slingback over her shoulder and gripped the other like a weapon. She thought she might have heard someone exclaim, "Hey" but didn't give it a second thought. Thayer Street was bustling. Lunch breaks were full on and people were taking advantage of the intoxicating unseasonably good weather. The municipal masses were sunbathing in the unexpected sun.
Just as Dana was gaining good ground in her bare feet, she was passed by a blur. For a second, she thought she caught something in her eye, a gnat or something that had impaired her vision but the blur was definitely moving and it was now tackling the heretofore successful purse snatcher. Just as the blur detangled the purse from the clutches of the thief, the thief was off. Out of midst and out of sight.
"Uh, dumbass!" Dana shouted. "You let him get away!"
Dana focused. The blur was now a form that her eyes could totally feast on. A brawny bicep and quadriceps-laden form, with a shock of shiny, spiky black hair, definitely civilian style but everything about the way he moved as he sauntered towards her, said military.
"I got your purse. What do you say?" The look in his eye was a confusion of twinkle and glare. There was something as playful as it was deadly about him and both things stirred her. She wanted to sink into those gargantuan pillowy muscles and lose herself. "What do you say?" he prompted her again.
"You let him get away," she murmured.
"No. You say thank you. I'm Rory Wilson, and you are?"
"Pissed off. I lost my cutest shoes to…" Rory pulled out a shoe and shut Dana up. For a second. She looked at the shoe and looked to him, trying to make sense. "You've been running with my shoe?"
"My shoe," he corrected. "I earned it. I asked for thanks and didn't get it. I'm keeping the shoe. I will ask again. And you are? Your name please?"
"Dana Emery, and thank you," Dana said rectifying her oversight, and held her hand out to receive the shoe.
But Rory whisked it out of reach. "Not unh. Price just went up. You want this back now you have to earn it."
That was it. Dana was done. "You know I'm having a bad day," she declared. She sulked.
"Tsk, tsk. The attitude. You're having a great day. You were about to get robbed and Big Dog rescued you."
"Big… Dog?" Dana gawked. He bounced a puffy finger off his massive, rock-hard chest and smiled. "And you're okay with not only referring to yourself in third person but giving yourself a nick name?"
"I'll take one from you." Dana opened her mouth and he quickly jumped on her words before they came out. "On second thought."
Dana sighed. "Really. Come on. My shoe?"
"I'm not kidding. I'm keeping it. I appreciate you were in a survival situation and we don't always use our manners in those moments but I have the feeling you are in serious need of a lesson. And I would be remiss as a member of the United States Marine Corps and a gentleman if I didn't teach that lesson to you."
"I knew it."
"Knew what?"
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