Page 12 of Marcus

The fucker holds his arm out to her and they walk away heading straight for the food tables.

Ranger laughs, following behind them.

“Why are you fighting this so hard?” Selene asks.

“She doesn’t belong here. She doesn’t belong with a bear.”

“Clearly your besties think differently.”

Motherfuckers.

chapter

seven

Aspen

Selene was right, I love this job. First of all the lab is state of the art, which I would have expected from a private lab. But there’s also an on-site cafeteria, nap room and gym. I’ve definitely made use of that first one. Not so sure about napping in front of other people, but I suppose if I ever get a migraine, a dark, cool room would be nice.

The only thing I don’t like is the weird policy that mandates I leave the property before sundown. I mean that’s weird, right? Is the lab run by a bunch of vampires? Obviously not since vampires aren’t real. When I asked about the reasons behind this policy, I was told that this area is full of dangerous wild animals and I needed to adhere to the rules for my own protection.

So far I have done an excellent job of this. Today, not so much. I lost track of time working on some slides—those are also weird—but I’ll get back to that later. In any case, I’m heading to my car and it’s well past sundown. In fact, it’s dark outside. And they don’t seem to have parking lot lighting which seems like a strange thing to skimp on in light of the in-house nap room.

I’ve got my messenger bag slung across my body, the thick strap pressing my shirt to my chest and accentuating my boobs. It’s a great look. In one hand I have my phone flashlight aimed at the ground and in the other I have my Glock 19.

I know what you’re thinking, I don’t seem like the kind of girl to own a gun. You’d be right in thinking that. I didn’t own one for a long time. But Drake, my creepy stalking co-worker from my last job changed that. I bought the gun, learned how to use it at a shooting range owned by a former Houston beat cop and got my conceal carry permit.

So no, I don’t love guns, but I am responsible with mine. I sincerely hope I never have to use it. In any case, I’m rushing to my car hoping to get the hell out of here before the big wigs of the company know I broke the rules and stayed too long.

Seriously, who doesn’t have parking lot lighting? And of course, my car is parked way the hell across the lot where the chargers are. Charging here is free instead of charging at home where I have to pay.

I’m overreacting. Freaking myself out. Yes, there are likely big, scary animals somewhere in this part of Texas, but surely they don’t hang out in the parking lot of fancy private labs.

I’ve done a pretty good job of convincing myself of that when I hear something rustling in the brush at the edge of parking lot. And it’s not a small something rustling noise. It’s a big something noise.

I pan my light in that direction and … oh, holy carp!

The big something is… big, and hairy and growly and coming towards me from the right.

Carp! Carp, carp, carp, carpcarpcarpcarp carp!

What do I?

Do I run? Do I stop and stand still? No, that’s only a thing for T-Rexes, right? Wait, those are extinct.

Holy carp, do I make myself look really big?

I shine my flashlight in that direction to get a better look at what I’m dealing with. Might as well know what’s going to eat me.

A bear. Awesome.

Where are those hulking security guys when you need them?

Wait, is this why I’ve always loved bears? Because somehow my subconscious knew I was going to be mauled and murdered by a bear? Surely not. They’re so snuggling looking.

Okay, mostly the pandas are. This one is giant and growling and definitely does not look like it’s ready for cuddles.

It rears its head back and roars at the night sky. Clearly this bear is upset about the lack of parking lot lighting as well. Nope, now he’s down on all fours and running towards me. On second thought it’s not about the lighting, he’s just really pissed that I’m here, shining a flashlight at him.