silly as a gentle hair tickle. She gave the wheel another tight squeeze.
No one can see me.
With shaking hands, she ruffled through the center console of the car. An old pack of gum, that was halfway to melted, stuck to her fingers. She whelped in disgust and vowed to clean out her car. One day. Soon. Maybe. If she had the time.
If I survive.
Finally, she spotted the white case and pulled at it. It was stuck under a few CD cases. Who even had those anymore? She really needed to tidy up the beast. The old vehicle was a cross between a time machine and a dump. Poppy pulled the sunglasses out from their case and slipped them on. She flipped down the visor and stared at herself in the tiny mirror. She fluffed her bangs, making sure they were straight. It gave her a severe air which she wasn’t a fan of.
That was kind of the point, though.
She was trying to be as different from who she was as possible.
It would be the only way to blend in. She couldn’t be seen or recognized, and the new bangs were sure to do that. Who the fuck else would get bangs? She had only had them for two days, and already they were proving a huge nuisance. Poppy really hadn’t realized how much her forehead sweated. It made the bangs, which really looked better when they were straight and moisture free, go all wavy and puffy.
Between the bangs and the sunglasses that took up nearly half of her face, she didn’t look like Poppy Cain. She looked like a movie star who was trying to be incognito. It would have to do, as disguises went. With a deep inhale and a resolute head nod to her own damn self, Poppy opened the car door and quickly walked to the front door.
She knew she couldn’t look over her shoulder or even take a sweeping glance around. That would be suspicious if anyone was watching her. Her senses were all out of whack. That’s what being on the run did.
It didn’t matter that she was a panther shifter.
She was a woman on the lam, and that would have made anyone jumpy and overly paranoid.
The only difference between Poppy and run-of-the-mill paranoia? Someone was actually after her.
Well, someones. Plural. Multiple. Lots of bad guys with animals of their own would have loved nothing more than to get their gross hands on her.
Poppy’s heels clicked onto the marble flooring of the office. It was too loud of a sound, but she took comfort in knowing that no one would attack her or try to kidnap her in the office of a protection agency.
“Poppy Cain? Is that you?”
Hearing her name made her jump. She nearly hissed in fear but caught herself at the very last second. She was so going to be chiding her panther later. No salmon steak for the damned beast if she didn’t behave.
Poppy turned and immediately felt her body unclench from the momentary panic.
“Hey, Dakota.”
What were the chances that she would run into the exact person she was there to see? Not very high, but it was a small win. One Poppy desperately needed after the week she was having.
“What’s with the sunglasses?” Dakota asked while narrowing her blue eyes suspiciously.
“Oh.” Poppy slid them off her nose. “It was sunny.”
Dakota pointed to the large window where rain was starting to splatter against the glass. Poppy gulped and shrugged. It was a forced gesture, and Dakota knew it.
“You’re acting weird, even for you. What are you even doing here?” Dakota crossed her arms.
Poppy had to make a decision and quick. Just how much of her tale was she going to share with her old friend? There was nothing for it. She had come here for help, and she would have to be as honest as possible if she was going to make it. If she was going to survive.
“Can we talk somewhere private?” Poppy fidgeted with the sunglasses in her hands. “It’s kind of important.”
“You do know that my job here is new? The boss man doesn’t like me much.”
As if on cue, a tall shifter man opened an office door. “What the hell is taking so long with those files, Dakota?” His voice was a loud booming thing that made Poppy jump. His eyes slid toward her, and he immediately straightened out his back. “Do you have an appointment?” he asked her.
Poppy shook her head. “Are you Nick Milan?”
“I am,” he