Chapter 31
Wolf Reintroduction Project
“There’s nothing more to say, Wolf! Now give me back my keys!” Sarah kept the rising panic from her voice by channeling frustration, anger, and dread into a screeching forcefulness she didn’t feel.
Wolf had been lying in wait—for her to show herself, for a chance to plead his case, for one last shot.
And it had paid off because now he had her cornered, her phone and keys held hostage, her dog tethered by a short leash to a refrigerator foot that immobilized him.
All Archer could do was vocalize his distress.
At first, Wolf had invited her to sit at the kitchen table while he declared his promises, while he’d tearfully begged her to return to Seattle, while he’d listed the reasons she belonged to him.
He’d been carving the same hopeless circle around the same futile conversation.
When she’d had enough, she’d told him so.
Since that moment, his tenuous hold on reality seemed to slip, his voice taking on an eerie, icy calm that unsettled her with each passing minute.
Was Wolf capable of violence? She’d never seen it, but the man across the table wasn’t the one she’d once loved.
He’d always been lean, but now he resembled a cadaverous collection of skin-encased bones.
And his face, once sharp, proud, and patrician, was a gaunt version of its former self, lending his glacial eyes a sunken, haunted look.
The overall effect was that of someone unhinged—and fucking dangerous.
For Sarah, what began as outrage over his audacious ambush—and impatience with his unending pleas—had morphed into cold, congealed fear. For over an hour, he’d denied her the right to leave, the use of her phone, and the ability to take care of Archer.
She couldn’t gauge the level of Wolf’s crazy, and she had no clue what he planned to do with her and Archer. Nor did she intend to find out.
He was regarding her with an empty, hollow stare. Frantically, she searched for ways to defuse him and convince him to let her go. Nothing she’d tried so far had worked.
She dropped her voice, hoping Wolf didn’t pick up on her telltale quaver, and injected fake concern into her tone. “You look tired. Why don’t you go back to your hotel, get cleaned up, have a rest? We can have dinner later and talk.”
His eyes blinked on, like someone had thrown a switch.
Then he began cackling, and frosty needles shot through her veins.
“Oh, that’s rich!” he wheezed. The laughter stopped, and his voice dripped with ice.
“If I leave you to go back to the hotel, you’ll bolt.
No, Sarah. It’s not going to work that way. Wherever I go, you go.”
“Wolf, I have people counting on me. I need to—”
“I’m counting on you, Sarah. No one else matters. Just me.”
She calculated the distance to the back door. Could she make it? Not with Wolf blocking her way. And what about Archer? Their best chance was her escaping. If she could get to the front door …
Rising swiftly, she pivoted toward the living room. A chair clattered behind her, and Wolf was on her before she was halfway to the door. One hand squeezed her arm so hard her fingers tingled. His other hand was in her hair, jerking her head back.
“You’re hurting me!” She tried to shake him off, but he clamped down harder and dragged her backward, away from freedom.
Archer began barking. Heart pumping like a runaway locomotive careening down a mountain, she twisted in Wolf’s grasp.
With her free hand, she swung at his head, but her hand glanced off his bony shoulder.
He tightened his iron grip on her hair. Her scalp was on fire.
Any more pressure, and it would tear. She gasped.
As they scuffled between the kitchen and living room, she caught her breath and screamed in protest, but he didn’t let up. Kicking at his legs, his ankles, she nearly lost her balance. Once more, he ratcheted up his hold. The only thing holding her up was his hand in her hair.
Wild eyes bored into hers, his mouth twisted in a tight, cruel line. Over his shoulder lay the kitchen, and she eyed the curtained half-window back door longingly. Too far. Her eye snagged on a shadow outside. I’m seeing things.
Wolf scanned his surroundings and growled something about a bedroom.
He began dragging Sarah out of the kitchen, heading for the hallway.
She slapped at him, clawed at him, spat at him.
He stopped and raised his fist. She braced herself, anticipating the blow.
Before she could process what she was seeing, the back door exploded.
Glass shattered and rained down like drops of crystal. Archer barked. Wolf cursed.
A huge figure loomed with a roar. Soon she was being shoved backward, spinning, windmilling.
She landed on her hip with a bruising thud that expelled the breath from her lungs.
The room tilted. She dragged in air. Everything slowed.
Shoes squeaked. Men grunted and snarled.
Archer’s barks climbed in pitch. The noises seemed muffled, far away.
The sound of skin smacking skin jarred her, and she looked up just as Quinn’s fist connected with Wolf’s jaw. A pop, a crunch, a groan, and Wolf sagged to his knees. Quinn towered over him, hands balled and ready, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath.
One well-placed foot, and he shoved Wolf sideways. Wolf crumpled into a heap on the floor. The distinctive sound of sirens wailed, growing louder until they seemed to be right outside the door.
Sarah sat frozen in place, gaping at Wolf’s unmoving form.
Two strong arms enfolded her, pulled her to her feet and against a hard, still-heaving chest. Quinn. She buried her face against him and pulled in his reassuring scent. He smoothed her hair while he held her. “Did he hurt you? Are you okay?”
Numb, she nodded weakly. “I’m okay,” she croaked. “Archer?”
“Let me let the cops in, then we’ll take care of Arch.”
It struck her that in Quinn’s arms, she was safe. Her knees wobbled and gave out. “Don’t let go,” she heard herself plead.
“Not a chance, Sunshine.”
Hours later, Quinn finally had Sarah tucked safely in the passenger seat of his truck, and he drove them home, hands firmly on the wheel. Sore, skinned knuckles reminded him of the altercation when he gripped too hard, and he smiled to himself as he shook that hand out. Totally worth it.
He’d called Nelson once he and Sarah had buckled in, and she was talking animatedly with her brother over the vehicle’s sound system.
“So he broke in and was waiting for you inside?” Nelson sounded incredulous. Quinn didn’t blame him.
“No, he didn’t break in. I didn’t lock the door behind me, and he was watching the house, so he slipped in after me.”
“Why didn’t Archer tear into him?”
“Because Archer knows him, and Wolf came prepared with raw meat and a leash. While Arch was busy scarfing up the goodies, Wolf anchored the leash to the fridge.” She went on to describe, as she had to the police, how Wolf had taken her keys and phone and kept her there against her will.
Quinn bristled at the memory of Wolf’s hands on her.
The back door window wasn’t completely obscured, and he’d gotten an eyeful of what was going down before he crashed through it.
“Sorry about destroying your back door, dude,” he said when Sarah paused for a breath. “It’s secure now, but you’ll definitely need a new one. Just let me know what the damage is. I’m good for it.”
Nelson laughed. “Hey, forget about the damn door. I’m just glad you were there to take care of my sister.”
Quinn side-eyed her with pride. “I’m not sure how much taking care of she needed. She was holding her own pretty well until the son of a bitch about tore her hair out.”
Sarah rubbed her head gingerly and slid him a hooded look. “Don’t let Quinn fool you. He was like the cavalry, riding to the rescue in the nick of time. Wolf got the first shot in, but Quinn dropped him with one punch, and that was all she wrote.”
Quinn fidgeted, his cheeks heating, while Nelson guffawed. “Maybe you should start dropping the gloves on the ice, Hads.”
“And ruin this pretty face? No way. T.J. can keep his job,” Quinn retorted. Sarah beamed him a smile, and his chest expanded a few coat sizes.
“So what’s next?” Nelson asked.
“They’ve got him locked up”—for now—“on a laundry list of charges, including felonies. They’ve taken Sarah’s and my statements, and they’ll be contacting you and Lily too. But it ain’t over. Not by a long shot.”
“He’ll get out on bail, right? Then what?”
Sarah’s hand trembled, and Quinn covered it with his and squeezed.
“Because of the seriousness of the charges, they’ll set a bail hearing first to determine the amount, so he’s not getting sprung just yet.
I’m taking Sarah home with me, and she’ll be safe there.
Wolf doesn’t know where I live, and he’s not going to find out.
Grims and one of his buddies are picking up Sarah’s Jeep as we speak and bringing it to my place, so there’s no chance for Wolf to follow and figure out where she’s stashed.
But just in case, I’m in the process of getting the security system fired up.
And if those precautions fail and he shows up—”
“He’s a fucking dead man,” Sarah growled.
There’s my little badass! He lifted her hand to his mouth and dropped a kiss on it. He couldn’t keep the grin from his face.
They hung up, and Quinn pulled up to the house, surprised to see a dark Buick SUV parked in front.
Inside the garage, he helped Sarah down from the truck.
Without thinking, he crushed her against him, burying his nose in her hair and breathing in her flowery vanilla fragrance.
For about the hundredth time that day, he sent a thank you upward to whoever was in charge of the universe.
A thank-you for letting no more harm come to her; a thank-you for putting him in the right place at the right time; and a final thank-you for being able to save his girl from a fucking nutjob. His girl.
For the second time that day, hot tears stung his eyes and clogged his throat.
He held her close, cradling her while he blinked them back and got himself under control.
They clung to one another like a pair of drowning people who had just found life preservers.
And they would have stayed that way if Archer hadn’t barked to be let out of the truck.
Quinn released Sarah, taking a quick swipe at his eyes, and grabbed the door handle to let Archer out.
At the same time, the door from the house flew wide, and his mother stood framed in the doorway.
“Quinn? Is Sarah with you?” He’d called his mom to tell her he’d be late and why, and to be sure she was all right.
He’d offered to send someone to stay with her, but she’d scoffed and flat out refused. Of course she did.
Sarah threaded her way toward his mom. “Right here, Liz.”
His mother threw her arms around Sarah and, with a sob, pulled her tight to her body. “Oh, doll! I was so worried about you.”
“So you’re not mad at me?” came Sarah’s muffled voice.
“No, of course not. I’ve just been distracted, dealing with … other things.”
Quinn hadn’t had a chance to fill Sarah in on his earlier conversation with his mom.
To his surprise and chagrin, both women burst into tears.
He stood rooted where he was, Archer by his side, and man and dog glanced at each other as if to say, “What the fuck do we do now?” Normally, when faced with a combination of women and waterworks—not that Quinn had much experience, having deftly avoided it most of his life—he’d have run the other way or given them a Titanic-wide berth.
Instead, he approached and embraced them, kissing each one on top of her head, gratified when they both hugged him back fiercely.
“Hey,” he said softly, “maybe we should move this party inside?”
His mom’s watery blue eyes widened. “Before we do, there’s something you need to know.”
Nothing could possibly top what the day had already brought, could it? His answer came a moment later when a familiar, disembodied male voice asked, “Liz? What’s going on?”
Quinn looked up as his father rounded the corner. Locking on eyes the same color as his, he choked.
“Dad?”