Primal Bargains

by Raleigh Davis

  With surprise, I realize I recognize some of the others too. There’s Gage, his smile sharper than all the rest. Cassian is there too, the most arrogant of them all. I can see he was trouble even as a teenager.

  And there’s Archer and Bishop too, both part of the big, happy group.

  Holy crap. Wolfe doesn’t just hang out with these guys in some billionaire social club—he grew up with them. And he said he couldn’t trust anyone…

  Meaning he can’t trust them either.

  The only people I don’t recognize are the man, the girls, and one other boy. I wonder who they are and where they are now. And if Wolfe can’t trust them either.

  I keep going down the hall. There’re more pictures of him and his friends as kids, the man and the girl appearing occasionally in them, along with the mystery boy I don’t recognize. There’re no pictures of anyone who looks like his parents. Or any siblings. The stuff about his personal life is pretty sparse online, so I have no idea if his parents are still alive or if he even has siblings.

  Judging by the lack of pictures, he definitely doesn’t trust them even if they do exist.

  Finally I come to the destination of my wires. It’s another control panel, broken like all the others. I guess I’m supposed to magically fix this one without ever coming up here.

  Shaking my head, I start to clean it out. There’re some salvageable parts here, and once I pull it off the main network and put a new operating system on it, the entire system will be pretty damn secure. Repairing the panels will take the most time.

  I wonder if he broke the panels. He never did say.

  As I turn to sneak back downstairs, a light flickers from behind an open door. An electronic light. Like from a display.

  Huh. I thought all those were broken.

  I step into the room, intending to take just a quick look. I haven’t heard or seen anyone up here. I’m safe enough.

  And suddenly I realize I’m in Wolfe’s bedroom. The bed is massive and rumpled like he just rolled out of it, there’re clothes on the floor and cuff links on the dresser, lying as if they were tossed aside hastily.

  That’s a very big bed. I can’t stop staring at it. I didn’t think they made beds that big.

  Did he have a bed custom made for him? And why? To fit more people in?

  My cheeks heat as I imagine Wolfe in that bed with several partners. He’d be in the center, the focus of everything that was happening. And he’d beckon to me with one strong hand, telling me there’s always room for one more…

  The heat has spread to my core now, washing over my skin. I force my gaze away from the bed, back to the panel, but the flush lingers.

  I take a deep breath, focus. And frown. This panel is different from all the others. It’s not broken, for one. And it’s running an entirely different operating system.

  I don’t think this panel is running on the other security system. This looks entirely separate.

  But what is it protecting?

  The display itself doesn’t give me any clue. It merely says Arm? like it’s waiting for instructions. I’m tempted to touch it, but it might be fingerprint coded. If it is and I touch it, the alarm could go off.

  I want to know what this thing is protecting, but I also want to explore this place more. Setting off the alarm would end all that, so I leave the panel alone.

  This room doesn’t have any pictures except for a massive oil painting on the wall opposite the bed, a kind of generic piece showing abstract flowers.

  There’s a safe behind that painting. I’d bet my salary from this job on it. I shake my head because it’s so predictable it’s sad. Of course a thief is going to look behind that painting first. They’ve all seen just as many movies as we have.

  I look back at the panel. It must be running the system on the safe. That at least is a good idea, keeping it separate from the rest. I run through possible ways to make it even more secure. Maybe hide that panel better. Definitely change out that painting. A fake bookshelf could work as long as the books are real and look like they’ve been read recently.

  A panic room would be best. Yeah, a panic room in the basement, with the safe in there and maybe some escape tunnels even—

  “What the hell are you doing in here?”

  I spin to face the growl behind me, my heart pounding wildly. He’s caught me. I wasn’t supposed to be here and he’s caught me.

  “I’m so sorry,” I start to babble. Wolfe is towering over me, his fists clenched at his sides.

  “I said never to come up here.” He’s talking over me, his voice so deep and rough it could have come from within a mine.

  I look up, ready to plead my case.

  I look up and finally see his face. The thing I’ve been longing to see.

  His face. His perfect, unblemished face.

  Chapter 12

  He’s completely fine. Nothing whatsoever is wrong with his face except that it’s downright gorgeous. All the skulking in the dark, hiding in the shadows, was to cover up this.

  Gideon Wolfe is completely fine and a psychotic liar.

  “What the hell?” I gesture to his face, his broad shoulders, his narrow waist.

  He takes a step back, surprised. Then his expression hardens again. “I told you not to come up here. Very explicitly.”

  I should be frightened of him, of losing this job and the money. Instead, I’m just really, really pissed. Here I was feeling so sorry for him, thinking something terrible had happened to him, wishing he trusted me enough to show me his face, and he was perfectly fine the whole time.

  I feel betrayed too, although I shouldn’t. I should have walked right out the moment he refused to show himself.

  “No, you don’t get to be offended,” I say. “You hid yourself like something was terribly wrong with you, like one look at you would turn someone into stone. But in reality you look like… like…” I motion futilely to his face. “Like that!”

  “You weren’t hired to come look at me,” he snarls. “You were hired to install a security system. Which doesn’t include sneaking into my bedroom.” His expression goes flat, stony. “Fuck. You snuck into my bedroom.” He takes a heavy step toward me. “Are you in on it?”

  From overhead comes Gulizar’s voice. “Your tones are agitated.” There’s a pause before agitated, like she had to search for and insert the right word. “Shall I call the police?”

  “No,” Wolfe grits out.

  “Yes,” I counter. “Because this is one sick game you’re playing.”

  “Contacting the authorities,” she says in an eerily neutral voice.

  “No.” Command vibrates through Wolfe’s tone, enough to make it seem like the ground is shaking. “Cancel that. And shut up.” He glares at me. “Stop talking to it.”

  “She can hear me no matter what.” I set my jaw, my muscles tensing. “And I’m serious. You’re crazy. I had nothing to do with whatever happened here before. I needed to follow some wiring. That’s all.”

  He sneers. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

  I notice two things then. One, he’s holding a notebook in his hand, a heavy, bound one, like the kind you’d use for journaling. And two, if he takes just two steps to the left, he’ll be between me and the door, blocking my way out.

  If he’s convinced I came here to steal from him, he’s definitely going to stop me from leaving.

  I go for the door, keeping my head up and my shoulders back, the picture of confidence. My stomach is in knots though, and my heartbeat is loud in my ears.

  “Don’t worry about firing me.” Only two more steps to the door. “I quit.”

  “You can’t.” He watches me but doesn’t follow. “We’re not done here.”

  “But we are.” I slip through the open door.

  I take the steps two at a time, listening behind me for the sound of him coming after me. But there’s nothing but the rasp of my shaky breaths and my own pulse. Still, I go as fast I can through the house without breaking into a
run. I have to get out of here. This whole thing was a mistake.

  I don’t let myself think about the second mortgage, or the first, or my student loans, or the looming foreclosure. That will have to wait until I’m out of here.

  I can’t stop thinking about how he looked. The planes of his face, the hollows in his cheeks, how strong his jaw was, how blue his eyes were, how dark his hair was. And how sinfully plush his mouth was.

  It doesn’t matter how hot he is or how badly I want to kiss that mouth again—what he did was messed up. And as badly as I need the money, I don’t need that.

  I pass Rustem on the way to the back door. He watches me with surprise.

  “What’s—” he starts to say.

  “I saw his face,” I call to him as I speed away.

  His eyes go wide. “Shit.”

  “Exactly. I’m out. I quit.”

  Rustem doesn’t try to stop me either. I make it to the cottage without a single person behind me. Still, I shut and lock the door.

  I collapse against it, panting.

  None of this makes sense. He said he can’t trust anyone, to the point where I can’t leave the grounds… but he lets in Gage. He hides in the shadows as if he’s ashamed of his face… but he’s perfectly beautiful. He’s got that safe upstairs, completely walled off from the rest of the security system. He didn’t destroy that.

  Rustem knew this whole time that Wolfe was fine. Gage must have known too. It was only me he was lying to. Asshole.

  I push off from the door and march to my bedroom. In five minutes I’m packed and ready. There are tools of mine still in the house, but Rustem can send them to me later. It’s the least he can do after being in on this with Wolfe.

  With my bag slung over my shoulder, I head for the door. I dial Victoria once I’m outside and on my way to the main gate.

  She doesn’t answer. Shit. I leave a message, asking her to meet me on the road somewhere. I don’t care where. I’m walking out of here, as far and as fast as I can.

  Evening is falling once I make it out to the road. Somehow the truck trail looks even narrower and more dangerous in the low light. There’s nothing but trees and mountains as far as I can see and then that one lonely road, disappearing into the dark.

  I take a steadying breath. I’ve been through worse. As far as I know, there’re no wild animals out here, so I should be fine until Victoria picks me up. She hasn’t called me back yet, but she will. She’s never let me down yet.

  The first few miles are easy. And then the road starts to climb. I’m huffing and puffing by the third mile, my thighs burning. Jeez, I really wish I’d kept up with my PT. But I wasn’t expecting to have to flee in the night from one of my clients.

  As I come to a curve in the road, I step close to the guardrail and check my phone. Still nothing from Victoria. But maybe she’s already on her way.

  Headlights flash over the road, flicking in and out of the trees. I peer around the curve, expecting to see Victoria’s car any moment.

  Nothing comes around.

  Then there’s another set of headlights, whipping through the trees as if the car is jerking from one side of the road to the other. There’s a squeal of tires, then a motor revving.

  From around the corner comes a low-slung sports car, going so fast my heart stops. The headlights blind me for half a second, and I put my hand up to shield my eyes.

  I see a young kid in the driver’s seat, not more than seventeen, his eyes wide.

  He’s coming right for me. There’s no time to stop, no time to swerve. I’m going to be pinned between the car and the guardrail.

  Suddenly the air rushes out of me as I’m tackled at the waist. I go flying over the guardrail and land on whoever sacked me. We bounce together, once, twice, and then gravity pulls us down the steep hillside.

  I’m rolling down the hill, bouncing and bumping, held in a pair of amazingly strong arms. We come to a stop near the bottom, my rescuer underneath me, cushioning me.

  Before I even open my eyes, I already know who it is. My hair’s on end, my nerves are popping and sparking, and my skin feels too small for me.

  It has to be Wolfe.

  His eyes are closed, his head back.

  Oh shit. Did he get knocked out?

  I scramble off him, my hip shouting with pain. I must have wrenched something. But I’m worried about him.

  I kneel beside him, checking for injuries. There’s a massive gash in his forearm, like it got caught on a branch on the way down. And his fingers are at a funny angle.

  I look again. Wait, his fingers are splinted—meaning they were broken before this. He had three broken fingers and he still managed to hold on to me as we rolled. I swallow hard as I remember his arms around me.

  That gash needs to be taken care of. He might even need stitches. But his eyes still aren’t open, which worries me the most. Head wounds aren’t something I can handle on my own out here.

  I look around for my bag or my purse. They’re nowhere to be found, which means my cell phone is gone too. Son of a bitch.

  I hear more tires squealing and look up toward the road, but I can’t see anything. Since the car isn’t at the bottom of the hill here with us, I assume they made it okay and are getting the hell out of there. Little shits.

  Wolfe still has his eyes closed. A spike of adrenaline hits my heart. I reach up and pat his cheek. “Mr. Wolfe.” I pat harder. “Mr. Wolfe, are you okay?” Now I’m gently smacking him. “You need to wake up.”

  His eyelids flutter open, his thick, sooty lashes brushing over his cheeks. “Are you okay?” he mumbles.

  I blow out a relieved exhale. Thank God. “I’m fine. But you need help.”

  He pushes himself and shakes his head, then winces. He grabs his ribs and grits his teeth, exhaling with a hiss.

  “Is it your ribs?” I ask. He could have broken them on the way down, easy.

  He shakes his head again, then nods. “They’re broken, but they were before.”

  Broken ribs, broken fingers… What the hell happened?

  I offer him my hand.

  He looks at it for a long moment. “I’m supposed to be helping you.”

  “You saved my life.”

  He takes my hand then, and I drape his arm over my shoulders as I help him up the hill. His breath hitches with every step.

  “Should we call the police?” I ask. “And you need to get to an ER.”

  “No.” That’s flat and final. “Rustem can stitch me up.” He lifts his arm, studies the gash. “Hell, that doesn’t even need stitches.”

  I’m not sure that’s true, but if he won’t go to the doctor, we’ll never know.

  “Someone just tried to kill us,” I say. “And clearly something serious happened to you before. The police are definitely a good idea here.”

  He hauls himself around a bush, his feet slipping. I hold tight, trying to steady him. He’s warm and solid, almost too big for me to support.

  “I know that kid,” he says. “Drives like an asshole around here when his parents are out of town. Wasn’t intentional.”

  Man, I’d love to find that kid and give him a piece of my mind. “He’s going to kill someone someday.” And it would have been me if Wolfe hadn’t miraculously been here. “Did you come to bring me back?”

  He closes his eyes and grimaces. His ribs must be on fire. “You wanted to leave. I was going to offer you a ride. Can’t walk here at night.”

  I can’t leave now. Someone has to get him back to the house. And I don’t have my phone to call anyone to come get us.

  We’re kind of fucked.

  Finally we reach the road again, both of us climbing over the guardrail. Wolfe gestures with his chin down the road toward something.

  A car is parked on the side of the road, lights on and doors open. I peek inside and see some books in a foreign language. Maybe Turkish.

  There’s only one dude in a fifty-mile radius who’d have Turkish books in his car.

  “You
took Rustem’s car?” I ask as I help Wolfe into the passenger seat.

  “Had to get to you.” His voice is thready, breathless, as if he’s fighting for every molecule of oxygen.

  God, I hope his ribs didn’t puncture a lung. I’ve had very basic battlefield medic training, but I’ve never had to actually use it.

  “Hold on,” I say. “We’ll get you home.”

  He doesn’t say anything, just lets his head fall back on the seat. It puts him in profile, his full lips a contrast to the stark lines of his nose and throat, the jut of his chin.

  “Thank you for rescuing me.” I’m not sure if he heard me.

  I drive as fast as I dare on the narrow, twisting road, racing to get us both to safety.

  Chapter 13

  It turns out that Wolfe’s injuries weren’t as bad as I feared. At least according to Wolfe and Rustem.

  “He’s fine,” Rustem says as I peer at the gash on Wolfe’s arm.

  Wolfe’s stripped off his shirt, and I’m doing my best not to stare at his chest.

  “Strong as an ox.” And then he actually smacks Wolfe on the side of the head as if Wolfe really were an ox. And Wolfe, that idiot, grins.

  “His ribs are broken,” I say coldly. “And his fingers. And if these wounds don’t get properly cleaned out, he could get a nasty infection.”

  “All that was already broken,” Rustem says. But he hands me some gauze and iodine anyway.

  I look straight at Wolfe. “How did that happen?”

  He and Rustem exchange a glance.

  I grit my teeth. “I think I’m owed some answers. I came here to help and you’ve both been lying to me the entire time. So actually, I’m definitely owed some answers.”

  Wolfe shrugs. “Someone broke in about a week ago. Went for the safe.”

  “You think,” Rustem cuts in.

  “They were definitely going for the safe,” Wolfe says. “I caught them, tried to fight them off, and I ended up going down the stairs. They got away.”

  “And the police and the ambulance that came?” I’m staring at him, holding the gauze and iodine still, hardly believing what I’m hearing.

  “Alarm system automatically calls them,” Wolfe says. “I told them I was fine and to take off.”