Wolf (Tall, Dark and Dangerous Book 2)

by Bella Love-Wins

  “It’s okay. I don’t usually talk to anyone at this time of night… I mean morning.”

  It buzzes again and he looks over at me for a second. “Maybe you should see who’s trying to reach you.”

  “They can wait.”

  “Do you realize that you’ve never screened my calls? I’ve always been able to connect with you on the first call. Sometimes on the first ring.”

  I giggle. “That’s because you’re my boss. Plus, you’ve never called me at an ungodly hour, like whoever’s blowing up my phone right now.”

  “Good to know.”

  It buzzes again.

  “Want me to get that for you? Maybe they’ll quit if they think you have a boyfriend. Unless it’s your boyfriend who’s blowing up your phone. In which case, I’d suggest you cut him loose. You don’t strike me as the type who can handle a clingy overbearing person in your life.”

  I give him a weak smile. “You’re right on both counts. I don’t have a boyfriend, and I wouldn’t put up with crap like this. Maybe that’s why I don’t have one.”

  “Not ready for a man in your life?”

  “Not really. Come on, Jeff. You know me. I prefer to keep to myself.”

  He nods with understanding. “There was a time that I thought... I suspected you were...”

  I slant my eyes at him. “A lesbian?”

  He lets out a contagious laugh that vibrates in my chest. If I weren’t so wound up, I’d be cracking up too. “No,” he says. “I was going to say I thought you were interested in me.”

  The timing of this talk is all wrong. I thought we’d leave the past in the past. Not that I would’ve given him a try, seeing as I love working for him. Jeff had over three years to ask me out, and he never did.

  “I won’t lie to you. I have a lot of respect for you. You’re a great guy. The best boss I could ever dream of working for.”

  “But you’re not into me that way,” he says, anticipating what he thinks I’m about to say.

  “No, what I mean is even if I had a crush on you, our working relationship, our friendship, they mean a lot more to me than wrecking things by taking a chance on something I’ve never been good at.”

  “I see. The curse of the consummate professional,” he answers.

  “Exactly.”

  “You know, I could fire you,” he jokes. “That’d take all of the pressure off of dating your boss.”

  “You’re too good a person to do that,” I remind him, and narrow my eyes at him.

  He straightens up in his seat and clears his throat. “I’d better pull my head out of my ass and drop this fantasy. The truth is, I don’t want to lose you… our working relationship, I mean. You’re my best server.”

  “Thanks, boss,” I say to him, relieved that he let things be. Then my phone goes off again.

  “You really should check that.”

  “I will, in a bit.”

  I bite down on one side of my bottom lip as my mind goes over how it felt to have Thorne’s hands all over me. Jesus. I have to cross my legs to ease the throbbing deep in my pussy. I’m damp between my legs now. It’s still aching from the way he worked me over with just his fingers. I can’t stop hearing his voice like an echo in my brain, telling me he’ll fuck me until I stop fighting him. In a way, I want to stop running so he can do just that. Fuck me, claim me, and drain my resistance down to nothingness.

  “What was that?” Jeff asks out of the blue.

  “Sorry?”

  He briefly glances over at me then faces forward, focusing on the road. “You whispered something.”

  Pressing my lips together tightly, I shake my head and hope he honestly didn’t hear me. “I was probably thinking out loud.”

  I look out my passenger window to avoid making eye contact with Jeff. It’s so wrong sitting beside him and thinking these thoughts. Holy hell, what has Thorne done to me? I wonder if he could tell when he pushed his way inside me. No one knows this except for my best friend, Trish.

  I’m a virgin of the worst kind.

  Before Thorne, I’d never been touched. Not by anyone. I never let anyone close enough, not to hold my hand, not to make out with me, not even to kiss me. His hands, his mouth, his tongue, they’re the only ones to ever breach my personal space.

  Sure, the odd new guy at the club might try to cop a feel, but the regulars know that the bouncers won’t allow it. Their unsolicited physical contact doesn’t count. It doesn’t count because I don’t want those men touching me.

  With Thorne however, it’s different.

  I can’t stop craving him. I want him to do exactly as he’s threatened me.

  And that truth terrifies me.

  For all I know, I’ll let my guard down only to find out that he isn’t just my stalker, but also an assassin sent to finish me off when I least expect it. Like right in the middle of fucking my brains out. That’s why I’m so damn torn. I should’ve skipped town by now, but I don’t want to go.

  Not yet.

  I’m dying to be fucked by the man who might be my killer.

  I smile at the thought. Maybe sleeping with the enemy is a thing.

  “Care to share the joke?” Jeff asks as he makes it to my house.

  “Gosh, I’m so sorry, Jeff,” I say. “It’s been a long few days. I’m stuck in my own head lately.”

  He nods and puts the car in park. “I hope you know, if you ever need to talk, or need any help with anything at all, I’m here.”

  “Thanks for saying that,” I answer, giving his upper arm a gentle squeeze. “It means a lot to me. You’ve been such a great boss to work for.”

  He turns his head and looks first at my hand on his arm, then at me. “If you hadn’t been working for me for all these years, I’d think that was a goodbye. Is it?”

  My head shakes from side to side before he’s finished asking the question. I don’t mean to sound that way. It’s not goodbye. I have every intention of showing up at my next shift, focused and ready to work.

  “It isn’t. You can’t get rid of me so easily, Jeff,” I say and grin to lighten the mood.

  “I hope so.” He looks out the window at my house. “Do you always leave the place this dark? It’s pitch black.”

  “Maybe the power’s out. I’ll check when I’m inside.”

  “All right. I’ll walk you to the front door,” he offers. “To be safe.”

  “That’s sweet, but don’t worry about me,” I tell him, letting him down gently. He has no idea how well I can take care of myself.

  “Okay, but I’m waiting here until you’re at the door,” he persists.

  “You’re always the gentleman, aren’t you?” I muse, grabbing my keys from the bottom of my bag.

  “When it comes to taking care of the people who are important to me, yes. Always.”

  I do my best to act like that comment flew right over my head, and smile, stepping out of the car. “Enjoy the rest of your night, Jeff.”

  Jeff stays true to his word. I look back at his car when my front door is unlocked. He’s still there. It’s only when I give him a thumbs-up that he puts his car in reverse and leaves.

  There’s just one problem.

  Another few pairs of headlights cross paths with his, driving slowly onto my driveway. There are no neighbors around where I live, and I’m not expecting anyone. It can’t be Thorne, either. He rides a motorcycle.

  Leaving all the lights off, I stand on the inside of my door and turn the deadbolt, my eyes on the approaching lights. I turn quickly, placing one hand on the knife I keep taped to the back of the shoe rack, and the other one on the Smith & Wesson M&P 40C besides it.

  If Thorne is playing more games with me, he’d better be ready.

  Sometimes, games end in bloodshed.

  11

  Rose

  I remember the texts on my phone as I wait for the occupants of the cars outside to do something. Pulling my phone from my purse, I check to find out who’s been going all out to talk me. There are six
texts, all from an unknown number.

  They read:

  Caller: It’s Thorne. Do NOT go home.

  Caller: Reply immediately when you see this message.

  Caller: Rose. Answer your messages, dammit.

  Caller: I’ll spank your ass until it’s red for not answering.

  Caller: Why aren’t you responding? It’s urgent.

  Caller: You’re being followed, Little Red.

  I almost want to laugh as I key in my reply:

  Me: I know I’m being followed, asshole. You’ve been tailing me all week. And stop stalking my phone. Oh, never mind. You ARE a professional stalker.

  Thorne: This is serious. Someone else followed you and your boss from outside the club. In black sedans. It’s not me. I’m on my bike. Don’t go home.

  Me: Awww, how touching. The guy tailing me wants to save me from another tail. BTW too late. I’m home. And I can take care of my damn self.

  Thorne: Get the hell out of the house. They’re coming for you.

  Just as I read his last message, I see three more pairs of headlights turn onto the driveway and park. All the vehicles turn off their lights at almost the same time. Shit. I’m nowhere near prepared to take on that many attackers.

  Reaching into a large box near the front door, I take out my GO-bag. It’s all I can take with me when I make my run for it through the woods out back. I curse under my breath. Everything else has to stay behind. I stay low to the ground and hurry toward the back door. On my way there, I notice a curtain move, then hear a wooden floorboard creak under the weight of something. Someone.

  I freeze in my spot. I’m not alone in here.

  “Rose, why didn’t you leave when I told you?”

  Shit. Thorne.

  “What are you doing here?” I demand in an angry whisper.

  He points at the window he used to break in. “Time to go.”

  Looking back at the place I called home for years, I say a silent goodbye. Grams and I made some happy memories here, but our time is up. We’ll never be able to come back.

  I crouch down lower and head to the kitchen. There’s a door to Grams garden shed that leads out the side of the house. It’s our best way out if this place is surrounded.

  “For fuck’s sake, Rose. Where are you going?”

  “Dude, this is my home. Think I haven’t thought of the best way out? Follow me if you want to survive this… if you’re not actually with those people out there.”

  “Why would I bother to warn you if they were on my team?”

  Bang!

  A deafening sound and an explosion of thick smoke rip through the house. I’m guessing it’s a highly coordinated, quasi-military attack of four or five flash bangs being thrown into the house simultaneously. It’s crazy, to think they’d do all of this for me. I press my palms to the floor, finding my balance, and shake the disorienting sensation, and keep moving forward.

  “Thorne!” I shout. “This way.”

  I have no reason to help him. Since he’s shown up, he’s been nothing but trouble.

  One. Big. Ache.

  I pull the neck of the t-shirt I’m wearing over my nose and mouth to reduce the level of smoke I inhale. I’m already choking. All I can do now is stay low and get the hell out. Glass breaks and doors get shoved from their hinges as men in all black enter from everywhere. The adrenaline is pumping like crazy, but again, this is my turf. I’m not going to let anyone kill me in my own home.

  A hand grips my ankle and my first instinct is to respond by kicking it away.

  “It’s me,” Thorne says calmly. “I’ll hold them back. You lead the way.”

  I hear the clicking release of his safety, then shots from his gun pointed backward.

  I should be scared as fuck right now. Any one of those bullets leaving his gun can be for me. Maybe I am a little scared as we reach the kitchen. Two guys storm in from the main kitchen door, pointing automatic rifles with laser sights, looking for something to shoot. Looking for me. That harsh reality stops me in my tracks, but not for long. Thorne aims and shoots the two men in the kitchen, and they drop to the floor like sacks of potatoes. Headshots. They’re insanely accurate shots that get my feet moving again, although I won’t ever admit it’s because of that night he had his laser sights at the center of my chest, and I just stood there, letting him take aim.

  He could’ve killed me right there and then. Ended my life with no problem.

  But he didn’t.

  And tonight, he tried to warn me.

  We make it through the door to the garden, and when we have an opening, we use the cover of darkness to run full tilt through the woods. Thorne and I don’t look back, not until we reach a desolate strip of roadway.

  “Stay here,” Thorne orders me. “I’ll double back for my ride.”

  I shake my head. “Uh-uh. I’ve got my own ride.”

  “Where?”

  “There’s an industrial stockyard about a mile that way. I told you. I hate that I have to leave my home by force like this, but I’m prepared.”

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  “If you make it to me when I’m still at the stockyard, then fine. I’m not waiting.”

  “Jesus, woman.”

  “No, Thorne,” I say, feeling the rage rise to my throat. “You showed up, then all this shit went down. There’s no part of this story that ends where I ride off into the sunset with you. You’re a tracker. A killer. A prolific one at that. Someone sent you here for me. They may not have given you a kill order, but they gave it to them. I’d be stupid to trust you!”

  He raises his arms in frustration. “Fine. Go.”

  I don’t wait to process or question my decision. As he turns back into the woods, I cross the road, jump down into an embankment, and jog the mile to the stockyards.

  Sure, we helped each other out for a minute back there at the house, but I need to face facts.

  I’m alone in all of this.

  The second I make it to my beat-up Honda Civic I keep at the stockyard, I breathe a sigh of relief. The worst is over. Ducking to the ground, I reach the inside wheel well on the front passenger side. That’s where I keep the keys. I bought this piece of crap car and stashed it here almost four years ago. Every year, I take it in for basic maintenance to keep it running. I’ve never needed to drive it anywhere. Not until now.

  Unlocking the driver door, I throw my backpack and purse into the front seat, and jump in. I waste no time in turning the key, and give an inward cheer when the engine starts. My foot is hovering the gas pedal, ready to take off when I see Thorne standing about one car length ahead of my car. In his hand, he’s holding the same handgun he used to kill those intruders. And now, it’s pointed right at me.

  12

  Thorne

  There’s someone in the back seat of Rose’s car, and no time to warn her about it.

  Rose has no reason to trust me, but I’m not going to hurt her. A week ago, I might’ve. But in the space of just over a week, she’s changed everything.

  Stretching my arm outward from my chest, I aim my weapon, pray she doesn’t move, then I shoot directly at the man in the back seat through the windshield. It takes a few moments to see the result, but I trust my aim.

  When the explosion of shattered glass settles, the first thing I should look for is confirmation that I hit my target.

  But I don’t.

  My blood runs cold, bracing as I try to see how Rose is doing. I find her with her arms shielding her face from all the glass fragments flying around her head and upper body. She may have cuts and bruises, but that’s better than the alternative.

  Then I look in the back. Her attempted killer is dead.

  “Are you hurt?” I ask just in case.

  “I’m fine,” she answers in a loud shriek. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  “Who else did you tell about this place? I’ll tell you right now that I didn’t know until ten minutes ago. I told you to trust me. Do you believe me now?” I h
ave no idea why I feel the insane need for her to trust me. I just do.

  “I wouldn’t quite use the word trust, but, let’s just say for the sake of argument that I do. You’ve come through for me a few times tonight. And no one knew about this place. At least, I didn’t think anyone did.”

  I scan and inspect the contents of the back seat. There are cigarette ashes on the floor. The coffee in the cupholder is cool. Three sandwich wrappers are spread around. “When was the last time you looked inside the car?”

  “Two days ago.”

  “Those sandwiches weren’t there, were they?”

  “No,” she answers, her eyes vacant.

  “This guy was lying in wait,” I suggest. “It might’ve even been two of them.”

  “So you’re saying—”

  “I’m not the only one with eyes on you.”

  Her eyes roll. “My house is probably in ashes right now, so yeah, I got that part.”

  “No, this guy’s not with those men. Look at his clothes. He’s a civilian.”

  “You’re trying to tell me there are at least three parties out there interested in whether I live or die, two of which prefer a dead Rose more than a live one?”

  “You could put it that way. But they want Marie McClintock, the witness, not Rose Adams.”

  “I’m the same person. I’m both. They want me dead.”

  “And they’re doing a shit job so far.”

  “By the way, thanks for scaring me, then making up for it by saving me.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “But you trashed my car. I’m not entirely over it.”

  “It’s a windshield,” I remind her.

  She points a thumb backward. “And a dead guy, and blood all over the upholstery.”

  “I saved your life.”

  She circles her index fingers over her temples, massaging the pressure points. “Great now we’re even.”

  “How many people do I have to kill for you to trust me?”

  “As many as it takes,” she answers with a shrug of her shoulders. “Moving along, what’s next?”