by Wood, Vivian
He could’ve sworn he wasn’t one of those damsel-in-distress addicts, but just about now he’d follow that female to the ends of the earth if she only said the word. What in the hell was going on with him?
He’d known something was definitely wrong back in the chopper, when he’d opted not to fuck her. That was not Walker’s style. Not that he was a slut, but he took what he wanted when he wanted it. And god damn, but he wanted Ella. His wolf and his raging hard-on both agreed, both attuned completely to the green-eyed nymph he’d known for a handful of hours.
Walker steeled himself as he got into the car. Ella glanced at him once, a frown tightening the corners of her lush mouth. She seemed about to speak, but instead she turned and stared out the passenger window.
She hadn’t spoken to him since they’d left the chopper, and it made him feel tight and uncomfortable inside. Still, there was no rush to conversation. Walker waited until they’d pulled away from the airport and had driven north about twenty minutes before making an attempt.
“We’re going to Asheville,” he said, testing the waters. He glanced over at her.
“Okay,” she said. She kept looking out the window, her shoulders hunched. She seemed sad.
“You’ll stay with us for a while until we make sure you’re safe at home,” he said.
She didn’t respond.
“Where are you from, Ella?” he asked, keeping his tone gentle.
She turned toward him, her expression bleak.
“I live in Gulf Shores,” she said.
“How did you end up at that warehouse?” Walker asked.
“I’m a bartender. I was leaving the bar really late and I got grabbed off the street. They put a hood over my head and put me in a car, and that was it.”
“Kidnappers and human traffickers usually target people on purpose, specific people. Did you recognize any of the men?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. She hesitated for a long moment before speaking again.
“They didn’t even know I was a shifter, but…” she trailed off, biting her lip.
“But what?” he prompted.
“I heard them use my name, more than once.”
“They probably opened your wallet and looked at your ID,” Walker said.
“One of them said it while they were grabbing me. I still had my purse on my shoulder at the time. I distinctly heard him say my name, and another one said, ‘That’s her.’”
Walker absorbed that information, glad he’d decided to take her to Asheville. She’d been targeted, just as he’d suggested. Until they knew who would want to hurt her, she couldn’t go back to the same elements that had led her here in the first place.
“We can send someone to get your things from your house, if you want,” he said, trying to figure out her mood. She had plenty to be upset about right now, but he wanted to resolve anything that he could.
She lifted a shoulder, then shook her head.
“I don’t have much. I just moved, and I left most of my stuff behind.”
“You don’t sound very attached to your new home, if you don’t mind me saying.”
Her brow puckered and she inclined her head.
“I have a couple boxes of keepsakes and a few boxes of clothes in my new place, all still packed up. I don’t even have dishes in my new place yet.”
Walker was surprised at her words, at her seeming detachment.
“You seem like one of those women who would line her nest, so to speak.”
“I did line my nest. I saved up and bought a house, right on the beach. I decorated every room just how I wanted it. Hurricane Katrina came through and wiped everything out, and I did it all over again. I loved that house. It’s the only place I’ve ever felt like I was really home,” she said, letting out a big sigh.
Walker was silent for several seconds. She kept surprising him. First silence, then this story about her house.
“So why aren’t you living there now?” he asked.
Pain flashed in her eyes, and Walker noticed that dark circles were forming under her eyes. Maybe he was pushing her too hard right now, after all she’d been through.
“I got married, and then I got taken for everything I had.”
Walker opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. Ella caught his expression, and her mouth twisted with foul humor.
“I know. That’s what I said when the court ordered me out of my own house.”
“But how? I mean, you said you bought it yourself.”
“I did, but when we got married I was dumb. Justin, my ex, told me that if I loved him I’d put his name on everything. Bank accounts, the house, even my car. I figured it couldn’t hurt. Unfortunately, I figured wrong. He bribed the right people, doctored the right records, and pulled the rug out from under my feet. The day he served me with divorce papers, he had the sheriff escort me from my own home.”
“And you didn’t go to your family when all this happened?” he asked, taken aback.
“We’ve grown apart since my divorce. My mom and my sister were completely taken in by Justin. They think he’s god’s gift to women, me especially. Justin somehow ‘explained’ the situation in a way that makes me out to be the bad guy. My sister sided with him completely, and my mom thinks we should ‘work something out’ and share the house. My dad doesn’t like Justin or approve of his behavior, but my mom and sister have railroaded him into going along with them. Basically, my family sucks right now.”
His grip on the steering wheel tightened as she talked, tensing until his hands burned and he felt some give in the steering wheel. He bit his tongue to stop from offering to beat the shit out of her ex. He’d do it if she asked, and with great relish, but maybe she’d seen enough violence today. Hell, he’d killed a dozen or more men in front of her just hours ago.
“You look sinister right now,” Ella said.
“I was thinking of offering to do some bodily harm,” he admitted.
Ella stared at him for a full minute, making him shift uncomfortably in his seat. Women didn’t usually stare him down, nor did they make him feel so uncertain. He scowled at the steering wheel.
“Who the hell are you?” Ella finally asked. “You came out of nowhere, pulled me out of that horrible place, and now you’re saying all these nice things to me. I don’t get you, and I don’t get what you want from me.”
Walker bit his tongue again. He wasn’t even sure what he would have said, but he had the idea that it would either be raunchy or awkward. She crossed her arms, which only served to accent the breasts he was trying not to notice. She wore no bra, and he kept pretending that he hadn’t been eyeing the shape of her nipples through the thin cotton of her shirt.
“Well…” he said, unsure how to start. He didn’t talk to people much if he could help it, much less explain his whole identity to someone else.
“I’m Walker Black. I’m thirty-four. I was born in Marietta, Georgia, just a few minutes north of Atlanta. Foster kid, joined the Navy at seventeen, joined the CIA at twenty two, retired to private life at twenty eight. That’s pretty much all there is to know.”
Ella gave him a strange look.
“Really? That’s it?”
“I can’t think of anything else that’s need-to-know,” he said, shifting in his seat once more.
Ella turned in her seat, digging into her duffel bag. She pulled out a magazine, slapping it down on the arm rest and thrusting a finger down onto the glossy cover. Walker didn’t even have to look closely. He and Lucas were on the cover of last month’s Financial Guardian, looking casually suave in matching navy suits. They’d been dressed, coiffed, and posed.
“Ah,” he said, clearing his throat. “Yeah. I was on the cover.”
“I can see that,” Ella said, her expression pinched. She flipped open the magazine to his feature, reading off the bold-printed information.
“Apparently you two are worth more than a billion dollars apiece. You’re single, and ‘not looking to settle down in
finance or in romance’,” she quoted.
“Ella-” he began, but she interrupted.
“There’s more. They ask here why you do so much charity work, and you reply: ‘I’m not naturally inclined to do things for others. I’m very selfish, and I always look out for myself first. Charity work is the other side of the coin, a way to find balance.’”
“I did say that, but-”
Ella held up a hand, silencing him. Walker’s jaw closed with a snap. He felt like a character in Freaky Friday, because he was always the one handling other people and making demands. And yet here was this tiny, feisty blonde female ordering him about. It was very, very strange.
“I am not a charity case, Walker,” she said, her words slow and deliberate.
“I didn’t say that you were.”
“You need to take me to Gulf Shores,” she said.
“Not happening.”
“You don’t get to decide that,” she snapped. “You are so entitled. You think because you’re rich, because you’re on magazine covers, because you’re a male, that you get to order me around? You have another thing coming, buddy.”
Walker braked hard, swerving the car to the side of the road and coming to a complete stop. He leaned over her, fighting to control his anger.
“I am not,” he said, stressing each syllable, “your buddy. I am the male who pulled you out of a fucking glass display case this morning. I’m the one who dropped everything in my life to come running to save you. I killed for you.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that,” she said, sadness tingeing her voice once more.
“That’s not…” Walker stopped, checking his frustration. “Listen to me. You needed rescuing, and I was happy to do it. It helps that you’re pretty and smart, but I would have rescued anyone in that situation.”
Ella flushed, dropping her eyes.
“It’s not that I’m not appreciative,” she said.
“I don’t care about that. What I care about is that you were kidnapped from your place of work by people who intentionally targeted you. It would be crazy for you to go back to Gulf Shores before we figure out who arranged to have you abducted. You might as well just let me take you back to the warehouse if you’re going to be pigheaded.”
“I didn’t realize that making decisions for myself and being pigheaded were the same thing!” she argued.
“I’m just trying to help you. It’s this thing people do called being nice,” Walker said, giving her a dirty look.
“I get it, okay? You’re a hero, you’re a fucking saint! You rescue me, you give me half a pity fuck, you take me back to your mansion or whatever and surround me with guards so I never have to be afraid again. I fucking get it, Walker. I’m pathetic, and stubborn, and stupid, and lame. So go ahead, just do what you’re going to do,” she said, waving her hand at the steering wheel.
“What the hell are you talking about, pity-” Walker cut himself off, exasperated.
“Let me ask you one thing. Are we going somewhere that we’ll be trapped together, or will there be other people around?” she asked.
“There will be other wolves,” Walker said.
“Females?” she asked.
“One. Aurelia.”
“Aurelia,” she repeated, narrowing her eyes. For a moment, he could have sworn he sensed… jealousy?
No, he must be wrong.
“Yes. She’s pretty… spirited. I imagine you two will like each other.”
Ella just crossed her arms, giving him an icy glare.
“About this pity fuck…” he said, looking her up and down.
“Can you just drive the car, please?” she asked, turning to look out the window again.
For the life of him, Walker didn’t know what to say to her. He pulled onto the highway again, knowing that it was going to be a hell of a long drive to Asheville.
Chapter Fifteen
A knock sounded on the door of the bedroom-turned-prison-cell that Ella now called home. She groaned, pulling a fluffy white pillow from where she’d held it pressed over her face, a bid to ground herself to reality.
“Go away!” she shouted.
She knew it was Walker, because her overwrought hormones allowed her to smell him through the door. Spicy, clean, masculine… and devastating to her body. She rolled over with another groan.
“Ella, you have to eat,” Walker said, his voice muffled by the thick door. The whole bedroom was tastefully appointed in dark-stained wood and white silk, like some five star Parisian hotel. If hotels had windows that were bolted shut to prevent escape, that was.
“Just leave it outside the door,” she said, holding her breath.
The door knob rattled softly, then silence lapsed. Walker made a frustrated noise, and for half a heartbeat Ella felt like a bratty teenager.
As his footsteps retreated down the hall, she shook herself. Yes, he’d saved her, but he’d also brought her to this place against her will and wouldn’t let her go. Unless Ella wanted to share space with Walker or his associates, she was confined to the large, dark bedroom and adjoining bathroom of her suite. He’d made it clear that she wasn’t allowed outside the house, and Ella was too angry to sit in the living room, idly flipping channels and hanging out with her captor.
Still, after two full days of being trapped in the bedroom, the airy living room and open kitchen did have a certain appeal. She’d only seen the common rooms for a few moments, really. When Walker had pulled up to the house and announced that she needed to remain inside the house, she’d locked herself in her assigned bedroom. Walker had brought clothes, toiletries, and a laptop for her use and left them outside the door, but he hadn’t attempted to enter.
Ella was willing to bet that he was kicking himself for having brought her here. She was nothing but a burden to him, and an ungracious one at that. Their bedrooms shared a wall complete with a sliding door, and she’d heard more than a few curses and angry thumps coming from his room. It gave her a bit of petty, cruel satisfaction to know that he wasn’t any happier with the arrangement than she.
She wondered, for maybe the hundredth time, what Walker actually wanted from her. Her guesses, ranging wildly from fantastic to macabre, seemed widely off the mark. She laid out what she knew about him: he was domineering, stubborn, persistent, and yes, entitled. On the other hand, when she looked around at the carefully-chosen clothing he’d brought, at the homemade meals he kept leaving outside her door… somewhere in him there was tenderness, too.
Another knock at the door startled her, and she half-tumbled off the bed.
“Walker, I told you to go away!” she shouted, scowling as she tried to right herself.
A throat cleared in the hallway, and Ella could hear hands pressing softly against the door.
“It’s not Walker?” came a female’s voice, tone uncertain.
Ella slid off the bed, straightening her clothes and hair. She walked over to the door, hesitant.
“Is Walker with you?” Ella asked.
“What? No. He came downstairs all pissed off, and went for a run. He looks like he’s got some bad energy to work off.”
Ella bit her lip, then reached out and unlocked the door. When she opened it, she blinked at the female on the other side.
A tall, curvy redhead stared curiously from the other side of the threshold. She wore patterned leggings and a tight black tee shirt that said Pretty Girls Make Graves. Her heavy mass of red hair was pulled up in a messy bun, and she sported a number of vividly colorful tattoos on her arms and feet.
“Aurelia!” the female said, by way of introduction. She stuck her hand out, pulling a feigned expression of seriousness.
“Ella,” she replied, unable to keep from laughing at the friendly female’s goofy expression.
“I was wondering if maybe you wanted to get out of this room for a while,” Aurelia said, crinkling her nose. “It’s dark in here.”
“I don’t really want to hang out in the living room,” Ella said, her gaze droppin
g to her feet.
“Walker must’ve done something stupid, I’m guessing,” Aurelia said. “He’s such a storm trooper. He just stomps around all mad and barks orders at everyone.”
Ella couldn’t help but smile at the description. Accurate, to say the least.
“Yeah,” Ella said, not wanting to elaborate.
“Well I’ve got a pretty sweet TV in my room, and I have Netflix set up too. I was thinking of watching the worst romantic comedy I can find. I think there’s one with Justin Timberlake where he raps that Kris Kross song. I hear it’s awesomely bad. Plus, I just made some cheesecake brownies, and I can’t eat them all. I’ll get fat,” Aurelia pouted.
“Wolves don’t get fat,” Ella said, laughing.
“You haven’t seen how many cheesecake brownies I made. Like two giant plates, and I have a pint of vanilla gelato to go with them,” Aurelia countered.
Ella’s stomach rumbled at Aurelia’s description. Aurelia raised a brow, crooking a finger enticingly.
“Come on. I’m on the second floor,” she said, turning and leading the way.
Ella swallowed, and then gave herself a shake. She had to trust someone, some time, and Aurelia was obviously awesome. Ella shut the door to her room, and followed the redhead downstairs.
Chapter Sixteen
Four hours and nearly three terrible romantic comedies later, Ella was glad that she’d taken the chance on Aurelia. The females were curled up on a loveseat in Aurelia’s bedroom, howling with laughter as they watched a lovesick heroine bemoan her existence in a long, cheesy monologue.
“She’s fucking re-tarded,” Aurelia cried, wiping a tear from her face.
“Pa-thetic!” Ella chirped, and they burst into giggles again.
“I need a break,” Aurelia said, using the remote to pause the movie. She looked around at the empty plates and half-eaten, melting pints of gelato, pursing her lips.
“We’re trapped here,” Aurelia declared, leaning her head back on the love seat with a dramatic sigh.
