Wolf Island

by Cheryl Gorman

  She sucked in a breath and snapped her head around. Her gaze darted over the deck. Her heart seized in her chest when she saw Devlin’s still body lying on the deck. Rain splashed around him, over him. A trickle of red oozed from his temple.

  Abby raced to him and pressed two fingers against the side of his neck. His weak pulse beat against the tips of her fingers.

  Thank God.

  Before she could spring up and find a first aid kit, Victor’s large hand gripped a handful of her hair. With a brutal yank, he pulled her ruthlessly to her feet. She bumped against his chest, and the breath whooshed from her lungs.

  Splinters of pain spread over her scalp until her eyes watered and nausea swam into her throat. Abby fought to loosen his hands from her hair. She had to help Devlin or he would die. No way would she let that happen.

  Suddenly, she forgot about the pain ripping into her head. Rage like she’d never felt before suffused her mind and body in a thick, red torrent. Tired of feeling like a helpless doll as Victor grabbed and pushed and threw her around, Abby fought back.

  She lowered her chin, then threw her head back sharply, ramming her skull into Victor’s jaw. He yowled.

  His arms fell away from her body, and with one last look at Devlin, Abby flew down the steps to the lower deck. Just as she’d hoped, Victor followed her. If she didn’t stop him, Devlin would die.

  Abby made her way to the darkened galley and fumbled for the light switch. Victor’s savage curses echoed in the hallway. His footsteps lumbered closer. And closer.

  Oh, God, help me. He’s coming. He’s coming!

  She jerked open a drawer. The tines of a cooking fork gleamed in the light. She snatched the utensil from the drawer just as Victor lurched into the galley.

  “There you are, whore.” His evil voice edged out of control.

  He grabbed her by the shoulders and tossed her to the floor. The cooking fork flew from her hand. Her head banged sharply against the tile, causing stars to dance in front of her eyes.

  Before she could try to escape, Victor straddled her body and closed one hand around her throat. Desperately, she grabbed at his fingers to pull them away from her neck, but his strength overwhelmed her. With his other hand, he unzipped his pants.

  Sweet Jesus. No!

  “I’m going to have you now, bitch.” His raspy voice made her skin sting with fear. His eyes grew wide, and sweat glistened on his pasty skin. It was as though he’d completely slipped from reality. His mind had twisted into some unrecognizable shape, and any humanity left inside him had been wiped away by the madness.

  Abby choked and opened her mouth to try to suck in air. With one hand still clawing at his ever-tightening fingers, she groped around on the floor with her other hand, trying desperately to find the cooking fork.

  Her fingertips bumped into the handle. She cut her gaze sharply to the left. The fork lay an inch, maybe two, from her reach. Stretching her arm until her muscles and joints ached, she brushed the pads of her fingers over the handle and moved it slightly closer.

  Victor’s grip tightened. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and darkness crept in. With one last stretch, Abby closed her fingers around the thick wooden handle.

  A shot ran through the small galley. Victor’s mouth opened, and his eyes widened in shock before he slumped on top of her. Abby screamed, the high-pitched wail rising deep from within her soul. She pushed against his chest.

  “Oh, God, oh, God.” She repeated the words over and over in a broken voice.

  Suddenly, Victor’s limp body lifted off of her.

  Abby slid away, her eyes glued to Victor’s still form. Blood dripped steadily from the side of his head and pooled on the tile floor.

  Otis knelt at her side, gripped her head in his hands, and turned her face toward his. “It’s okay. It’s over.”

  His gentle words broke through the stifling grip of fear and revulsion clouding her mind and pressing on her chest. She swallowed and grasped his arm. “Dev. Did you see him? Is he all right?”

  Abby pushed to her feet. For a moment, she stared down at Victor’s body, at the hole in his temple, his lifeblood dripping onto the floor.

  She inhaled a couple of deep breaths to push the bile back down her throat. She had to get to Devlin.

  Abby sprinted to the upper deck to Devlin, her love, her life. She knelt beside him in the pouring rain as two paramedics covered him with a blanket and a waterproof poncho. Then they put a neck brace on him to immobilize his head. Abby pushed his sodden hair from his face. “Hang on, Dev. Don’t die. Please don’t die.” She heard the desperate plea in her voice as tears welled in her eyes. She hoped to God Devlin heard her as the paramedics rushed him away.

  Later, at the Wolf Island clinic, the nurses stripped his wet clothes from his bruised and battered body, X-rayed him from head to toe, and put him into a room for observation. When he was settled, Abby sat in a chair beside his bed, clasped his hand, and prayed with everything inside her that he would be all right.

  After what seemed an eternity, his eyes finally fluttered open, and he looked at her. A bubble of relief and happiness burst inside her and spread throughout her body.

  A tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her skin. His mouth felt cool and wet, but his breath felt warm as it blew over her skin. “Abby.” She’d never heard weakness or strain in Devlin’s voice before, and it frightened her. He had to be okay. “Sweetheart, thank God you’re okay. Where’s Victor? What happened?”

  She thought about Victor lying in the galley -- the man Otis had killed to save her and Devlin, the man she loved. “He’s dead.” She still couldn’t quite believe that Victor was dead. Devlin pulled her gently down to his chest and wrapped his arms around her. She listened to the thud of his heart, closed her eyes, and clung to him.

  Epilogue

  Devlin slipped out of the car and turned to look at Abby smiling up at him. Sunlight sailed in through the window, casting dappled shadows over her beautiful face. Red-gold highlights glimmered in her hair; a smile curved her lips. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was. If she had never come along, would he have ever grown this much? Would he have been able to go do what he’d needed to do since he was a child?

  Valerie Tate’s house sat on a fashionable street in Boston. Miniature yellow roses lined the walkway leading to the wide white porch overlooking manicured grounds. He remembered how she’d been tending them when his grandmother had brought him here all those years ago.

  Devlin opened the iron gate, walked down the path to the porch, and rang the bell. He heard the doorbell ring lightly inside. He waited for only a moment before the door swung wide. His mother stood just on the other side of the threshold. “What are you doing here?” Contempt oozed from her voice. This time Devlin didn’t feel hurt or anger, only pity.

  “I’m here to forgive you.”

  She tried to slam the door in his face, but he reached out and held it open with his hand. “Please, I have something to say to you. When I’m done, I’ll leave, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

  His mother straightened her shoulders. There were a few lines in her face, a smattering of gray in the auburn strands of her hair; otherwise, she looked the same.

  Beautiful, cold, distant.

  “Very well.” Her tone, as sharp as the point of an icicle, jabbed him. But for the first time in his life, he felt no pain.

  “I came to tell you that I forgive you. You can’t hurt me anymore, and I don’t feel angry for what you did,” he said firmly, realizing that he believed it.

  “How dare you!” Her voice grew bright with scorn. “What do I need your forgiveness for?”

  “For rejecting me.”

  “You were never meant to be.”

  Her harsh, bitter words couldn’t hurt him anymore. “I was meant to be. I deserve to be here. For you, I only feel pity.”

  Her eyes grew hard; her mouth twisted into a tight-lipped smile. “Is that all?
”

  “Yes, that’s all.”

  She closed the door in his face.

  * * * * *

  Later that evening, Abby opened the set of French doors and stepped out onto a small balcony off their hotel room in Boston. A warm breeze caressed her skin, fluttering the blue silk nightgown around her body. She rested her hands on the railing and looked out into the moon-washed night.

  Traffic flowed past on the street below her, but she barely noticed. She gazed up at the moon cruising big and white through a black sky glittering with stars. In the midst of such beauty, it was hard to believe that anything bad had ever happened on the island.

  J.D. and Miranda had arrived the next day, after the events on the boat. Despite J.D’s own injuries, both he and Miranda had needed to see that their siblings were still in one piece. Then the two of them had proceeded to fuss over and pamper Abby and Dev for a week before they could be convinced that Abby and Dev were okay.

  A vase of white roses and irises sat in a corner of the balcony, surrounded by the glow of a dozen white candles. The flowers’ fragrance perfumed the air and made her smile. Devlin had placed them there himself, along with candles in the bedroom and petals sprinkled over the bed.

  She felt Devlin’s arms slide around her waist and draw her back against his warm, bare chest. Abby closed her eyes and reveled in the feel of the man she loved. Three weeks had passed since that horrible day, and he had been by her side every minute. Otis had pampered them both to see that they healed.

  Devlin lowered his head and nibbled on her neck. She felt the achingly familiar rise of desire swell inside her. All it took was a look, a touch, a gentle kiss from him, and she wanted nothing more than to be in his arms. “How are you feeling?”

  “Not bad, but I’d feel a whole lot better if you’d come back to bed.” He spoke the words softly right next to her ear.

  Abby turned, lifted her arms, and wrapped them around his neck. She looked up at him; his leaf-green eyes gazed into hers. She could still see the shadows of bruises on his neck where Victor had tried to strangle him. Anger rose briefly inside her, but she pushed it away. Devlin was okay. He was safe. Their future was secure. “Make love to me,” she whispered.

  Devlin clasped her hands and tugged her inside. Candlelight flickered around them, making shadows play over his gorgeous face. He laid her on the bed, then leaned over and kissed her. His hand pulled her gown over her head. Cool air brushed her body as Devlin’s hands smoothed over her skin, igniting flickers of desire and making her yearn for more.

  “Come here, woman.” Sensual pleasure glittered in his eyes.

  Abby laughed. “You probably should rest. Especially after all the energy you’ve expended so far this evening.” She nearly blushed at the memory. Devlin had taken her with the passion of a man who had only a few hours left to live. She had yet to catch her breath. “The doctor said it would take some time for you to recover from the concussion. Not to mention your cracked ribs.”

  Devlin shifted on the bed and groaned. “I remember, but I know just the cure.”

  Abby wanted nothing more at that moment than to curl up in Devlin’s arms and stay there until they were both too exhausted from having each other to move. Miranda had gotten herself into another mess. But that was okay. Because over the last few weeks, Devlin had taught her to trust in the abilities and wisdom of the people she cared about. She’d learned that no matter what life threw at her, she had the strength to fight her way out. And so did her sister. Besides, this jam had allowed her to find the love of her life.

  Abby snuggled closer to Devlin and laid her head over his heart. He stroked his hand through her hair and kissed the top of her head. She trusted him. Abby closed her eyes and put her concerns about the past behind her. Time to get started on her own happily-ever-after.

  “I love you, Abby.”

  Tears stung the back of her eyes at his words. “I love you, too.”

  He lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes. “What are we going to do about it?”

  “I think we’ve already done it.” Her tone was teasing.

  Devlin smiled sensuously. “Uh-huh. But I need to ask you a question.”

  She sighed. “What, my love?”

  “Will you marry me?”

  Joy filled her like a giant fizz of champagne. She could only nod yes, because the words she ached to say were stuck in her throat. Devlin drew her close and kissed her thoroughly.

  “It will mean giving up your teaching job.” He trailed his lips to the underside of her jaw. “Are you sure you want to live on Wolf Island with me in a drafty old castle?”

  Abby propped herself on one elbow and laid a hand on his cheek. “There’s no place I’d rather be than there with you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. My home is wherever you are, Dev.”

  Devlin rolled her onto her back, slipped off his briefs, and slid into her. Just as she reached climax, a tinkling sound drifted in through the window. Abby and Devlin turned their heads toward the window, then looked at each other.

  Abby raised both brows. “Did you hear that?”

  Devlin smiled. “I think Alice just gave us her blessing.”