Читать книгу Wyoming Strong - Diana Palmer - Страница 9
ОглавлениеIT WASN’T THE long line so much as the company in it that was irritating Sara Brandon. Not only the company, but the way she was being watched, too.
He was lounging back against the nearby counter at the Jacobsville pharmacy, arrogant and amused, watching her with those icy Arctic-blue eyes that seemed to see right through her. As if he knew exactly what was under her clothing. As if he could see her creamy skin. As if...
She cleared her throat and glared at him.
That amused him even more. “Am I disturbing you, Ms. Brandon?” he drawled.
He was elegant. Devastating, physically. Lean-hipped, tanned, broad-shouldered, with big, beautiful hands and big feet. His Stetson was pulled low over his eyes, so that only their pale glitter was visible under the brim. His long, powerful legs in designer jeans were crossed, just the feet of his expensive tan boots peering out from under the denim. His chambray shirt was open at the throat. Thick, black, curling hair was exposed in the narrow vee.
The beast knew he was...stimulating. That’s why he did that, why he left those top buttons unbuttoned, she just knew it. She couldn’t completely hide her reaction to him, and he knew that, too. It drove her mad.
“You don’t disturb me, Mr. Patterson,” she said, her voice sounding a little choked as she tried to keep it steady.
Those eyes slid down her slender, elegant body in narrow black slacks topped by a black turtleneck sweater. His smile widened as she pulled her black leather coat closer and buttoned it, so that her sweater didn’t show. Her long, thick black hair dropped to her waist in back, waving around her exquisite face. Perfect, pouting lips led up to a straight nose and wide-spaced black eyes. She was a beauty. She wasn’t conceited about it. She hated her looks. She hated the attention she drew.
She crossed her arms against her breasts over the coat and averted her eyes.
“Oh, I wonder about that,” he drawled in his deep, slow voice. “You don’t look at all calm to me.”
“Do tell me what I do look like, then.”
He shouldered away from the counter and joined her. He was tall. He moved a little closer, as if to force her to look up and see how much he towered over her. She retreated a step, nervously.
“You look like a young filly, just taking her first steps out into the pasture,” he said quietly.
“I’ve been out in the pasture for a long time, Mr. Patterson, and I’m not nervous.”
He just cocked an eyebrow. He pursed his sensuous lips. “Well, you look nervous to me. Left the flying monkeys at home, did we?”
Her mouth flew open. “You listen here...!” She winced at the sudden turning of heads and quickly lowered her voice. “I do not keep...flying monkeys at my house!”
“Oh, I know that. You probably have them hidden out in the woods. Along with the broom.”
She ground her teeth together.
“Miss Brandon?” Bonnie called from the cash register. “I have your refill.”
“Thanks,” Sara said, and quickly moved away from the tall threat of Wofford Patterson’s body. They called him Wolf as a nickname. She could see why. He was really predatory. And it was something of a bit of luck that he didn’t like her.
She paid for her acid reflux medicine, smiled at Bonnie, glared at Wofford Patterson and started for the front door.
“Fly at a safe speed now,” he cautioned in a good-natured tone.
She whirled, her long black hair whipping. “If I really had flying monkeys, I’d have them drop you in the biggest manure lagoon in the whole state of Texas, and then I’d throw a match in it!” she flashed at him.
Everybody started laughing, especially Wofford Patterson. Red-faced, Sara almost ran out of the building.
* * *
“I WILL HAVE him shot,” she muttered to herself as she stalked to her white Jaguar. “I will have him shot, and then I’ll have them dismember him, and then...”
“Talking to yourself. Tsk, tsk,” she heard behind her. He was following her.
She turned around. “You are the most obnoxious, unbearable, tedious, irritating, vicious man I have ever known in my life!” she raged at him.
He shrugged. “I doubt that. You do inspire people to dislike you.”
Her small fists were clenched at her sides, the paper pharmacy bag gripped in one of them. She was almost on fire with anger.
She glanced beside her and saw Cash Grier, the Jacobsville, Texas, police chief, just coming up on the sidewalk. “I want him arrested!” she yelled, pointing at Wofford.
“Now, what did I do?” Wofford asked with a straight face. “I was only asking you to drive safely, because I worry about your health.” He gave her an angelic smile.
She was nearly shaking with anger.
Cash tried to hide a grin. “Now, Ms. Brandon,” he began gently.
“What exactly is a Miz?” Wolf wondered aloud. “Is it like a Mr. Woman sort of thing?”
She threw the bag of pills at him.
“She assaulted me!” Wolf exclaimed. “Assault is a felony, right?”
“Oh, I’d love to assault you,” she muttered under her breath.
“You really would, honey,” he drawled as he watched her come back up with the sack of pills. “I am a legend in my own time.” He even smiled.
She drew back a little foot in a pretty shoe.
“If you kick him, I really will have to enforce the law, Sara,” Cash reminded her.
She looked as exasperated as she felt. “Couldn’t you just...well, wound him?” she asked plaintively. “A little?”
Cash tried not to laugh and failed. “If I shoot him, I’ll have to arrest myself. Think how that would look.”
“You should go home,” Wolf told her with mock concern. “I’ll bet you haven’t fed the flying monkeys all day.”
She stamped her foot. “You pig!”
“Last week I was a snake. Is this a promotion?” he wondered aloud.
She took a step toward him. Cash got in between them. “Sara, go home. Right now. Please?” he added.
She blew a tendril of hair out of her face and turned back to the Jaguar. “I should have moved to hell. It would have been more peaceful.”
“The flying monkeys would have felt at home, too,” Wolf mused.
“One day,” she said, raising a fist.
“I am always at home,” he pointed out with a grin. “Come on over. I’ll find some boxing gloves.”
“Will they stop a bullet?” she asked hotly. She added a few choice words in Farsi. In fact, she added a lot of them, in a high, provoked, angry tone. She stamped her foot to emphasize that she meant them.
“Your brother would be shocked, shocked I tell you, to hear such language coming out of his baby sister’s mouth,” Wolf said haughtily. He glanced at Cash. “You speak Farsi. Can’t you arrest her for calling people in my family names like that?”
Cash was looking hunted.
“I’m going home,” Sara said furiously.
“I noticed,” Wolf replied lazily.
She told him what he could do in Farsi.
“Oh, it takes two for that,” he replied in the same tongue, and his pale eyes absolutely howled.
She got into the car, revved it up and roared off down the street.
“One day,” Cash told Wolf, “she’ll kill you, and I’ll have to appear at her trial to say it was justified self-defense.”
Wolf just laughed.
* * *
SARA BROKE SPEED LIMITS. She was still shaking when she pulled up outside the house her brother, Gabriel, had bought in Comanche Wells, just down the road from Jacobsville. She wished Michelle was home from college, if only briefly. Michelle would listen and commiserate with her. She would understand. She knew more about Sara than local people did.
Michelle knew that Sara’s stepfather had assaulted her, almost to the point of rape when Gabriel had all but broken her bedroom door to get to him. Sara had to testify at the trial that sent her stepfather to prison, sit in the witness chair and tell total strangers exactly what the animal had done to her. And about the disgusting things he’d said while he was doing it. She couldn’t force herself to tell it all.
The defense attorney had been eloquent about Sara, a young girl teasing an older man and getting him so worked up that he had to have her. It wasn’t that way, but she was sure some people on the jury listened.
Her stepfather had gone to prison. He’d died when he got out. Sara shivered violently, remembering how and why. Sara and Gabriel’s mother had shoved them out the door after the conviction and left them on the streets. One of the public defenders who was in Sara’s corner at a second trial, when her stepfather was shot by police, had a maiden aunt who took them in, spoiled them rotten and left them most of her enormous estate.
She was worth millions, and the public defender refused to hear a word about Sara and Gabriel turning down the inheritance. They still thought of him as family. He’d been kind to them when the world turned against them.
The Brandons’ mother moved away, grieved herself to death over her second husband and refused to have any contact afterward with either of her children. It had been devastating, especially to Sara, who felt responsible.
The experience had sickened her, turned her into a recluse. Sara was twenty-four, beautiful and all alone. She didn’t date anybody. Ever.
The way Wolf Patterson looked at her, though; that was new and unsettling. She...liked it. But she couldn’t afford to let him know. If he pursued her, if things heated up, he’d figure out her secret. She couldn’t hide her reactions to any sort of physical intimacy. She’d tried once, just once, with a boy she liked at school. It had ended with her in tears and him leaving in a temper, calling her a stupid tease. So much for dating.
She locked the door behind her, tossed her purse onto the side table and went upstairs. She’d had a light lunch before she left for the pharmacy, so the rest of the day was hers to do as she pleased. She was rich. She didn’t have to work. But she had no social life. At least, not in the real world. In the virtual world, however...
* * *
SHE TURNED ON her state-of-the-art gaming computer and pulled up the World of Warcraft website. Sara was a secret gamer. She didn’t tell anybody about her habit. Gabriel knew, but nobody else did. She had a beautiful Blood Elf Horde toon, a character with almost white-blond hair and blue eyes—sort of a reverse Sara, she liked to think, chuckling. It was a world away from the black-haired brunette that she really was.
She pulled up her character, Casalese, a powerful warlock, and walked into the game. The minute she came online, she was whispered.
Want to do a raid with me? he asked. “He” was a level 90 Blood Elf death knight named Rednacht. The two had met at an in-game holiday event, started talking and had been online friends for a year or so. They didn’t do the Real ID thing, so she had no idea who he really was. She didn’t want a lover. She only wanted a friend. But they did friend each other, using the generic ID she used for her account, so she knew when he was online. And vice versa. They’d both turned level 90 at the same time. They’d celebrated at an in-game inn with cake and juice, and shot off the fireworks they were gifted with out in the countryside of the new area, Pandaria.
It had been a magical night. Rednacht was fun to be around. He never made really personal remarks, but he did mention things that were going on in his life from time to time. So did she. But only in a generic way. Sara had real issues with her privacy. Because of Gabriel’s profession, she had to be especially careful.
Most people didn’t know what her brother did for a living. He was an independent military contractor who worked frequently for Eb Scott. He was a skilled mercenary. Sara worried about him, because they only had each other. But she understood that he couldn’t give up the excitement. Not yet, anyway. She did wonder how that might change when Michelle, who had become their ward with the sudden death of her stepmother, graduated from college. But that was sometime in the future.
I feel more like a battleground, she typed. Rough morning.
He typed back lol, laughing out loud. Same here. Okay. Shall we slay Alliance until our blades are no longer thirsty?
She laughed back. That sounds very nice.
* * *
A COUPLE OF hours of play, and she felt like a new woman. She signed off, told her friend good-night, had a light dinner and went to bed. She knew that she was hiding from life in her virtual playground, but it was at least some sort of social life. In the real world, she had nothing.
* * *
SARA LOVED OPERA. The local opera house in San Antonio had been closed earlier in the year, although a new opera company was being founded. However, she had to have her opera fix. The only remaining one within reach was in Houston. It was a long drive, but the Houston Grand Opera was performing A Little Night Music. One of the songs was “Send in the Clowns,” her absolute favorite. She was a grown woman. She had a good car. There was no reason that she couldn’t make the drive.
So she got in the Jaguar and took off, in plenty of time to make the curtain. She’d worry about coming home in the dark later.
She loved anything in the arts, including theater and symphony and ballet. She had tickets to the San Antonio Symphony and the San Antonio Ballet companies for the season. But tonight she was treating herself to this out-of-town spectacular performance.
She was looking at her program when she felt movement. She turned as a newcomer sat down, and she looked up into the pale, laughing eyes of her worst enemy in the world.
Oh, darn, was what she should have said. What she did say was far less conventional, and in Farsi.
“Potty mouth,” he returned under his breath in the same language.
She ground her teeth together, waiting for his next remark. She’d stomp on his big booted foot and march right out of the building if he said even one word.
But he was diverted by his beautiful companion before he could say anything else. Like the other woman Sara had seen him with, at another performance, this one was a gorgeous blonde. He didn’t seem to like brunettes, which was certainly to Sara’s advantage.
Why in the world did he always have to sit next to her? She almost groaned. She bought her tickets weeks in advance. Presumably so did he. So how did they manage to sit together, not only in San Antonio at every single event she attended, but in Houston, too? Next time, she promised herself, she’d wait to see where he was sitting before she sat down. Since the seats were numbered, however, that might pose a problem.
The orchestra began tuning its instruments. Minutes later, the curtain rose. As the brilliant Stephen Sondheim score progressed, and dancers performing majestic waltzes floated across the stage, Sara thought she’d landed in heaven. She remembered waltzes like this at an event in Austria. She’d danced with a silver-haired gentleman, an acquaintance of their tour guide, who waltzed divinely. Although she traveled alone, she’d shared sights like this with other people, most of them elderly. Sara didn’t do singles tours, because she wanted nothing to do with men. She’d seen the world, but with Gabriel or senior citizens.
She drank in the exquisite score, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the song that was one of the most beautiful ever written, “Send in the Clowns.”
* * *
INTERMISSION CAME, BUT she didn’t budge. Wolf’s companion left, but he didn’t.
“You like opera, don’t you?” he asked her, his eyes suddenly intent on her, drinking in her long black hair and the black dress that fit her like a glove with its discreet bodice and cape sleeves. Her leather coat was behind her in the seat, because the theater was warm.
“Yes,” she said, waiting with gritted teeth for what she expected to follow.
“The baritone is quite good,” he added, crossing one long leg. “He came here from the Met. He said New York City was getting to him. He wanted to live somewhere with less traffic.”
“Yes, I read that.”
His eyes were on her hands. She had them in her lap, with a death grip on her small purse, her nails digging into the leather. She didn’t seem to have a care in the world, but she was wired like floodlights.
“You came alone?”
She just nodded.
“It’s a long way to Houston, and it’s night.”
“I did notice.”
“Last time, in San Antonio, it was with your brother and your ward,” he recalled. His eyes narrowed. “No men. Ever?”
She didn’t reply. In her hands, the purse was taking a beating.
To her shock, one big, beautiful, lean hand went to her long fingers and smoothed over them gently.
“Don’t,” he said tersely.
She bit her lip and looked up at him unguardedly, with the anguish of years past in her beautiful dark eyes.
He caught his breath. “What the hell happened to you?” he asked under his breath.
She jerked her hands away, got to her feet, put on her coat and walked out the door. She was in tears by the time she reached her car.
* * *
IT WAS SO UNFAIR. She hadn’t had a flat tire in years. She had to have one tonight, of all nights, on a dark street in a strange city many miles from her San Antonio apartment. When Gabriel and Michelle were gone, she didn’t like staying by herself on the small property in Comanche Wells. It was remote, and dangerous, if any of Gabriel’s enemies ever set themselves on retaliation. It had happened once in the past. Fortunately, Gabriel had been at home.
She’d already called for a tow truck, but the account she used was briefly tied up. It would be just a few minutes, they promised. She hung up and smiled ruefully.
A car approached from the direction of the theater, slowed and then whipped in just in front of where she was parked. A tall man got out and came back to her window.
She froze until she realized who it was. She powered the window down.
“This is a hell of a place to be sitting with a flat tire,” Wolf Patterson said shortly. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”
“But I have to stay with the car. I’ve called the tow truck, and they will be here in a few minutes.”
“We’ll wait for the wrecker in my car,” he said firmly. “I’m not leaving you out here alone.”
She was grateful. She didn’t want to have to say so.
He chuckled softly as he got a glimpse of her expression when he opened the door of her car. “Accepting help from the enemy won’t cause you to break out in hives.”
“Want to bet?” she asked. But with a resigned sigh, she got into his car.
* * *
IT WAS A MERCEDES. She’d never driven one, but she knew a lot of people who did. They were almost indestructible, and they lasted forever.
She was curious about the windows. They looked odd. So did the construction of the doors.
He saw her curiosity. “Armor plating,” he said easily. “Bulletproof glass.”
She stared at him. “You have a lot of people using rocket launchers against you, do you?”
He just smiled.
She wondered about him. He spoke several impossible languages. He wasn’t well-known locally, although he’d lived in Jacobs County for several years. Of all the spare tidbits of information she’d been able to gather about him, he’d once worked for the elite FBI Hostage Rescue Unit. But apparently, he was involved in other activities since then, none of which were ever spoken about.
Gabriel found him amusing. He only said that Wolf had moved to Jacobsville because he was looking for a little peace and quiet. Nothing more.
“My brother knows you.”
“Yes.”
She glanced at him. He was looking at his cell phone, pushing through screens, apparently sending emails to someone.
She averted her eyes. He was probably talking to his date, maybe apologizing for keeping her waiting.
She wanted to tell him he could go, she’d wait for the wrecker alone; she wouldn’t mind. But she did mind. She was afraid of the dark, of men who might show up when she was helpless. She hated her own fear.
He glanced at her hands. She was worrying the purse again.
He put away the cell phone. “I don’t bite.”
She actually jumped. She swallowed. “Sorry.”
His eyes narrowed. He’d been deliberately provoking her for a long time, ever since she ran into him with her car and then accused him of causing the accident. She was aggressive in her way. But alone with him, she was afraid. Very much afraid. Such a beautiful woman, with so many hang-ups.
“Why are you so nervous?” he asked quietly.
She forced a smile. “I’m not nervous,” she said. She looked around for car lights.
His eyes were narrow, assessing. “There was a pileup just outside the downtown loop,” he told her. “That’s what I was checking for on my phone. The wrecker should be here shortly.”
She nodded. “Thanks,” she said jerkily.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you really think you’re that attractive?” he asked in a cool drawl.
Her shocked eyes went up to meet his. “Excuse me?”
There was something ice-cold in his look, in his manner. She was bringing back memories he hated, memories of another beautiful brunette, provocative, coy, manipulative. “You’re sitting there tied in knots. You look as if you expect me to leap on you.” His sensual lips pulled up into a cold smile. “You’d be lucky,” he added provocatively. “I’m very selective about women. You wouldn’t even make the first cut.”
She stopped twisting the purse. “Lucky me,” she said with an icy smile. “Because I wouldn’t have you on toast!”
His eyes flashed. He wanted to throw things. He couldn’t leave her here alone, but he wanted to. She made him furious.
She started to get out of the car.
He locked the door from a control panel. “You’re not going anywhere until the wrecker gets here.” He leaned toward her abruptly, without warning.
She shot back against the door, suddenly trembling. Her eyes were wide and frightened. Her body was like taut rope. She just looked at him, shivering.
He cursed under his breath.
She swallowed. Swallowed again. She couldn’t even look at him. She hated showing that weakness. Aggression always provoked it. She’d never dealt with her past. She couldn’t get over it, get through it.
Headlights came up from behind and slowed. “It’s the tow truck,” Sara said. “Please let me out,” she choked out.
He unlocked the door. She scrambled out and ran to the vehicle’s driver.
He got out, too, cursing himself for that look on her face. She’d done nothing to cause him to attack her, nothing except show fear. It wasn’t like him to attack women, to threaten them. He was disturbed by his own response to her.
“Thank you for staying with me,” she told Wolf in a hunted tone. “He’s going to drop me off at my apartment and take the car to the dealership,” she choked out, indicating the elderly driver. “Good night.”
She ran to the wrecker and climbed up into the passenger seat while the driver worked at securing her car.
Wolf was still standing beside his car when the tow truck left. Sara didn’t even turn her head.
* * *
GABRIEL WAS HOME for a few days. Sara went to Comanche Wells to cook for him.
He noticed her subdued attitude. “What’s wrong, honey?” he asked softly as they drank coffee at the kitchen table.
She grimaced. “I had a flat tire, coming home from Houston after the opera.”
“At night?” he asked, surprised. “Why did you drive? Why not take a limo?”
She bit her lower lip. “I’m trying to...grow up a little,” she said, managing a shaky smile. “Or I was.”
“I hate to think of you sitting in the dark waiting for a wrecker,” he said.
“Mr. Patterson saw me there and stopped. I sat in his car while the wrecker got to me.”
“Mr. Patterson?” he mused. “Wolf was in Houston, too?”
“Apparently, he likes opera, too, and there isn’t a company here right now,” she said through her teeth.
“I see.”
Her expression was tormented. “He...he didn’t even do anything. He just turned in his seat and leaned toward me. I...reacted like a crazy person,” she bit off. “Made him mad.”
“We’ve had this discussion before,” he began.
“I hate therapists,” she said hotly. “The last one said I wanted people to feel sorry for me, and I probably overreacted at what happened!”
“He what?” he burst out. “You never told me!”
“I was afraid you’d hit him and end up in jail,” she returned.
“I would have,” he said harshly.
She drew in a breath and sipped coffee. “Anyway, it wasn’t helping.” She closed her eyes. “I can’t get past it. I just can’t.”
“There are nice men in the world,” he pointed out. “Some even live right here in Jacobsville.”
Her smile was world-weary. “It wouldn’t matter.”
He knew what she’d gone through. He hadn’t known that the rape attempt wasn’t the first one, that their stepfather had spent months making suggestive comments, trying to touch her, trying to get her into bed long before he used force. That, combined with the court trial, had warped Sara in ways that made Gabriel despair for her future. What a hell of a thing to happen to a girl at the age of thirteen.
“You love children,” he said quietly. “You’re dooming yourself to a life all alone.”
“I have my entertainments.”
“You live in that virtual world,” he said irritably. “It’s no replacement for a social life.”
“I can’t cope with a social life,” she replied. “I have never been more sure of anything.” She got up and bent to kiss his forehead. “Leave me to my prudish pursuits. I’ll make you an apple pie.”
“Bribery.”
She laughed. “Bribery.”
* * *
GABRIEL WAS AT the feed store the next Friday when Wolf Patterson came in. He was scowling even before he saw Gabriel.
“Is she with you?” Wolf asked.
Gabriel knew who he meant at once. He shook his head.
“Is she crazy?” he asked. “Honest to God, I stayed with her in my car until the wrecker came, and she acted as if I was bent on assault!”
“I’m grateful for what you did,” Gabriel said, sidestepping the question. “She should have taken a limo to Houston. I’ll make sure she does next time.”
Wolf calmed down, but only a little. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his expensive jeans. “She ran into me with the car, you know. Then she blamed me for it. That started the whole thing. I hate aggressive women,” he added shortly.
“She tends to overreact,” Gabriel said noncommittally.
“I don’t even like brunettes,” he said curtly. His pale eyes flashed. “She’s not my type.”
“You’re certainly not hers,” the younger man pointed out with a grin.
“Who is?” Wolf asked. “One of those tofu-eating tree huggers?”
“Sara...doesn’t like men.”
Wolf raised an eyebrow. “She likes women?”
“No.”
Wolf’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not telling me anything.”
“That’s exactly right,” Gabriel replied. He pursed his lips. “But I’ll tell you this. If she ever showed any interest in you, I’d get her out of the country by the quickest means available.”
Wolf glared at him.
“You know what I mean,” Gabriel added quietly. “I wouldn’t wish you on any woman alive, much less my baby sister. You still haven’t dealt with your past, after all this time.”
Wolf’s teeth were clenched.
Gabriel put a hand on his shoulder. “Wolf, not all women are like Ysera,” he said softly.
Wolf jerked away from him.
Gabriel knew when he was licked. He smiled. “So, how’s the wargaming?”
It was a carrot, and Wolf bit. “New expansion coming out,” he said, and smiled. “I’m looking forward to it, now that I’ve got somebody to run dungeons with.”
“Your mysterious woman.” Gabriel chuckled.
“I assume she’s a woman,” he replied, shrugging. “People aren’t usually what they seem in these games. I was complimenting a guildie on his mature playing style, and he informed me that he was twelve years old.” He laughed. “You never know who you’re playing with.”
“Your woman could be a man. Or a child. Or a real woman.”
Wolf nodded. “I’m not looking for relationships in a video game,” he replied easily.
“Wise man.” Gabriel didn’t tell him what Sara did for amusement. It really wouldn’t do to sell her out to the enemy. He hesitated and glanced toward the street. “There’s a rumor going around.”
Wolf turned his head. “What rumor?”
“Ysera got away,” he reminded the other man. “We’ve searched for over a year, you know. One of Eb’s men thinks he saw her, at a small farm outside Buenos Aires. With a man we both remember from the old days.”
Wolf’s face tightened as if he’d been shot. “Any intel on why she’s there?”
Gabriel nodded grimly. “Revenge,” he said simply. His eyes narrowed. “You need to hire on a couple of extra men. She’d have your throat slit if she could.”
“I’d return the favor if I could do it legally,” Wolf returned with faint venom.
Gabriel slid his hands into his jeans pockets. “So would the rest of us. But you’re the one in danger, if she really is still alive.”
Wolf didn’t like remembering the woman, or the things he’d done because of her lies. He still had nightmares. His eyes had a cold, faraway look. “I thought she was dead. I hoped...” he confessed quietly.
“It’s hard to kill a big snake,” the other man said flatly. “Just...be careful.”
“Watch your own back,” Wolf replied.
“I always do.” He wanted to tell the other man about Sara, to warn him off, to avert a tragedy in the making. But his friend didn’t seem really interested in Sara, and he was reluctant to share intimate details of Sara’s past with her worst enemy. It was a decision that would have consequences. He didn’t realize how many, at the time.
