by G. K. Brady
“Jeez, Arch. What’s the big rush?”
While Archer ran from room to room, Sarah closed the door behind them, dropped her keys and phone on the kitchen table, and started a sweep of the little house. Nothing out of place, no strange smells, everything buttoned up tight. The place looked as though the family had been living there all along and had just stepped out to run an errand.
Sarah headed toward the two bedrooms, and Archer streaked past her, tongue and tail wagging in time.
“Wow, Arch. I had no idea you liked it here so much.”
In the master bedroom, a gust of cold air took her by surprise. Checking the windows turned up nothing. When she reached the bathroom, the air grew colder, and soon she spotted the reason why: a small window above the toilet was open. Only a few inches, but enough to let the chill in. Was it always open like that? She’d ask Gage when she texted him at the end of her inspection.
Another quick look-see, and Sarah made for the kitchen to lock up and leave. The low sound of a male voice sent shards of ice shooting from the base of her spine to her neck. She stopped in her tracks. Was she hearing things? Was someone merely talking outside?
“Archer?” she whispered.
She crept toward the kitchen and called his name again. Though she couldn’t see him, he returned an excited little whimper. Every alarm in her body went off at once, and she glanced over her shoulder at the front door. Run outside? What would she be running from? And then what? Her keys and phone were in the kitchen. Besides, Archer was her warning system. Had someone been there, she told herself, he’d have barked or growled instead of emitting the one happy cry.
Somewhat mollified, neck hairs nevertheless at full attention, Sarah shuffled a few more steps and caught sight of Archer’s backside. He was sitting, almost dancing in place, his tail sweeping the floor like an animated dust mop. There couldn’t have been a threat.
Several more steps, and she got a full view of the kitchen … and realized how sadly mistaken she’d been. Her keys and phone were gone, and there stood Wolf, blocking the back door, patting Archer’s head while the dog scarfed down chunks of meat littering the floor. No wonder he didn’t bark!
Wolf raised icy blue eyes to hers, and one side of his mouth curled into a thin smile. “Everything comes to he who waits.”
Quinn glanced at his phone. Again. Ten minutes past when he’d expected Sarah home, but he told himself to chill the fuck out. It’s only ten minutes. Except she’d sent only the one text when she’d reached Nelson’s house. She’d promised to text when she left, but he hadn’t gotten that message yet. Sarah was many things, but she wasn’t flaky—which was one among countless reasons why he’d fallen for her.
He tapped her a message and eyed his beanbags. Funny how he hadn’t had the urge to juggle lately. But he sure as hell needed to now, so he picked them up and started tossing them in the air, one ear cocked for an incoming text.
She decided to run an errand and forgot. She got caught up talking to neighbors. She found a problem, and Gage is talking her through it.
“Quinnster?” his mom said from across the kitchen. “You look agitated.”
“Hi, Momster. Didn’t see you there.”
“Because I just got here. Sarah still out?”
He caught the bags and blew out a frustrated breath. “Yep.”
“Is that why you’re worked up? She’s not on another date, is she?” Soft crinkles of amusement appeared around his mother’s mouth and her bright blue eyes. Another time, he might have let her teasing slide off his back. Instead, he found himself shaking his head, stifling the urge to bark, “No!”
“Well, maybe it’s best she’s not here right now. I need to talk to you.”
He straightened and gave his mom his full attention. “About?” Is this the part where she tells me she’s heard us through the ventilation and to stop fucking the staff? Except Sarah wasn’t staff. And they’d been pretty damn discreet. And he wasn’t just fucking her—they were learning about each other, physically and mentally. Totally different.
His mother crossed the expanse and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. With some effort, she hoisted herself onto a stool.
“Are you hurting?” Quinn frowned, not masking the concern in his voice.
She flicked her hand. “A little bit. I’ve had a tiny setback, but I’ll be better soon. How’s your shoulder?”
Nice divert. “My shoulder’s been fine. Back to you. I haven’t seen you stretching or soaking in the hot tub much lately. Maybe you should get back to it?” She gave him a gimlet eye that had him backpedaling. “You tell me or Sarah if you need anything.” He paused a beat and braced himself. “So what is it you need to talk to me about?”
He could not have prepared himself for what came out of his mother’s mouth. No matter how much steel he willed into his spine, it folded like an overcooked noodle.
“Well,” she cleared her throat, “You might have noticed me acting strangely lately. That’s because I, ah, asked your father for a divorce. Apparently, it shook him up, and he started calling … and emailing. We’ve been talking. A lot. He wants to … He’s asked that we spend some time together—alone—and see if we can work through our differences.”
Quinn sat in shocked silence for a beat, finally blurting, “Why would you do that, Mom? How’s he going to deal with your Parkinson’s any differently now than he did back then, which was not dealing with it?”
She picked at the hem of her shirt, her gaze cast down. “That’s some of what we plan to explore. He’s making his way home now, through Serbia or something. I expect to see him in a day or so, after he’s had a chance to settle in and get over his jet lag.” With a wan smile, she raised her head and met his eyes. “Well?”
Well what? What am I supposed to say? “You expect him here. Where’s here?”
“In Denver. A friend’s letting him use his patio home while he’s away. I’ve agreed to stay there for a few days with your dad.”
Bands constricted around Quinn’s chest. Irony slapped him across the jaw: he didn’t want his mom to leave. “Why doesn’t he just stay here?” He realized he was clenching his jaw as he said it. So only the threat of a divorce got his dad’s sorry ass in gear? Totally jacked-up. All of Quinn wanted to protect his mother from having her heart trashed again, even if he had to protect her from his dad.
“This place may be as big as a hotel, but it’s hard to miss anything that’s happening under this roof.” She winked, and he began stammering a protest. If that didn’t give him away, the flush heating his cheeks certainly did.
“Your father and I have years’ worth of dirty laundry to air, and I expect the volume will get loud. I’d like privacy when I blast him,” she added.
Despite his constricted heart, Quinn let out a laugh. “I hope you hit him with both barrels!”
The sly smile and twinkling eyes returned to his mother’s face. “Oh, I fully intend to! Three years is a long time to keep things bottled up.” She sighed. “But being married to someone twenty-some-odd years is a long time too, and as your dad correctly points out, we’ve had far more good years together than bad.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this was going on?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I was reluctant to give him so much as a hello when he first called. In fact, Sarah caught us on the phone, and I hung up quicker than a kid about to get busted doing something naughty.” A little chuckle bubbled up, then her tone sobered again. “I wasn’t sure—I’m still not sure—if there’s anything left between us that’s salvageable. I don’t know what the future holds for your dad and me, but after giving it a lot of thought, I have to do this. Besides, I have nothing left to lose by talking to the man.”
Yeah, you do. Your heart.
“I know what you’re thinking, Quinnie. Yes, your father walked out on me—on us—once before. But I’m a little wiser, a little more independent now, thanks to you and Sarah. I know what I want and what I don’t want. Just
because I’m prepared to hash things out with him doesn’t mean all’s forgiven and we’re getting back together again as if nothing happened.” She covered Quinn’s hand with hers. “So? What do you think?”
“Does it matter what I think?”
“Yes. Very much.”
A warm spot had been pulsing in his chest when she’d said he and Sarah had helped her become more independent. Now it downright thrummed. “I guess … if this is what you want, Mom, I’m behind you. I just want you to be happy.”
Tears glossed her eyes. “You’ve grown into a good man, Quinn, and I’m proud of you. Adulting isn’t for the faint of heart.”
He laughed to keep his own tears at bay. “Does this mean I finally graduated?”
She patted his hand. “With honors.”
Suddenly, his thoughts detoured to Sarah, and a thought struck that made his heart wobble. “If you and Dad decide to patch things up, you won’t need Sarah anymore.” And I won’t have a reason to keep her here.
“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself. Let’s keep the status quo until I have a better idea how things with your dad are going to play out. In the meantime, Sarah can continue staying here. You two will have the place to yourselves.” Another conspiratorial wink.
Mom totally knew what he and Sarah had been up to. Oddly, his shoulders eased with a modicum of relief. Then his mind leapt to him and Sarah having the run of the house. Alone. Or would she want to return to Gage’s?
A bolt of awareness jarred him. “What time is it?” He snatched his phone from the counter. “Fuck!” She’s an hour late!
His mother gasped. “Quinn Anthony Hadley, you’ve been so good lately—”
He corralled his galloping heart. No texts, no calls. “Swear jar. I know. I’ll take care of it later,” he mumbled. He rose, found his socks and shoes, and began pulling them on while his mind scattered in a dozen different directions. Keys. Jacket. Mom. “Will you be all right on your own for a little while?
“Yes, of course. But where are you going?”
Not wanting to worry her, he tossed out the first thing that came to mind. “I forgot I promised Sarah I’d … get her a new 3-D puzzle since I finished her last one. I want to have it here before she gets back.”
“But the stores aren’t—”
“Governor Polis said they can reopen with a limited number of customers.” He ignored the bewildered look playing over his mother’s face, giving her a kiss on her cheek before jogging to the garage.
“Don’t forget a mask,” his mother called.
In the truck, he hit Sarah’s number. After one ring, it went straight to voicemail. He hit the number again and listened to the same damn message as he threw the vehicle into reverse and backed out. He slammed the truck into drive and tore out to the street.
During the frantic trip to Nelson’s, he tried Sarah’s number repeatedly. “Come on, come on! Pick up!” he hissed, but Sarah didn’t answer. He left her a few messages, telling himself her phone might have died and she didn’t have a charger. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? But she would have been home by now, dead phone or not. Maybe her car died too.
He hit Nelson’s number, trying to keep his voice casual when his buddy answered. After the obligatory greeting, he got down to it. “Sarah was gonna head over to your house at some point today, but I don’t remember when. Have you heard from her?”
“Not yet. She said she’d text me once she was done checking things out.”
“So the last time you heard from her was—”
“Yesterday afternoon sometime?” A note of suspicion was creeping into Nelson’s voice, so Quinn gave him a quick, “No big deal. Thanks, man,” and hung up.
He pulled in front of Gage and Lily’s house behind a gray Mercedes SUV. Parked cars crowded the narrow street, but Sarah’s Jeep was nowhere in sight.
“Fuck!” He pounded the steering wheel. “Where are you, Sunshine?”
Maybe she’d driven the Jeep a block away because there hadn’t been any spaces open. In the meantime, he’d check the house. What if she fell, was hurt inside? He switched the truck off and grabbed his phone. Leapt out and slammed the door. Rounded the hood. Ran up the walkway and peered in a window. Jogged the perimeter of the house, peering in more windows.
There were no signs of Sarah or Archer.
Panic welled inside him. Where could she have gone? Metro Denver’s population was over three million. Where the fuck should he start looking?
He stood at the back corner of the house, absently scanning the yard while he grasped at possibilities. A picket fence and building framed the back edge of the lot. A garage! He raced along the outer line of the fence until he reached the detached building. A flash of teal caught his eye, and he slowed his steps.
Sarah’s Jeep was parked off the alley, stashed behind the garage. He approached cautiously, peeking in the windows, trying the door handles. Locked up tight, and still no signs of Sarah or Archer.
A sound like a low whoof drifted toward him, but he couldn’t tell where it came from. He circled the detached garage until he found the service door. He turned the knob, poised to open it, when a shriek from the house wrenched his attention that way. His blood turned cold.
He lunged through the gate and ran across the yard to the back door.
Chapter 31
Wolf Reintroduction Project
"There’s nothing more to say, Wolf! Now give me back my keys!” Sarah kept the rising panic from her voice by channeling frustration, anger, and dread into a screeching forcefulness she didn’t feel.
Wolf had been lying in wait—for her to show herself, for a chance to plead his case, for one last shot. And it had paid off because now he had her cornered, her phone and keys held hostage, her dog tethered by a short leash to a refrigerator foot that immobilized him. All Archer could do was vocalize his distress.
At first, Wolf had invited her to sit at the kitchen table while he declared his promises, while he’d tearfully begged her to return to Seattle, while he’d listed the reasons she belonged to him. He’d been carving the same hopeless circle around the same futile conversation. When she’d had enough, she’d told him so. Since that moment, his tenuous hold on reality seemed to slip, his voice taking on an eerie, icy calm that unsettled her with each passing minute.
Was Wolf capable of violence? She’d never seen it, but the man across the table wasn’t the one she’d once loved. He’d always been lean, but now he resembled a cadaverous collection of skin-encased bones. And his face, once sharp, proud, and patrician, was a gaunt version of its former self, lending his glacial eyes a sunken, haunted look. The overall effect was that of someone unhinged—and fucking dangerous.
For Sarah, what began as outrage over his audacious ambush—and impatience with his unending pleas—had morphed into cold, congealed fear. For over an hour, he’d denied her the right to leave, the use of her phone, and the ability to take care of Archer.
She couldn’t gauge the level of Wolf’s crazy, and she had no clue what he planned to do with her and Archer. Nor did she intend to find out.
He was regarding her with an empty, hollow stare. Frantically, she searched for ways to diffuse him and convince him to let her go. Nothing she’d tried so far had worked.
She dropped her voice, hoping Wolf didn’t pick up on her telltale quaver, and injected fake concern into her tone. “You look tired. Why don’t you go back to your hotel, get cleaned up, have a rest? We can have dinner later and talk.”
His eyes blinked on, like someone had thrown a switch. Then he began cackling, and frosty needles shot through her veins. “Oh, that’s rich!” he wheezed. The laughter stopped, and his voice dripped with ice. “If I leave you to go back to the hotel, you’ll bolt. No, Sarah. It’s not going to work that way. Wherever I go, you go.”
“Wolf, I have people counting on me. I need to—”
“I’m counting on you, Sarah. No one else matters. Just me.”
She calculated th
e distance to the back door. Could she make it? Not with Wolf blocking her way. And what about Archer? Their best chance was her escaping. If she could get to the front door …
Rising swiftly, she pivoted toward the living room. A chair clattered behind her, and Wolf was on her before she was halfway to the door. One hand squeezed her arm so hard her fingers tingled. His other hand was in her hair, jerking her head back.
“You’re hurting me!” She tried to shake him off, but he clamped down harder and dragged her backward, away from freedom. Archer began barking. Heart pumping like a runaway locomotive careening down a mountain, she twisted in Wolf’s grasp. With her free hand, she swung at his head, but her hand glanced off his bony shoulder. He tightened his iron grip on her hair. Her scalp was on fire. Any more pressure, and it would tear. She gasped.
As they scuffled between the kitchen and living room, she caught her breath and screamed in protest, but he didn’t let up. Kicking at his legs, his ankles, she nearly lost her balance. Once more, he ratcheted up his hold. The only thing holding her up was his hand in her hair.
Wild eyes bored into hers, his mouth twisted in a tight, cruel line. Over his shoulder lay the kitchen, and she eyed the curtained half-window back door longingly. Too far. Her eye snagged on a shadow outside. I’m seeing things.
Wolf scanned his surroundings and growled something about a bedroom. He began dragging Sarah out of the kitchen, heading for the hallway. She slapped at him, clawed at him, spat at him. He stopped and raised his fist. She braced herself, anticipating the blow. Before she could process what she was seeing, the back door exploded. Glass shattered and rained down like drops of crystal. Archer barked. Wolf cursed.
A huge figure loomed with a roar. Soon she was being shoved backward, spinning, windmilling. She landed on her hip with a bruising thud that expelled the breath from her lungs. The room tilted. She dragged in air. Everything slowed. Shoes squeaked. Men grunted and snarled. Archer’s barks climbed in pitch. The noises seemed muffled, far away.