Gray Wolf Security: Wyoming

by Glenna Sinclair

  We left a moment later, her hand caught up in mine. It was almost a relief to see the hospital disappear in the rearview mirror.

  Chapter 16

  Jonnie

  He insisted on carrying me into the house even though my legs weren’t injured in the attack. But it was nice, being carried like a child into my own home. Romantic. Almost like a couple on their wedding night.

  He lay me in the center of my bed and began to fuss, insisting on making me soup even though I wasn’t hungry. He grew angry when I got out of bed to change into something more comfortable than the dirty, stained suit I’d worn to school that morning.

  “I’d like to take a shower,” I announced as he tugged my blouse from my arm. “I feel dirty.”

  “Okay.”

  He led the way into the bathroom and turned to start the water before coming back to me and helping me out of my clothes.

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I know.”

  My blouse fell to the floor and my bra quickly followed. He hissed a little when he saw the bruises that were quickly forming on my ribs. I touched them, instinctively attempting to hide them, but he pulled my hands away. He bent and kissed one particularly sore bruise on my lower right side. It brought tears to my eyes.

  He helped me undress completely, his hands gentle. Then he helped me into the shower but made no attempt to join me. I wasn’t sure if I was grateful or disappointed. All I knew was that I felt soiled, and I wanted that feeling to go away.

  I scrubbed my skin—even the places that hurt—roughly with my soft puff. It didn’t have quite the impact it might have had if I’d used a washrag or my hands, but the lather of soap was visually satisfying. I washed myself over and over again before I finally realized that no amount of scrubbing was going to rid me of the sense of violation.

  They pushed me to the ground and knelt over me. For a long moment, I was convinced they were going to rape me. Just the idea of it had been one of the most frightening things I’d ever experienced. Even when I realized they were just trying to scare me, I was still convinced every touch was going to bring another humiliation. It was only the sight of Hank arriving at the school, the look of fear and compassion on his face, that finally got through the veil of fear that had descended upon me.

  But even his touch felt different now.

  When I turned the water off, he was waiting outside the shower door with a towel. He carefully wrapped me in the towel and helped dry my skin. My hands started to shake. He carefully perched me on the side of the sink, brushing a piece of my hair away from my face. Then he picked up a bottle of lotion and so gently began to rub it into my skin. I closed my eyes, not really wanting his touch on me, but not wanting to tell him no, either. He was careful not to touch any sensitive spots or to move the towel away from where it hid my nakedness, but I was still relieved to slip into the oversized t-shirt he’d found for me and to crawl into bed.

  He offered me one of the pills the doctor had prescribed for the pain. Thankfully, I was sensitive to the sedative effects of the painkiller and settled into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  ***

  It was dark when I woke. For a moment, everything that’d happened the day before was a blank slate. I couldn’t remember going to school, let alone waiting for Mrs. Karl and being attacked. But when I rolled over and caught sight of Hank sitting in a chair he’d brought in from the dining room, asleep in what must have been a most uncomfortable position, it all came back with a rush.

  Pain shot through my body when I moved, a deep desire to cover Hank with a blanket to help make him slightly more comfortable pushing me to step free of the safety of the bed clothes. I picked up a soft throw from the end of the bed and held it out to drape over him, but then this other overwhelming need suddenly came over me. I didn’t want his touch before because it had changed in the aftermath of what those boys had done. But now, looking at him stretched out in that most uncomfortable position, I wanted it. I wanted him to enfold me in his arms and make me feel safe. I wanted to feel connected to him.

  I felt as though I’d suddenly developed some sort of dual personality. What was wrong with me?

  I stood there indecisive for a long moment, the throw dangling from my fingers. A chill ran up my spine and that seemed to push me. I dropped the throw and carefully climbed into Hank’s lap, careful not to put too much pressure on his knees where they were suspended in midair as his feet rested on the edge of my mattress. I snuggled against his chest, slipping my hands over his ribs and down toward his hips. He shifted slightly in his sleep, a soft snore escaping from between his lips.

  It was reassuring, the sound of his steady heartbeat under my ear. The warmth of his body seeping up through my shirt was also nice. Reassuring. I closed my eyes, but the ski mask covered faces of my attackers suddenly filled my mind, and I gasped, opening my eyes and sitting up a little too quickly. The movement woke Hank. He sat up, but was careful not to touch me.

  “You okay?”

  I nodded, watching the sleep slowly clear from his deep blue eyes. I touched his face, running my hands over his cheeks. He moved into my touch, turning his head to kiss my palm. I kissed his jaw, moving my lips slowly down over his throat. I could feel his pulse pounding against my lips, but he sat still, his hands holding the edges of the chair. That fact encouraged me to go forward and slide my fingers under his shirt.

  He sighed, moving his head again, giving me access to all the most sensitive spots on his throat. I kissed and nibbled, doing to him all the things he liked to do to me. I unbuttoned his shirt and tugged at his undershirt, wishing he didn’t feel the need to wear so many clothes. I wanted to feel his skin and touch the places he hid from the rest of the world.

  I slipped my mouth back up over his chin, nibbling at his bottom lip briefly as I ran my hands over his head. I loved the way his hair felt against my palm. He touched my hips, pulling me forward on his lap, but let go when he felt me stiffen.

  He understood without being told.

  I took my time, touching him and kissing him. He made little noises from time to time, letting me know I was driving him insane. But this was about me; this was about me seeking a sense of safety after everything that had happened. I didn’t like being so selfish, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  I unbuckled his belt and slipped my hand inside his jeans, hesitating a little at the intensity of his arousal and the rigidity of his erection. It was such an example of male virility, and normally that would turn me on. But the memory of one of those boys, my attackers, touching me with the same virility…

  Looking into Hank’s eyes helped. They were gentle, kind, and filled with more affection that I felt like I deserved at that moment. If he knew the thoughts that were going through my head, he’d probably run for the door. He was trying to give me what I wanted, including struggling to not show me how badly he wanted my touch, how desperately he wanted this moment to progress. I could see it anyway, could feel it as I stroked his shaft. But there was still this small knot of fear in the center of my chest, my heart frozen with all the darkness that seeped into my world with the events of yesterday afternoon. It was amazing how just three minutes could change a person’s entire worldview.

  I was thinking about exactly this as I left the school yesterday. I was thinking how desperately I wanted to see Hank, how tedious it would be trying to get through dinner when all I really wanted was for him to pick me up and carry me to the bedroom like he’d done the night before and the night before that. All I could think about was all the things I wanted him to do to me and the things I wanted to do to him. And then those boys… I wanted to wash the memory of those three minutes from my consciousness.

  I slid my hand down the length of him and caused him to groan as my hand slipped around his balls. He liked my touch. I wanted to offer him pleasure, and I felt guilty for the way I tried to avoid his touch earlier in the night. I wanted him to know how much I appreciated him being here for me.

 
; His eyes were burning as he studied my face. There was tension in his arms. It was clear he desperately wanted to touch me, but he continued to hold tight to the edges of the chair, holding on so that he wouldn’t give in to temptation. I loved him for that.

  I slid his cock out, free of his clothing. He closed his eyes, the tension spreading up into his shoulders. I guided him, moving my hips forward, pulling him to my opening. I hesitated, not sure how it would affect me to have him inside. I wanted him and wanted to be close to him. But I was afraid it would make the memory of yesterday afternoon too intense to overcome. I lost myself for a moment as I watched the need dance over his face. Even with his eyes closed, I could see how much he wanted me and how desperate he was to make love to me again. And that made my fear dissipate enough to allow me to give in to my own desires.

  Because I did want him. I did want to feel him inside of me, wanted to be as close to him as two people could be.

  I guided him to me again and felt him slide inside. I closed my eyes as the feel of him took my breath away. I sat still for a long moment, adjusting to him. But I could only sit still for so long. I began to move my hips, my hands planted on his chest, soft moans slipping from between my lips. The control that he was allowing me to take was one of the most sensual things I’d ever experienced. He didn’t move his hips, didn’t try to touch me, never attempted to guide me in any way. He sat still, chewing his bottom lip to keep from making any sound that might distract me from my needs.

  How many men could be that patient?

  It was slow and perfect, his cock touching all the right places. I was lost in the pleasure of it and the steady rhythm of my own movements. I lifted my t-shirt away and touched myself, running my hands over my own breasts. When I opened my eyes, I could see how that affected him, too. There was a slight smile on his lips, and his eyes were snapping with need. This was driving him insane; I knew it was. And that made me feel powerful.

  Power. That’s what those boys had taken from me, and that was what Hank was giving back to me. This wasn’t just intimacy. This was therapy. And Hank was a saint for allowing it.

  I grabbed his hands and pulled them up to my hips as my lower belly tightened around him and the small quivers of muscle began to burst through my body. He immediately sat up and buried his mouth against my shoulder as a deep groan escaped from deep in his chest. And then he lifted me up and fell with me onto the bed, thrusting roughly against me, setting off one of the most intense orgasms I’d ever had.

  I writhed beneath him. Moans like I’d never heard before slipped from my own mouth, filling the room. I was lost, only vaguely aware of his pleasure propelling him on. And then his cries filled the room and, for a moment, our voices were in perfect synchronicity, like a choir harmonizing in a great hall.

  When it was over, I clung to him. I was no longer afraid of his touch. I trusted Hank more than I’d realized, and he’d just proven why that trust was justified. His hands were the ones that shook a little now, moving slowly over my hip and my back, stroking me like he was trying to offer a little consolation in the aftermath of our intense lovemaking. Like he was apologizing even though this act had just restored my faith in humanity.

  “Thank you,” I whispered softly as exhaustion rushed back and sleep began to lower my eyelids.

  “Any time,” he said, his lips brushing my ear.

  Chapter 17

  At the Ranch

  Sutherland sat in front of the monitor where footage from Kirkland’s security cameras played Jonnie’s attack over and over again.

  “She must have been so frightened!”

  Kirkland nodded. “She’s lucky. It could have been much worse.”

  Sutherland nodded even as she leaned forward, trying to get a better view of the young men. She was hoping there was something she could see, something that would tell her who these boys were. A football jersey that would indicate they were on the high school team. A class assignment sticking out of a pocket that would tell them what classes they took. A keychain from a set of keys that suggested which car in the small parking lot they drove.

  But there was nothing.

  If they didn’t identify these boys soon…

  “We’ve got a week,” Kirkland said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll figure it out.”

  Sutherland knew he was optimistic about this, but she wasn’t. Her luck hadn’t been the best lately. Everything that could go wrong on the ranch had gone wrong these last six months, and she was convinced that her bad luck would extend to this new Gray Wolf venture. And this attack on Jonnie Frakes seemed to underscore that fact.

  If they didn’t finish this case and lost the fees the school board had promised to pay, it would be a blip. But if they were unable to develop a strong reputation in the area, that would be the death of this venture.

  They really needed to resolve this case successfully.

  “I’ll talk to Hank when he returns,” Kirkland said. “Surely, he asked Jonnie about the attack. Maybe she saw or heard something that could help us.”

  She nodded. But she wasn’t hopeful.

  She excused herself a moment later and went for a walk. She’d always enjoyed walking the property, from the first time she set foot on this land. It was never her dream to be stuck in the middle of nowhere, running a ranch she knew nothing about. She was an urban girl, abandoned in the city and raised in foster homes that were scattered over all sides of a major city. But there was something about MidKnight that made her feel closer to Mitchell.

  He’d described this place to her over and over again when they first began to see each other. She’d been injured in Afghanistan, forced into an office job at Fort Bragg for six months. Mitchell and his squad were also temporarily stationed there while they underwent additional training before returning to Afghanistan themselves. Ash had had an issue he needed to address, and he’d dragged Mitchell with him into the office, to her desk, just a day or two after their arrival. Sutherland had no interest in either of them. She was a ball of anger at the time, frustrated with her situation. But Mitchell… he had this way about him. He cut right through her attitude and convinced her that there was more to life than a temporary reassignment.

  He was a simple man. He’d grown up on this ranch, never knowing anything else. He’d joined the army to prove something to himself and to his father. They’d had a tense relationship since his mother died when he was fourteen, but his father underestimated just how much Mitchell loved this place. His eyes glowed with excitement each time he talked about it.

  Sutherland was pregnant, and once again overwhelmed with anger at having to give up her dreams of making a career of the military, forced to come live with a dying stranger and take the reins of a place that was not rightfully hers. She took a lot of walks then, seeking solace. But what she found was a love of the land that had kept her strong even through the darkest moments life threw at her.

  The darkest of those was the day the sedan pulled up and two army officers stepped out. Mitchell’s father had only been in the ground three weeks. She’d just spoken to Mitchell two nights before and had discussed with him the purchase of a new bull they hoped would provide them with ample calves in the spring. He’d laughed when she expressed disdain at such a discussion, promising that these decisions would no longer be placed solely on her shoulders in just two weeks. He would be home, and he would take the burden away, being the provider and husband he’d promised to be at their small wedding. He would always be there for her.

  But he wasn’t. She’d known death was a reality of his job, but for him to go in such a senseless fashion after all the high-risk assignments he’d completed so successfully was an insult to his memory, an insult to the promises they’d made to one another.

  If not for the baby in her belly… and Hank.

  Mitchell’s squad returned to the States on leave not long after the funeral. They all arrived on the ranch, one at a time. Ash, Kipling… their presence was a reminder. But Hank, he was
as heartbroken as Sutherland was, as broken by Mitchell’s death as she was. He never tried to talk her out of her grief as Ash did, never tried to soothe her grief with kind stories of Mitchell like Kipling did. He just sat with her in silence, making it clear he was there if she needed him.

  Hank knew her better than she knew herself. She would have disappeared if not for him.

  When she was strong enough to go on, he went away. But when she needed him again, he was back. Hank wouldn’t let her down.

  It wasn’t just the case that worried her, though. It worried her that Hank was involved with Jonnie. As much as she liked Jonnie, she worried that she would break his heart. Hank might seem like a strong man, but she knew deep inside he was a teddy bear. She couldn’t stand the idea of Hank getting hurt.

  The thing was, she’d always kind of assumed she and Hank would end up together. She knew he had no romantic feelings for her, but she thought their familiarity with each other would lead to a companionable marriage. But then she saw the way he looked at Jonnie. And that actor… when he looked at her…

  She never imagined another man could ever make her feel the way Mitchell had. She’d assumed she would never fall in love again, that her chance had passed with him. No other man in the past twelve years had made her feel like he did.

  But then Bodhi Archer had looked at her.

  It was stupid. She’d never see that man again. But the knowledge that she was capable of feeling that way again was almost uplifting when it wasn’t filling her with guilt. She felt like she needed to go to the cemetery to apologize to Mitchell. But it was also freeing in a strange sort of way.

  It was proof her life wasn’t over. That was more reassuring than she could possibly express.

  Chapter 18

  Hank

  We lay tangled in the bed. She stared off into space, her thoughts a secret she wasn’t yet ready to divulge. I kissed her shoulder to remind her I was there and settled back against the pillows, a million questions I was dying to ask stuck on the tip of my tongue.