Heart of the Wolf

by Lindsay McKenna

  Dead.

  Wolf whispered words of support near her ear, and Sarah surrendered completely to him. To his arms. To his voice. To the warm strength of his body that surrounded her. Her world dissolved in a rush of hot, blinding tears, of animal sounds jagging up through her and making her throat raw, releasing so much that she’d tried to suppress for so long. Only Wolf’s voice and the tender touch of his hands upon her existed.

  Gradually, with each stroke of Wolf’s hand across her hair and down her back, Sarah’s inner focus began to lessen. Her peripheral awareness began to return, and as the last sob rattled through her, she unclenched her hand and spread her fingers against the soft, thick hair sprinkled across Wolf’s chest. Somewhere in her muddled senses, Sarah felt his muscles tense beneath her tentative exploration, and she felt his arms draw her even more tightly against him.

  Wolf leaned down, seeing Sarah’s cheeks shining with spent tears in the grayish light. Her glistening lips were parted, pulled into a tortured line of anguish. He smoothed the tangle of blond hair away from her cheek and tamed it behind her delicate ear. With his fingers, he began to dry her cheeks and brush the tears from her lower lip. She sniffed and pressed her face against his chest.

  A tender smile pulled at Wolf’s mouth. He wanted nothing more than this moment. He was vibrantly aware of Sarah’s body, meeting his, fitting against his. Her skin was warm and damp from her weeping, and her fingers now tangled in the hair on his chest. The minutes fled by, and Wolf agonized, not wanting the embrace ever to end. He could smell the fragrance of her recently washed hair, the scent of lilacs filling his nostrils.

  More than anything, Wolf was aware of the aching contact wherever their bodies touched. Sarah’s knee-length cotton gown was a thin barrier between them. Luckily, he’d found a pair of pajama bottoms and started wearing them since she’d been staying with him. Wolf smiled a little when Sarah licked her lower lip, then raised a hand to wipe away the beads of tears still clinging to her lashes.

  He cleared his throat. “Better?” His voice was thick and unsteady, betraying how much her tears affected him. Wolf was no stranger to tears. He’d shed more than he would ever have thought possible. And he’d once watched the woman he’d loved cry even as she rejected his embrace. With a sigh, Wolf realized that Sarah had allowed him the privilege of holding her while she wept. Whether or not she would ever realize it, the act was a healing one for him.

  Sarah nodded, not trusting her voice yet. She was wildly aware of Wolf’s massive body, his powerful arms encasing her, his hand gently moving up and down the length of her arm, soothing away any last vestige of pain. His voice was shaky, and so was she. Wolf’s male scent entered her awareness, and she inhaled deeply.

  Realizing that she’d trusted—completely surrendered to—Wolf, Sarah lay in his arms, confused. Her head was screaming at her to move away from him. But her heart, which had held so much fear and grief alone for so long, begged her to remain within his embrace. As Sarah slowly opened her eyes, she remembered their previous embrace, and how Wolf had pushed her away.

  Not this time, her heart whispered. But her head won the struggle, and she started to move.

  “Stay,” he rasped, his arms tightening momentarily. Wolf held his breath. He knew he had no right to ask such a thing of Sarah. He hadn’t earned this privilege, but he couldn’t help himself. Sarah somehow flowed around all his rational reasons, leaving him helpless to deny her anything.

  Sarah capitulated, still raw from weeping, in need of human care and love. Her eyes opened. Love? Where had that word come from? And just as swiftly as the thought had come, Sarah rejected it. Love meant trust, offering her heart to be trampled and destroyed. She sniffed and pressed her hand to her eyes, feeling a fresh flow of tears welling.

  Wolf reached over to the bedside table and pulled several tissues from the box there. “Here,” he said, placing them in her hand.

  “Thanks…” Sarah said brokenly.

  “Bad dream?”

  Sniffing, she nodded and bunched up the damp tissues, loath to leave Wolf’s embrace. “I—” she bit back the truth about the phone call. “I-it was a violent one…”

  Wolf nodded and stilled his hand against her arm, content just to hold Sarah. “Yeah, they’re all too familiar to me.”

  “You?”

  “Pretty frequently.” His voice grew wry. “I almost think I’d miss them if they suddenly went away some night.”

  Twisting a look up at his deeply shadowed, harsh features, Sarah blinked belatedly remembering the terrible scars she’d seen on his chest and back. “You never told me….”

  Bare inches separated their faces, their lips. Wolf placed a steel grip on his desire. Sarah was wide open and vulnerable. It was wrong to take advantage of her. Completely wrong. He held her wounded-looking gaze. Her eyes were dark with fear. “I don’t usually admit to having them,” he told her huskily.

  Sarah became lost in the turbulence of his gray eyes, at a loss about whatever terror-filled past still remained alive in him. She was too raw herself to deal with whatever Wolf carried, anyway. “They’re awful,” she managed.

  “Yeah, but eventually they lose some of their punch,” he said, and captured a stray strand of her hair, moving it away from her face. “It’s nightly therapy,” Wolf joked. “Cheap and free.” It was a lousy joke, and he knew it. The anguish on Sarah’s face made him grimace. He didn’t want her worrying about him; she needed to focus on her own needs.

  “The best therapy,” he said, clearing his throat, “is talking.”

  “Interesting theory, coming from you,” Sarah noted in a scratchy voice.

  “The shoe’s on the other foot, honey. It’s your turn. What was the nightmare all about?”

  Honey. Sarah melted every time the endearment crossed his lips. It touched her heart, tugged at her lonely soul. She lowered her lashes, unable to hold his burning gaze. He seemed to see right through her. Relaxing in his arms, she sighed and whispered, “Ever since my dad was killed in that explosion—I’ve never cried.”

  Wolf’s brows moved upward. “Never?” His arms tightened briefly around Sarah. Wolf, too, had hidden his tears, pretended they weren’t there or that he was tough enough to take it. But there had been unbidden times when the tears had refused to be held back—and, exploding with rage and helplessness, Wolf had cried alone.

  “N-no. I had to be strong for Mom.” For myself. Sarah sniffed and wiped her nose. “It was such a shock,” she went on in a hoarse tone, “my dad dying and all. H-he always dreamed of finding that one huge cornflower-blue sapphire that would haul us out of poverty and make us millionaires.” Sarah closed her eyes and absorbed the feel of Wolf’s hand briefly grazing her cheek, where fresh tears flowed. “Dad loved us very much. He was my idol. He was an honest man. He worked sixteen hours a day during the summer to make enough money to tide us over during the winter.”

  “He sounds a little like my father,” Wolf said, thinking fondly of his own dad.

  “My dad gave me my work ethic, Wolf.” Sarah opened her eyes and lifted her head to meet and hold his warm gray gaze. “He taught me to go after what I wanted.” Swallowing hard, Sarah dropped her gaze. “After he was murdered, my whole world fell apart. I—I didn’t realize how much my mother depended on my dad until she had that stroke. I just didn’t realize…” Another sob escaped her.

  Wolf nodded and pressed a kiss to her hair, wishing he could take away the fresh pain that had surfaced. “Maybe you weren’t aware of the love they had for each other when you weren’t around.”

  Sarah gave a small, helpless laugh. “I guess you’re right, Wolf—I’m naive. After Mom had the stroke and I put her in the nursing home, I had to clean out a bunch of drawers at the cabin to take her clothes to her.” She picked at the damp tissue still wadded in her hand. “In one drawer I found a whole box of letters my dad had written to her when he was serving in Vietnam.”

  Wolf felt Sarah tremble and realized intuitively how much sh
e needed to share this with someone—even him. “Tell me about it,” he urged gently, stroking her hair with his hand.

  The touch of Wolf’s hand upon her hair broke the dam that had held back Sarah’s grief. “Th-they were love letters—” She choked softly and pressed the tissue to her eyes. “There must have been a hundred of them. When I first discovered them, I didn’t know what they were. I opened one and read it. What my Dad wrote was beautiful. When I realized it was from the sixteen months he’d spent in the army, I sat down on the floor and read every one of them.” She sniffed. “That was when I realized just how much they loved each other.”

  “That must have been healing for you,” Wolf murmured, looking down at her flushed features, her bright, tear-filled eyes.

  “It was and it wasn’t. I just didn’t know, Wolf! I never saw them kissing or stuff like that. I never saw my dad come up and put his arm around my mom, or reach over and hold her hand. Nothing…”

  “They came from a generation that believed in showing their love behind a closed bedroom door,” Wolf reminded her quietly.

  “I don’t ever want that! I want my kids to know I love my husband. I want them to see us kissing, touching and holding. I want them to be hugged, to be touched and held—” Sarah broke off, realizing what she’d said. Sniffing, she muttered, “I’m not getting married, anyway. It’s not worth it, Wolf.”

  “Why not?”

  “Marriage is too risky.”

  “You mean, loving someone?”

  With a quirk of her mouth, Sarah gazed up at him. In that moment, he appeared so wise and understanding. He seemed to see beneath her painful words. “Yes…I guess so.”

  “Why?”

  “Because—because if you give your love, it’s taken away.” Sarah realized how lame that sounded.

  Wolf nodded. “Your love for your dad was ripped from you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And then, in a way, your mom abandoned you, too. Right?”

  Wolf’s insight was startling. Sarah eased out of his arms. She stood up and moved a few feet from the bed. Sarah tried to smooth the wrinkled cotton gown. The silence deepened in the room. Sarah knew she couldn’t evade Wolf. He didn’t deserve that from her. Finally she clasped her hands in front of her and looked over at him.

  “I know she didn’t do it on purpose,” she admitted in a broken whisper. “But—Mom’s gone. All that’s left is her body. She rarely ever recognizes me anymore. I’m—” she choked “—a stranger to her.”

  Rising, Wolf slowly approached Sarah. He placed his hands on her slumped shoulders, hoping in some small way to absorb her anguish. “Love is risky,” he admitted thickly. “No guarantees, Sarah. Not ever.”

  She touched her heart with her hand, feeling the pain. “I-I just don’t have any more to give, Wolf.”

  “I understand better than you think,” he rasped. His hands tightened on her shoulders. “Feel like trying to go back to sleep? It’s 3:00 a.m.”

  Sarah heard that awful anguish in his voice again and looked up, seeing clearly the haunted look in his gray eyes. Someday she’d get him to share that pain as he’d convinced her to share hers…. Suddenly, exhaustion descended upon her like a heavy blanket. Her eyes, burning from her many tears, felt heavy-lidded. She nodded, realizing she had to sleep. When Wolf removed his hands, she felt alone as never before. Searching his harsh, unreadable features, she asked, “Will it come back?”

  “The nightmare?”

  “Yes.”

  “Probably not.” He gave her a slight smile meant to buoy her. “But if it does, just scream and I’ll be here for you. Deal?”

  She smiled a little, remembering the deal she’d had with earlier him, and their handshake. Her lower lip trembling, she whispered, “Deal.”

  Sarah awoke the next morning. It was nearly 10:00 a.m.! With a start, she sat up in bed, her head aching from all the crying she’d done the night before. With a groan, she touched her brow. Slowly her conversation with Wolf floated back to her and, more importantly, his tenderness toward her. Taking in a ragged breath, she tried to push away the feelings he’d aroused. She had to keep her distance—it was a matter of survival!

  After washing and dressing in a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved yellow blouse, Sarah hobbled—without the crutches—to the living room. The house was quiet. How she missed Wolf’s larger-than-life presence. Skeet was gone, too.

  In the kitchen, she found a note near the automatic coffeemaker.

  Sarah—

  I’m going to drop by at noon and check on you. I didn’t want to wake you up this morning to wrap your feet. Just take it easy today, honey. You’ve been through a lot. Wolf.

  Sarah’s hand trembled. Her gaze caught on the word honey. With a small sound, she dropped the note into the wastebasket. Trusting Wolf meant giving him something in return—her heart. Pressing her hands against her eyes, Sarah stood, feeling torn apart.

  The phone rang.

  With a gasp, Sarah jerked a look toward the living room. No! The phone rang again. And again. Her heart pounding, Sarah stood, unsure whether to answer. It could be Wolf calling to check on her. Or it could be—

  Pressing her hands against her ears, Sarah tried to blot out the harsh sound. After fifteen rings, it finally stopped. Her mouth was dry, and her heart was pounding raggedly in her breast. What if it was yesterday’s caller? What would he say to her?

  “Oh, God…” Sarah whispered, and sat down hard on the chair, her knees buckling with fear. Wildly she looked around the kitchen. Wolf’s kitchen. He was in danger, too. She’d placed him in danger. But what if it had been Wolf calling her? Sarah knew her mind was running rampant with dread.

  Trying to calm herself, she realized that when Wolf came home at noon, she could ask if he’d called. If he had, it would clear her conscience. But what if he hadn’t? Shouldn’t she tell Wolf about the threat? Maybe it was meaningless—another of Summers’s mind games. Maybe.

  Sarah knew she had to get busy. That was the way to drive the fear away. She hobbled to the porch and looked around carefully before stepping through the door. Then, warily, she peered out at the surrounding yard. Finally satisfied, she began faceting her sapphires. But no matter how hard she tried to hold her concentration on what she was doing, she longed for Wolf’s return.

  When Wolf returned to the house, around noon, Skeet stayed outside, content to sniff the boundaries of the wire fence that enclosed the backyard. Entering the house, Wolf took off his hat and placed it on the desk, calling, “Anyone home?”

  “I’m in here,” Sarah said from the kitchen.

  Wolf smiled uncertainly as he entered the kitchen. Sarah stood at the counter, making sandwiches. She looked feminine in a puff-sleeved yellow blouse. Her hair hung in two pigtails. “You look like a little girl ready to go jump rope,” he teased. His heart beat erratically in his chest as memories of holding Sarah flooded him. Hell, he’d thought of nothing else all morning. At the office, his considerable paperwork had stared back at him as he reran the entire sequence from last night.

  “Oh, the pigtails,” Sarah said belatedly. She looked up at Wolf, and her heart melted. He looked so strong and capable, and she felt none of those things. “Sit down. I made us tuna sandwiches.” Nervously, she brought over a jar of sweet pickles and placed a bag of potato chips on the table between them.

  “You didn’t have to go to the trouble,” Wolf murmured, appreciative of her efforts. He sat down and smiled at Sarah. Her face was pale, the flesh drawn around her eyes and mouth, but he wrote it off as the result of the emotional storm she’d weathered last night.

  Sitting down, Sarah managed a small smile. “That’s what I like about you—you don’t take me for granted,” she said. She picked at a potato chip, her stomach knotted. Somehow she had to find out if Wolf had called her. “How did you manage to get away? Weren’t you out patrolling in the woods?”

  “Today was paper-crunch day,” Wolf told her, munching on his sandwich. “One day of the
week is stay-at-the-office day. Well,” he hedged, “sort of.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Early this morning I took a run by your cabin, just to check on it, before I headed to the office.”

  “How is it?” Sarah asked quickly, thinking of the threat.

  “Quiet. I went in and had a look around. Nothing’s been disturbed.”

  “And the mining area?”

  “Fine.”

  “No evidence of anyone digging?”

  “No, everything’s quiet.” Wolf wondered why Sarah was so nervous.

  “D-did you call me this morning. Around ten?” Sarah held her breath.

  Wolf shook his head. “No. Why?”

  Sarah shrugged. “No reason…” The urge to blurt out the truth nearly overcame her. Maybe it had been one of Wolf’s friends calling. But he’d never mentioned anyone. Panic ate at her.

  “Maybe the word’s got out to Summers that I’m checking your place two or three times a day.”

  She grimaced. “Knowing Summers, he’s just waiting for the right opportunity.” Giving Wolf a pleading look, she whispered, “Please be careful out there. I don’t trust him, Wolf. He could jump you the way he jumped me.”

  Wolf saw the terror in her eyes, heard it in her voice. Reaching over, he captured her hand and squeezed it. “I’ll be okay, honey. Stop worrying.”

  Just Wolf’s touch momentarily staved off her panic. Trying to gather her strewn feelings, Sarah asked, “Have you heard from Sheriff Noonan?”

  “I called him this morning. I can’t say he was real happy to talk to me.” Wolf scowled. “He doesn’t have any suspects. I don’t think he’s done a damn thing, if you want my gut impression.”

  Sarah swallowed hard, feeling a lump of fear form in her throat. “Maybe you ought to back off, Wolf.”

  “Why?” He saw the worry in Sarah’s eyes.