Wolf (The Henchmen MC #3) (5 page)

Not anymore.

Hell to the no.

That was not the kind of woman I was.

With a growl at myself, I snatched the towel off the hanger and pulled the shower curtain open. It didn't hit me at first as I carefully started to dry myself off. Nothing struck me as amiss until I was toweling off my leg and glanced up into the room and noticed my clothes were gone. The clothes I kicked off the night before because they were filthy... yeah they were missing. As was the white tee and panties I had stripped out of before my shower. Not only that. Oh, no. As if it wasn't crazy enough that he sneaked in and took my dirty clothes while I was showering, he had also laid out fresh gauze slathered in cream on the counter. So he had been in the bathroom for a good long time while I was naked in the shower. Granted, the curtain was solid and he couldn't see me, but still. That was a gross invasion of privacy.

Seething, I towel dried my hair and finger combed it, brushed my teeth, re-wrapped my arm, then threw on the fresh white tee he had left me, pantie-less because he took mine and I didn't have a spare pair. As if the tee didn't make me feel naked enough to begin with. Dressed, I threw open the door, sucking in a breath, getting ready to leash into him.

"I swear to Christ if you ever,
ever
sneak into a room where I am..." I trailed off, realizing my anger was falling only on an empty room. Wolf wasn't inside the house.

I walked out, glancing around even though there was literally nowhere he could be hiding except under the bed and, well, he could never fit. Was that why he took my clothes? Did he think he was somehow keeping me there because he stole my pants? Yeah well, he was in for a rude awakening. I stormed over to where my black, beat up and beloved combat boots were sitting beside his front door and shoved my feet inside. I reached for the black and white flannel shirt on a hook and slipped inside it, leaving the front unbuttoned. I looked ridiculous. But I didn't care. I was getting the hell out of there.

I pulled the door open on a huff only to fly backward on a shriek.

Because there outside the door were two beasts from hell.

Okay. So they were actually dogs. But they were like... dogs on steroids. I'd never seen a breed that huge before: all black with face hair that dipped into their eyes. I had a feeling that if I got close enough to gauge such a thing, that when sitting they would still reach almost my shoulder area. They were giant. Giant dogs for a giant man.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my heartbeat. Alright, so they were big. But there was often something to the phrase "gentle giants". I mean... look at pandas and elephants and like... manatees and shit. They were probably completely harmless. Besides, I loved dogs. They would surely pick up on that, right?

I took a couple tentative steps toward the door again and watched as their heads tilted to the side, watching me, but doing nothing that looked remotely threatening. I felt the tension leaving my body as I gave them a small smile. "Good doggies," I said in a baby voice. "You're not hell beasts at all, are you?" I asked as I stepped over the threshold. The second my foot moved over the line, they both stood, closing ranks, and letting out matching and menacing growls. I jumped back and they stopped. Curious, I stuck my leg out the door again. The growling started up again. I yanked my leg back in and watched them watching me for a moment before they sat back down.

Wolf had guard dogs.

And they were not trained to keep people off his property.

Oh no.

They were trained to keep me
on it
.

That son of a bitch.

FIVE

Janie

I spent the day seething. First, because leaving the dogs as my prison guards confirmed that he had every intention of keeping me at his place against my will. So him being sweet and taking care of my arm and face and looking all worried after my nightmare, yeah, that was just his attempt to create some kind of Stockholm Syndrome bond with me. Yeah well that jackass was in for a rude awakening. I wasn't falling in love with my freaking captor.

Second, I was pissed because I was going stir-freaking-crazy. I was not the kind of person who could sit and watch mindless television for hours on end. I needed to go outside and go on a run. I needed to shoot something and hit something. And most of all, I needed a freaking laptop, phone, or book to keep my mind from racing.

By midday, I had managed to wear a path in his floor. His hell beasts hadn't moved from their post. I scrounged up some food. I drank another pot of coffee. Night fell. On a growl, I grabbed his pile of magazines and climbed up on the bed with them. I flipped through them, reading the blurbs underneath the gun and hunting gear items. I grimaced through the fishing magazines. Finally, sometime around midnight, still with no appearance or word from Wolf, I drifted into a boredom induced sleep.

I woke up through a nightmare, bolting up in bed, hand slapping down over my mouth. I closed my eyes, taking in slow, deep breaths, trying to push the memories back before they took root. Trying to forget the eyes, the hands, the edge of the knife, the sadistic laughter.

I opened my eyes in the dark room and felt the panic flood away in a whoosh, replaced instantly with the anger I had gone to sleep with. Because there was Wolf, leaning back in his recliner, fast-a-freaking sleep.

Alright, it could be said that I have rather poor impulse control. As in, I have none. I flew up off the bed, grabbing a handful of his magazines and hurling them, one by one, at his sleeping form. The first collided with a satisfying smack to the side of his face, making his eyes snap open as his body lurched upward as if fully awake. I didn't pause, just curled back my arm and sent another magazine flying.

"The fuck..." he said, awake enough to snatch it out of the air, but he let it hit him in the chest instead.

"The. Fucking. Dogs!" I yelled, throwing another magazine before turning back to the bed to grab more. "You leave me here with fucking hell beasts as my jailers without so much as telling me how long you're going to be gone or if they might, I don't know, fucking maul me! And
and
you have nothing to
read!
" I yelled, letting the last magazine fly, the spine hitting him in the jaw.

"Feel better?" he asked, calm as could be, like I hadn't just thrown a years' worth of magazines at him.

"No I don't feel fucking better," I said, folding my arms across my chest and glaring at him.

At that, he just nodded at me and slowly stood up, his long form unfolding like a panther before he moved toward me. It took everything in me not to flinch away, not to retreat. But he didn't stop when he was in front of me, he brushed past me, his arm touching my shoulder as he did so as he made his way to the front door. I felt my brows drawing together as he pulled the door open and whistled.

Then I was scrambling back across the floor as his hell beasts charged into the room. I remembered to stand still and froze with the backs of my thighs against the bed.

Wolf closed the door and slowly moved across the room toward me, sitting down at the foot of the bed. Then I was tagged around the waist and pulled downward. No, not just downward. I was pulled
onto
his lap. I was sitting on Wolf's lap. His strong arm was around my lower back, his hand settled at the upper most part of my thigh. I was still trying to adjust to the fact that I was on his lap in just a t-shirt, meaning no panties, and that said t-shirt had ridden up almost indecently high when I heard him snap his fingers. Not more than two seconds later, I felt cold, wet dog noses touching my leg.

Instinctively, I flinched and stiffened. Around my back, Wolf's arm tightened for a second, almost like a hug. "Relax," he instructed and I felt his breath at the top of my head.

"Relax?" I asked, trying to sound outraged, but my voice came out kind of breathy. "They snarled at me all day."

"Tried to leave."

"Um yeah. I tried to leave. You can't fucking kidnap people, Wolf!" I felt his shoulder lift and fall. "No you can't just shrug about that. This is completely unaccept..." I trailed off on a squeal as one of the dog's tongues licked the underside of my foot.

I might have been a badass bitch from Hailstorm who could handle my dark past and the crazy shit that happened in my life on the daily, but everyone had their weaknesses. Me, I couldn't sleep. I was easy to rile. And I was ridiculously, obnoxiously, annoyingly ticklish. My body moved of its own mind, my legs pulling upward, my head moving to the side until it found itself tucked into the side of Wolf's neck. The dog, seemingly spurred on by my reaction, continued his innocent torment as I squirmed and laughed into Wolf's neck. If I had been paying any attention at all, I would have noticed how tight his arm was around me and how his other hand had moved to encircle my upper body as well. "Call. Off. Your. Hound," I gasp/giggled, trying to suck in a breath through my laugh-achy chest.

If I wasn't mistaken, I felt his chest jump underneath me like he was silently laughing too. "Off," he said gruffly and the licking immediately stopped. My laughing, however, did not. And I continued to do said laughing into the mountain man's neck. It was around then that I realized how tightly he was holding me. It was also then that I realized kidnappers didn't hold their hostages like that. No, lovers held each other like that. On that completely horrifyingly sobering thought, I jerked in his arms.

"Why am I in your lap?" I found myself asking, never one to mince words.

The rumbling in his chest stopped suddenly and his arms slackened slightly. "Dogs."

"What about the dogs?"

"Needed to know you're mine."

His?
His?
I was not his!

"I'm not yours!" I yelped, trying to fly back away from him, but he was still holding me still, keeping me where I was.

"No," he agreed. "They needed to think so."

Okay. So maybe I was buying that. They were obviously really well trained dogs. They responded to verbal and non-verbal commands. They didn't so much as step away from their post while he was gone. Maybe for them to not want to attack me, they needed to see that their pack leader 'claimed' me. That made sense. I couldn't even be angry about that.

"So they won't keep me trapped in here anymore," I said, tilting my head up to look at his face.

"Didn't say that," he said in a way that implied they would be my guards for however long he commanded it. Damn it.

"Let go of me," I said in a low, lethal voice, expecting to need to save my voice for the inevitable pissing contest we were going to have. Surprisingly though, his arms dropped from around me and he let me go. I jumped up and started pacing the room as he sat there and watched. At about my fourth turn, I stopped in the middle of the room and turned to him.

"Why are you keeping me here? I blew up your compound!" I reminded him, wanting some kind of reaction. He gave me nothing. "I killed god-knows how many people at Lex's place! I... I turned traitor and blew up the only home that would have me!" Okay, I was getting a tad bit emotional. What can I say? It had been a crazy couple of days. "Jesus fucking Christ! What is wrong with you?" I demanded as he just kept sitting there watching me with a blank mask on his face. "Are you like some kind of robot? Complete automaton. You know, normal people have feelings and reactions. They don't just... what are you doing?" I asked as he slowly stood and moved toward me. There was something about him, something I didn't know or understand that had me taking a step back each time he moved forward. I wasn't that girl. I didn't retreat. I didn't give up my ground. Ever. But I was doing just that. I backed up until the kitchen counter jabbed me in the back and I had nowhere to go. "What?" I asked, adopting a scathing, mocking tone because it was better than betraying the weird cocktail of fear and excitement I felt low in my belly. "Are you trying to freak me out? 'Cause, newsflash Wolf, I don't scare all that easily. So you can just..."

He was toe-to-toe with me, his pelvis pushing against mine and I had to crane my neck up to see his face, but it was ducked down toward me, his keen eyes watching me. "You're hurting," he said oddly.

"What? No, I'm not. I'm fine. I don't even need the ibuprofen anymore."

"Not here," he said, his hand brushing over the gauze on my arm. Then his palm pressed against my chest, right above my left breast and stayed there. "Here," he clarified.

It couldn't have been a more killing blow if he did it with a knife.

I felt my spine straighten at being found out and my survival instinct immediately told me to
deny deny deny
.

"What? Don't be ridiculous. I'm not hurtin..."

"Don't lie," he said again, shaking his head slightly at me.

"I'm not..."

I didn't get the rest of my sentence out because both his hands were suddenly at my shoulders and jerking almost violently, making my teeth clank together. "Lying don't fix it," he told me with a sort of understanding that only came from personal knowledge.

"I'm not trying to fix anything! I am trying to get out of..."

"Blowing things up?"

"How could blowing things up possibly fix anything?" I objected, screwing my face up in confusion, trying to throw him off. Because he was too close, he was way too close to being right.