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I’m not going to win this. I’m also not going to back down. I make a final push. “You better have Tracker drop everythin’ else and focus on Malcolm. I want to know where he is, what he’s doin’, anythin’ we can use against him.”

“You know it.” Steel claps a hand on my shoulder. “Now, you gonna get out of here or am I gonna have to throw you out on your ass?”

I hold up my hands. “Fine. Just don’t forget about me in the mornin’. I’m going to the station with you.”

“As much as I think that’s a bad idea, I know there’s no stoppin’ you.”

I growl my satisfaction and head out of the room. To be honest, it’s a real bad idea. I don’t want to see cops, and they don’t want to see me, but there’s not a chance in hell I’m staying away. I even consider spending the night at the clubhouse, so I’ll be sure to be included, except that’s also a bad idea. I don’t trust myself not to go find Jake Randy in the night to give him another piece of my mind.

I get on my bike and I ride.

What I see when I pull up my driveway is something I never could have predicted.

Chapter 14

Julia

While the crickets sing and owls hoot, I sit on Wolf’s front porch, waiting for him. His little house looks sad, while Mom’s house only looks better and better. He’s putting all his time and effort into caring for us. Gratitude and guilt mix their tastes in my mouth, an unwanted combination.

Hearing the rumble of a bike, I lift my head. It’s coming closer. It has to be Wolf, I think, and it is. He comes down the street, smooth and powerful, and cuts a sharp turn into the driveway. He stops about halfway up, staring at me with glittering eyes. We look at each other through the dark, predator and prey studying each other.

Then, he swings his leg over the bike and paces toward me, his muscles moving with sleek ease. The motion-activated lights over the porch snap on to show him to me, large and leather-clad, alluring and distressing.

He’s a mess. Somehow, he’s even more of a mess than in the direct aftermath, when he was dripping with my stalker’s blood. All that blood has dried to a nasty rust-brown and is flaking off unevenly, leaving the skin underneath slightly stained and irritated. His face is red, his hair limp, with dark patches beneath his eyes. He carries an enormous weight on his shoulders, a smothering darkness that makes it difficult for me to breathe.

We look at each other for a long time, a moment that seems like it could go on forever, before he stirs. “What are you doin’ here?” he grunts, still staring. “How’d you get here?”

“A little birdy told me your address.” As to how I physically got there, I point past him at my car, which I parked a little way down the street. It just seemed like a good idea not to park in his driveway. Maybe so his neighbors don’t get the wrong idea? Or to buy myself a little time if someone else did come looking for me tonight?

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says. He brushes past me and takes out a key to unlock the front door. His hand shakes a little, the key jittering around the opening before sliding in the hole. A twist and a shove, and the door swings wide open to the dark interior. Hardly any light from the porch makes its way inside, just a little staining the foyer and leaving the rest in blackness.

He steps inside and I step forward quickly, before he can slam the door in my face. When the door thumps shut, we’re dropped into coal-black darkness. I can’t see him anymore. I can only feel him and smell him, that wild animal smell of sweat and blood and anger.

I fumble along the wall, searching for a switch. I find one and flip it up to reveal a house that could be cute if it was furnished and cleaned. It’s not like he’s been living in squalor. There’s just not that much to distract from the general age and wear and tear.

Wolf stalks past me, through the living room, not bothering to remove his boots. I follow him. I’m full of curiosity about what went down when he and the others took the stalker away. What did they learn? Am I going to be okay from now on?

About that last one, I doubt it. Wolf doesn’t exactly look like he’s in a celebratory mood.

He goes to the kitchen cupboard and pulls down a bottle of whiskey. It hasn’t been opened yet and he starts to crack into it.

I look at him, this tired man who has been giving me and my family so much of himself, and my curiosity takes a backseat. It’s still there, but sitting quietly, patiently, for its turn.

I reach over and take that bottle right out of Wolf’s hand. He obviously wasn’t expecting me to do that and I get it away from him without a fight. I wasn’t expecting to get it, and I almost drop it before managing to get a better grip.

“I’m not letting you get drunk tonight,” I say.

Wolf growls low and dangerous in his throat. He holds out his hand, scowling. “I ain’t in the mood for games, Julia.”

“Good, because I’m not playing!” I set the whiskey down on the counter behind me. “You start relying on booze to make yourself feel better and you’re going to go down a bad path. I won’t let you do that, not while I’m around.”

“Then get out of here,” he snaps. His shoulders square. I’m not afraid of him. I may be the only person in the world who isn’t afraid of him when he does that. He would attack anyone else. I know that’s how the MC guys handle their disagreements sometimes, by brawling it out, so not even his brothers are safe from him. Only I am, because he would never lay an unwanted hand on me.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I say softly. I reach and take both of his hands in mine and hold them between us. His are bloody and swollen, but mine are bloody, too. And he seems to realize that for the first time, looking down at them between us. I didn’t do anything to tend to the scrapes and bruises I earned during my struggle with the stalker. When I got home, I just told Mom there was an emergency and that I would be back in the morning.

Even a couple weeks ago, I wouldn’t have trusted her to be able to take care of Artie while I was gone. That’s changed. Everything’s changed, is still changing.

Wolf looks up at me again, confusion swirling in his blue eyes. He’s like a wounded animal, unsure if it’s okay. I know he’ll never be domesticated. Maybe he’ll only ever be half-tamed. I don’t care, as long as he trusts me when it matters.