Taming the Lone Wolff(10)
Larkin chuckled, mimicking her posture. He didn’t try to touch the boy or get near him. Which told Winnie that he knew how to act around someone who had suffered at the hands of a violent loved one. “Wolff is my last name, Esteban. I’m helping Miss Winnie make sure this house is very, very safe.”
“So my daddy can’t find us and hit me and Mama again?”
Simple. Direct. And so very heartbreaking.
Winnie saw a muscle flex in Larkin’s jaw. “That’s right. I have lots of people who work for me, and our job is to keep you from being scared.”
Esteban inched closer. “Do you have a gun?”
Larkin nodded. “Several. But I don’t use them unless I have to. Guns are dangerous. Promise me you won’t ever touch one until you grow up.”
The child eyed him with increasing curiosity. “Okay.” He looked at Winnie. “I wish we could play outside.”
She grinned. “Mr. Wolff is going to help us with that, too.”
Her assurance seemed to satisfy Esteban. She pulled him close for a quick hug. Many of the children didn’t like to be touched, but this little rascal craved attention. And she was prepared to shower him with as much TLC as he could handle. “Go tell the ladies that Mr. Wolff and I are leaving. They can come downstairs and prepare lunch.”
As she and Larkin walked back to the main house, he quizzed her. “So, the residents in your safe house basically take care of themselves?”
“Yes. I supply them with plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables. I have a standing order with the nearest grocery store for staples and the supplies for basic meals. It gives the women a sense of purpose and also the autonomy to feed their children as they see fit.”
“Why?” he asked. “Why do you do this?”
The blunt question caught her off guard. She wasn’t prepared to bare her soul to a man who was little more than a stranger. “It’s the right thing to do. I have the money. I can meet a need. Lots of wealthy people are involved in charity work.”
He opened the screen door to the veranda and held it for her as she stepped past him. “None I know go quite this far.”
As she paused on the top step, almost eye to eye with Larkin since he lingered behind her, a harsh, familiar noise filled the air. “Hurry,” she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him inside.
As they watched, a white-and-navy helicopter hovered overhead. They could clearly see the man who hung out one door, camera in hand. Despite the precariousness of his position, the daring photographer shot for several moments before saying something to the pilot. The vessel rose, made a wide circle and hovered again with similar results.
Winnie blinked back tears of helpless rage. “Can’t someone arrest them? Isn’t this illegal? Damn it, damn it, damn it. I hate this.”
Three
Larkin shared her disgust. He touched her arm briefly, hoping to convey his concern and empathy. “Unfortunately, they aren’t breaking any laws. But all he’s getting is shots of buildings. Someone can write a story about your house, but with no photos of you, it won’t make much of a wave in the gossip rags.”
He felt Winnie’s distress in the fine tremor that quaked through her slight frame. “I keep thinking they’ll go away, but they don’t. That’s why I have to leave for a while.” Her voice rose at the end, telling him that the stress of the past few weeks was reaching a breaking point.