Taming the Lone Wolff(80)
* * *
Larkin was sleeping. And no wonder. The second time he’d taken her, the devil of a man had drawn out the wanting, the claiming, the exquisite joining. He’d moved inside her for what seemed like hours, his hands and lips coaxing her once again to a heated pitch of wanting that made her lose all sense of reason.
Now she lay on her side facing him. She had gone to the bathroom, used the facilities and washed up. He never stirred.
Lightly brushing the hair on his arm, she tried to analyze his words. You were wrong. Marital bliss is contagious. We need to talk.
A less pragmatic woman might coax herself into believing that Larkin Wolff was leading up to a proposal. But Winifred Bellamy was smarter than that. Throat tight, she glanced at the clock. It was still early…not quite midnight. She wasn’t sleepy. Her head buzzed with unformed thoughts, amorphous daydreams.
She would make Larkin Wolff a good wife. If he wanted one. But that idea was so dangerous, she locked it away rapidly, reaching for her usual steady footing. Life was good. She was blessed in many ways. She didn’t need a man to be complete.
Suddenly, her cell phone on the nightstand buzzed. She had it set to vibrate, but even so, it was loud. Sliding from beneath the covers, she grabbed it up and answered it in a low voice. “Hello…”
* * *
Larkin jerked awake, every sense on high alert. A sharp sound had dragged him out of a deep sleep. Groggy, he glanced around, identified his surroundings as Winnie’s bedroom and sat up. Immediately, he knew what had awakened him. Because it happened a second time. A keening, stricken cry that brought the hair on his arms to attention.
He bounded out of bed, not even taking time to turn on the light, and crouched beside her. She was huddled on her knees in the midst of the carpeted floor, arms wrapped around her waist. Tears streamed down her face as she rocked back and forth.
“Lord, honey. What’s wrong?” He had never seen his strong, unbreakable Winnie like this, and the change shocked him. Gathering her into his arms, he sat cross-legged with her in his lap, cuddling her, stroking her back, smoothing his hand over her hair. “Tell me, Winnie.”
He had a long wait. She seemed unable to stem the outpouring of grief, and his mind raced with possibilities, each one worse than the last.
Her skin was icy, even with his arms wrapped around her.
When she finally spoke, he could barely understand her. Her teeth chattered, and her words were choppy. “Esteban’s father killed his mother and grandmother.”
Larkin reeled, his stomach pitching with nausea. “Dear God. Are you sure? Don’t answer that. Of course you’re sure. Dear God.” His mouth dried as horror congealed everything inside him that had life and breath. “I promised him that he and his mother would be safe. That he didn’t have to be afraid.” Leland Security. What an ass he was, thinking he could protect people. What an unmitigated ass. He couldn’t keep anyone safe.
Winnie burrowed her face into his chest, making her speech even further garbled. “Not your fault. She left the property. He killed her first and then himself.” Fresh sobs shook her small frame.
Larkin gathered her up and put her back to bed. He retrieved a wet washcloth from the bathroom and wiped her face gently. She lay on her back, staring dully at the canopy atop the bed. The lovely room was not a fit setting for such raw, unimaginable news.
He felt the old feelings of failure claw at his chest, and had he not been a man, he might have joined Winnie in her cathartic tears. Seeing her pain and being unable to do anything about it destroyed him. “How did she get out?”