Taming the Lone Wolff. Janice Maynard
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His eyes were a shade of steel-blue that could burn or chill given his mood. The man’s body was a walking testament to working out, his biceps flexing beneath a thin dress T-shirt. He had removed a navy sport coat, and clad only in the oatmeal-colored knit, he looked powerful and intensely masculine. His short wiry hair was mostly black with a few strands of premature gray.
She knew from her files that he was barely thirty. But his visage and demeanor made him seem much older. “Sit down, Larkin. I can assure you that I am a law-abiding citizen.” She was shocked to hear herself ordering him around—shocked even more when he obeyed.
His gaze locked with hers in unspoken challenge.
She sighed. “Since that article came out, I have been inundated with phone calls, packages and more than a few unwanted visitors. At one point, we even had to call in the bomb squad. Fortunately, it was a false alarm, but I can’t endanger my staff’s safety and well-being. I’ve received no less than six proposals of marriage, one of those from a convicted sex offender serving prison time. My personal email account was hacked last week, and the perpetrator sent pornographic images to everyone in my contact list. This has to stop…and soon.”
Larkin leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I can take care of all of that for a fraction of your big check. Why so urgent? What aren’t you telling me? Stuff like this blows over in a matter of weeks. New gossip arrives, fresh meat scents the air. In a month or two, I’m pretty sure you’ll have nothing to worry about.”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she clasped her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking. “Even if I am overreacting, I have the right to hire you and ask for certain things…correct?”
There was that scowl again. “Of course you do. But part of my job is to advise you. And throwing away your money isn’t necessary.”
“I won’t be throwing away a cent,” she said, her throat raw with emotion. “For starters, I need you to do the obvious. Install whatever we need to guard our perimeter. And I want you to contract your people to be on duty 24/7 for an indefinite period of time.”
“And deal with phone and internet issues.”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
She hesitated. Everything she had read about this man inspired confidence. But trust was not easily won for someone in her position. “I need you to fill out the check and accept it before we continue.”
His eyes iced with suspicion. “I’ve told you. It’s too much.”
“Then I’ll write two checks…one to Leland Security and one to a charity of your choosing. I want half a million dollars’ worth of protection. Can you or can you not provide that for me?”
“Has anyone ever called you paranoid?”
She swallowed hard. “I don’t imagine a man like you understands what it means to be physically vulnerable. Women are stronger than men in many ways, but we will always face the threat of an attacker’s size and strength and come out on the short end.”
“Have you felt physically threatened since the article ran?”
“No. But there are other issues. As soon as you are sure the house and grounds are secure, I want you to take me somewhere safe for a couple of weeks, three at the most. We’ll leak the fact to the press that I’m running, but I’ll be trusting you to make sure my bolt-hole is secure.”
“I’ve got to tell you, Winnie. You’re confusing me. And I don’t like it.”
She chewed her bottom lip. Larkin Wolff was not a puppet to be manipulated by her will. He had brains and brawn and a surprisingly keen intuition that told him she was lying, at least by omission. She could see it on his face. “Before we go any further, do I have your solemn promise that my personal life and affairs are to be guarded as zealously as my physical well-being?”
He didn’t like being dragged by the tail in the dark. And he was pissed. A shiver worked its way down her spine. If he abandoned her, what would she do?
“Fine,” he said curtly. “Top secret. Need to know.”
“You’re mocking me.”
“Surely you understand that my employees will have to be kept apprised of any potential threats.”
She didn’t like it, but he had a valid point. The more people involved, however, increased the opportunity for exposure. “I understand,” she muttered. “And I’m assuming you do thorough background checks.”
He snorted. “What do you think?”
The impasse was clear, at least in her own mind. She needed Larkin Wolff. And the only way he could help her was if she trusted him with her sworn secret.
Abruptly, she stood up, feeling her knees go weak and her palms sweat. If she made a mistake, the consequences could be disastrous. “Follow me, please.”
He rose, as well, his expression inscrutable. “Whatever you say.”
The check still lay on the table. Trying to buy his silence had been a mistake. Larkin Wolff had a personal code of ethics that she prayed to God was the real deal.
When they made their way through the house to the back and out onto a cool, screened-in veranda, Winnie stopped and waited until he stood beside her, shoulder to shoulder. The view was pastoral, a warm spring day basking in a benevolent sun.
“Over there,” she said, pointing until she realized her hand was shaking. She lowered it slowly. “That’s my primary concern.”
The building, a smaller version of the main house, sat the length of a football field away. Larkin studied it, his jaw rigid. “What’s so special about that spot?”
Tremors shook her, making her limbs weak as water. So many people counted on her. She cleared her throat, tears burning her eyes. “It’s a safe house for battered women and their children. Aside from a handful of trusted staff, myself and now you, only two other people know it even exists.”
Two
Holy hell. Larkin struggled to reassess the mental picture he had painted of a slightly paranoid, vulnerable, eccentric rich woman. “You’re not worried about your own safety at all, are you?”
Winnie never took her eyes off the house in the distance. “No. I can take care of myself.” The stubborn tilt of her chin was an angle he recognized. Growing up, he’d seen it every day in one of his siblings or his cousins. An attitude that acknowledged life’s unfairness, but a determination to spit in the wind anyway. Winnie continued, “It’s my job to make sure those women and children stay out of harm’s way. That stupid article has threatened the security I promised them.”
“Why you? Aren’t there sanctuaries in the city for abuse victims?”
She shot him a sideways glance. “Government shortcomings aside, such situations demand physical distance. Once we bring our clients here, it’s much more difficult for angry husbands and boyfriends to