Page 29 of Big Bad Wolfe

She chuckled. “There’s a Native American proverb that asks, ‘when two wolves are fighting in your heart, and one is vengeful, angry, and violent, but the other is loving and compassionate … which wolf will win?’”

Startled that she’d so accurately targeted his well-hidden inner battle, he looked into eyes far wiser than her years. “I don’t— I suppose whichever is strongest.”

Jillian flashed him one of those secret feminine smiles that incited prickling goosebumps. “Zane, the one you feed will win.”

She squeezed his arm, then ran down the beach to splash a squealing Casey, leaving Zane alone with his turbulent thoughts.

Staring at the rippling waves, he fought to even his jagged breaths. Soft-spoken, soft-hearted Jillian Ramsay was far stronger than she appeared, with a backbone of tungsten steel.

And was the most appealing—and scariest—woman he’d ever met.

Jillian and Casey finally rejoined him, relieving him all to hell when she kept the conversation light on the way back to the house.

Jillian put Zane in charge of barbecuing hotdogs and foil-wrapped corn-on-the-cob on the backyard grill, which she claimed anyone could do.

He accepted the dare while she and Casey made a salad in the kitchen. Despite Aragorn’s sneering contempt from his perch in the kitchen windowsill, Zane did okay for his novice flight.

It seemed like a no-brainer to clean everything up and load the dishwasher while she was upstairs bathing Casey, but when Jillian returned to the living room with the scrubbed, pajama-clad kid in tow, she acted as thrilled as if he’d painted the Sistine Chapel.

Casey scribbled crayon pictures while Zane attempted to read his latest downloaded crime novel. But he ended up watching Jillian as she glided gracefully in and out of the room, tossing in a load of laundry and sweeping the kitchen floor.

She read several stories to Casey, coaxing covert smiles from Zane when she imaginatively voiced all the characters, including a confused elephant who hatched an egg.

It would’ve actually been a restful day if not for the lust that pounded Zane as relentlessly as the waves slapping the shore.

And the second call that shattered the quiet right after Casey had been tucked into bed—this one on Jillian’s cell.

She answered, it, silencing her “Staying Alive” ringtone, listened. Frowning, she hung up the phone. “I could hear harsh breathing on the other end, but nobody said anything. And no number,nothingshows on the incoming calls. How can they circumvent the ID system?”

“Let me see it.” He examined the blank call log. “There’s varied technology to block the information. Which means these aren’t just kids making prank calls.” He surged to his feet, keying numbers into her phone. “Here, I input my cell number for you, and I’ll enter yours into my phone. I’m going out for an extended perimeter patrol around the neighborhood. Don’t wait up.”

Anxiety tightened her features. “Shouldn’t we call Officer Ray?”

He snorted, palming his Beretta. “Lady, I’ve survived battles in armpits that make Hell seem like an amusement park. I think I can handle coastal Oregon. Lock every door and window behind me and buzz me if you hear or see anything remotely out of place.”

“I’ll get my extra house key for you.”

He accepted the key from her trembling fingers. Then on an impulse he couldn’t contain, stroked a finger down her cheek. “Don’t worry, Jillian. I’ve got your back. Nothing will happen to you or the kid on my watch.”

She gave him an unsteady smile. “I believe that, thank you.”

He spent hours combing every inch of the surrounding neighborhood, but didn’t see or hear anything suspicious. When he arrived back at the house, Jillian had gone to bed.

He didn’t sleep worth shit, instead combat napping while subliminally listening for any danger to the woman and child now trusting in his protection.

* * *

Zane woke up the next morning to a silent house. He found a stack of blueberry muffins and a covered bowl of fresh-cut summer fruit on the kitchen table along with a note from Jillian saying she and Casey would be at the center until late afternoon, to help himself to anything from the fridge, feel free to use her exercise studio, and she hoped he’d have a great day.

Exactly what he’d wanted, a day to himself. It was definitely quiet.

Too quiet.

Zane wandered from room to room. Jillian’s idea of an exercise studio was a lavender-painted room with wall-to-wall mirrors on one side and a dance barre on the other, a thick purple mat on the floor, and patchouli scented candles arranged on a dainty table beneath the window beside a bowl of sea glass and a sound-system console. Since yoga or ballet wasn’t on his top-ten list of fun, he didn’t stick around. He switched on a ball game, but switched it off after three innings. Tried to settle with his e-reader. Moved to the patio to stare at the equally restless ocean.

Finally, he put on his running clothes and sprinted down the beach.

He’d always enjoyed his own company. Never had a problem being alone—in fact, he preferred it. Now the stark contrast between yesterday and today made him feel … fartooalone.

---