She couldn’t gauge the level of Wolf’s crazy, and she had no clue what he planned to do with her and Archer. Nor did she intend to find out.
He was regarding her with an empty, hollow stare. Frantically, she searched for ways to diffuse him and convince him to let her go. Nothing she’d tried so far had worked.
She dropped her voice, hoping Wolf didn’t pick up on her telltale quaver, and injected fake concern into her tone. “You look tired. Why don’t you go back to your hotel, get cleaned up, have a rest? We can have dinner later and talk.”
His eyes blinked on, like someone had thrown a switch. Then he began cackling, and frosty needles shot through her veins. “Oh, that’s rich!” he wheezed. The laughter stopped, and his voice dripped with ice. “If I leave you to go back to the hotel, you’ll bolt. No, Sarah. It’s not going to work that way. Wherever I go, you go.”
“Wolf, I have people counting on me. I need to—”
“I’m counting on you, Sarah. No one else matters. Just me.”
She calculated the distance to the back door. Could she make it? Not with Wolf blocking her way. And what about Archer? Their best chance was her escaping. If she could get to the front door …
Rising swiftly, she pivoted toward the living room. A chair clattered behind her, and Wolf was on her before she was halfway to the door. One hand squeezed her arm so hard her fingers tingled. His other hand was in her hair, jerking her head back.
“You’re hurting me!” She tried to shake him off, but he clamped down harder and dragged her backward, away from freedom. Archer began barking. Heart pumping like a runaway locomotive careening down a mountain, she twisted in Wolf’s grasp. With her free hand, she swung at his head, but her hand glanced off his bony shoulder. He tightened his iron grip on her hair. Her scalp was on fire. Any more pressure, and it would tear. She gasped.
As they scuffled between the kitchen and living room, she caught her breath and screamed in protest, but he didn’t let up. Kicking at his legs, his ankles, she nearly lost her balance. Once more, he ratcheted up his hold. The only thing holding her up was his hand in her hair.
Wild eyes bored into hers, his mouth twisted in a tight, cruel line. Over his shoulder lay the kitchen, and she eyed the curtained half-window back door longingly. Too far. Her eye snagged on a shadow outside. I’m seeing things.
Wolf scanned his surroundings and growled something about a bedroom. He began dragging Sarah out of the kitchen, heading for the hallway. She slapped at him, clawed at him, spat at him. He stopped and raised his fist. She braced herself, anticipating the blow. Before she could process what she was seeing, the back door exploded. Glass shattered and rained down like drops of crystal. Archer barked. Wolf cursed.
A huge figure loomed with a roar. Soon she was being shoved backward, spinning, windmilling. She landed on her hip with a bruising thud that expelled the breath from her lungs. The room tilted. She dragged in air. Everything slowed. Shoes squeaked. Men grunted and snarled. Archer’s barks climbed in pitch. The noises seemed muffled, far away.
The sound of skin smacking skin jarred her, and she looked up just as Quinn’s fist connected with Wolf’s jaw. A pop, a crunch, a groan, and Wolf sagged to his knees. Quinn towered over him, hands balled and ready, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath.
One well-placed foot, and he shoved Wolf sideways. Wolf crumpled into a heap on the floor. The distinctive sound of sirens wailed, growing louder until they seemed to be right outside the door.
Sarah sat frozen in place, gaping at Wolf’s unmoving form.
Two strong arms enfolded her, pulled her to her feet and against a hard, still-heaving chest. Quinn. She buried her face against him and pulled in his reassuring scent. He smoothed her hair while he held her. “Did he hurt you? Are you okay?”
Numb, she nodded weakly. “I’m okay,” she croaked. “Archer?”
“Let me let the cops in, then we’ll take care of Arch.”
It struck her that in Quinn’s arms, she was safe. Her knees wobbled and gave out. “Don’t let go,” she heard herself plead.
“Not a chance, Sunshine.”
Hours later, Quinn finally had Sarah tucked safely in the passenger seat of his truck, and he drove them home, hands firmly on the wheel. Sore, skinned knuckles reminded him of the altercation when he gripped too hard, and he smiled to himself as he shook that hand out. Totally worth it.
He’d called Nelson once he and Sarah had buckled in, and she was talking animatedly with her brother over the vehicle’s sound system.
“So he broke in and was waiting for you inside?” Nelson sounded incredulous. Quinn didn’t blame him.
“No, he didn’t break in. I didn’t lock the door behind me, and he was watching the house, so he slipped in after me.”
“Why didn’t Archer tear into him?”
“Because Archer knows him, and Wolf came prepared with raw meat and a leash. While Arch was busy scarfing up the goodies, Wolf anchored the leash to the fridge.” She went on to describe, as she had to the police, how Wolf had taken her keys and phone and kept her there against her will. Quinn bristled at the memory of Wolf’s hands on her. The back door window wasn’t completely obscured, and he’d gotten an eyeful of what was going down before he crashed through it.
“Sorry about destroying your back door, dude,” he said when Sarah paused for a breath. “It’s secure now, but you’ll definitely need a new one. Just let me know what the damage is. I’m good for