Suddenly Wolf(4)

By: Abby Blake



The bedroom door opened behind her, and she damn near leapt the length of the room to put space between herself and the newcomer. She glanced back at the guy in the chair. Two of them? Twins? Or was she just seeing double. Shit.

“Hello, beautiful. Would you like some coffee?”

She shook her head. She could really do with the caffeine boost, but unless someone started explaining exactly why two strangers were in her bedroom, she was going to start knocking heads.

“Andrea.” The guy who’d been sitting in the kitchen chair he’d obviously moved without asking stood up and took a small step toward her. “Sweetheart, everything’s going to be fine. We’re not here to hurt you.”

“Good to know,” she said as she inched toward the closet where she kept her gun. Except that, fuck, she’d locked it in the safe because she hadn’t needed it in the three years since she’d arrived here. She’d moved to this tiny town in the middle of nowhere because of its low crime rate, yet in the space of—she glanced at the clock and realized she had no idea if it was night or day—maybe a day she’d been the victim of an attempted drunken robbery, an accidental shooting, and now a home invasion. Except…how could she remember being shot when she had no evidence?

“What day is it?”

The guy lounging against the doorjamb shrugged as if she were a bit crazy but answered with, “Tuesday.”

“What’s the date?” She’d been shot on a Monday. Could it be possible that it was Tuesday several weeks or months later?

“Andrea,” guy number one said again, taking another step closer. She held out her hand for him to stop, and he took the hint and stepped back. “We’ll explain everything. You just need to stay calm.”

Not. Fucking. Likely.

Talk about triggering an opposite response. Her ex-husband had always been telling her to calm down as if she were some kind of recalcitrant child. She hadn’t taken it from him, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to take it from two fucking strangers.

But that growl happened again, this time so deep and loud she startled herself into silence.

“That’s part of what we need to talk to you about.”

“What did you do to me?” A part of her realized that question wasn’t exactly rational. After all, how could two strangers do something that would make her growl? But she wanted answers, and since they were here now, she may as well go asking—she glanced down at her nakedness—as soon as she pulled on her robe.

Moving carefully, unwilling to turn her back on either man despite how calm they seemed to be acting, Andrea inched back toward the closet to grab her robe. She managed to slide it on, tie the belt closed, and hold both men in her sights without too much fumbling.

“So who’s going to go first?”

Damn. Poor choice of words. She pulled the robe tighter around her.

“Which one of you is going to explain how we got here?”

The guy lounging on the doorframe gave her a sexy grin and indicated the other guy. The other guy rolled his eyes at his brother’s obvious willingness to pass the buck and then took a step closer. Just to be certain he understood the situation she took a step back. She wasn’t frightened of them per se, but if she was going to fight she needed space. It had absolutely nothing to do with how delicious he smelled, or how sexy he looked with one of her bath towels wrapped low on his hips exposing chiseled pectoral muscles and lickable abs.

“Why are you naked?” Well, not naked, but a part of her wanted him to be. Fuck, she must have hit her head on her way down to the ground. But wait, if she wasn’t actually shot—and considering her uninjured state it seemed unlikely—why would she have hit her head on anything?

“I cleaned you up,” he said quietly.

“Cleaned what?” She was pretty sure she already knew the answer, but since it was impossible to get shot and bleed all over everything and somehow have no wound or scar, then she must be mistaken.

“Andrea, we have a lot to explain to you.”

“How do you know my name?” Again not the most intelligent of questions. It was a town small enough for everyone to know someone who would know her name.

“Driver’s license,” the guy propping up her doorframe answered with a mischievous grin. It seemed he expected her to be upset about that. Why would a woman be upset that some stranger pawed through her handbag, found her wallet, searched the contents, and looked at the world’s worst driver’s license photo in the history of photo licenses?

“You went through my bag?” Her ears protested as her voice reached a higher pitch, and she narrowed her eyes when both men winced at the shrill sound. Well, it would serve them right to end up with bleeding eardrums. No male she’d ever known had been bold enough, or stupid enough, to go through her handbag, ever!

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