She felt a bone-deep ache watching her brother’s retreating back. She was worried about him. He had suffered so much, alone. She would have been there, if he’d allowed it. Yet someone else had had to call her when it seemed like Law was about to do something irrevocable. He really needed to learn how to ask for help. At the moment he was determined to turn his back on the woman who had gotten to him in a way that scared him. She’d love to meet this mystery woman who had disturbed her brother’s spirit. She could easily call Warriors Wolf Pack and ask who had trained Samantha. But her instincts kept her from doing that. Warriors were meant to hunt. Law was on the scent, whether he knew it or not. He would not accept what came easily to him.
She didn’t have much connection with her own part-Choctaw heritage. But Law had been reared on the reservation. Tribal life ran in his veins. A disturbed spirit needed to be made whole and joined to the world. Peace came from acceptance and love.
Yardley sighed and closed the door against the chill. Some men were more afraid of gentleness than hardship. It was her fate to love three of them. The first was Bronson Battise.
Their father had laid a heavy burden on his children, telling them to trust and rely on no one, not even him. All they had was themselves. To need another person was to be weak. It explained why for most of her life she, and she suspected Law, had had an easier time dealing with emotions when animals were involved rather than humans.
The second man was Law, whom she knew more by that indefinable bond of blood than actual connection. Something deep and long-standing was troubling Law. It wasn’t just his wounding at war. She was certain he didn’t have a clue what it was. She’d felt the same unnamed emptiness most of her life. Finally, a few months ago, she had found the answer. It had been as simple as dropping her guard.
She’d fallen in love.
Yardley turned away from her door after Law entered the bunkhouse, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. The chill she felt had nothing to do with the temperature.
The third man she loved was missing. In his world, there were no strings to pull or favors to call in. That scared her spitless.
She looked down at the sound of whimpering. Sam stood still staring out the window toward the bunkhouse.
“I know. He’s a hardheaded cuss. Serves us right for caring about him. I hope that woman he mentioned has the wisdom to see through his bunker mentality.”
She pulled a treat from her pocket. “Come, Sam. You can sleep with me.”
*
Sam waited until the house was quiet. There were dog doors in both front and back in the woman’s house. She went out the one closest to the bunkhouse where she knew her Alpha was. It was a dark moonless night but she let her nose direct her. Alpha’s footprints were so vivid in her nostrils, they practically glowed under the inspection of her nose. All the other smells of the night, and there were thousands, faded in comparison.
She found the doggy door into the bunkhouse with ease, slipping easily through portals sized for Belgian Malinois and German shepherds, whose scents drenched every inch of the area. She glanced nervously about, unaccustomed to so many strong Alpha scents in one place. Finally, convinced that no animal lay behind those scents, she moved on through the dark, following the wisp of familiar pheromones.
She found her Alpha in a small room in the back. He was slung across a narrow mattress, fully clothed. She climbed up carefully and then snuggled in slowly against him, so as not to awaken him. Only then did she sniff him, taking careful notice of his unique blend of smells and physical signs. Heart calm. Breathing easy. He was asleep. A quiet sleep where no ugliness penetrated. It was the first time since she’d chosen him that she felt he was at ease.
She sighed, leaned her weight against his back, and dozed, relieved of duty for the moment.
CHAPTER TEN
“Everything seems to be in order. Your work record is clean. Your bills are paid. Anything else you want to tell me?” Case Howard, Jori’s parole officer, regarded her with a benign gaze across two Grand Slam plates at Denny’s. His was empty, hers barely touched.
“No. Work’s going fine. Argyle’s fine. Everything’s fine.”
Case’s dark eyes narrowed. “You got someone in your life yet?”
“No.”
“Your eyes say you’re not being honest.”
Jori swallowed carefully. This man was all that stood between her and a bad report to the parole board. “I saw a guy. A couple of weeks back.”
“What happened?”
Heat and desire nudged her as memories of Battise took hold. Useless to try to push the memories away. She just hoped Case couldn’t see her reaction to the memories in her expression. “We didn’t stick.”
Case rubbed his shaved head, glistening like a shelled pecan under the lights. “You need to go slow. Don’t get caught up in a relationship you aren’t ready for.”
“That’s not going to be a problem. Like I said. We didn’t stick.”
“No other casual screwing around?” He asked the question softly, but the former college linebacker backed it up with a shrewd look she didn’t want to underestimate.
Jori held his gaze. “No. Just the one time.”
He nodded and seemed to relax. “Wish all my clients were as easy as you.”
Jori didn’t know whether to be pleased or appalled. “Can I go now? I’m going to be late for work.”
Case leaned back in his chair, which squeaked in protest of the shifting of 302 pounds. “You’ve got to learn to relax, Garrison. I’m on your side.”