Wild Nights with a Lone Wolf by Elisabeth Staab Page B

Why—”
    He silenced her with his mouth. His fingers gripped her arms with bruising strength, and though her first instinct was to shove against him and ask once again what in the name of worst explanation ever was going on here, she relaxed against him instead. Her body remembered this kiss, and he’d asked her to promise. Something in his eyes resonated as genuine.
    So she kissed him back. Her heart thudded against his, everything both new and familiar with the added dash of exhilaration and fear. She still wasn’t certain if he had honestly come to help her, but for once in her life she hoped like crazy her gut was pointed in the right direction.
    “This is about to get serious. I thought I should know your last name,” he whispered against her lips.
    A door creaked open behind them. “I see the reunion is a happy one.”
    Ash spun to face the man who’d barged into the dreary sort-of guest room where Sherri had been left to sleep off her sedatives. The man looked very much like Ash, actually. Clearly this one had a couple of decades on him. The other man was also broader and darker-featured but not as tall, with craggy cheeks and a nose that had evidently been broken more than once.
    Ash kept a tight hold on her arm. “She was drugged and thrown in a van, Pop. This is unacceptable.”
    So it was his father. Sherri cringed on the inside.
    She couldn’t tell if the older man’s gesture was dismissive or apologetic. “A regrettable mistake. Jojo couldn’t have known she belonged to you.”
    Was this guy a sociopath? “A mistake? Are you kidding me? That’s assault, kidnapping, and—” In spite of her swimming head Sherri leaned forward, ready to dig further in with her list of charges. Ash squeezed her hand fast and hard. The message came through.
    “I’m taking her out of here.”
    Sherri looked around. “There’s another girl. They took her somewhere else.” There had to be some way to convince them to let them both leave. If not, she would make a call the second she had a phone in her hands.
    “The girl had some scrapes. She’s being seen to,” Ash’s father rumbled.
    “No. No fucking way.” That Jojo asshole shoved his way in, holding a bag of ice over his eye. “I owe at least two girls when I show up to make the trade. Anyway, he’s fucking lying, Pop. If she’s his bond mate, I’m Mother Theresa.”
    Ash swept his hand toward Sherri. “He’s talking out his ass. My scent is all over her. See for yourself.”
    “Only cuz they hooked up at the hotel bar last night. I saw ‘em. Ain’t no way they’re bonded. Fucker gets more tail than a taxidermist.”
    “You.” Ash jabbed a finger. “You saw her with me and thought you’d get even, huh? Fuck with me to get back for showing you up in public? This is so far over the goddamned line you have no idea. You got no right to make accusations, Jojo. Should we talk about the girl you mauled and left dead on my land?”
    Sherri tried to back away, but there was no place to go. She’d feared that girl didn’t make it, but oh, God. Mauled? So much worse than her imagination.
    Jojo pointed back. “That wasn’t me. He’s lying, Ramon.”
    “Enough,” Ash’s father boomed and puffed his chest even more than it was already puffed. He stepped forward with his fingers interlaced, tapping the two pointers against his chin.
    He turned first to the “Jojo” character, still holding ice on his blackened eye. Funny, she’d always considered herself an independent woman, but knowing that Ash had given the rat-bastard a shiner, and he’d done it in her defense, actually gave her a sense of appreciation.
    Ramon eyeballed Jojo. “What’s this about a dead girl?”
    Jojo backed up against a pegboard wall. “It wasn’t me. The go-between. When I met him at the rendezvous, the girl tried to escape. He did shit I ain’t never seen before.”
    Ash growled though clenched teeth. The clear threat in that sound made Sherri jump even though it