remained.
She finished the sequence she was going through, but turned reflexively when she felt the air behind her snap. ‘Ah!’
A man.
Looking up, she spotted the source of the disquiet. Suddenly, the benefits of the yoga disappeared. She recognised him on sight. Alex Wolfe. In the flesh. The most dangerous predator of all.
‘Oh, dear God.’ What was he doing here?
Their gazes connected and she felt a jolt. Even with him hundreds of yards away and up the hill, she felt his attention and it was solely on her.
Her stomach tightened and, for the first time, she felt the chill of the evening. With the sun going down, it was getting brisk. Too brisk to be wearing a skimpy sports bra and thin pants. She pressed her hand against her bare stomach, but was surprised to find her skin hot. Tingly.
Sweet heavens, he was something.
His hair was shorter than it had been in the last newspaper picture she’d seen of him. So short, it was almost spiky. His face wasn’t as clean-shaven, either. He had that rough stubble that only male models and movie stars could seem to pull off.
And, apparently, billionaire felons.
His expensive shirt and pants fit him impeccably, yet the power radiating from him wasn’t only the power associated with wealth and status. The disgraced entrepreneur was lean and chiselled. He’d done more on the inside than read books.
Warning signs flared in Elena’s head, and she knelt to pick up her yoga pad. She’d learned to listen to her gut. The exercise usually sped up her pulse, but right now it was racing. He shouldn’t be here – or she shouldn’t. Her hands felt clumsy as she rolled up the springy foam. When she looked up again, he was still staring. Energy crackled in the air between them. She could feel the charge all the way down to her bare feet, and her toes curled against the sensation.
Sex. The man practically radiated it.
Goosebumps rose on her skin.
She didn’t know him. She’d never even met him, but she wasn’t stupid or naïve. Men found her attractive, and she recognised lust when she saw it. From the way he braced his hands against the marble railing and leaned towards her, the wolf seemed ready to pounce. When he uncoiled and folded his arms across his chest, her stomach sucked in even further.
‘Mm,’ she whimpered. She also recognised when the feeling was mutual.
Her response was inappropriate – unthinkable – yet she couldn’t stop staring at him. Her nipples tightened, and she held her yoga mat against her chest to hide her reaction. The sun was gone, and its trailing streaks of light were dimming fast. The noises coming from the woods were getting louder. The chirps of crickets … the hoots of owls … A hot shiver went down her spine, and she started moving to the lake house.
She’d come here to retreat, but had she just ended up in the wolf’s den?
One last time, she cast a glance up towards the main house. Her ponytail swung over her shoulder with the movement and she felt the caress of a hot look slide down her bare back. He was still there. Watching. Wanting.
Quickly she moved inside and locked the door.
* * *
Two hours earlier
The sun was glaring as the man walked out of the nondescript concrete building. The rays bounced off the grey walls and matching parking lot, piercing his polarised sunglasses. For some reason, the sun was brighter outside the walls than inside the complex where he’d spent the last eighteen months. Brighter, warmer and more intrusive. He headed straight into the blinding light, his Salvatore Ferragamo wingtips clipping a steady beat that was soon drowned out by the crowd outside the fence.
A commotion arose when they saw him. People called out his name and shifted to get better views. Cameras clicked and microphones were thrust through the holes in the chain-link fence.
‘Mr Wolfe, what are your plans?’
‘Do you feel remorse?’
‘Where is your grandfather?’
Moving efficiently, his driver opened the back door to the Bentley and blocked their view. ‘It’s good to see you, Mr Wolfe.’
‘Thank you, James.’ He slid onto the supple leather seat, but the click of the closing door made his muscles tense. He didn’t like that sound any more.
He placed the stack of spiral-bound notebooks on the seat beside him and stretched his legs as the Bentley headed for the opening gate. Into the mouth of the lion … The crowd swarmed the car, shouting and fighting for the perfect angle. The sun’s rays bored through the tinted windows into the back seat. The man-made glass couldn’t stop Mother Nature, but it obstructed the flash-bulbs of the cameras that tried to pry into his private space.
The paparazzi couldn’t see him, but he settled his hand protectively over the stack of notebooks as the Bentley kept a slow and steady pace through the horde. There were more important things to think about, like the buttery softness of the leather seat, the brightness of that big yellow sun and the loud clank of the gate as it closed behind the moving car.
Freedom.
Awareness and caution coiled inside him like a snake. After eighteen months, he was finally a free man, but he wouldn’t unwind any time soon. In fact, he doubted he’d ever totally relax again.
‘Don’t you worry about this, sir,’ the driver said from behind the wheel. ‘I’ll get us through.’
‘I have no doubt.’ His voice was raspy from lack of use. As much as he wanted to barrel through the crowd of gnats, he kept himself contained. Patience. He had it in buckets, although the snake inside him was lashing out.
At last, self-preservation forced the photographers in front of the car to give ground and James was able to pull through and escape. Once free, he dropped the hammer on the gas and the car gracefully picked up speed.
The Bentley probably hadn’t been the most inconspicuous choice in the Wolfe garage, but the vultures from the press would have found Alex if he’d left in a city cab. If he was coming back out in the world, he wanted to do it in style and in comfort. He had nothing to apologise for.
The chauffeur turned onto an on-ramp for I-84 heading east. ‘You relax now, sir. I put some newspapers and your laptop back there for you. It’s only about an hour and a half’s drive until we’ll be there.’
Alex’s gaze snapped to the carrying case on the floor. A computer with the Internet, a connection to everything he’d been denied while he’d been detained. He didn’t have to settle for grade-school notebooks any more, but he kept the ones he had secure at his side.
Getting online was tempting, but he remained gazing through the window. There would be time enough for that soon. Right now he concentrated on the passing scenery, fully aware that the Federal Correctional Institution at Otisville was at his back.
He wouldn’t think of it any more. It was the future on which he was focused now. Firmly. With steel-like focus.
It was time to take back what was his.
* * *
The sun was hovering just above the horizon when, an hour and forty minutes later, the car arrived at Wolfe Manor. Just outside the affluent town of Bedford, New York, the family home was situated on a hundred acres of prime virgin real estate. The gates that closed behind the Bentley as it pulled onto the property were as big and strong as those in Otisville, but the wrought iron here was styled in a pattern of winding ivy and leaves.
More importantly, Ax could control them.
Tall trees crowded the long drive, grouping closer as the Bentley left the main road. The forest soaked up the light, making it seem darker than it really was. At long last, all those trees opened up again in a man-made clearing and the main house rose before them.