The Lone Wolfe by Kate Hewitt

Author:Kate Hewitt [Hewitt, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin Mills & Boon, Limited
Published: 2011-08-14T14:30:00+00:00

She tiptoed along the hallway towards Jacob’s forbiddingly closed door; no light shone from underneath. Maybe he was asleep. Maybe he had no reason to feel restless and edgy and aching, the way she did. Maybe she’d imagined it all. Mollie hesitated for a second, her hand hovering over the doorknob. Then, possessed by both a boldness and a courage she’d never known she had, she turned the knob and, with another deep breath, pushed the door open.

The bedroom was empty.

Mollie felt it before she saw it; it took a few moments for her eyes to accustom to the darkness. At least the hallway had been lit from the lamp left on in the living room.

The room felt empty, the door to the dark en suite bathroom ajar, and Mollie saw the bed was untouched.

Jacob had gone.

This was the test: a tumbler of whisky, glinting under the low lights from the bar. Jacob placed it in front of him and folded his arms. Then he waited.

He hadn’t performed this test in years, for it had become too easy. He needed greater challenges, bigger proofs of his self-control.

I am not that man.

Yet now he’d been reduced to what he always feared: that he was that man, the man his father had been, the man he’d shown himself to be when he’d lost control that terrible evening … no matter what the justification. He was just like his father.

No. He could conquer that impulse, control it. He had to, because if he didn’t—? What then? He would be no better than his father. No better than the boy who had placed his fist in his father’s face with so many years of pent-up rage, who had raised his hand to his own precious sister in a moment of anger.

He was that man.

Yet when he performed these tests, and succeeded, he felt, at least for a moment, that he wasn’t. Tonight he needed an easy victory. God only knew walking away from Mollie—from her mouth and her eyes and the sweet scent of her hair—had been far too hard.

Yet victory, tonight, did not come easily. He stared at the tumbler of whisky for twenty minutes. Once he reached for it. His hand trembled and he was appalled. He hadn’t reached for the glass in years. A decade, at least. He jerked his hand back, folding his arms so his fingers curled around his biceps hard enough to hurt.

He was so weak.

‘You going to drink that?’ The bartender glanced rather sourly at the untouched glass; undoubtedly he’d been hoping for a more lucrative barfly. Jacob smiled tightly. ‘Leave it.’

Shrugging, the bartender turned away. It was only a little past eleven, but Jacob was the only customer in the hotel bar. This wasn’t the kind of place to encourage drunks to order another round. Everyone else had retired to their far more comfortable hotel rooms.

Jacob knew he couldn’t go there. Not when Mollie would be so close, maybe even waiting. He’d fail that test for sure.

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