Raven: Gems of Wolfe Island Two

“No. I’m not blaming Aunt Agnes and Uncle Bruno. I love them. Their sons did something that I cannot forgive.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Did any of the stuff I just said to you bother you at all? The fact that your only daughter was tortured and raped? Physically and emotionally abused?”

“Of course, Katelyn.”

“Then understand that I need this. I need to be here. I need to complete my healing. I need to try to pay back the Wolfe family who has done so much for me.”

“So this new family of yours trumps your old family?”

“Until Dad is terminal, yes, they do.” I end the call.

How do I deal with the rage? How do I deal with the fact that I want to burst into sobs again? I can’t let my mother get to me like this.

I just can’t.

What can I do? The workout room. I quickly change into some sweats and head downstairs.

I was never a gym rat as a kid. And on the island, we were fed just enough to keep us thin and beautiful. The hunting gave us all the exercise we needed.

I slide my card through the door and walk into the gym. Exercise bikes, treadmills, ellipticals, weight machines. The steam room and sauna. Showers.

I don’t know how to use any of this equipment, and no one is here to instruct me. I take a look at the treadmill first. Seems pretty easy. The digital display allows me to figure out exactly which settings I need.

But who the hell wants to walk on a machine? The bikes and the ellipticals are much the same. User-friendly. And the weight machines.

This is not working. I don’t want to work out. But I do need to do something to take the edge off. I look down at my running shoes. They’re brand new and were in the closet when I got to the new apartment.

Run. I want to run.

I slide my key into my pocket along with my phone, I whisk past security, not bothering to tell the person on duty where I’m going, and leave the building.

And I run.

I whisk past the people walking down the busy city street, past the vendors, past the musicians playing for a few coins tossed into their guitar cases.

I run.

I run and I run and I—

Whomp!

I land on the sidewalk. On my ass.

Strong arms lift me. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” Blue eyes sear into mine.

“Yeah. Clearly I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“It’s totally my fault,” the man says. “I’m late for a meeting at the Wolfe building.”

“The Wolfe building?”

“Yeah, you know it?”

“I think everyone does. I work there. Or I’m going to be working there as of Monday.”

“Really?” he says. “I’m interviewing for a position with Legal.”

“You’re a lawyer?

“Guilty. But please don’t think less of me.” He gives me a dazzling smile.

“You should be able to make it. Your almost there.”

“Can I tempt you to have a cup of coffee with me after my interview?”

I freeze. “I…uh…”

He pulls a card out of his coat pocket. “If you change your mind, give me a call.”

I bite my lower lip.

“I’d love to stay and talk to you, but I am going to be late. I’m so sorry about bumping into you.”

“It’s no problem.”

“Good.” He flashes me another smile. “I hope I hear from you.” He waves and walks away briskly, looking over his shoulder and still smiling.

I drop my gaze to the card. Lance Stone.

What a name. Sounds like a porn star.

Lance Stone has beautiful blue eyes, close-cropped blond hair, and a nice smile. A very nice smile.

I don’t feel so much as a tingle.

Not surprising, given what I’ve been through. However, there was no lack of a tingle when I first laid eyes on Luke.

I walk by a trashcan, ready to throw Lance’s card in it, when something stops me.

Instead, I shove the card into my pocket.

13

LUKE

“What do you want, Trey?” my father demands.

Trey. For Lucifer the third. Everyone called me Trey when I was growing up. Everyone except my mother.

“Why the hell are you contacting me?” Dad demands again.

“I’m coming back. To LA.”

“No, you’re not. Do you know how much money I paid to get you out of the mess you’re in? If you come back, King will see you dead.”

“That’s the chance I’m going to have to take.”

“Are you kidding me? If anything happens to you, it will kill your mother.”

His words are not lost on me. My mother—the woman who gave me life—never gave up on me, no matter what.

My father continues, “When you left home and got into the drug trade, it nearly killed her then. You were stabbed twice, Trey, and then shot.”

“I was shot in the shoulder. My life was never in danger.”

“Your life was in danger the moment you stepped into that world. I’m not sure you understand how much it took to get you out of it.”