Free Surrender the Dark by Donna Kauffman Page A

on the front and back. While her security training had rebelled at the open visibility the windows provided to anyone looking in, her soul had cried out for the sensation of freedom she got when she was inside looking out. There was nothing remotely cell-like about this house.
    She felt as if she were perched on the side of something ancient and strong, held loosely in its arms, yet she only had to turn and there were miles upon miles of rolling hills and trees. And solitude. And peace.
    Unbidden, and unwanted, the image of McCullough flashed into her mind. As she had all morning, she thought of that moment when she’d turned back to find him staring out the kitchen window. The words he’d said had never reached her ears. All she’d heard was the sudden pounding of her heart, because for the first time,his expression was completely unshuttered. Had he known?
    Though she’d seen only half of his face, the pain and anguish had been clear. But that wasn’t what had sent her flying to the safe haven of her shop and her work like there were demons breathing fire on her heels.
    It had been the other emotion she’d seen, so naked, yet so true. Yearning. That was what she’d seen.
    And it had been like looking in a mirror. Had he turned to her in that moment, she would have shattered into a million pieces. So she’d run.
    And for the rest of the morning she’d told herself that she hadn’t finally discovered the reason for her persistent need to take care of him.
    With a sound that was half disgust, half despair, she shoved open her door, hopped down, and went around the back to unload her purchases. She hauled the bags containing his clothes up the front deck stairs and left them on the bare wrought-iron chaise by the door. He was probably sleeping, or at least in the bedroom, but she wasn’t ready to face him, so she took no chances.
    She hopped back down the stairs and tugged out the box with the canned dog food, smiling when she remembered how she’d scanned the shelves at the feed store. There had been every type of animal chow in the world. Rabbits, hamsters, cats, dogs, even goats and lambs. But no wolf chow. She made a mental note to talk with Jarrett again about alerting the authorities. There had to be a way to do so without jeopardizing him. The longer the wolf stayed, the more difficult itwould be to release him back into the wild. It might be too late already.
    She slid out the wood she’d purchased at the hardware store and tossed the bag of hardware supplies on top of the dog-food box. Hefting the box onto one hip, the wood onto the other, she set out around the house. She went into the garage and checked on the pup, cleaned up after him, fed him, and gave him another shop rag to gnaw on along with the big rawhide bone that had somehow found its way into her cart.
    “You won’t find this in the wild,” she told the puppy, who was now yipping and leaping around her ankles. She set the box of food down, opened one can, and dumped it into a bowl. “But then, I don’t think you’d find”—she examined the label—“chicken with cheese and liver in the wild either.
Bon appétit.
” She straightened and turned to go, but ended up watching as the pup circled the bowl warily a few times, then laughed out loud as he turned and pounced on it, alternately growling and mewling as he tore into the soft meat.
    He’s a cutie, she thought, noticing that he’d grown already in the few days he’d been with her. Finished with his meal, he warily stalked the knotted rawhide she’d tossed on his bedding. The urge to kneel and call to him, to play tug-of-war with him, was strong. So strong she turned and left without another glance. “Next thing you know, you’ll want to name the damn thing,” she grumbled under her breath.
    She scooped up the lumber and hardware supplies and headed on to her shop. It was there, nearly two hours later, that Jarrett found her.
    He stopped just inside the shop door. He’d had no