Lone Wolf

by Diana Palmer, Kate Pearce, Rebecca Zanetti

Genres: Romance Anthologies & Collections; Western Romance

Synopsis

Loyal as a wolf—and just as strong and untamed—three solitary heroes are about to meet their perfect partners, in this thrilling collection from a trio of New York Times bestselling authors . . .



Colorado Cowboy by Diana Palmer: Fleeing her mother's killer, Esther Marist ends up at a rugged stranger's cabin. A wildlife rehabilitator with a menagerie that includes an elderly wolf, Matthews isn't the type to turn any creature away. As Esther heals, she realizes how much danger she's brought to his door—and how far he'll go to protect her.



The Wolf on Her Doorstep by Kate Pearce: Beth Baker senses her grumpy summer tenant must be in trouble when his pet wolf shows up at her door, demanding she follow. Conner O'Neil, solitary and stubborn, doesn't want Beth's help—but only he can show her how to trust again.



Rescue: Cowboy Style by Rebecca Zanetti: Trent Logan has his ranch, his friends, and his wolf, and that's more than enough—until a shivering city girl runs into the Cattle Club to escape a Wyoming storm. Her eyes hold a world of secrets, and he'll have to face the demons of his own past in order to save them both.

Release date: April 27, 2021

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 272

Reader says this book is...: action-packed (2) entertaining story (2) escapist/easy read (1) happily ever after (2) heart touching (2) heartwarming (1) high heat (1) realistic characters (2) satisfying ending (1) strong chemistry (2) terrific writing (2) strong heroine (1) swoon-worthy (1) triggers (1) unputdownable (1)

Sample

It was snowing. Esther Marist was cold and frightened walking along the highway. She pulled her blue fox jacket closer around her and nervously pushed back a long strand of platinum blond, curly hair. She was still wearing the gray wool slacks and the purple silk blouse she’d put on that morning. There was a dark stain on the hem of one pants leg. It was blood. Her mother’s blood.

Her pale blue eyes stared into the darkness without really seeing it. Her mother, Terry Marist, had just been killed in front of her eyes, from being picked up and literally thrown down the staircase by her latest gigolo boyfriend.

Terry had several homes. This one was in Aspen, Colorado. It was the prettiest of the lot. They’d come here against Terry’s wishes, several weeks ago, because her gigolo boyfriend was meeting somebody. Esther hadn’t been able to hear all of it, but there had been something said about Terry financing a scheme of his that two partners were involved in. They were going to meet the men here. Darrin had forced the two women into Terry’s Mercedes and driven them here from Las Vegas, where Terry had reluctantly financed several days of reckless gambling by her vicious boyfriend.

Terry had finally realized what Esther had known from the beginning, that Darrin was dangerous and money-crazy. But it was too late. Esther’s mother had paid the price, and if Esther couldn’t get out of Aspen before Darrin Ross found her, she’d be paying it as well.

Her mother had tears in her blue eyes as she shivered and clawed at her daughter’s cold fingers. Her leg under her short dress was twisted horribly from the fall. Her blond hair was covered in blood from where her head had collided with one of the banisters. She was gasping for breath and then Terry realized that there was a cut on her mother’s throat. Blood was pulsing out of it like a water fountain. Esther knelt beside her mother and frantically tried to stop the flow with her hands, but she couldn’t.

“I’ll call an ambulance!” she told Terry quickly, glancing up the stairs in fear that Darrin would come. She started to pull her cell phone out of the pocket in her slacks and remembered that she’d left it upstairs in the drawer of her bedside table, charging.

“No,” her mother choked. “Too late. I’m . . . dying.”

Terry put the huge seven-carat pink diamond ring she always wore into Esther’s palm and closed her daughter’s fingers around it. “Keep the will I gave you last night. Keep the ring, too. He thinks . . . I put it on the dresser, like he . . . told me to. Run,” she whispered frantically. “I’m so sorry . . . ! You can go to . . . your . . . grandfather . . .”

But before she could say anything more, she made an odd little sound and the light left her eyes. Her pretty face was white from the blood loss. Upstairs, the boyfriend was cursing. “Where is it?” he was raging. “Where’s that damned ring? I saw her put it . . . right here . . . on the dresser!”

Esther felt for a pulse, but her mother’s eyes were open, her pupils were fixed and dilated; darkness was settling in them, just like when one of Esther’s pets had died and she’d watched the same thing happen to their eyes. Terry was dead. Darrin had killed her! Tears ran down her cheeks as she took one last look at her only refuge in the world. Her mother was gone and she would be at the mercy of Terry’s murderous boyfriend.

Esther knew better than to stay. Darrin Ross was drunk and he was very dangerous when he drank. He’d taken up with her mother weeks ago, despite Esther’s pleas. But he loves me, her mother had said with a laugh, and you’ll get used to him. Esther hadn’t. And once he started knocking her mother around when she wouldn’t give him as much money as he wanted, Terry Marist had realized the mistake she’d made. Darrin was abusive and frightening. Terry was sorry, but she was too afraid to try and leave him.

He’d become obsessed with the enormous diamond ring that Esther’s mother had been given on her eighteenth birthday by her father. Even though they were estranged, Terry Marist spoke of her father sometimes and told her how kind he’d been to her when she was a little girl, before Terry married a man he didn’t approve of. The ring had sentimental value. But past that, it was worth a king’s ransom. Darrin had tried to take it off her finger once, when she was asleep, but Terry’s poor hands were arthritic and swelled badly. He’d been sure at the time that all Terry had would be his one day, so he’d found an excuse to give her about what he was doing. He was just massaging her poor fingers because she’d been crying out in her sleep. Esther knew better. Terry hadn’t.

Now, Terry had truly left him and Esther was going to be next unless she could get away before he came downstairs. He was still upstairs, searching for the ring. He yelled that he’d seen her take it off and put it on the dresser, because he’d threatened her if she didn’t. So where was it?

That explained why Terry had it hidden in her hand. Esther had given her mother one last, anguished look, grabbed her coat and purse off the coat tree, and ran out into the snowy night.

She had only the money in her purse, her unspent allowance. She didn’t even have a credit card, having always used her mother’s. The money was all in her mother’s name as well, and Darrin would have access to it; but not at once. He wouldn’t know that Terry had cut up her credit cards so that Darrin wouldn’t have access to them, soon after they’d arrived in Aspen. She’d had the premonition then and shared it with her daughter. Terry was truly frightened after the terrifying trip up from Vegas, with Darrin driving the Mercedes, laughing about how much money—Terry’s money—he was going to spend on this new venture of his.

Most of Terry’s estate was tied up in stocks and bonds and property, not easily liquidated. The ring Esther wore was free and clear and could be hocked or sold for a fortune. Where could she go? She was twenty-three years old and she’d never worked a day in her life. She’d been pampered, taken care of, her every desire fulfilled. Her mother’s great wealth had cushioned her, spoiled her. If her mother had only loved her . . .

Well, over the years she’d managed to accept the neglect, while the housekeeper, Agnes, had shared holidays with her and been a wonderful substitute mother. Esther’s mother was perpetually in search of the right man, so there was a succession of them in the villas she kept both in the United States and other countries. Esther had learned quickly to stay out of the way. Her mother didn’t like having a grown daughter; it interfered with her vision of herself as a young and beautiful woman. Despite the face-lifts and spas and couture garments, her age was getting hard to hide. When she was at her lowest ebb, cast off by a younger lover, she’d met Darrin Ross. And it had all started to come apart. Even the slight affection Terry had felt for her daughter was suddenly gone, in the passion she shared with Darrin. But so soon, the passion turned to fear. Darrin drank heavily and used drugs, and he had very expensive tastes. Terry became a hostage to his desires. Along with her, Esther, too, became a victim. And now her mother was dead and she was cast adrift in a cold and frightening world, with no family.

Her mother had mentioned a grandfather. But who was he? Her mother spoke once of a falling-out she’d had with her remaining parent over her choice of husbands when she’d married Esther’s easygoing, gambling father. Her father was long dead, but the feud apparently remained. Esther knew her grandfather’s last name but not where he lived, because she hadn’t been told. She couldn’t go through family albums or correspondence, because those were in the main house back in Los Angeles, where Terry and Esther had lived. Esther didn’t even have her cell phone. It was in the drawer beside her bed, still charging. She’d forgotten to bring it downstairs this evening, having come running when she heard her mother scream.

She could have cried, but it would do no good. She was running for her life. She could call the police, of course, but Darrin would tell them it was a terrible accident. He wouldn’t tell them that he’d thrown Terry down the staircase, and when the police left . . . It was too terrible to think about.

There had at least been three 911 calls from the address previously, though, when Darrin had attacked Terry over money. Agnes had called the police despite Terry’s pleas. Try as he might, Darrin couldn’t intimidate Agnes, who had powerful relatives. He wasn’t drunk enough to do that, but he had pushed Terry into firing her. A temporary housekeeper had been engaged to work in her place, and Esther’s heart had been broken at the treatment her surrogate mother had suffered. Terry had taken Darrin’s side against her daughter for protesting. Darrin had threatened her with a black eye if she interfered with him again or if she dared to call the police. Those 911 calls would be on record. Even though Darrin was sure to swear that Terry’s was an accidental death, there would be an investigation, because of Darrin’s prior abuses. Surely he’d be found out!

Esther was far too afraid to do anything. She would call the police, she decided, so that at least Darrin wouldn’t have the opportunity to hide the body. She’d do it anonymously, however, and from a pay phone. If she could find one. She’d never used a public phone. She wasn’t sure where to go. But they recorded those calls, didn’t they? And what if Darrin’s friend at the police station recognized her voice and traced the call before she could get out of town? What then?

Buses ran. But Darrin would be after that diamond, and even worse, after her mother’s will. Esther hadn’t understood why her mother had stuffed the legal document into her purse the night before. You must keep it close, she’d said, and never take it out of your purse. Esther had asked why. Her mother had looked horrified and murmured something about a terrible threat. Darrin was jealous. He thought she was seeing someone else. He wasn’t about to give up his luxury bed and board and he’d already started drinking. Her mother had seen an attorney, unknown to Darrin, and changed her will so that Darrin inherited nothing. In one of his rages, Darrin had gone with Terry to an attorney and had her revise her will to leave everything to him. Intimidated, Terry had agreed. But two days before her death, she got up enough courage to go back to the attorney and change the will so that her daughter would inherit everything. She told the lawyer she’d had a premonition. So now Esther stood to inherit the incredible amount of wealth, and she had the new, revised will, naming her beneficiary. She had the diamond, too. But the will and the ring were only useful if she lived.

She had to get out of town and somewhere she could hide, where Darrin couldn’t find her. When she was safe, she could decide what to do. Tears stung her eyes. Her poor, sweet mother, who had no sense of self-preservation, who trusted everyone. Esther knew what Darrin was the minute she saw him. Her mother was certain that he was only misunderstood, and he was so manly!

The first time Darrin had struck her mother in the face, Terry had realized with horror what sort of person he really was. But it was too late. He intimidated her to the point of separating her from every friend she had. He watched her, and Esther, like a hawk. The abuse had grown so much worse when he insisted on coming here to Aspen, to the grandest of Terry’s many homes. They didn’t dare tell anyone. He had a friend on the local police force, he told them, and he’d know if they tried to sell him out. They didn’t have the nerve. Agnes, the only one in the household who wasn’t afraid of him, had called 911, and been fired. Poor Agnes, who’d sacrificed so much to take care of the little girl Terry ignored. It broke Esther’s heart.

And now her mother was dead, and Esther was running for her own life. She didn’t have the price of a plane ticket. But she knew that Darrin had that friend on the police force. He might have someone who knew how to hack credit card companies to find out if a card in Terry’s name had been used. So it was just as well that Esther didn’t have the card. She couldn’t fly, because she didn’t have enough for a ticket. She couldn’t take a bus because she could be traced that way. Even a train would keep records of its passengers.

But what about a truck? A big rig? She was walking beside a major highway and a huge semi was barreling through the snow that covered the road. Impulsively, she stepped out into the road. If the truck hit her, she wouldn’t be any worse off, she thought miserably. At least she’d be with her mother.

The truck driver had good brakes. He stopped, pulled to the side of the road, and got out, leaving the engine idling.

He opened the passenger door and looked down at the pretty little blonde. Her long hair was tangled and she was wearing a fur jacket—probably fake, he thought gently, like that gaudy paste ring she was wearing that sparkled in the headlights. She didn’t look like a prostitute. She looked frightened. “Miss, you okay?” he asked in a drawl.

She smiled wanly. “I’m sorry,” she said, almost choking on anguish. “I’ve just lost my mother and I wasn’t . . . wasn’t thinking. I have to get to my cousin.”

He smiled gently. He was an older man. She didn’t know why, but she felt that she could trust him. “Where’s your cousin live?” he asked.

“Up near the Wyoming border,” she blurted out. Her mother had mentioned a friend who’d lived there once, but she couldn’t remember a name. “Benton, Colorado,” she added.

He chuckled. “Now that’s a hell of a coincidence. Come on.” He led her back to the truck and knocked on the sleeper cab. A sleepy, heavyset blond woman opened her eyes. “Jack?” she asked the man. “What’s wrong?”

“We’ve got a passenger. She’s headed to Benton, hitchhiking.”

Esther started to deny it, but this was working out better than she’d dreamed. “I have to get to my cousin,” she explained in her soft voice. “My mother . . . just died.” She choked up.

“Oh, honey.” The blond woman, dressed in jeans and flannel, tumbled out of the sleeper and caught Esther up in her arms, hugging her. “There, there, it’s okay. We’ll get you to your cousin.”

Esther bawled. She’d lucked up. At least she had some hope of getting away before Darrin could catch her. And he’d never think that she’d be hitching rides in big rigs.

“You get right in front with Jack. I’ve been driving for twelve straight hours and I’m burned out.” She chuckled. “We’re a team. Well, we’re married, but we’re both truckers, so I’m his relief driver.”

“It must be interesting,” Esther said.

“Interesting and never dull,” the woman said, smiling.

“Thanks so much,” Esther began.

“We all have dark times,” the driver, Jack, told her. “They pass. Buckle up and let’s get going. You had anything to eat?”

“Oh, yes, I’m fine, thanks,” she lied.

He saw through that. Her pale blue eyes were full of anguish. “There’s a great truck stop a few hours down the road. We’ll pull in and have some of the best barbecue in the country. You like barbecue?”

“I do,” Esther said, and smiled.

“Okay, then. Let’s be off!”

The trucker’s wife was Glenda, and they were the nicest couple Esther had ever met. Down-to-earth, simple people, with no wealth or position, but they seemed outrageously happy. They made her feel like family.

She paid for her own supper out of her allowance that she hadn’t had time to spend, and theirs, despite their protests. “You’re giving me a ride and you won’t let me pay for gas, so I’m buying food,” she said stubbornly, and smiled.

They both laughed. “Okay, then,” Glenda agreed. “Thank you.”

“No. Thanks to both of you,” she returned.

After supper it was back in the truck again. Four hours down the road, the truck stopped and Glenda got behind the wheel.

Esther was amazed at how the small woman could handle the big truck. “You’re amazing,” she exclaimed. “How in the world can you manage such a huge vehicle?”

“My daddy taught me to drive when I was only eleven,” Glenda said as she pulled out onto the highway and the big truck started to slowly accelerate. “I can drive anything, even those big earthmovers. I love heavy equipment,” she added with a flush of embarrassment. “It’s why I married Jack. He drove these big rigs, and I loved them. Well, I loved him, too,” she confessed. “The big lug. I couldn’t do without him.”

Esther, who’d never really been in love, just nodded as if she understood. She really didn’t. She’d lived like a hothouse orchid all her life, kept at home because her mother didn’t like it if she had friends; they interfered with her boyfriends coming and going from whichever house they were living in. They rarely stayed in one place. Esther had been sent off to school, to a boarding school, and she’d hated every minute of it. When she came home, her mother was curt and unkind to her. Esther got in her way. She was younger and prettier than Terry, and when Terry’s boyfriends came to the house, many of them flirted with Esther instead. Terry spent most of her time avoiding her mother and her mother’s lovers. She wanted to leave, but she had nothing of her own. Everything belonged to Terry, and she wasn’t shy about sharing that tidbit with her daughter if she ever rebelled. Terry could be icy and she was distant most of the time. Sweet Agnes had been Esther’s anchor. She still missed the housekeeper.

Now here she was, alone and terrified, out on her own for the first time in her twenty-three years, with her mother lying dead back home. And Darrin no doubt hunting her for that diamond ring that was worth millions of dollars, not to mention that he needed her to be executrix of her mother’s estate so he could get to the money. He had the false will, which would give him access to part of the property. He would want it all. But he and her mother weren’t legally married, so he had no clear title to her estate. In the will that he thought was the true will, Terry had only made him beneficiary to her bank accounts. He hadn’t read it thoroughly enough to realize that, and he certainly didn’t know about the revised will in Esther’s purse. When he found out, he’d be quite capable of getting one of his underworld friends to go after her.

The thought arose that if Darrin could find her, he could probably force her to sign something giving him access to Terry’s entire estate, no matter what violence it required, and do that without a pang of conscience. But he had to find her first, and she was going to make that very difficult.

They got to the outskirts of Benton before dawn. Esther couldn’t afford to go to a motel and have people see her and wonder who she might be, because it was a very small town. Impulsively, she asked the couple to let her out at the end of a long driveway. She saw a small cabin in the distance with lights blazing inside it, through a drift of snow.

It looked like a wonderful refuge, if she could convince whoever lived there to let her stay, just for a day or two, until she could make other arrangements. Surely it was a couple, maybe with kids, and she could work something out.

It was an impulsive move, but she had these rare flashes of insight. Usually they were good ones.

“That’s where my cousin lives,” she lied brightly. “Thank you so very much for the ride!”

“You’re very welcome.” Glenda hugged her. So did Jack.

Glenda handed her a piece of paper. “That’s my cell phone number. If you need help, you use it,” she said firmly. “We’ll come, wherever we are.”

Tears stung Esther’s eyes. “Thanks,” she choked.

Glenda hugged her again. “You take care of yourself.”

“You do, too.”

They climbed back into the truck and waved. They looked very reluctant to leave her. It made her feel warm inside. She forced a smile, turned, and walked down the long trail to the little cabin. She’d memorized the name on the side of the truck. One day, she promised herself, when she had her fortune back, she was going to make sure that the pair had a trucking business of their very own.

As she struggled through the deep snow, her ankle boots already wet, her hands freezing because she didn’t have her gloves, she felt as if she were slogging through wet sand. The night had been an anguish of terror. Her mother, dying, apologizing, Darrin raging upstairs, Esther terrified and not knowing what to do or where to go. She shivered. She had no money, no friends because they never stayed in one place long enough for her to make any since she’d left boarding school, she didn’t even have a change of clothing. And the fox fur, while warm, wasn’t enough in this freezing blizzard. She must have been out of her mind to get out of a safe truck with only the hope of a warm place to stay in the distance. A couple must live there, she told herself. Surely they wouldn’t turn away anyone on a night like this!

It was almost daylight by now. She was just a few steps away from the front porch of the cabin when her body finally gave out. She fell into the snowdrift with a faint little cry, lost in the howling wind.

Inside the cabin, Butch Matthews was just turning off the television. It was late. He didn’t sleep much. Memories of the war in Iraq, where he’d lost an arm to a mortar attack, still haunted him. He had nightmares. He was all alone here in this cabin on the outskirts of Benton. He’d been engaged once, but she’d gone back to an old boyfriend because, as she put it, she couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping with a one-armed man.

He sure could pick them, he thought bitterly. Well, he had a good job with the state wildlife division, and he was a licensed rehabilitator. He looked down at his companion, a three-legged wolf named Two-Toes, who was old and almost blind.

“At least I’ve got you for company, old man,” he sighed, tugging at the neck of his blue-checked flannel shirt. “Damn, it’s getting cold in here. I guess I’d better get in a little more wood before it all freezes.”

He patted the wolf, ran a hand through his own thick, short black hair. His dark eyes went to the sheepskin coat hanging by the front door. He wasn’t a handsome man, but he had regular features at least. He was tall and fit, despite losing part of his arm up until just below the elbow. He had jet-black hair and dark brown eyes, and big hands and feet. He also had an inner strength and an oversized dose of compassion. Everyone liked him, but he didn’t mix well, though, and he kept to himself. The loneliness got to him once in a while. It got to him tonight. He was more alone than he’d felt in his life. Both his parents were long dead. His fiancée had bailed on him. There wasn’t anybody else. Not even a cousin . . .

He opened the door and his eyes widened. There, in the snow, was a body. It had blond hair and a fur jacket.

“Good God!” he exclaimed. He ran to her, turned her over gently. She was beautiful. Perfect complexion, long blond hair, pretty mouth. And unconscious.

“At least you’re a lightweight,” he murmured as he shifted her so that he could get her over one shoulder in a fireman’s lift.

He carried her quickly into the house and eased her down on the leather sofa. “Don’t eat her,” he told Two-Toes firmly.

The old wolf sat on its haunches and panted.

Butch closed the front door and found an afghan that he’d bought at a summer festival in Benton. He eased the woman out of the fur jacket and winced. She was wearing a very thin silk blouse. No wonder she was almost frozen. And what was she doing out in the middle of nowhere, without a suitcase? He noted the hem of her slacks as he wrapped her up. Something dark had stained them. Blood?

He wrapped her in the afghan and went into the kitchen to make coffee. While it perked, he got down an extra mug. Something hot might help. He wondered if he should call an ambulance. Hopefully, she’d only fainted. He’d have to check her pulse and breathing. He’d had basic first aid courses as part of his army training, and later, forest service training, so he knew how to handle emergencies.

He poured coffee, turned off the pot, and carried the mugs to the coffee table.

He sat down beside the woman and shook her gently by the shoulder.

She opened her eyes. They were blue. Pale blue. She looked up at him, disoriented. “I passed out,” she said in a soft, sweet voice.

He smiled. “Yes, you did.”

She blinked and looked around her. “This is the cabin. I saw it from the road . . .” She’d have to make up some excuse for being here, and she wasn’t good at lying. If he tossed her out, she didn’t know what she’d do. On the other hand, what if he was like Darrin? Faint fear narrowed her eyes.

There was an odd growling sound nearby. A dog, maybe? She loved dogs. If this man had pets, he must be nice. But her heart was pounding with mingled fear and worry and grief.

“It’s okay,” he said, watching the expressions cross her face. She looked very young. “You’re safe.”

“Safe.” She sat up, just in time for Two-Toes to amble over and sit down beside her.

Esther’s eyes widened and she held her breath.

“That’s just Two-Toes,” the man said in a pleasant deep voice. “He’s blind. He growls when he doesn’t know people, but he’s never bitten anyone. Who are you, and what are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”

She recovered her senses and looked at him. The man was tall and well built. One shirtsleeve was empty at the bottom. He wore boots and jeans and a flannel shirt. He had dark hair and eyes. He was smiling.

“Well?” he prompted, but not in a mean way.

“I thought my cousin lived here,” she lied. “Barry Crump and his wife, Lettie . . .”

“No Crumps here.” He frowned. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever known anybody with that name.”

“Oh, dear,” she said, biting her lower lip.

“I didn’t see a car when I found you.”

It was a question. She flushed. It made her face brighter, vulnerable. “I don’t own one,” she said. And she didn’t. Not anymore. “I hitched a ride.”

“That’s dangerous,” he pointed out.

She was drawing blood with that tooth in her lower lip.

She sat up, displacing the afghan, and ran a hand through her tangled hair. “Oh, coffee,” she exclaimed, and almost fell on it. “I’m so thirsty!”

“Feeling better now?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. I was just so tired. It’s been a long night,” she added without elaborating. “I’ve never fainted before. I guess it was the cold.” She smiled shyly. “Thanks for saving me.”

“No problem. I’m a licensed rescuer for damsels in distress,” he teased.

“What’s a damsel?” she wondered.

“Damned if I know, really.” He chuckled. “But you were in need of rescue. I slay dragons, too, in case you ever need one taken care of.”

She grinned. Her whole face lit up and she was extraordinarily beautiful.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Esther,” she said quietly. “Esther Marist.” She cocked her head and studied him. “Who are you?”

He smiled. “Butch Matthews.”

“Thanks for bringing me inside,” she said softly. “I guess I’d have frozen to death out there.” She shivered. “I’m not really dressed for this much snow.”

Butch Matthews was no dunce. Something traumatic had happened. . .