Page 4 of The Alpha's Sin
I know what to do when a woman starts crying. I’m a little rusty at it—my wife, Sharon, died over ten years ago and I only dated one other woman seriously before calling it quits. But I still have an idea of what she needs.
I leave the doorway and wrap an arm around her. She’s shivering as she sobs and I notice for the first time that the sweater-jacket thing she’s wearing is way too thin for an Autumn day. She’s from Florida, I remember—not used to chilly weather.
“Come on inside,” I tell her. “We need to get you warm.”
I bring her in and get her seated on the couch. It’s right across from the fireplace and I already have a fire going—it’s the first thing I do when I come home. It saves on the heating bills—plus I like the way it makes the house feel—cozy and warm and not quite so fucking empty.
Poppy is still sobbing like her heart will break and I feel my own heart squeeze in my chest. God, poor little thing! I haven’t seen her since the wedding—she looked radiant even though she was marrying my no-good brother. I remember thinking how beautiful she was—and how he didn’t deserve her.
And now he’s gone and proved me right.
She says he left her. I want details but not yet—she needs to finish her crying first. I keep my arm around her and she leans into me, burying her face in the side of my chest as her shoulders hitch. She smells like sadness—bitter and salty. Poor little kitten.
Because that’s what she reminds me of, despite the fact that I can smell she has Were blood in her veins. A little, lost kitten who needs someone to take care of her—to keep her safe.
At last her sobs calm down some and her shoulders stop shaking. She’s not shivering anymore either—good, the fire is doing its work.
“Okay,” I say, looking down at her. “Now tell me what that little shit did to you. Did you two have a fight or something?”
“No, nothing like that.” She looks up at me with wet eyes. Her eyelashes are all spiky from her tears and the firelight has turned her hair into a river of gold. She’s beautiful, I can’t help noticing, even when she’s in pain.
“What then?” I ask. “Is he all right?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs unhappily. “I guess so. He just left me about a week ago. He said he was…was going to work and then he…he…” She sobs and then catches her breath. “He never came home.”
I tighten my grip on her.
“Did you check?—”
“Yes, I checked all the hospitals—he wasn’t in any of them. Her voice drops. “And then I checked the bank. After my card declined.”
Shit! I feel my stomach clench. Tell me he didn’t…
“What happened when you checked the bank?” I ask her.
“It’s gone.” She shakes her head. “All the money I had from selling my Grandma’s house—gone.” She takes in a deep breath, obviously trying to control herself. “That’s when I realized he…he isn’t coming back.”
“Goddamn it!” I have to get up and start pacing—I’m too pissed off to sit still. “That little shit!” I growl.
I wish he was here so I could punch him in his fucking face—how dare he run off on his pretty young wife like this? And after robbing her blind, too! That fucker!
Dirk is bad news—he has been since I’ve known him, which is basically his whole life. There was a book awhile back called Children without a Conscience. It’s about kids who are basically born as sociopaths—they don’t see other people in the world as real or worthy of respect. Some of them get violent—others just turn into grifters. That’s Dirk—he’s a grifter. And now look what he’s done.
I turn back to the couch, only to see Poppy shrinking away from me. Her pretty eyes have gone huge as she stares up at me and they’re filled with fear. God—is she frightened of me? I realize that I’ve been growling, deep in my throat—it’s my Wolf wanting to come out. The full moon is getting near and my other half as well as my emotions are closer to the surface than usual.
“Sorry, I’m not mad at you,” I say hastily, pushing my Wolf down. “It’s Dirk—I can’t believe he did this to you. And yet…” I run a hand through my hair. “I can believe it.”
Her eyes go wide.
“Why? Has he done something like this before?”
“Nothing on this scale. You say he took all the money?”
“Over five hundred thousand dollars,” she whispers. “My Grandma’s house sold for a lot because everybody’s moving to Florida now. He kept telling me we were saving it for a house. That’s why our wedding wasn’t very nice.” She sniffs and swipes at her eyes
“Holy fucking shit.” I drag a hand down my face. Half a million—that little shit stole half a million and left her!
“The bank manager said there’s nothing they can do since we’re married,” she says. “And now I don’t have enough money to pay the rent or buy groceries or?—”
