Wolf Island Read Online Free PDF Page A

you?”
    “I’m
a teacher. It’s my nature to be curious. Why won’t you answer my question?”
    A
clock on the mantel in her room chimed the hour in light, musical notes. “I’ve
answered all the questions I intend to for one day.”

Chapter Three
     
    The
scent of food permeated the air in the dining room and made Abby’s mouth water.
Devlin sat at the head of the table and looked at her. His hands rested on the
arms of the big chair, the tips of his fingers moving slowly back and forth, reminding
her of how he had caressed her skin earlier.
    She
tried not to think about what had happened up in her room, but the vivid
details of how he had stroked her neck, the bloom of sensual heat that had
formed between them, stayed fixed in her mind. A flush warmed her cheeks, and
his mouth curved slightly as if he read her thoughts.
    She
shifted her gaze to Otis, who sat across the table from her. She was no snob,
but it seemed a bit unusual for Otis to be sharing dinner with his employer.
There must be more to their relationship than just employer and employee.
Curiosity overcame her usual decorum. “How did you come to live at the castle,
Otis?”
    Otis
looked at her. “Mr. Dev and me go way back.” He reached for a piece of
cornbread, dipped one corner of the bread into his bowl, and took a big bite.
    “Really.
How so?”
    He
looked at Devlin, then back at her. Dev shifted in his seat and stared at his
food with a frown creasing his brow. Why did their conversation make him
uncomfortable?
    Otis
swallowed and rested his spoon on the rim of his bowl. “Trouble be like poison
ivy sometimes. If they lucky, people barely brush up against it and hardly get
a rash. Me, I broke out good. Top of my head to the soles of my feet. Nobody
else would take me in except Mr. Dev.”
    Interesting.
Abby sipped her iced tea and threw a surreptitious glance at Devlin, who glared
at Otis out of the corner of his eyes. “Why?”
    Otis
pursed his lips and rubbed a hand over his chin, contemplating her question.
Then he raised his head and looked at her. “Back in N’awlins, when I was a
teenager, I was a real bad ass. Always gettin’ into trouble. My mama worked two
jobs to take care of me when my daddy walked away. I started out shoplifting
things so Mama would have something nice to wear. I told her I saved my money
and bought the stuff, but she found out I stole it. She told me to stop, but I
wanted more for her and for me. Then I found out I could make money selling
drugs, until one day a kid in my neighborhood turned up dead from an overdose
of drugs I sold him.”
    Abby
set her glass down on the table. “I’m sorry.”
    “Ain’t
nothin’ for you to be sorry about. I caused it, and I have to live with that
for the rest of my life.”
    Oh, the poor man. She couldn’t imagine how Otis must feel, being
responsible for the death of a child. She sucked in a ragged breath. But Otis’s
explanation still didn’t answer her question. Why did Devlin allow Otis to live
there? How and where did they meet?
    What
did it matter? She couldn’t afford to let him or Otis get to her. Miranda was
still missing, but she couldn’t help but feel curious.
    Abby
swallowed a spoonful of gumbo. The flavor was exquisite, a mixture of spices
and just a touch of fire. She looked at Otis and smiled. “This is delicious.
Where’d you learn to cook like this?”
    Otis
grabbed another hunk of cornbread from the plate and rested it beside his bowl.
“Baton Rouge.”
    “Did
you work in a restaurant?”
    “I
learned from my mama. She was the best cook in our parish.”
    “How
did you find your way here?”
    Had
Otis gone to jail for his share of the responsibility in the death of that boy?
Was he in league with Devlin? Did they both have something to do with Miranda’s
disappearance?
    “Stop
grilling the poor man.” Devlin’s quiet but firm voice let her know he meant it.
    Otis
threw him an amused look and pushed back from the table. “I’ll get