Wrath's Storm: A Masters' Admiralty Novel by Mari Carr (desktop ebook reader .txt) 📕

of adding automatic ground-level flamethrowers that would ignite when the motion or infrared sensors were tripped, but his beta test had resulted in several flaming bunnies that still haunted his nightmares.

The room he led them into was a small living space with two narrow windows on either side of a stone fireplace. There were three leather and wood armchairs, each with matching footstools, in a semicircle facing the fire.

In his deranged fantasy life, when he and Annalise were married and living here, there was always a shadowy third person—their third—so he’d made sure there were three chairs in this cozy little room. A cozy room with bulletproof glass windows and access to one of the seven safe rooms.

A second closed door led to the dining room, and beyond that, the kitchen, which he’d enlarged considerably, since he knew she liked to sometimes work at the kitchen counter for a change of scenery. The inset marble block in one section of the counter was for baking, since she’d told him marble worked best for pastry making because it stayed cold.

The urge to say all these things, to give her—well, them, since Walt was here—a tour was so strong, he had to bite the inside of his cheek. He wanted to tell them that the chairs were custom made by a local furniture company. That he’d repaired the chimney for this fireplace himself and re-mortared the stone. Tell her, them, about the security system and his Oma’s homemade quilt that covered the trinity-sized bed in the master suite.

Instead, he pointed at the chairs. “Sit.”

Yeah, that was better.

Walt raised one eyebrow but guided Annalise over to the center chair. Then he crouched beside her. “Hi there, Annalise. Can you talk to me for a second?”

Oh, wait. Walt was a doctor.

And Annalise was either in shock or had done a mental retreat. Dissociated. He’d spent enough time with her that he had picked up his fair share of terms. He was pretty sure he’d attended more of her lectures than some of the actual students.

Either way, if it had been just him and Annalise, he would have been preparing to call someone to come out and check her physical health.

Her mental health?

Well, he had a pretty good idea of what was going on in that beautiful brain of hers, and he would have to find a way to break her out of her downward spiral.

“Annalise, is it okay if I touch you? I want to touch your wrist with two fingers.” Walt held up two fingers on his left hand.

She didn’t respond. No comment.

Walt turned to Jakob. “Can you repeat what I just said, in German?”

Jakob shifted so he could see Annalise’s face and both doors, then quietly repeated exactly what Walt had said.

Annalise blinked and her eyes focused. She looked at Jakob and spoke in German. “You want to touch me?”

There was panicked, excited screaming in Jakob’s head because he thought, hoped—verdammter Mist—there was longing in her voice. He held very still, replying in the same language. “I was repeating what Dr. Hayden said.”

Annalise hugged her bag tighter against her chest, turning her face away from him.

The screaming in his head was now accompanied by a voice asking him why he hadn’t just said yes. He could have confessed his undying love and devotion and…and…

Utterly betrayed her trust by crossing the line of professionalism, by taking advantage of her in a moment of vulnerability.

“Annalise, hey there.” Walt shifted, an easy smile on his face, his eyes kind. “Can I touch your wrist? I’d like to check your pulse.”

Mutely, she dropped her right arm to lay across her lap.

Walt tapped his smartwatch, starting a timer, then found her pulse. After half a minute, he looked up. “Your pulse is a little fast, so I’d like you to take a few slow, deep breaths for me. And maybe a glass of water?”

The last was addressed to him. Jakob stared at Walt, then pointed toward the door that led to the dining room and kitchen. He wasn’t going to leave Annalise.

Walt looked back and forth between them and then said, “Okay, I’ll go find some water.”

When Walt was gone, Jakob let down his guard. Not all the way, of course. Without his walls up, his self-control dialed to nine, he talked too much. Said stupid, inane things no one wanted to hear.

And while his ability to remain quiet hadn’t been a natural part of his personality, rather something that had been beaten into him—literally—right now, Annalise needed him to be calm, to comfort her.

He eased up on his control so that when he moved to stand in front of her and she met his gaze, he smiled, just enough that she smiled in turn. Seeing her smile made him feel like everything was right with the world. As if for all the good and bad he’d done in his life, he knew how to make this woman feel safe. How to make her smile. And that was a worthwhile achievement.

The door opened, and Jakob retreated a few steps.

Walt sat down on one of the footstools and passed Annalise the glass.

She took it, her hand shaking.

Jakob put his hands behind his back so she wouldn’t see his fists clench.

Over the next five minutes, Annalise drank the whole glass of water, and Walt checked her pulse a second time, confirming that it had slowed.

Annalise finally relaxed enough to let go of her bag, which Walt took from her, placing it, and her empty glass, on the floor.

Jakob needed end tables in this room, one for each chair. What kind of end tables did she like? Maybe the guy who made the chairs would make end tables with hidden weapons drawers.

“I’m so sorry, Dr. Hayden,” she said softly.

“Walt,” he said. “And sorry for what?” Walt gave her an easygoing, friendly, reassuring grin that Jakob could never have managed. He wasn’t sure his face could make that expression if he wanted it to.

“For putting you in danger.”

“That was Eric, not