Axel
“The images were not real, Gwen. Look at me.” Cupping her cheeks, I stare into her eyes and try to reach any rational part of her brain.
Pulling away, she sobs. “The knife or the FBI agent’s voice? You can’t be sure. We must drive back. Now.”
Sighing, I call Smithy, this time using the agency’s secure video chat app. “I have the girl’s mother on the phone. She needs to be convinced you’re not artificially generated.”
The twenty-something agent drops his jaw and sings at the top of his lungs. “You’ve got to know when to hold them, know when to fold them.”
He’s so damn off-key, I cringe until he reaches the final god-awful note.
Chuckling, he bows. “That’s my best shot, miss.”
Mouth agape, Gwen stares for a moment at the tiny monitor. “Yikes. Don’t give up your day job.”
“Yes, ma’am.” As Agent Smith’s grin spreads across his face, understanding dawns on her.
“AI would sing in tune.” She steals my words before I can utter them.
“More than likely, Ms. McGee.” The kid’s so proud, I feel bad because I know what’s coming next.
She grabs my cell from my hand and scowls at the screen. “Unless programmed not to. Now, put my ex on the phone.”
“He’s forbidden me to step onto his property.” The rookie turns his camera to a kiddie pool, where her five-year-old daughter dumps water from a plastic pail on the grass. “She’s fine.”
“What an asshole. Sorry. Not you, him.” Gwen hands back my device and sighs.
“I won’t feel comfortable until I can hold Abbie. We need to go back.” Her unblinking stare drills a hole into my soul and weakens my resolve.
I should say no, but she promised to confess everything if I drive her back. “Alright, give me a few minutes to figure out the logistics. I need to find someone who has the right security clearance.”
While I make my calls, Stephen Bourdeau’s driver’s license appears in my chat window. “Hey McGee, c’mere for a second.”
She stares at the image then hisses. “That’s him, Mr. Wears-A-Suit-To-The-Beach. Wait. He’s from Montreal? No way. Everyone knows Canadians are polite.”
While I hold out my phone, the clean-cut, would-be murderer stares back at me. “Perhaps he apologizes before he shoots his targets, eh?”
“Not funny.” Despite the declaration, she laughs. “You’re a sick-o. Know that?”
Glad she’s no longer freaking out about her daughter, I chuckle. “Don’t worry. My team will find him.”
“I hate to disagree, but he could’ve left the country by now.” She makes an excellent point.
As I’m about to nod my head in agreement, my cell rings. The Caller ID says it’s my boss, so I take six steps to my right. “Sorry, babe. I have to take this.”
“Has the McGee woman confessed yet?” Stillman doesn’t bother saying hello, which does not bode well.
“I’m close, sir.” I would expand, but she’s listening, and my boss has a loud, booming voice.
“Results, Wulf. The RF team needs to get back to work. They can’t stay underground forever.”
“Understood,” I say to the dial tone because he’s already hung up.
Dammit.I need her to tell me the truth. Recalling our heated kiss in the cafeteria, my cock swells, and I’m torn. I want to fuck her, my boss wants me to fuck her, and she wants to fuck me. What the hell, then, is my problem?
Outside in the parking lot, I squint up at the gathering clouds. After I check the weather report, I hop in the car, and start the engine.
As she buckles up, she touches my hand, about to shift gears. “Are you sure Abbie’s alright?”
