“Yes, it is. If you write down your goals and all the steps to achieve them, studies show you cannot fail.”
“Fucking horse shit.” He mutters this under his breath, but I hear it.
“Let’s agree to disagree.” Refusing to let him discourage me, I open a Gant chart and work our timeline. “We know law enforcement will continue their investigation. What evidence will convince them Brittany framed you?”
Wulf purses his lips. “If we could demonstrate how she planted my swimmers, it would go a long way toward setting me free.”
My fingers tap the keyboard. “Well, it’s not like she could stick your sperm in the freezer. Clinics use nitroglycerin. We could place some calls and-”
“Viability wouldn’t matter. Knowing Britt, she researched the science thoroughly.”
To make sure I understand, I rephrase and repeat. “What I’m hearing is, you think it may be next to impossible to prove Brittany stuck your expired manblast inside Joanne. So, without the video, there is little evidence Babcock killed her, especially if your lying ex says she witnessed you do it.”
“Yeah. Even with more forensics, any juror would find the turkey baster explanation far-fetched.” His defeatist attitude alarms me.
So, despite the ungodly hour, I ring Callie. “Can you put Lochlan on?”
“I wondered when you two would call.” At my boss’ agitated tone, I worry something has happened to Abbie and guilt overwhelms me.
What kind of mother leaves her five-year-old for a weeklong honeymoon?“How’s my daughter doing?”
My friend reads my mind. “She’s having a grand ol’ time playing with my kids. She’s better off here than…”
“Watching her stepdad get arrested. I hear you. Tell her I love her and will Facetime when she wakes up.” Determined to resolve this matter quickly, I wait while she calls her husband to the phone.
“Oi? Whassup?” As always, hearing his Australian accent puts me in a brighter mood.
Before I can answer, Axel grabs my cell and presses the speaker button. “Hey, pal, I assume Andy Quinn spoke to you?”
“Yeah, mate. No worries. Slate put a teamroighton it. Patten Securities won’t let you down. I must say though, your ex is a nasty piece of work.”
My hubby holds my hand and gives me a reassuring wink. “There’s more. Danbury sent my wife a clip of Brittany and Joanne arguing before I arrived. He says he’ll swap it for Gwen.”
“Not happening.” Lucky snaps back and my alpha responds in kind.
“Agreed.”
When the two discuss a completely different approach from mine, I snort out my nose.
Nuh-uh. They are not leaving me out.
Beyoncé slaps me a high-five because she knows my idea is far superior. With it, we can trap the damn informant, download the video, and arrest Ledbetter. Once the dust settles, I am sure my wolfy will forgive me.
While the men talk over their next steps, I put mine on paper. After he hangs up, he sighs and holsters his weapon.
“Grab Bear. I don’t care what your plan says, we’re heading back to the hotel.”
Chapter 15
“Hunger drives the wolf out of the wood.” ~early 14th century French proverb
Axel
In front of the elevator, with one eye on the hallway mirror, I call Lucky. The giant of an Aussie answers on the first ring.
“Forget somethin’, Wulf?” His whisper reminds me of the late hour, so I get right to the point.
“Gwen’s written a project plan.” Praying the man can help, I pace and wonder how he managed to stay married to his genius so long.
