“Fuck me. You’ve been dipped in shite, mate. Why not cuff her to the bed? Feed her sleeping pills?” He doesn’t chuckle and always does, so I assume he’s not kidding.
“Not practical and could end in divorce. What would you do if it were Callie?”
“Well, when we first met, she was a bit bonkers. Now, it’s easier. I play the kid card, such as, ‘What will our little roo do if somethin’ should happen to her mum’?” His words strike my heart dead center. My wife would give her life for our daughter, and I suspect she’d do the same for me.
Not wanting to admit she’s stepped into the role of my savior, I deflect. “Ever since Britt entered our lives, she’s been reckless and overconfident.”
In the background, a door closes followed by cicadas chirping. “Well, you’ll have to stop her, mate. She can’t go off half-cocked. She’ll get herself killed.”
Rolling my eyes, I match his volume. “I would, but she doesn’t believe we’ll be able to prove my innocence without the damn video.”
“She may be right.” His logic grates on my nerves. I didn’t call him in the middle of the night to tell me what I already know.
My molars grind while I hold back a frustrated roar. “I need proof Brittany inserted my semen into her roommate. One which does not involve risking my wife.”
“Babcock may be a stubby short of a six-pack, but she’s brilliant, and had a year to plan your demise. It won’t be easy.”
Pacing the blue carpet, I stroll past the emergency exit and wonder how the hell I got myself into this mess. “All murderers make mistakes.”
“Your nutcase ex will testify you killed Cormack, and time of death backs up her story.”
“This is ludicrous. I’m a decorated FBI agent. I’m no killer.”
While I preach to the choir, my wife rolls her suitcase down the hall and bangs her palm on the down arrow. “I am not letting you rot behind bars, Axel Wulf. Call me as soon as you remove your head from up your ass.”
I race to her side as she waits for the elevator. However, instead of addressing me, she leans over my phone. “Hey Lucky, say hi to Callie for me. I’ll reach out to Abbie in the morning. Buh-bye.”
When I step in front of the opening doors, she glares at me with one index finger up in the air. “Don’t think I don’t know what you are up to. You’re trying to circumvent my projectplan, and I will not have it. We are either equal partners in this marriage or not partners at all.”
Knowing I do not react well to ultimatums, I bite my tongue, and let her go, After I mute my phone, I bang my fist into the stairwell’s steel fire door. “Fuck!”
Knuckles bleeding, I press my cell’s green icon, tamp down my ire, and lower my voice. “Lochlan, call Slate and have him assemble some of his best men. Have him check his emails. I’ll send him all he needs to know.”
Time to take off the kid gloves. I need warriors willing to bend the rules.
Chapter 16
“Be the wolf. The wolf is relentless never quits and doesn’t look back.” ~Unknown
Gwen
Finally.The clock on the wall of the all-night gym reads six. Yawning, I close my computer and wait at the bus stop. After breakfast, I’ll rent a car. In the meantime, I’ll add more risks and tasks to my project’s timeline.
For the hundredth time, I check my messages, then sigh. By now, I was sure Wulf would’ve messaged an apology. He could’ve at least reviewed my well-thought-out plan and together, made it better. Instead, he treated me like a child.
Girrll, if he finds your eavesdropping app on his phone, he’s gonna have a coronary.
Whatever. He’s done the exact same thing to me. The difference is that I know how to disable it, yet more proof I’m as capable as he is.
While I sign the rental car agreement, last night replays in my mind’s eye. I half-expected Axel to prevent me from leaving the hotel. Because he didn’t, I skip the first task and move to the next one on my list.
Driving to DC, I glance in my rearview mirror and imagine all the parties tracking me—Ledbetter, Danbury, Patten Securities, the FBI, and possibly Brittany. No woman has ever had more surveillance coming home from the beach.
Four hours later, I climb onto a blue Victorian front porch and ring the smart bell. A dog barks, children yell, and when thedoor opens, an opened-armed Callie smiles and pulls me into a hug.
“Mommy!” Abbie crashes into my legs.
Lowering to my knees, I pull her close. What follows can only be described as a riot of kids, food, explanations, and many relatives. As the daughter of a drug addict mom who died when I was about Abbie’s age, I relish these moments with my friends and hope their loving vibe will rub off on me.
