With my cell in hand, I jog toward the bar where I left Britt. It pings as I round the corner, so I stop and swipe. “Sweetheart, are you alright?”
“Oi’m fine, mate. Thanks for askin’. Now, your lovely wife, that’s another story.” Digesting Lucky’s words, my hands shake as I picture the knife slicing her beautiful face.
“Shit. Is she hurt? She’s not picking up.”
“What did you expect? Did you fuck your ex, ya bloody idiot?”
“What? Hell, no. Why? Did Brittany say so?” My right fist clenches, and my ears pound while my friend sighs.
“No. Gwen did. She said you and the skank exited the dunny lookin’ thoroughly fucked. Which, by the by, you are, in the worst possible way.”
She saw us? Damn, no wonder she’s not answering her phone.Whooshing out my breath, I slide my hand through my hair, drop onto a bench, and keep a close watch for anyone or anything suspicious.
The bars must be closing soon because their drunken patrons fill the street and share sloppy goodbyes. Once a noisy group passes me, I return the electronics to my ear.
“Hell, it was all a show, so the informant would think Britt and I were together.”
Lucky curses under his breath, and in the background, dishes clatter. “Why not start at the beginning? Why the fuck are you with Brittany when you should be in bed with your missus? And why did you let your wife tail you?”
How many times tonight have I asked myself the exact same things? “In answer to your first question, Babcock said she was approached by an old friend willing to give up intel on Ledbetter in exchange for a deal. Secondly, I had no idea Gwen would follow.”
The Aussie snorts through his nose. “I’m not a Feddie, but don’t you blokes have protocols?”
His words hit home, and I wish like fuck I had never answered the damn door.
“Brittany claimed her guy, Evan Danbury, would only speak to me, and it had to be tonight.” My pride caused this disastrous night, and because of it, my wife could be bleeding out in the middle of nowhere.
“That didn’t ring any alarms?” The interrogation, although well-intentioned, is preventing me from finding Gwen.
I speak faster, so he’ll get the hint. “I called Trever. You remember my geek? Anyhow, he confirmed she works for Interpol.”
“So, without any backup, you followed your lunatic ex into a bar to meet a supposed snitch. While there, she kissed you on the lips. Right after, you two traipsed into the loo and came out looking thoroughly fucked. Have I got this right?” He makes me sound like a moron, and perhaps I deserve it.
“She said we had to make it real.”
“Well, kudos, mate. It worked. Your wife believed the whole performance. Bravo.” When he claps his hands, I’ve had enough and snap.
“Can Callie call her and explain? I would never cheat. We’re on our honeymoon, for fuck’s sake, I love my woman more than life itself. I need to know she’s okay.” My stomach churns, and I text Gwen again.
Me: Babe, I don’t care if you’re mad. Please message me if you’re alive.
“I’ll see what I can do but you may be spending the rest of your vacay on the couch.”
“Whatever. As long as she’s unharmed.” Cursing my stupidity, I walk to the watering hole where Brittany waits on the porch.
Arms crossed, she taps her painted toes. “What was your wife doing here?”
“She was our backup.” I love how her eyes widen.
“She’s an operative?” The psycho tries to interpret my facial cues. At one time, she might’ve been able to read me. Since then, I’ve perfected my poker face.
“My missus has three doctorates and security clearances up the wazoo.” I allow her to read me because this is all true.
Ms. Interpol scowls. “Well, for a smart woman, she screwed up royally. She spooked my rat, and he may never escape his hole again. No wonder your task force is failing so miserably.”
“Let’s go.” Done taking hits, I grab her forearm and lead her to where we parked the car.
“You are a total fuckup, and I should never have quit the FBI for you.” The venom in her tone surprises me.
