She asked Helen, “I haven't heard from you.Are we continuing your training?”
“I grabbed a few books, you know stuff like the Dark Web for idiots and cyber hacking for the technologically challenged.I will figure it out,” Helen replied.
“He's gone if you want to come back,” Sour Grapes said.
“Thanks, but I'm okay.”
“Donovan said he called you, and you ended the conversation abruptly,” Sour Grapes said.
“No, I had nothing further to say to him and terminated the call.”
“Cranberry, he tried you once more while I was standing close by and you didn't answer,” she said.
“I couldn't answer it,” Helen replied.“The phone was left in a trash can in Eau Claire at a rest stop.”
The pause was also an unspoken statement in the conversation.“You're interesting.”
“You, the cyber tracker, gave me a device that could be tracked.I ridded myself of it, and the ability for anyone to know where I am,” she said.“Safety is a priority.Take care of yourself.Cranberry out.”
She ended the call and shuddered.The woman rubbed her wrong.It baffled her that the assignment the woman was given to train an agent was poorly handled because she got some much-needed dick.Then, Helen shook her head at the audacity of the woman to call her concerned that the Cranberry had hurt the dick's feelings.
“You can't make this shit up,” she said, pulling in to park the SUV.The next time she rolled out, she would top it off.Technically, she should have topped it off before she brought it home, but her lip hurt, dinner would possibly be late, and the damned apples had to be sliced for that fucking pie.
****
IN THE HOME, SHE WORKEDquickly, still in her work clothes minus the boots but donning her favorite pair of fuzzy slippers.She was bending over, taking the pie out of the oven when Mustang entered through the back door.Since her back was to him, he didn't immediately see the lip.
“That is a delightful sight to see when a man walks through the door,” he said.“Coming up behind you for a hug.”
Helen placed the pie on a trivet, leaning into the strength of his broad chest.She felt his hands slide into the pockets of her skirt, stopping when his fingers went through the holes, feeling the kick ass pants and the top of a knife handle.He pulled back, and Helen turned to face him.His eyes grew wide at seeing her lip.
“Baby, what happened?Did you fall?”
“I got a fax today.Hungry?We have lamb chops,” Helen said.
“Yeah, let me...okay.I will get settled and prepare for supper,” he replied, walking away.
His nerves were all jangled.She'd gotten a fax today, which meant The Cranberry went to work on an assignment alone.The Alpha male in him kicked in that she didn't call him to let him know she was going to work or where.It had to be close by; she was home.The busted lip meant a fight.Some bastard had hit his wife in the mouth and busted her lovely lip.Anger bubbled up in him, and he took several deeps breaths to appear calm when he arrived in the kitchen to a beautiful lamb chop with saffron rice, haricot verts, and his momma's biscuits.
“This looks amazing,” he said.“You worked today; we could have gone out.You didn't have to cook.”
“I wanted that apple pie for dessert,” she said, her face tight.
He blessed the food, and they ate in silence.It took him less than two minutes to understand he was sitting at the table having dinner with The Cranberry and not his wife Helen.The husband needed to take a back seat, and the man, who was also a trained Technician, needed to enter the chat.
“Let's reason it out,” he said, cutting into the chop.“Start at the top of the highest thought, find the connectors, and move to the lowest common denominator.”
She looked up, her eyes full of anger and distant.Helen was in there, but so was The Cranberry.He waited to see what the Technician had to say.
“Swallowtail, the third slimy caterpillar in the Chrysalis, is in the Detroit area,” Helen said.“Her thing is young girls for older women.I need to find the tax records for buildings owned by Kurtzwilde that he may share a joint ownership in Michigan, around the Detroit area.”
“How will you cross-reference the accounting?”
“I need to look for patterns, movements, and food purchases in large quantities that are not going to shelters or restaurants,” she said.“It's how I located the warehouses in Wisconsin.The kids need to be healthy.No one wants to fuck a sick kid.”
Mustang's back straightened.This was the woman Yield had met and worked with that night.“Okay, what about the clientele she hosts?”
“I want to find her sommelier,” Helen said.“She has to have good wine, champagne, and spirits.Those deliveries will coincide with her feasts and parties.In order for the business to be lucrative, there needs to be a regular schedule for the parties, maybe monthly.”
