Chapter 5
Go away, Wolf, and have a better idea, if you can. ~Clever Polly and the Stupid Wolf, by Catherine Storr
Gwen
I can’t believe Lucky and a man named Wulf put me in a Town Car, and like the spineless moron I am, I let them do it. I should’ve said no, fought back, and stood by Henry. What the fuck is wrong with me?
My therapist will feast on my self-sabotaging behaviors for the next twenty years if I live that long. Not long ago, she suggested I often resort to childhood thought patterns. I tried to change them, and still, if Simon says jump, I fucking do it.
“Shit!” When I punch the seat in front of me, the sixty-ish driver glances in the rearview mirror and raises his brows.
“Are you alright back there?” For a kidnapper, he’s extremely polite. Perhaps I can use this to my advantage.
“I need a bathroom. Sorry, too much coffee.” My head tilts, and I attempt to flutter my lashes.
Frowning, his eyes shrink and flick off me to the road. “Not a good idea, miss.”
I try the door handle, and it doesn’t give. It figures he’s engaged the child locks.
Crap. Lochlan’s firm often partners with law enforcement. “Am I under arrest?”
“Do you want to be?” His question is a clear warning, but in one way, I breathe easier. At least he won’t stop the car, shoot me in the head, and leave my body for the turkey vultures.
“Fine. Don’t blame me if I poop in your back seat.”
“Understood.” His arrogant smirk reminds me how everyone assumes I”m eighty-five-point-seven percent milquetoast.
The next time he glances at me, I glare back. “I could garrote you while you drive.”
The irritating guy starts laughing. “Seriously? I read your file, miss.”
“Well, if I were a killer, you’d be the first to go.” Somehow, the threat sounded better in my head.
“Yes and thank you. Why not take a nap? The time will go by faster.”
Boron, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, fluorine… As I chant, another text appears on my phone.
UNKNOWN: If you care about Abigail, don”t talk to anyone about anything.
Before I can hit save, the message disappears. In the past, I may have been spineless, but I have recently attended self-help meetings and therapy and yelled at myself in the mirror. I am strong. I am invincible. I am a goddamned woman. Fuck this shit.
I ping my boss, and when she doesn’t pick up, I leave a message. “Calliope, call me immediately. I mean it.”
As I rue my shaky, squeaky unintimidating voice, I note the driver missed our exit and poke at his rock-hard shoulder. “The lab is the other way.”
“I know.” His hands grip the wheel, and my heart races.
“Wh-Where are you t-taking me?” Shit, what if he’s going to murder me?
“Calm down. We’re making a quick stop at the FBI office.” Apparently, he’s never read Reassurance for Dummies.
If someone tells you to calmdown, you’re f’ing screwed. “Why? I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Dammit, I swear I will grab you by the neck and strangle you if you don’t let me out of this car right now.” Splaying my fingers apart, I start to circle his thick neck.
He chuckles and shakes his head. “If I put my foot on the gas, the airbags will protect me, and you will die.”
Lowering my hands, I pout and flounce back in the seat. “You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do.” His gaze narrows in the mirror, and I do the same.
“If you’re a Fed, the least you could do is show me your badge.” I picture him reaching into his back pocket. Once he’s distracted, I can climb to the front, overtake the vehicle, and race to freedom.
“My ID might be a fake. Can you tell the difference?” God, he is so logical, I want to pop his eardrums, if only to see how he would react.
Instead, I cross my arms and act like I have the advantage. “Ah ha! You make my argument for me.”
“And what would that be?”
“You’re not an FBI agent. You’re a… a rotten spy and want me to tell you all I know, but I won’t. My mouth is sealed.”
Unimpressed by my machinations, he sighs heavily. “Have it your way, miss. Our ETA is about an hour. Why don’t you get some rest?”
Dammit. I haven’t done anything wrong. I didn’t share any intel our enemies didn’t already know. Without Callie to back me, the Feds will never believe me. Holy shit. What if they arrest me and throw away the key, or I lose my job and live out of my car? A keen knowledge of personal EMF weapons isn’t a skill in high demand. I suppose I could work for a mobile phone company… at a fraction of my current salary.
A tear slips down my cheek, and wiping it away, I slap my face. The new me is not a victim. She takes charge of her life. She never gives up, and she never surrenders. Gwen is not Genny.
Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium… I continue chanting until I reach oganesson, the heaviest element ever created with a half-life of less than a millisecond.
I must fall asleep because the next thing I know, the driver stands beside my open door, staring at me. “Miss? We’re here.”
Feeling like a bus sideswiped me, I wipe the drool from my mouth and rub the gook from my eyes. “What time is it?”
He glances down at his phone. “Oh-five-oh-seven.”
He makes a point of leaning into the back seat and sniffing. “Thanks for not shitting in my car.”
“Screw you.” I tug down my dress and run my fingers through my hair.
Once inside, he allows me use of the lobby restroom, which, no surprise, has no windows. Using paper towels, I clean up as best as possible while he signs us in at the front desk. Then, we take the elevator to the fifth floor, walk down the hall, and he leaves me in a tiny interrogation room.
“Please sit. Someone will be with you shortly.” The door clicks shut. I push down on the unyielding handle and kick it. For the record, open-toed sandals are not the same as steel-toed boots.
“Fucking shit damn pissy-cat poo-head.” Plopping into the plastic chair, I rub my injured digit. Once it stops throbbing, I pace and recite the periodic table forward and backward. I’ve done this twice, and still, no one comes.
By the time the door opens, I would confess to murder for a cup of coffee.
My gaze starts at the black dress shoes. It wanders up the creased pants, past the badge on the belt, to the striped tie. When I reach the handsome face, I gasp.
Standing, my mind spins. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m FBI Special Agent Wulf.” His stare is meant to be intimidating, but I’m done being a coward.
I thrust out my hand and scowl. “Gonna huff and puff and blow my house down? Bring it on, buster.”