Axel Wulf: A Romance Crime Action Thriller

Chapter 14

It is madness for sheep to talk peace with a wolf. ~Thomas Fuller

Axel

“The images were not real, Gwen. Look at me.” Cupping her cheeks, I stare into her eyes and try to reach any rational part of her brain.

Pulling away, she sobs. “The knife or the FBI agent’s voice? You can’t be sure. We must drive back. Now.”

Sighing, I call Smithy, this time using the agency’s secure video chat app. “I have the girl’s mother on the phone. She needs to be convinced you’re not artificially generated.”

The twenty-something agent drops his jaw and sings at the top of his lungs. “You’ve got to know when to hold them, know when to fold them.”

He’s so damn off-key, I cringe until he reaches the final god-awful note.

Chuckling, he bows. “That’s my best shot, miss.”

Mouth agape, Gwen stares for a moment at the tiny monitor. “Yikes. Don’t give up your day job.”

“Yes, ma’am.” As Agent Smith’s grin spreads across his face, understanding dawns on her.

“AI would sing in tune.” She steals my words before I can utter them.

“More than likely, Ms. McGee.” The kid’s so proud, I feel bad because I know what’s coming next.

She grabs my cell from my hand and scowls at the screen. “Unless programmed not to. Now, put my ex on the phone.”

“He’s forbidden me to step onto his property.” The rookie turns his camera to a kiddie pool, where her five-year-old daughter dumps water from a plastic pail on the grass. “She’s fine.”

“What an asshole. Sorry. Not you, him.” Gwen hands back my device and sighs.

“I won’t feel comfortable until I can hold Abbie. We need to go back.” Her unblinking stare drills a hole into my soul and weakens my resolve.

I should say no, but she promised to confess everything if I drive her back. “Alright, give me a few minutes to figure out the logistics. I need to find someone who has the right security clearance.”

While I make my calls, Stephen Bourdeau’s driver’s license appears in my chat window. “Hey McGee, c’mere for a second.”

She stares at the image then hisses. “That’s him, Mr. Wears-A-Suit-To-The-Beach. Wait. He’s from Montreal? No way. Everyone knows Canadians are polite.”

While I hold out my phone, the clean-cut, would-be murderer stares back at me. “Perhaps he apologizes before he shoots his targets, eh?”

“Not funny.” Despite the declaration, she laughs. “You’re a sick-o. Know that?”

Glad she’s no longer freaking out about her daughter, I chuckle. “Don’t worry. My team will find him.”

“I hate to disagree, but he could’ve left the country by now.” She makes an excellent point.

As I’m about to nod my head in agreement, my cell rings. The Caller ID says it’s my boss, so I take six steps to my right. “Sorry, babe. I have to take this.”

“Has the McGee woman confessed yet?” Stillman doesn’t bother saying hello, which does not bode well.

“I’m close, sir.” I would expand, but she’s listening, and my boss has a loud, booming voice.

“Results, Wulf. The RF team needs to get back to work. They can’t stay underground forever.”

“Understood,” I say to the dial tone because he’s already hung up.

Dammit. I need her to tell me the truth. Recalling our heated kiss in the cafeteria, my cock swells, and I’m torn. I want to fuck her, my boss wants me to fuck her, and she wants to fuck me. What the hell, then, is my problem?

Outside in the parking lot, I squint up at the gathering clouds. After I check the weather report, I hop in the car, and start the engine.

As she buckles up, she touches my hand, about to shift gears. “Are you sure Abbie’s alright?”

I nod. “Someone’s doing a number on your head.”

“Shit.” Sighing, she frowns, and when a tear drips down her cheek, I squeeze her knee.

“Wanna talk about it?” For a moment, I pretend I’m a man concerned about my woman instead of an asshole gathering intel.

She performs her signature shrug, which I’m beginning to hate. “There isn’t much to say. I’m a pushover. People walk all over me. I have a brilliant mind, except when it comes to social skills. My therapist and I are working on it. I spent a small fortune on an application written by Doctor Jenna Jones. You ever hear of her?”

I whistle through my teeth. The woman’s AI work is legendary. “She designed JASON, right?”

“Yeah, but did you know she also created a program to solve a problem similar to mine?”

“Nope. I had no idea.”

“Well, years ago, when AI was still science fiction, she made this app to help herself understand people’s emotions. It’s amazing what it can do.” Her eyes light up like a kid at Christmas, but I shudder.

“I can’t imagine not being able to read people.” When I remove my hand from her leg, she sighs and stretches.

“It sucks. I toggle from trusting everyone to no one. Now, this happened, and I’m more confused than ever. Adding artificial intelligence into the mix makes it even more confusing. I’m telling you all this, so you’ll better understand why I have to actually hug my daughter to know she’s safe.”

“Thanks.” As I redouble my resolve not to seduce her, a dark Ford sedan closes the gap between us from behind.

Tinted windows prevent me from seeing the driver, yet I somehow sense danger.

“Do me a favor and duck under the dash, babe.” In the heavy traffic, I could quickly lose my tail, but not without putting innocent riders at risk.

Thankfully, she does as I request, no questions asked. I have no idea if the assholes have guns or are in any way linked to my case. Unlike in the movies, vehicles are not made of Kevlar. In real life, bullets penetrate metal. I’m not taking any chances.

With my foot on the pedal, I swerve around the cars. Surprisingly, the driver behind me matches my skills and stays on my fender.

Motherfucker. I drive up the right curb and duck between two semis. A trucker intuits I’m in trouble and flashes his lights. Soon, another eighteen-wheeler blocks my left side, then the other. Twenty miles later, the four loosen up their tight box around my vehicle.

Now that the pursuer is nowhere in sight, I wave out my window, and the drivers honk. Thank God for guys like them.

At the next exit, I pull off the highway and park the car.

After I call an Uber, I remove my SIM card and hold out my hand. “Take out your chip and give me your phone.”

“But what if Abbie needs me?” Her project-planning brain has missed the point.

“Someone is tracking us, Gwen. They knew exactly where to find us.” Taking her arm, I walk her down the street toward a donut place.

“Oh shit.” Face pale, she does as I ask and trots along beside me.