Axel Wulf: A Romance Crime Action Thriller

Chapter 20

Be the wolf. The wolf is relentless, never quits, and doesn’t look back.

Axel

While she points my sidearm at Stephen Bourdeau’s balls, mine curl into my groin. Damn, she is one angry momma.

“Don’t shoot, you crazy beech. Un homme named Ledbetter hired me. You happy? Now, please call an ambulance.”

“See? There you go. Canadians can be very polite.” One eye shut, Gwen raises her left hand to steady the weapon in her right. “Ledbetter? As in rhymes with Bedwetter?”

“Yes. I know nothing else. I swear eet.” While the man’s blood soaks the Volvo’s back seat, my lover scrunches her brows.

“Axel, does the name sound familiar?” Her voice no longer holds an edge, and she seems calmer, but hell, who the fuck knows. When she grabbed my gun, I never expected her to fire it.

“How about you let me press on his wound, so he doesn’t bleed out?”

Annie Oakley lowers the pistol. “He tried to kill us. I shot him in self-defense.”

“Because his wrists were bound, the District Attorney will think differently.” Pondering yet another disastrous situation, I open my pocketknife, cut open the man’s jeans, and heave a sigh of relief. Thank God, the bullet barely grazed him.

No bandages, I curse, remove my favorite shirt, and scowl at Gwen. “If I had known you were going to shoot someone, I would’ve transferred my first aid kit into this car.”

“Next time, I’ll give you a heads-up.” Her smart-ass smirk makes me groan. I’ve created a monster.

“There better not be a next time.” While I cut my pricey button-down into strips, Bourdeau glares out at the gun aimed at him.

“Fucking beech. The first thing I weel do after I get out is hunt down your daughter and-”

Before he can finish his foul threats, I stuff a wad of cotton into his mouth.

Once I finish bandaging his wound, I tie-wrap his ankles to the backseat’s grab handle. With his feet in the air, I check his pockets for weapons or identification. Inside his wallet, I find a flash drive.

“Oh ho, what have we got here?” As I hold it in front of the Canadian’s large nose, his face pales, and he struggles to break free.

Hoping he’ll talk, I remove his gag.

I realize my mistake when he aims his nasty sneer at Gwen. “I will cut your little girl, rape her many times, and give her to my friends.”

“You bastard.” Face red, Gwen raises the weapon.

Worried another bullet might kill him, I step behind her and brush my hands down her arm until I reach the weapon. “Uncurl your finger, babe. We need to question him.”

Her eyes narrow at the foul-mouthed mercenary. “He doesn’t need his dick to talk.”

“What if you miss and hit his other head?” I’m half-serious, but it’s funny enough for her to snort and then giggle.

The barrel lowers, she flips on the safety, and after she returns my pistol, my held breath releases.

Picturing my boss reaming me a new asshole, I cringe. “We’ll need to get our stories straight.”

Her mouth drops open. “Why not tell the truth? The man threatened my daughter, and I shot him in the leg. Sounds reasonable to me. People get off scot-free for a whole lot more than that.”

I sigh. “The FBI doesn’t go around shooting unarmed people.”

“Seriously?” One skeptic brow raises. “How about we claim he had a weapon?”

“Forensics, babe.” As I roll my eyes, she purses her lips. “Okay, fine. Let’s drag him into the field, undo his bandages, and let the buzzards have at him.”

I don’t believe for one moment she’s serious. Conversely, Bourdeau loses his shit. “I swear I won’t say anything. Don’t kill me.”

“Don’t worry. You’re not worth dodging a murder charge.” Done with the nonsense, I open my laptop and feed the name into the FBI database.

The most likely candidate is Ledbetter, Thomas E., an infamous arms dealer, wanted by Interpol. His crimes span the globe and rival those of a Mexican drug cartel.

Sitting next to me, Gwen stiffens. “Oh shit.”

I couldn’t’ve said it better. “I should make a few calls. You okay keeping an eye on our friend.”

“If he tries to escape, can I kill him?”

“Sure, why not.” In case she’s serious, I remove the ammo when she’s not looking, and hand her my weapon.

Once I update my team, I call Lochlan. “Gwen is our leak.”

“Not bloody likely, mate.”

“Hold on, let me explain.” It takes me a while, but eventually I convince him that she and Henry cooked up an elaborate ruse to upload false data to the cloud.

“And they didn’t know who they were selling to?” Lucky sounds skeptical and I agree it sounds fishy.

“They had access to a database in the cloud which could’ve belonged to anyone, or so she says. We can discuss it more later. Right now, I need to drop off my prisoner.”

“Can she prove it, mate?” His question cuts right to the core of the matter.

“She believes she can, but I have my doubts.” I raise my eyes to where she paces outside the Volvo, and my chest constricts.

What if the DA convicts her of treason? Will I stand by and let them put her behind bars for life, knowing she had the best of intentions?

“Be careful, mate.”

“I always am.” Except when it comes to her.

“If you need help, you let me know.”

“I will. Just make sure the RF team and their families are safe. This Ledbetter is a butcher.”

“No worries. I’ll keep the fam-o’s safe. You concentrate on arresting those bastards. What about Gwen’s little roo?”

“She’s at her father’s house, and I’ve got an agent stationed outside her door twenty-four-seven.”

Done calling, I walk back to Gwen, and hug her to my chest. I wish we had more time, but we need to leave before the locals catch up and put us behind bars.

Cupping her cheeks, I hold her to my lips and kiss the damn woman with everything inside me. I only stop because I get a text message from my boss.

Stillman: Drop your prisoner off at the hospital, then report to the DC Office. Stat.