Axel Wulf: A Romance Crime Action Thriller

Chapter 27

She offered herself to the big, bad wolf and didn’t scream when he took the first bite. ~Laurie Halse Anderson

Gwen

The manager smiles as Wulf, his emotional support dog, and yours truly leave the hotel. The time in the lobby reads midnight, but my internal clock tells me it’s noon. At the nearest coffee bar, we stop for a drink. Our group arrives in sets of two and disappears at odd intervals. After we finish our dark, bitter brew, we follow the GPS signal through the narrow streets and ditch the touristy section of town.

Recognizing the curly ironwork and coral-colored front door, I poke Mr. FBI. “That”s his family’s home.”

Wulf says something to Bear in German, and the dog’s ears twitch. I’m about to ask the whereabouts of the rest of the team when a silent shadow darkens the second-story balcony. I reach up my hands, Axel lifts me by the waist, and Lucky pulls me up. With my toes on the balcony’s ledge, I climb over the railing, and my partner follows.

Stepping onto the thick Persian carpet, my heart races. I can’t believe they left the window open and unlocked. A curtain divides the bed quarters, and as I pull it aside, I almost forget myself and run to my sleeping angel.

Thank God, Axel puts his finger to my lips and holds me back because, at this moment, my ex-husband’s voice cuts through the darkness. “Abigail, are you alright?”

My daughter wakes, sees me, and runs into my outstretched arms despite my trying to shush her. “Mommy!”

Farid turns on the lights, temporarily blinding me. “Genny, how wonderful that you decided to join us.”

Shaking, I swallow back stomach acids and inch toward the balcony. “I’m bringing Abbie home. You had no right to take her.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” He strolls forward and pulls my kicking, screaming daughter from my grasp.

“No! I want Mommy.” While she screams, the asshole draws a weapon.

“Kneel.” Determined not to show him any weakness, I jut out my chin.

“I will not.”

An evil grin appears as he places the barrel’s end at our daughter’s head. “Do it and tell the men on the balcony to go, or I will kill her.”

“Farid, be reasonable. I’m the one you want. Let her go. You don’t even like children.” Hands outstretched, I take two baby steps and wait for an opportunity to snatch her from his grip.

He snickers. “You think you’re so smart. You will tell the Supreme Leader all about your RF and not the garbage you’ve been feeding me.”

“You?” My voice squeaks, my mind races, and while I process this intel, he slips into the hallway. “If your friends do not leave this instant, I will shoot the child’s feet off, followed by her hands.”

Shaken to the core, I shout toward the window. “Everyone go. Please go.”

Axel catches my gaze and nods once before disappearing over the terrace. Then, I wait for my ex to call the police. When he doesn’t, my thoughts race. Why wouldn’t he want the local authorities here?

Farid shouts in Farsi, and a minute later, cars race away. Afterward, all is quiet except for my daughter’s wails.

“Shut her up.” The jerk formerly known as my husband pushes Abbie, and she falls at my feet.

Crawling to her on all fours, I hug her, kiss her cheeks, and dry her eyes.

“Mommy’s here.” Holding her, I remove her favorite bunny from my shirt and place it in her hands.

Thumb in mouth, she holds the pink toy tight to her chest.

So furious my ears burn, I glower at the man I was stupid enough to marry. “She wet herself and needs a change.”

Abbie”s crazed father shouts, and seconds later, his sister appears. Brown eyes widen under her scarf as she bows subserviently and leaves.

Alone with me and our child, he narrows his gaze and points. “Remember what I said. You try to escape, and Abigail will pay the price. It will be your fault, not mine.”

Years of gaslighting fast forward in my mind’s eye. As my fists clench, Beyoncé angel gives him hell. Dammnn, you are one stupid motherfucker. Never threaten a mama bear’s cub.

In agreement, I wash my baby girl and dress her in clean pajamas. I’ve barely laid her down to sleep when Farid and another man bluster into the bedroom.

The stranger, who resembles my ex, throws a burka at me. “Put this on.”

As I slide into the hooded covering, something hard clunks my shoulder. Adjusting the fabric, I locate the hidden knife in the inside pocket.

Perhaps, my sister-in-law has a spine, after all? Inspired by her bravery, I trip over Abbie’s sneakers. On my knees, I grab the one holding the tracker and hide it beneath the tent-sized garment.

Once I’m led outside to a waiting BMW, my ex growls. “Show me your hands.”

I pretend to be unable to find the arm holes and stick out a fabric-covered fist. The other bump is not my hand, but rather Bun-bunny”s head. Unaware of the ruse, Parisi tightens one side of a plastic tie around my wrist and the other around the stuffed animal’s neck.

More emboldened, I twist in my seat. “Please, Farid, let her ride in my lap.”

“She’ll sit in the back.” I can’t believe how easily I can manipulate the idiot.

Now awake, Abbie claws at the man I suspect is Farid’s brother. He fastens her seatbelt and screams at her to be quiet.

In the past, I never would’ve gambled with her life. Now, I realize the worst risk is to do nothing at all.

As my abductor races through the narrow streets, my adrenaline pumps. I know in my heart Axel and his team follow at a distance.

In my side mirror, a flash of light blinds me repeatedly. Someone inside the sixty-year-old Cadillac behind us is telling me to be prepared.

Hidden by the massive mound of fabric, Parisi and his brother cannot see me use the knife to remove the tie wrap from my wrist.

My ex spots our tail, and as he shouts something to his mini-me, I grab the wheel. Using all my strength, I tug it down.

We hit a building, and the airbags explode. Ignoring the fluids dripping from my throbbing nose, I stab at the synthetic polymer and break free. Staggering, I race around the bumper, open the back door, and snatch my little banshee.

A second later, Lucky takes my daughter, then Axel throws me over his shoulder.

As we drive to the airport, I lament my one missed opportunity. I should’ve stabbed my former husband in the jugular while I had the chance.