Wulf Under Fire (Axel Wulf #2)

Chapter 1

“The hungriest wolf runs the furthest” ~Finnish proverb

FBI Special Agent Axel Wulf

The night breeze catches the gauze curtains. As they brush against my wife’s bare butt, she shoots me a sexy smile. “A whole week to ourselves? I can hardly believe it.”

It’s taken us a year to fit our honeymoon into our schedule and I don’t intend to waste a minute of it. I kiss her beach-freckled nose followed by her silky cheeks. My lips meet hers, my hand slips between her thighs, and she’s so ready, a groan escapes my chest.

Rolling onto her back, she pulls her messy dark hair out of her face.

While she lifts her arms and spreads her legs, I settle on top. Leaning on my elbows, I thrust my tongue into her mouth. Her hard suck shoots to my need, so I place myself at her core.

“Whatcha waiting for? An engraved invitation?” Her thick lashes flutter against my nose as they lift.

Chuckling, I slip inside her so deeply that her brown eyes widen. Her newly manicured red nails dig into the back of my neck sending waves of lust down my spine to my balls.

Serenaded by the locusts and the crashing ocean at the end of the block, I hold back my orgasm to slow down our dance. “I’ve missed you.”

She nips my earlobe and giggles. “It’s been, what? A couple of hours?”

“Too long.” My upper teeth bite down on my lower lip. Even so, I almost come when she wraps her luscious, toned legs above my hips, locks her ankles, and arches up.

What did I do to deserve this woman? I swear on my life, I’ll never take her for granted.

Of like minds, we up the pace until the headboard bangs against the wall. As we’re about to reach our nexus, someone pounds on our front door.

My wife, on the edge of orgasm, pants in my ear. “Answer, and I will kill you.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” The FBI agent within senses trouble, but surely, whoever is out there can wait for one more thrust. We’re so damn close.

The pounding continues, and a voice I had hoped never to hear again screams into the quiet night. “Dammit, Wulf, open the fucking door.”

Cock shriveled, I pull out. Of all the beach houses in all the world, she has to show up at mine. “Honey, I swear I’ll get rid of her. Give me five.”

Ignoring my directive, Gwen jumps up and rummages through her suitcase.

“You might want to get dressed first.” She slips into a one-piece short set, pinches my ass, and throws a pair of cargo pants across the room.

Grunting, I slip into my clothes and, as a precautionary measure, snatch my sidearm from the safe.

Meanwhile, the bitch outside bangs and shouts, “I know you’re in there.”

Fists clenched, I pad over the rental home’s vinyl wood planks. A wet washcloth of moist, humid air slaps me in the face when I crack open the entrance.

“Took you long enough.” Brittany Fucking Babcock shoves her ginormous boobs past me and into my personal space.

Despite the brutal humidity, not one of my ex’s blond hairs seems out of place, her makeup is flawless, and her red designer dress must’ve set her back a couple of grand.

“What the hell do you want?” Arm around Gwen’s waist, I glare at my life’s biggest mistake who refuses to budge.

Instead, she focuses her reptilian green eyes on my wife. “Scram, honey. Wolfman and I need privacy.”

My annoyed spouse raises her brows, but I shake my head no. She’s not going anywhere. Brittany is.

“If you have something of interest to discuss, call the office and arrange a meeting.” Disregarding my subtle hint, the drama queen opens the fridge, grabs our open champagne bottle, and places it on the granite countertop.

“Ledbetter. Does the name mean anything to you?” If she'd said anything else, I would’ve tossed her out with the trash. How did she get wind of my current assignment?

“Tell me everything.” My fists clench at my side while the disgraced agent opens cabinets until she locates a wine glass.

“So, you two tied the knot, huh?” Not waiting for an answer, she empties the bubbly, sits on the bar stool, and hitches up her short dress, showing a lot more thigh than necessary.

The bare skin would’ve caused me to sweat a few years ago. Now, I feel nothing but the urge to brush my teeth and fumigate the house.

“Brittany, talk or walk.” I open the door, half-praying she has nothing of value to add to my investigation.

She shrugs and glares at my wife. “I can’t say anything because she’s in the room. Security clearance and all that.”

Gwen scowls at me, then at her. “I’m not going anywhere, honey .”

Keeping my face neutral, I smile at my babe’s feistiness. The witch has no idea my kitty has sharp claws, three doctorates, and enough clearance to get her into the Oval Office with one phone call.

“Suit yourself.” Britt sips her drink, crosses her legs, and dangles one of her open-toed red stilettos. “Ledbetter is here in Rehoboth. I’m doing you a favor by letting you know.”

My spidey senses tingle. Why the hell would an international arms dealer be in this small beach community?

“Who do you work for?” I reach for my sidearm, and she laughs.

“Chill. I haven’t gone over to the dark side. After the FBI and I parted ways, Interpol hired me. Want to see my ID?” Eyes wide, she lifts her purse and as she unzips it, I click my pistol’s safety.

“Move slowly.” I lean closer to better view her bag, which contains a Ruger LCP Max.

She undoubtedly has a second weapon strapped to her thigh. While I aim mine, she smirks and pulls out a flat wallet. After extracting her badge, she hands it to me.

Although it appears valid, any card can be faked. Until I have time to investigate, I won’t make assumptions that could get me fired or killed. “Don’t make me ask again, Brittany. Why skip protocol?”

My former bed partner shrugs. “Perhaps I want you to get the credit for putting one of the FBI’s most wanted behind bars. Or, I tried going through proper channels, and your boss, Kaplan, hung up on me.”

The latter sounds more than likely. “Finally, the truth.”

As I lower my weapon, the player steps closer and grabs my crotch. “Do you want Ledbetter or not, baby?”

I slap her hand away. “Jesus, Britt, drop the theatrics.”

The blond pats my chest, laughs, and turns to my red-faced wife. “He used to be a lot more fun.”

“If you have a lead, spit it out.” My gaze shifts to my tightly coiled spouse, about to practice her martial arts skills on my ex.

To avoid a physical altercation, I step between the two. Noticing my protective move, the woman who interrupted my orgasm pouts.

“Fine. I have a liaison, Evan Danbury, who wants to meet you.”

“Interpol is not a hands-on agency.” Gwen weaponizes the bottle of Dom Perignon by grabbing it by the neck and holding it high.

“Everyone’s job has a little gray area, honey. And, FYI, before your husband got me canned, I had this liaison tucked into my back pocket. We’ve kept in touch.”

God, I can’t believe she is still rewriting our history. “I didn’t get you fired, you quit.”

She juts out her chin. “I only left because the Deputy Director caught onto our relationship.”

“I told you, it was over. You didn’t have to leave the Bureau.” My jaw drops. She was the one who insisted on meaningless sex.

“Oh no, no, no. You said you were breaking up with me so neither of us would get fired.”

I rub my hand over my rough stubble, recall the conversation, and soften my tone. “I was trying to be kind.”

“No, we were in love.” She turns to face my wife. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. He still loves me. You’re the rebound.”

Gwen, saintly up to this point, points to the door. “Get out.”

My ex smirks and saunters toward the rental home’s exit. “I’ll give you fifteen minutes, baby. I’ll be in my car, waiting.”

Once Gwen frowns and bolts the lock, I call the man whose high school voted him most likely to be online.

Special FBI Agent Trever Johnson’s fingers don’t miss a beat as he clicks his keyboard. “Wulf, aren’t you supposed to be balls deep on your honeymoon?”

Ignoring our usual banter, I press the speaker icon. “Brittany Babcock. I need everything she’s been doing since she left our department. By the way, my missus is listening in.”

“Hey Guinivere, hope the bitch didn’t ruin your… Give me a second…” The pace of the tapping accelerates to lightspeed, then stops. “Your ex-crazy works for Interpol. Why?”

“She showed up on my doorstep claiming she has an informant who can lead us to Ledbetter. Is that possible?” I hug my annoyed wife to my chest, and nibble on her neck while the IT genius types some more.

Finally, the clicking stops. “Huh. Babs could be telling the truth.”

“She said she tried to contact our boss, and he hung up on her.” I do admire Assistant Deputy Director Ira Kaplan, but he does not acknowledge one shade of gray, let alone fifty.

Trever grunts. “That would make sense. If I recall, she didn’t leave under the best of circumstances.”

“She claims she quit because of me.” And yet, this is the first I’m hearing of it. Thunder rumbles outside, adding to my unease.

“I always thought she got fired.” Our data specialist never has doubts. This too, is worrisome.

“So, should I check out what she has to offer or not?” Holding my breath, I catch my wife frowning and squeeze her. She understands how badly I want Ledbetter because, if possible, she wants him captured more than I do.

Trever pauses a beat before answering. “It’s up to you, but if Britt does have a lead, it’s our first. I’ll tell you what. Why don’t I gather the team, just in case? Text me where you’re staying, and I’ll find us a hotel. DC to Rehoboth… We’ll be there in… let’s say three hours.”

“Thanks.” I’m confident the truth will come out with them by my side.

After I hang up, Gwen pulls me to her lips, reminding me of what we were doing before we were so rudely interrupted.

When we disconnect, she cups my cheeks and searches my eyes. “Be careful. I don’t trust her.”

“Me neither, sweetheart. Me neither.”