Chapter 2
“Trust your instincts, not the expectations. The lone wolf knows its true north.” ~Unknown.
Dr. Guinevere Wulf
“Tell me you don’t trust her.” His soft beard caresses my palm as I search for any minute facial movement that might tell me what I need to know.
Nonverbal Learning Disorder sucks. Annoyed at my lack of poker-face-reading skills, I pull out my cell phone, open my lie detector app, and shove it in my husband’s face. “I want the truth, babe.”
The annoying man chuckles while kissing the bejesus out of me. When we come up for air, he speaks into my device. “I don’t, but Britt wouldn’t’ve come to find me unless she had something real.”
I glance down at the green dot which indicates he responded honestly. Damn it. I don’t want him anywhere near her. Sure, I’m jealous, but there’s more. I’m reminded of a story I read online. For no reason at all, some guy gave away his plane ticket and waited on standby. Later, the flight crashed. I swear to God, I have the same sense of impending doom.
When my husband searches through his suitcase for his phone, I grab his hand. “How about you wait for the cavalry, Wolfy. We’re on our honeymoon, for fuck’s sake. No one will blame you.”
“Babe. This is my first lead in months.” His silver-laced dark brows raise, the first sign he’s annoyed, which is fine because so am I.
My lower lip pops out. “You do realize she wants to fuck you, right? And if I can read her, she might as well have a billboard on Coastal Highway.”
Chuckling, he pulls me into his naked chest. “You’re not jealous, doctor, are you?”
“Of a bootylicious blond bimbo who dresses as if she walked off a porno set? No, of course not.” I trace my nails down his torso, below his belly button, and stop at the arrow pointing to his now swollen cock.
Shaking his head, he kisses my fingertips and slips a clean black t-shirt over his head. “This won’t take long. If she’s bluffing, I’ll be right back, and we can continue where we left off.”
He glances at the time, hugs me, and his heated kiss curls my toes. “Listen, sweetheart, if you forbid me, I won’t go. It’s up to you.”
Ledbetter trades in sex trafficking and weapons sales. The last time we dealt with him, he almost got me killed. Axel knows all these things, which is why he lobbed the ball onto my side of the court.
“You sure it can’t wait?” My palm covers his fly, andthen I squeeze.
“Informants are a flakey bunch.” He latches his holster and inserts his weapon. “Britt was an FBI agent and my partner for years. She’ll have my six.”
That’s not all Britt will take if I let her. Damn, my lying ex-husband, Farid, for making it so difficult to believe what's in my heart.
“Fine. Go.” I point to the door. “But leave me the car in case I need to take you to the emergency room.”
“Me? Hurt? Not a chance.” My arrogant wolfman winks and kisses me on the cheek. “I love you, sweetheart, more than anything.”
After he and the barracuda woman leave, I grab the keys to our SUV.
Hell, I want Ledbetter behind bars more than anyone. I do trust my husband. However, that viper? Not so much.
After Babcock’s white Cadillac pulls out of our driveway, I snatch my purse and weapon before racing out the door. In my vehicle, headlights off, I hang back at the four-way stop.
Instead of driving out of town, she creeps ahead six blocks and parks in one of three open spots. While Axel struggles to add her plate to his Rehoboth parking app, I turn the corner. Slipping into the first free space, I ignore the meter, exit, then hit the ground running.
Halfway down the block, they climb three porch steps and enter a blue door beside a potted palm. Trotting now, I enter a narrow, unlit alleyway next to the bar, brush away a huge fuzzy spider, and stare through the grimy window. At the bar, they sit on stools and order drinks. The whole time, Brittany hits on my husband.
Oh my God, the bitch kisses him. On. The. Lips.
My fists clench. “What the actual fuck?”
Dropping my device in my purse, I consider how I might demand an explanation and freeze. He’s working undercover. It's all a ruse.
Inside, Brittany whispers next to his face, squeezes his thigh, and struts to the bathroom. A minute later, my wolf in sheep’s clothing follows her in.
Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium, Beryllium, Boron, Carbon, Nitrogen, Oxygen, Fluorine, Neon, Sodium, Magnesium… Nails digging into my palms, ears ringing, I recite the periodic table and finger my RF weapon, which, technically, I should not have taken from the lab.
I lied when I told my boss I intended to work remotely. In truth, I haven’t felt safe since I was targeted by the Russians last year.
Argh. Those two have been in the restroom way too long. When I finally decide to confront them, out bounces Brittany. Her messy hair, smudged lipstick, and twisted skirt leave no room for doubt.
How is this possible? Wulf cheated on me?
No, I refuse to believe it.
I race down the steps, sit on a bench, and call my boss and closest friend, Callie, to help talk me off the ledge.
“Hello?” Usually, her groggy voice would make me feel guilty, but this is an all-out emergency.
“If my husband is working undercover and has sex, does it count as infidelity?”
Lochlan, AKA Lucky, groans from the other side of the bed. “Who is it, babe?”
I remember the late hour, blow my nose, and take a deep breath. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know who else to call.”
My bestie sighs, and in the background, her sheets rustle. “Honey, I don’t know what’s going on, but your man would never, ever glance at another woman, let alone have sex with them.”
“Sweet’art, pass me your mobile.” Her Aussie security expert must grab the phone because the speaker crackles. “Oi, you’ve lost the plot, love. Your partnah is wild about ya.”
My hormones have been off. Surely, that explains my reaction. “They kissed. I saw it with my own eyes.”
Callie gasps. “Hold on. Did he kiss her, or was it the other way around?”
Closing my eyes, I replay the moment and bite my lower lip fearful I might break apart. “Brittany kissed him… After which they both went into the restroom.”
My voice hitches. “And came out sex-mussed.”
A bit more level-headed, I realize it all could have been staged. Crap, I am such an idiot.
“None of this makes sense, Guinivere.” Lucky pauses for a moment. “Did you say Brittany? He’s not working on the Ledbetter case, by any chance, is he?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Bloody hell. Are you telling me he and his ex went out together, and you tailed them? Get out of there, now!”
“No one saw me.”
“Dammit, you’re on a cellie! Anyone could pick up on this frequen-”
“Shit.” On cue, a man dressed in black strolls toward me.
“Gotta go. Bye.” Lowering my phone into my bag, I wiggle my fingers, wrap them around my RF gun, and stand.
Perhaps I’m imagining things. With long strides, I walk to the corner while the stranger’s footsteps grow louder.
“Fuck off!” I swivel on my heel.
Before he can grab me, I pull the trigger. Face shocked, my pursuer drops to his knees, clutches his chest, and his knife clatters to the sidewalk.
I don't want any fallout if the FBI learns I used a top-secret weapon to defend myself, so I jump in my car.
When my headlights hit his face, he struggles onto all fours, stares at me, and points his index finger. “You’re dead, girlie.”