Chapter 8
“Be wild; that is how to clear the river.” ~ Clarissa Pinkola Estés
Gwen
After the adrenaline rush wears off, I crash and don’t wake until Axel parks in front of The Suites Hotel. An armed, Armani-suited Scott Hunter opens my door, nods at my husband, and rushes us into the lobby.
In the elevator, the agent frowns at my bandage as he holsters his weapon. “How’s the arm?”
“Not too bad. Did you find the assassin?” Eyes on the control panel, I yawn, recall the car chase, and stretch the offending limb.
“Not yet.” The cab pings, metal doors slide, and we exit onto a plush blue carpet.
Inside our room, I wave to the FBI task force sitting at the kitchen table and head for the fridge. Mouth dry, stomach grumbling, I grab a bottle of sparkling water along with a slice of hoagie.
Once I sit and unwrap the paper, Brittany exits the bedroom, looms over me, and sneers. “Do you know how many calories that has?”
“Calories have almost nothing to do with weight gain. I could explain the quantum physics, but I doubt you’d understand.”
You go, girrrlll. Shoulder Beyoncé gives me a high five.
My husband must hear the interaction because he stops talking to his team, clutches his ex-girlfriend’s upper arm, and drags her into the kitchen.
Brows furrowed, my wolf kicks out a chair and places her in it. “How did you and Joanne meet?”
Ink, Rhonda, Trev, and Scott glance up from their screens. They must’ve waited for us to arrive to start questioning the conniving bitch.
For the first time since meeting her, the witch squirms. “I met her at a bar near the Capitol. She noticed our similar appearance and struck up a conversation.”
Hunt’s unusual dark blue eyes catch her gaze and hold it. “You’ve paid for everything. She was your guest. Why put her in danger?”
The so-called Interpol employee shrugs. “It's simple. I came, she followed, and I allowed her to stay. If I were under surveillance, it would’ve seemed strange if I had sent her away.”
Ink gazes up from his computer, nods at Rhonda, and stands. “Did Joanne follow you to the Tiki Beach Tavern?”
“Not that I know of.” While the rest continue to grill her, I focus my camera app on her face.
My lie-detecting program indicates she is full of shit, but I don’t say anything. I trust these guys. Breaking into the conversation could complicate their interrogation.
As the tatted team member parts his lips to ask another question, Brittany glances down at the caller ID on her ringing phone. “Sorry. It’s Danbury. I need to take this.”
Electronics to her ear, the troublemaker stands and paces. “I know, and I apologize… How was I supposed to know? …No, I did not know he was married… Huh?… We’re fuck buddies, that’s why and if you don’t want to talk to him, just tell me, and I’ll let the whole thing drop.” The way she stares down her nose at me, one might think sitting on the couch was a crime.
Her eyes roll into her head. “Alright, alright. Calm down. We can try again. Sure, tomorrow works. Text me the coordinates, and we’ll be there… No, no. No surveillance. I promise, and no jealous wives either. Yeah. Agreed. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again…. The dead body? It had nothing to do with me. Why would I kill my roommate? In fact, I thought you killed her to send me a message. Okay, who did? …Well then, you don’t have anything to worry about, do you… Fine. Fine. See you soon… What? Yes, he will come alone. …Why the fuck would I care? …Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
Hanging up, the bitch strolls back into the kitchen. “It’s on for tomorrow night.”
Hell, no. As I’m about to object, she points her index finger at me. “However, I’m not saying more until Little Miss Screw-Up vacates.”
My fuming spouse opens his mouth. While I’m delighted he’s about to carve Ms. Babsolicious a new asshole, I don’t want to mess up their chances to catch Ledbetter.
That’s why, when Bear paws at the door, I grab the leash and capture my hubby’s dark gaze. “How about I take him outside?”
“The dog can use the toilet.”
Duh. I was trying to give myself a plausible excuse for letting the team do their job. “Our furry friend prefers the outdoors, and I need some fresh air.”
His silver brows crease further, and he scowls at my injured arm. “Gwen, I don’t want you going out there alone.”
While I understand his overprotectiveness, I’m trying to help him do his job. “Sweetheart, there are eyes all over the place. No one is going to shoot me in the lobby or right beside the hotel. The risk is too high. Besides, Bear will stay close. He can sense a weapon faster than a human. I promise to drop if he barks and let him do his thing. If you’re that worried, watch me on the security feed.”
His team faces him, waiting for his decision. I hate that he has to pick between his mission and my safety.
After opening all the views from all the security cams, he nods. “Don't stray far.”
“I won’t, Girl Scout honor.” Saluting with three fingers, I snap on the dog’s leash. “C’mon buddy. Let’s go.”
On the way out, I picture my furry friend biting the snarkiness off Britt’s face.
She is so not worth it, honey. Beyoncé’s wise words resound as I press the down button.
In the elevator, I mutter to myself. “Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron….”
By the time I get to the final element, Bear has done his business. Scooping it up, I tie off the plastic bag, drop it in the garbage, and head to the canine-friendly bistro.
My coffee ordered, I sit. Seconds later, a bearded man wearing khaki shorts and Givenchy sandals slips onto a stool beside me. The collie’s ears twitch, but he doesn’t growl, so I stay where I am.
“Nice dog.” The posh British accent sets off my internal alarms.
Not one to ignore my subconscious’ warnings, I reach into my purse and slip my hand around the RF weapon. “One word from me, and my highly-trained canine will kill you.”
His chuckle ought to alleviate my unease. Instead, it amplifies my dread. “No need for violence, luv. We’ll have a quick chat, and I’ll leave.”
My hand shakes as I point up at the security camera. “My spouse will be here any second.”
“You shouldn’t’ve interrupted my meeting last night.” His contrabass voice reminds me of Darth Vader.
“Danbury?” I almost topple over the dog as I shoot to my feet. “What are you doing here?”
Upon hearing Bear snarl, most people run. Because he holds his ground, the stranger gains a modicum of my respect.
“Do not trust Babcock.” The touristy-looking guy shoves a piece of paper in my left hand. “Give this to your husband.”
When his gaze shifts across the room, his jaw drops. “Damn. Ledbetter is here. We need to move. Now.”
Because I hesitate, he grabs my arm. “Come with me or die.”
On the same page as the stranger, Axel’s collie-shepherd woofs and nudges the back of my calves. Two against one, I trot alongside toward the swinging kitchen doors.
Walking backwards, eyes on the inner restaurant, the bearded man pushes me past the freezers. “Walk between the ovens, straight through to the dining area. Take the employee elevator on the right. Hurry.”
About to bolt, he swivels on his heel, but I grab his shirt. “Wait. Before I go, what does Ledbetter want?”
He tilts his head and glares at me like I’m two fries short of a Happy Meal. “I would think it obvious, luv. It’s you.”
Bear growls and pulls on his leash. For a second, I consider letting him go after Mr. Bed-wetter, but what if Danbury was lying?
Decided, I race through the kitchen, the air-conditioned dining room, and head for the service lift. “Hold the door!”
A teenager shoots his hands between the sliding metal. Two breaths later, I step next to his chrome cart covered in white linens.
Once the door closes, I place my hands on my knees and speak between wheezes. “Sorry. FBI business. National Security. Check with the front desk.”
Once the cab opens, Axel pulls me into his arms. “What the fuck? Can’t I leave you alone for one second?”
The dog woofs his agreement and wags his tail while Wulf leans over to pat his head. “ Braver Hund.”
Back inside our hotel room, Bear sits beside Trever while my husband tugs me into the bedroom and slams the door. “What the hell happened?”
If I tell him about Ledbetter, he’ll call off the mission, hire a bodyguard, and send me packing. Because of me, Wulf and his team will miss the opportunity to arrest one of the FBI’s most wanted criminals. The evil man who brokers innocent girls and sells them into sex slavery will go free. I can’t be responsible, even if it means I must dance like a worm on a hook.
“He told me not to trust Britt.”
Sensing the truth, my husband’s neck muscles calm. “Not much of a news flash.”
After he cups my face, I scrunch my eyes closed and hold forth the crumpled paper. “Danbury also said I was to give you this.”
“Fuck.” Axel unfolds the note and reads in silence.
Nerves maxed out, my upper teeth bite my lower lip until I can’t wait any longer and pop open my lids. “Well, what does it say?”
“Coordinates.” His penetrating gray irises search mine, then lock on. “Why did our informant rush you from the room?”
“He was worried for my safety.” As I start to confess the rest, Brittany opens our bedroom door and struts in.
“What did Danbury want?” Her demanding tone makes me want to slap her into the next galaxy.
Uh-huh. That’s what I’m talkin’ about. Shoulder angel nods her approval.
Axel, sensing the impending fight, tips his head at me and turns to Ms. Coitus Interruptus. “Your rat sent us a place and time. Go to the kitchen, we’ll be right there.”
Once she leaves, he whispers in my ear, “Retract your claws, kitten. For the time being, we need her.”
“Like a hole in the head.” My childish comment ignored, he laces his fingers through mine, tugs me back to the tableful of laptops, and sitting, pulls me onto his lap.
“You need to see this.” He plays a video of me and Danbury. Hidden from my view, Rhonda and Ink sit in a dark corner. From this perspective, it’s clear I was never in any danger.
I don’t know whether to be insulted or impressed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Sorry, it had to be real.” Sounding truly contrite, the red-head lifts her eyes from her computer screen.
“You all knew he would approach me?” God, I feel so stupid.
I expect Axel to respond, but the man covered in tats beats him to it. “We figured Danbury would be most comfortable approaching you.”
“Why didn’t you pick up Ledbetter while you were there?” While my question seems perfectly rational, the others stare like I've grown another head.
“What?” Am I missing yet another critical puzzle piece?
While I glance around the room, Axel clears his throat. “No one knows what he looks like. Did Danbury say he was there?”
Anticipating my response, Trever’s fingers fly over the keyboard.
I don’t want to give away all my secrets, so I take my time crafting an answer. “Yeah, he might’ve mentioned the dealer was nearby.”
“Fuck. Why didn’t you lead with that?” Wulf never shouts, at least not until today.
His anger makes it necessary to defend myself. “Well, if you guys would clue me in, perhaps I would’ve. You can’t keep me in the dark and expect me to be a useful team member.”
Not wanting any of them to see me cry, especially Brittany, I swivel on my heel and exit stage right. The bedroom door slams using more force than I intended, but hey, it's all good.
Once I calm down, I call Callie and explain what happened, leaving out the part about how I am the deal Danbury wants to broker. “I have three fucking doctorates, and I'm so tired of being treated like a moron.”
Lucky's wife sighs. “Gwen, Wulf’s team didn’t mean to insult you. In my mind, those Feds trusted you above the rest.”
Leave it to my friend to look on the bright side. “But I felt like such a fool. Wulf should’ve told me.”
“Hun, go talk to him.” Her advice makes my stomach churn because she’s right. I need to come clean and tell Axel what Danbury said about Ledbetter.
After splashing water on my face, I enter the war room area and count heads. “Where’s Brittany?”
Eyes never off his laptop, Scott loosens his tie. “She said she needed to return to your place for some clothes.”
“She better not steal mine.” As I drop a filter into the miniature drip coffee pot, Rhonda steps beside me.
“You have nothing to fret about. Ax and Britt were never a real couple, just fuck buddies.”
Oh great, now I feel better.
While I ponder on how to respond without sounding like a Victorian librarian, my hubby stands, puts his arm around me, and kisses the top of my head. “None of us trust her either, babe.”
“Then why work with her?” From my perspective, their project plan has unavoidable risks.
He scratches the growth on his chin and sighs. “My boss and Interpol have agreed to cooperate. It’s not our call.”
Suddenly, phones ping, jaws drop, and all eyes lift to my husband.
“What’s going on?” I tug Wulf’s hand to read the email, too, and gasp. “You? Murder her roommate? Why, that’s ridiculous.”