Chapter 10
“To look into the eyes of a wolf is to see your own soul.” ~Aldo Leopold
Gwen
“No!” My heart races as I glance over my shoulder and open my eyes.
The neolithic bear disappears, and the woods morph into the hotel room’s aquamarine décor. Nightmare over, I roll toward the other side of the mattress.
After Axel tucks an errant lock of hair behind my ear, my silver wolf smiles and lifts his lids. “How did a guy like me end up with a brilliant, sexy, gorgeous scientist like you?”
Locking onto his intense gaze, my eyes water, and my chest tightens. “As I recall, you decided to make me your primary suspect.”
“Thank God you were innocent. Otherwise, Bear and I would’ve joined you in a life of crime.” The dark centers of his orbs widen until they almost cover the irises.
“Never happen. You are the epitome of a noble, righteous federal agent.” Heat igniting, I cup his bearded cheeks and bring my lips to his.
“Mmm, babe.” He grabs my hips, tugs me into his morning wood, and gyrates against me.
Liquid pools between my thighs. Anticipation mounting, I nibble his lower lip, his neck, and down his chest. As my mouth opens to take him in, sharp raps echo through the hotel suite.
“Police. Open up.” The loud bass voice sets our furry companion to barking. “Woof, woof, woof.”
“Bear, ruhig .” Axel quiets the dog, but not before the animal has woken everyone on this side of the building.
“No way.” Rolling onto my back, I groan while my hubby slaps his hand to his forehead.
“Fucking unbelievable.” Taking a deep breath, he shouts, “I’m coming. Give me a second to get dressed.”
After my spouse drags his sweatpants over his deliciously naked ass, he points to my RF weapon beside the bed. “Put it in your purse and keep it nearby.”
“Will do.” Underwear already on, I rummage through the suitcase until I find clean jeans and a t-shirt.
By the time I enter the kitchen, Axel’s team has already assembled and faces off with two suited strangers. The older one’s belly hangs over his belt while the younger one is so thin, I wonder how his pants stay up.
Flanked by his coworkers, my man reaches out and shakes hands. “So, detectives, how can I help you?”
“Sorry, Special Agent Wulf, we need you to come with us, please.” When the fifty-ish apple-shaped man motions toward the door, my spouse glances over at Trever, clicking away at the keyboard. Whatever these lawmen want, the analyst hasn’t yet found it.
“How about we speak here? I’m afraid we don’t have a lot of space, but feel free to take a seat.” A wolfish grin spreads across Axel’s face as he pulls out a chair.
“Alright.” The heavyset man eases down, the wood creaks, and all eyes shoot to his large ass. When it doesn’t end up on the floor, we heave out our collective breaths.
The other guy in his mid-thirties misses the unfolding drama. He juts out his weak chin and leans against the door.
With no more room in the tiny kitchen, I fold the pull-out couch, return the cushions, and sit in the living room.
“Where were you Mondy night?” Twig-man’s interruption earns him a scowl from his partner.
My non-plussed husband shrugs while his eyes remain lethal. “The tiki bar has video cameras. You know I was there. What’s this all about?”
His tone remains polite, yet cautious, as he studies the interrogator who continues to fire off questions.
“And before that?” The eager detective tilts forward and rests his huge anchor-tatted forearms on the tabletop.
“Making love to my wife at our beach house.” When Axel catches my eye, I take his cue and clear my throat.
“I can confirm his alibi, and so can our rental’s security feeds.” In desperate need of caffeine, I squeeze behind Rhonda’s chair, grab a foam cup, and pour from the coffee-in-a-box.
“What kind of asshole hooks up with his ex-lover on his honeymoon?” The jerk by the door is literally about to have his balls busted. If Axel doesn’t do it, I will.
“Sorry, dude. Way above your pay grade.” Ink takes a bite of an egg sandwich, and while he chews, the lead investigator scowls at my spouse.
His bulbous nose reddens, his jowls shake, and he raises his voice. “A young woman is dead. I shouldn’t have to remind you to cooperate. Now, where did you go after you left the bar?”
They have no right to disrespect him so. Even though I shouldn’t say anything, I can’t keep from blurting out, “My husband saw a guy chasing me with a knife and pursued him. The man escaped, so Axel returned home, and we went straight to bed.”
The heavy detective holds forth a grainy video of my spouse following Brittany out of the tiki bar’s restroom.” “Did you two have sex?”
“No.” Despite my husband’s adamant tone, the two locals shake their heads before sending me a pity-filled glance.
The larger one stands. “Perhaps we should speak in private at the station.”
Jumping to his feet, Hunt’s dark blue eyes blaze. “Do you have a warrant?”
“No, but it can easily be arranged. Like I said, we were doing our FBI friends a favor.”
My hubby stands, nudges the jerk aside, and opens the door. “Well, I'll tell you what I’ll do. I will phone my boss, Assistant Deputy Director Kaplan, and meet you at your office. Text me the address and I'll respond as soon as I can get him here.”
“You do that. Thank you for your time.” Like the fan fiction cartoon, Fat Cop and Skinny Cop exit stage left.
Once the door clicks shut, Wulf sits and rubs a palm across his whiskers. “What am I missing?”
Trev motions for the rest of us to gather around his monitor. While we watch, his screen goes black, and he bangs his fist on the table. “Shit. They revoked our passwords.”
While everyone grabs their wobbling Styrofoam cups, Ink winks at me. “Since when has that ever stopped the infamous Trever Johnson?”
The former hacker raises his brows. “Your call, boss. If they find out I’ve broken into their network, it won’t bode well for any of us.”
The redheaded agent skews her face, slaps the analyst on the back, and snorts out a laugh. “Then make sure you don’t get caught.”
“Your funeral.” Experienced fingers fly across the keyboard, then stop. “I’m in… Holy fuck. They found Ax’s prints on the dead woman’s purse.”
My man pales and squats in front of the monitor. “There must be some mistake. I never saw her.”
“There.” Rhonda sticks her index finger on the monitor. “Go back.”
Trever rewinds and hits replay. The video pauses at the frame where my spouse leans over, picks up a purse, and hands it to Ms. Babs Barracuda.
Processing the new data, my G-man’s jaw drops. “Don’t tell me. That bag belonged to Joanne Cormack.”
Sighing, the geek nods. “It matches the one they found at the crime scene.”
The rest talk all at once while I ignore the acids eating the pit of my stomach. “Where is she? Where is Brittany?”
Hunt picks up his phone and punches the speaker icon so we can all hear the ring with no answer.
“Find her.” In full FBI boss mode, the wolfman barks out commands.
All quiet now, they tap on their keyboards. Feeling useless, I order another tub of coffee and pace the small space.
Thank God, our pet whines because it gives me something to do. Once I attach his collar, Axel’s fingers pause, and he scowls. “Don’t go far.”
“I was thinking I could return to the beach house, do some laundry, and bring back clean clothes.”
Prepared for his objections, I barge in. “I’ll have our dog and my weapon. It’s broad daylight. That property has cameras everywhere. Please. I need to keep busy, or I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”
“Okay, but if you see anything amiss, including arms dealers and informants, you come right back here, no detours.”
I salute him. “Aye-aye, sir.”
On the ground floor, as the canine and I pass the manager’s station, a man in a pink polo shirt calls out. “Dr. Wulf?”
“Yes, that’s me.” Hyperalert, I turn, ready to run.
I let go of my breath when the hotel employee holds a cell phone in the air. “A Mister Danbury said you left this on the bar.”
“Thank you.” As I drop the unknown device in my purse, a squad car squeals to a stop in the parking lot.
The same two detectives from earlier rush toward the elevators, and by the time Bear finishes taking a dump, they drag my husband off in cuffs.