Page 8 of In Death, Love Survives

FOUR

Nova

Tapping my nails against my desk, I wait for Wolfe to come in. After a long weekend researching his background, I found more than I thought I would. The problem? I don’t know what’s true and what’s not.

Wolfe Walker is a criminal.

That much I know to be true.

He’s notorious for all the crimes he or members of the SCRRMC have committed throughout the years.

From what I can tell, it’s ranged from drug operations to more sophisticated work, such as technology schemes and beyond.

As I read article after article, it was all laid out before me—the mug shots, sightings, and police reports of what Wolfe Walker and his crew have been up to for over a decade.

Seeing what type of person Wolfe actually is doesn’t fit with the one who managed to so easily make me come undone.

None of it adds up—not the articles and police reports, or why Wolfe would send a friend of his to look out for me. I’ve barely spoken to the man, and he has someone he trusts watching my back.

The way he looked at me on Friday evening was haunting, but that was it. It was our only interaction since he was first sent to Roper State, and it was a blip in time.

As soon as I came in this morning, I was notified by Ryan that Wolfe wanted to see me again, and now I’m curious why. Wolfe claims that he needs help, but I know there’s more to it.

That’s why I told Ryan that, of course, I would be seeing Wolfe as a patient. It’s my duty to help someone in need. In reality, I need to know more about what I’ve learned and see if it matches the version of Wolfe on paper.

Who is the real Wolfe Walker? I want to find out.

Some facts I learned over the weekend are that Wolfe is five years older than me, and he also grew up in Montana. It’s crazy to think he’s not much older than I am but has lived a life beyond my wildest imagination.

I’ve been stuck inside my own hell as I try to live a life of solitude… of finding normalcy .

As much research as I’ve done on Wolfe, there are questions that online research just can’t give me the answers to. Like, how did he end up at Roper State in the first place if he is the head of the Saddle Creek Road Riders?

It just doesn’t add up. Wouldn’t they have measures in place to prevent their president from getting caught?

“Dr. Fletcher?”

Looking up from my notes, I see it’s a new correctional officer in my doorway.

“Yes?”

“I’m here to deliver Wolfe Walker.”

I give him a tight smile.

“Thank you. What’s your name?”

“Officer Johnson.”

“Nice to meet you, Officer Johnson. Please send him in.”

Officer Johnson steps back out into the hallway to get Wolfe. The sound of Wolfe shuffling in makes me feel uneasy again. There’s a pit in my stomach that’s starting to feel like dread, knowing he’s being confined here.

What did Wolfe Walker actually do?

“Dr. Fletcher,” Officer Johnson says.

As he steps to the side, the man of the hour walks into the office, Wolfe.

“Mr. Walker. Please take a seat,” I say, signaling toward the same seat he sat in the last time—back when he looked at me with disdain instead of curiosity.

I take note of this reaction to me immediately. I’m not sure why, but I have a feeling every small detail will matter when it comes to this patient.

Wolfe walks toward me with his hands clasped together and sits. His expression is softer with me in his line of sight compared to Officer Johnson.

Officer Johnson stands formally in the back of the room.

“Thank you, Officer. That will be all.”

He looks confused at my direction.

“This is a medical session, which is private. Please step outside.”

“But that’s not policy,” he says anxiously.

“It’s my policy. If you have an issue with that, please see Dr. Owens. In the meantime, I have a session to conduct.”

From the corner of my eye, I see a twitch in Wolfe’s mouth, one akin to amusement. Another note I’ll have to take down after this officer leaves.

Defeated, Officer Johnson nods and steps out the door and into the hallway.

“Thank you,” I say as he shuts the door.

Returning my attention back to Wolfe, I recompose myself as I settle back into my seat.

“Mr. Walker. I understand you wanted to see me.”

Wolfe leans forward, placing his interwoven hands on the table. I pick up my pen and tap it on the yellow notepad.

I could keep going, but I like it when the patient talks first. I just gave him an opening and got nothing in return.

I want to make sure I understand what he wants out of this before I start recording our conversation. Hopefully, it will be a way to earn his trust.

Wolfe’s hair falls forward and frames his face. His beard has grown, but somehow, it makes him appear more like himself.

I internally laugh at the notion that I have any idea what Wolfe normally looks like and ever will.

“What’s the deal with you and the blond prick?”

Startled, I throw my head back. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t show any emotion with a patient. I’ve heard a lot here, far more than that question.

He chuckles at my reaction and leans back in his chair.

“Dr. Owens is my supervisor.”

Wolfe laughs further as he spreads his legs widely.

“Would have thought you would have better taste in men than that asshole.”

“Dr. Owens is not an asshole,” I lie.

Honestly, what do I know after last week?

“Whatever you want to believe, dollface, but I know men like that. The way he looks at you makes me want to…” He trails off.

Wolfe pauses before turning to stare back toward where Officer Johnson is waiting.

“These sessions are private until I deem necessary. I haven’t started recording this session yet.”

“And what does that mean to you?” he asks, looking back in my direction.

“It means I’m here to help you. If you are uncomfortable seeing me for whatever reason, I can assign you to a member of my staff.”

“Help,” he repeats.

“Yes. It’s my job to help you.”

Wolfe digs into one of his pockets and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I’m not surprised someone with his stature in the real world was able to acquire cigarettes inside prison. This brazen attitude to smoke them in front of me isn’t surprising either.

Wolfe Walker is testing me.

I know I’ve piqued his interest on some level. I’m sure he’s wondering if I’m on his side or if he’s just a number.

“Do you mind if I smoke?”

“No,” I lie.

Wolfe nods his head as he lights his cigarette. The way the smoke drifts around his face is unsettling. It’s another time I’m near Wolfe and feel uneasy.

“Thank you,” he says.

A polite response back.

I start to tap my pen on the pad of paper once again.

“Nervous habit?” he asks.

“No.”

I stop.

“Mr. Walker, is there something you would like to talk to me about today?”

He takes a puff of the cigarette.

“You can call me Wolfe.”

I give him a small smile.

“Wolfe.”

A slight twitch appears in his smile, and this time, it makes my stomach flutter. It’s the second time we’ve met officially, and both times he’s asked me to call him by his first name. Hopefully, a positive sign.

“Ready to share what’s really going on with you and Owens?”

“Nothing. He’s my boss. On Friday, he asked me out for a drink,” I admit. I shouldn’t be telling him anything personal, yet I feel an impulse to.

“A drink.”

“Yes.” He hums as he looks around the room and then back over.

“Do you go out for drinks often with other men?”

His gaze is thoughtful this time.

“No.”

Another hum escapes from his mouth, and I can’t help but watch the way he swallows thickly after. Another puff of his cigarette.

“A woman like you needs to be careful.”

“Is that a threat?”

Wolfe’s eyes snap to mine.

“Do you think I would threaten you?”

A slight tic in his jaw shows his distress and irritation at the idea. I may be out of my league talking with Wolfe, but I can still see the signs and recognize what they mean in any situation.

“No. No, I don’t.”

His previously tightened jaw relaxes as he continues to smoke.

“Good girl,” he mumbles as he ashes it on the desk.

My heartbeat quickens, and I’m ashamed that I can feel a slight wetness in my sex from being called a good girl by Wolfe.

“Mr. Walker. Tell me why you’re here today.”

“I want to get to know you.”

Heat flushes my cheeks, and I know I shouldn’t like hearing that as much as I do.

“Unless you are here for a medical diagnosis or therapy, then I must end this session.”

“You believe in therapy and all that bullshit?”

“My profession is not bullshit .”

Wolfe stills mid-puff.

He nods as he finishes the drag and pulls the cigarette to the side.

“That’s fair. Why don’t you give it a try on me?”

I readjust in my seat as I try to assess how to handle this situation.

“Sometimes, simply talking to someone who is unbiased can help a person express how they really feel. I’m not here to judge you. We also offer group sessions that could be helpful.”

Wolfe thoughtfully takes in what I’m saying, more than I assumed he would, despite his sudden interest in me.

“The smoking bothers you,” he finally says.

“It does.”

“Then why did you allow it?”

“Because you’re my patient. If it helps you in this scenario, then I don’t mind.”

Another thoughtful pause.

“If we weren’t in this scenario?” he says while gesturing between us with the cigarette in hand.

“I’m not here to talk to you about my personal life any more than I already have, Mr. Walker.”

Wolfe smirks, and that wetness starts to pool even more in my panties. He puts the cigarette out on my desk and leans back in a relaxed position.

“It’s Wolfe, remember?”

We’re at a standstill.

“I’ll tell you something if you tell me something back,” he finally offers.

“That’s not how this works.”

“That’s how it’ll have to work with me.”

“Okay,” I relent.

Looking at the table now covered in ash, I reach for my pen and still.

“The recorder,” I mumble as I reach for it.

“Leave it off.”

My eyes snap up to his with my hand on it.

“There’s a camera on us,” I say.

I can’t just pretend like I didn’t realize it was off.

“Act like you’re turning it on and continue without it.”