Page 17

“A man might befriend a wolf, even break a wolf, but no man could truly tame a wolf.” — George R. R. Martin

Axel

As the spook’s footsteps fade, I pull my wife to my chest, plant a quick kiss on her soft lips, and thank God she’s unharmed. My cock swells, but I shut it down fast. Before I can sink into her sweet folds, we need a way out of this building.

“The other ladies? Are they safe?” Her hand cups my cheek while her concerned gaze waits for my nod.

“By now, Slate and Suds have rescued them. I circled back when I saw you on the trail with Dolly.” Tugging her to the window, I calculate the odds of surviving the jump.

The height won’t kill us. However, the coils of barbed wire will rip us to shreds. As the militiamen gather below, I lower the pane and shoot at their feet until they scatter. I bought us some time, but not a lot.

“We need to go.” An attempt to take hold of Gwen’s hand fails.

She slips from my grip. Face deep in the safe, she thumbs through the certificates. “Give me one more second.”

Outside, men shout orders, but for now, stay put. “Babe…” The lockbox contains nothing worth risking her life. “Now.”

My wife, focused on the mission, ignores my command. “Whatever Dolly was looking for, she didn’t find it. Trust me. It’s important.”

Head on a swivel, she eyes the room, races to the old-fashioned filing cabinets, and fingers through the paperwork. “Shit. Only personal data. We need to think like a survivalist. With no computers or power, where would you hide a highly classified document?”

“Gwen, love. Those men out there are—” All at once, a ray of morning light bounces off a microscope’s mirror.

Temporarily blinded by the odd reflection, I close my eyes. Then it hits me. “Microdots.”

“Oh. My. God.” Jaw dropped, she flies back to the safe, grabs a magnifying glass, and searches the interior. “Dammit. I need more light.”

Pulling her into my arms, I shine my cell phone. All at once, I remember the old FBI adage. “Follow the money.”

Careful to touch only the side, she removes the stack. Placing it on the dark wood, she examines the first greenback. “Nope. Nothing.”

No one would leave it on top. Too risky. “Check the second one. Hurry.”

“Right.” She studies the bill underneath, swivels the chair to the microscope, and slips it under the lens.

After adjusting the knob, she gasps. “This is it, but it’s encrypted. I have no idea what we have.”

When glass breaks on the ground below, her eyes widen. “They’re coming. We need a plan.”

“I already made one. Escape and not get caught.” As I unholster my weapon, Gwen tosses the stack of over a hundred bills on the floor.

She folds the one with the microdot into a paper plane, then sails it over the fence.