Page 7

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

Axel

A sense of unease causes me to leave work early. It grows more during the drive home. By the time I arrive at Lochlan’s house, I’m ready to lose my shit.

Thankfully, he picked up my kid along with my dog. Otherwise, we’d be further behind the ladies.

Three cement steps later, I ring the smart-bell. While I pause, Bear barks, footsteps race, and kids shout. Polly, a girl around eight, reaches the door first. My grinning, flour-encrusted Abbie pops up behind her.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“How ya doin’, short stuff?” Tousling her hair, I thank God she’s part of my life and renew my vow to protect her forever.

My heart surges at her innocent grin. “I’m fine. We’re making choc’late chip cookies, and then we’re going to watch a movie, and Lucy is going to show me her Barbies and…”

Because this one sentence could run on for another sixty seconds, I toss her in the air. Once she stops to catch her breath, I let her down, pat my dog, and greet my friend, Lucky, about to address his troops.

“Oi, everyone, listen up. You kids be good for Frieda, ya hear me?” Having received all their nods, he reviews the emergency numbers with his nanny, then slaps me on the back.

“We better be off.” His worried face says everything I need to know.

Pulse pounding, I squat and hug my kid. “I love you, squirt.”

“Love you too. Baking now. Buh-bye.” When she all but pushes me to the door, I shake my head. If someone told me a year ago this little girl would steal my heart, I would’ve laughed my ass off.

“Bear, hier .” At my command, my pal’s ears twitch. Catching my eye, he barks once before bounding to my side.

Lucky grabs his bag, shouting goodbye one last time. Done, he races through the pouring rain to the passenger seat. I follow, settle my dog in the back, then jump behind the wheel.

As my companion buckles up, he frowns at the dashboard display and makes a fist. “Four bloody hours? Why the hell did we agree to this?”

“I’ll tell you why. I didn’t want to adopt the fucking cats next door.” Pulling out of the driveway, I rasp my palm over my chin.

“I can’t believe our wives ganged up on us.” He glances at me over the cup holder as if I held the keys to the minefield, otherwise known as the female thought process.

Because he expects an answer, I do my best to respond. “I think they were trying to make a point.”

“What point? That they’re all bloody bonkers?” While he adjusts the seat, I laugh because I was thinking the same thing.

Once we turn onto the highway, I whoop my siren and flip on the unmarked vehicle’s flashers. “I suspect they were sending us a message.”

“Please enlighten me, Dr. Phil.” He’s joking, but underneath the surface, I sense he actually might want to discuss this shit.

Soon, the rush hour traffic parts, making it possible to increase my speed. “I don’t know. You’ve been married longer. You tell me.”

The Aussie beside me sighs. “I suppose they think we are overly protective… 'Alpha,' she calls me. Wulf, they may be intellectually smarter than us, but dammit, we are more situationally aware, and we damn well should be allowed to put our foot down.”

From the back, Bear snorts while my brows raise. “Whoa, you're incredibly insightful, bro.”

“Bloody right. I’m way more than a handsome face.” The mood lightened, we shoot the shit for about an hour until my phone rings.

Knowing Slate’s disdain for greetings, I ignore social pleasantries. “Go.”

The Patten man grunts. “I’ve got you on speaker. Lilac is sitting next to me.”

“Hi, guys. Thanks for coming, but you needn't have.”

“Oi! Hold on. You’re drivin’ your sheila, so why the hell shouldn’t we?”

The fighter pilot lowers his voice. “Because there is no way I would allow her to come unless I stayed close by.”

Lucky snorts and breaks into laughter. “In other words, she’s pregnant, and you’re suffering from FBS. First Baby Syndrome.”

“Listen up. My analyst pinged me. These day spas are built close to or inside survivalist camps.” Slate pauses to let this fact sink in.

A few seconds later, Lucky picks his jaw off the car floor. “Are you sayin’ our wives are with end-of-the-world nutcases?”

“No, not at all. We’re talkin’ Ivy League doctorates. Such groups believe a catastrophic event will happen in the next twenty years. They have well-thought-out plans in place. We’re talking open spaces to hunt, hot houses for veggies, and a vast storage locker for firearms.”

With this last puzzle piece falling into place, my fists tighten on the steering wheel. “Shit. Now I understand the roadblock Trever ran into when investigating the shell corp. If they’re stockpiling weapons, the ATF would have a thick file on them already. The FBI would be looped in, as well.”

“How many of these so-called day spas exist?” Lucky's brows crease, his mind no doubt following along the same line as mine.

Lacking intel, we should never have agreed to let our wives near this facility.

Slate speaks softly to his wife, then answers. “Across the US? About three hundred. Never had an incident as far as my man could tell.”

Beside me, Lucky squirms in his seat while running his hand over his short blond beard. “It’s a glorified nail salon. Surely, they wouldn’t try anything.”

I nod, trying not to exceed the speed limit more than I already am. “Right. The cat lady probably had car trouble or… a health issue. Nothing to worry about.”

Lochlan snorts. “Do you know what Suds calls his wife? A danger magnet. If she comes within a mile of a sinkhole, she will tumble headfirst without knowing how she did it.”

Glancing in the rearview mirror, I push the speedometer to eighty. “You guys are not making me feel better. Surely, our wives can have a pleasant weekend away for chrissake. It’s only for two overnights.”

The other two men grunt, clearly not in agreement. ETAs exchanged. Once Slate hangs up, I focus on driving through the blinding downpour.

Once I exit the thruway, the slick, unlit, narrow roads hold all my attention.

Finally, the rain lets up, freeing some of my brain cells. “Did you try calling Callie?”

“My last message from her said she and Gwen had arrived. Management locked up their cellies and purses.” His tone again echoes my fears as another chill runs down my spine.

Why the hell would a day spa confiscate their bags? I phone Slate to keep Lilac from going, but I must be in a dead zone. “In an hour, we’ll simply collect them, then take them home.”

Lucky scoffs, “Roiight. And our little missuses will fall into line? What planet you livin’ on, mate?”

“Well, I sure as fuck am not letting them stay.” Reaching a steep incline, I shift gears, and at the top of the hill, Slate's call comes through.

We can barely hear him over the running water of a nearby stream. “After I dropped my wife at registration, I took a stroll. They’ve got armed men walking the perimeter, drones overhead, and security cams every few feet.”

I lower my voice to match his. “Why in God's name did you let her go?”

“She said the staff would get suspicious if the guest of honor did a no-show, putting her friends in danger. I hate to admit it, but she’s right. Save for knocking her out, there was no way to convince her to leave.”

“Copy that. We’re here. When you finish, come find us.” Despite our encrypted connection, I say little. Call me paranoid. Until I know better, I’m keeping a low profile.

Now, in the hotel parking lot, we shake hands with Suds and his two cousins by marriage. Because I already owe these ex- SEALs so much, I apologize profusely for bringing them into another of my wife’s messes.

“Hell, once a woman makes up her mind, there’s nothin’ you can do about it. I talked to Slate. He says the place is locked up tighter than a clam’s ass. Let’s check in before we decide our next steps. From what I can tell, the facility poses no danger to our ladies. To me, it appears like a lot of wanna-be soldiers cosplaying.”

I agree, and to be sure, I call my boss. “I’m sorry to wake you, Ira, but I got my first break and need immediate access to any intel regarding survivalist groups in PA.”

“Understood. I’ll expect a full report in my inbox at oh-eight-hundred.” After I hang up, Lucky crosses his arms while the others drop their jaws.

“Don't get your panties in a twist. I lied. There's no connection to my current case. I’ll simply state my sources were wrong. No biggie. It happens all the time.”

"Woof."Bear's tail pounds on the pavement. At least someone agrees with me.

Hoping I don’t lose my job, I shrug my bags over my shoulder, then follow the guys to our rooms. It’s going to be a long night.