Wulf slowly stood to his feet and rammed backward into the wall. Again, he pushed back against the wall. The top of the chair slammed into his shoulders with each hit. The legs finally snapped at the seat base. Still confined at the arms, Wulf cursed himself for giving into Mary Jane’s bedroom eyes. He cursed her existence while freeing himself.

Wulf kicked away the piece of wood. His tense lips twitched as he pulled a splinter of wood from his left forearm. He slipped on his undershirt then pulled on his uniform pants and shirt. In the bathroom, he yanked his boots out of the toilet bowl.

“I’m going to kill her,” he muttered, turning the boots over and watching the water pour out. The minion could no more be a secret agent than a menace to society.

Seated on the bed, Wulf put on his socks. The one she’d stuffed in his mouth was soggy. The boots squeaked as he pulled into them. On his way out of the room, Wulf mulled over his move from Los Angeles. Only a woman. He cursed his luck.

The second he turned around, it seemed his luck may have changed. About sixty yards away, Mary Jane was climbing out of a tiny window. He opened his mouth to curse, but the words lodged in his throat. A male, approximately six and a half feet tall in overalls pistol-whipped Mary Jane on the temple. Every nerve in his body set on fire.

“Get the fuck away from her!” Wulf shouted, sprinting at top speed.

The thin man tossed Mary Jane over his shoulder so quickly that her head bounced on the back of his leather vest. She lolled unconscious as he ran to a waiting truck. A Ford. Beasley!

Mary Jane was tossed into the bed of the truck, and the man hopped into the passenger seat. Just as the door closed, Wulf lunged himself toward the truck. But there was another huge man in the driver’s seat. Wulf breathed in the putrid exhaust smoke as the truck skirted off, over the curb and into oncoming traffic.

“MJ!” he yelled but she didn’t get up. If they were in an accident, she’d be tossed from the back and killed.

Wulf backtracked toward Tobias’s truck.

“Keys! Shit, I hot-wired it.”

He bent down to look at the mess. Mary Jane or maybe her abductors had cut all the wires. The colorful coiled wires were spaghetti heaped on the floor.

“Sir?” The soft voice made Wulf glare. “If you, um, come with me, we can save Mary Jane.”

Wulf eyed the attendant. “Magic boy?”

“Uh, Glenn. Just come with me. All right?”

Wulf stood up, slammed the door, and they ran toward a souped-up Grand National. Instead of wondering why Glenn drove such a muscle car, Wulf hopped in the passenger seat.

His body jerked forward as Glenn slammed on the gas, going into reverse. Then his body went backward, the seat belt barely holding him as Glenn began to drive. Jet fast.

“Where the hell did you learn how to drive?” Wulf felt inches away from puking as they tore down the highway.

“Grand Theft Auto.” Glenn smiled. “I beat all of the games.”

Wulf nodded. His mouth tensed, considering a strategy to get her back. If Mary Jane’s abductors took her to The Petting Zoo, there would be more men for him to fight in order to save her life.

Save her life. Damn! Isn’t this like déjà vu?

Mary Jane reminded him of another misguided young woman who got mixed up in a bad world.

The other girl died.

He noticed the F-250 about a block ahead. “There they are. Slow down.”

“Why?” Glenn turned to him again.

Instead of telling Glenn to keep his eye on the road, he said, “Mary Jane is in the bed of the truck. Those guys are ruthless. No matter how fast you can drive, if they see us following, they’ll drive crazy.”