Dylan had grown up in the system. When he was a toddler, his father left his mother in Samoa and took Dylan to the States. Ironically, his dad didn’t really want a son but a buddy in crime. Dylan had always been as smart as he was a badass. When he was little, his father had him sneak into windows of homes. When he was around nine, he became the lookout.

Under his father’s wing, Dylan learned more about sex, drugs, and illegal weapon sales than obtaining an education. When he was eleven, social services detained him. His father rotted in jail without so much as mentioning Dylan’s mother’s name or how to find her. For the first few years, Dylan was kicked out of foster home after foster home for his behavior.

He eventually met Brenda Miller. She and his new foster sister, Shelly, did one thing everyone else was incapable of. The two chose not to give up on him, regardless of his faults. They forced him to hone in on his intelligence at school while redirecting his misbehavior at home. As an adolescent, Brenda kept him from the target of the LAPD until he attended the academy. Completed a total three-sixty, now, Wulf had a position in the Gang Unit. The goal-oriented man wasn’t finished there. He became the leading agent.

“Gracie was a kid,” Wulf began looking off into the distance, “stuck with the wrong cards in life. She had a boyfriend in the Gunner Gang—”

“The Gunner Gang?” Glenn screeched. “I’ve seen a few documentaries about them in the past. They’re putting the Bloods to shame.”

“Yup, then you get the gist. But there’s no such thing as monogamy in those types of Gangs, Glenn. She was foster, like I was. Only, she didn’t have a good family—the system had given up on even offering her a family. She was in a group home facility.” He stopped to let the guilt sink in again. Wulf knew he would’ve been in the same situation as Gracie, had Brenda not been his last placement.

The social worker had threatened a young Dylan on the way to Brenda’s home. “Dylan, if you screw up with Ms. Miller, I’m starting the paperwork for group home, and I know you know what that means. No cell phone, no calls, no sneaking out. And check this, I won’t even be your social worker anymore. You’ll get a group home social worker that doesn’t give a damn about you either.”

“She was a misunderstood group home kid, where the county pays out of the ass just to keep kids that they deem the worst of the worst safe. The group home she stayed at was no better thanjuvie.”

“Wow.”

“She’d come to see me, feed me a little information about the gang, ask if I’d help get her boyfriend out of the gang.”

“That doesn’t sound promising.” Glenn leaned against the car, his demeanor just as anxious and worry-filled as he was when they chased after Mary Jane.

Wulf paused to look into the back seat, but the woman who was just as courageous and bullheaded as Gracie didn’t seem to be listening.

“Even less promising since her boyfriend was one of the main honchos and she was blinded by love. I offered her witness protection, to change her identity, send her somewhere so that she could have a better life, but Gracie kept saying she wanted to wait for that piece of crap to wise up.” He bit at his bottom lip, recalling the intuition he had. Gracie had almost seemed ready to leave the life she led. To give it all up and start over.

Glenn sighed. “But the Gunners went to jail, right? Like a year ago?”

Wulf nodded. “A year ago, Gracie came up missing. But she left me a note. I guess she was just smart enough to leave all the details before going to her boyfriend and asking if he wanted to leave. She had it wrapped into her mind that I’d give him a deal, and that they’d be free together. That wasn’t the case. Her note held names and locations and ties to a cartel organization that the Gunners worked for. About a week later, the streets were clean, and we found her body.”

Mary Jane’s eyebrows crinkled as newspapers and reports flooded her memory of the gang’s fall less than a year ago. Wulf was hailed as a hero. She knew more about Los Angeles than she initially thought. She wondered if she’d been there on assignment, perhaps.

She looked at Glenn who was visibly shaken after Gracie’s story. The agent in her required a tough skin, but Mary Jane offered Glenn a wan smile as he opened his door. She tried to make eye contact with him when he got into the back seat. She needed to show sympathy. He’d been frozen as ice as he told the story. Now, he didn’t even glance in her direction.

Who was she kidding? Wulf is a savior cop who doesn’t want to be bothered. She was on a mission. Though she couldn’t quite insert herself in Anya Randolph’s mind, Mary Jane felt that if she truly were the agent, a mission had to take precedence over everything. Even though Wulf’s story compelled her to comfort him, Mary Jane gulped down that need.

“C’mon, Glenn. I need to return to the motel,” Mary Jane said, finally looking at the fireball of a desert sun off in the distance. She looked back into the rearview mirror at Wulf who finally looked at her. Her gaze held as much apology as she was capable of and something inside of Mary Jane told her that Wulf didn’t do well with sorrow. “I need the phone number. I must report to the Agency about the Asia prototype.” That is if, there truly is an agency and I’m Anya Randolph.

As Glenn drove, she wrapped her mind around the few precious memories she had as Anya. Something didn’t click.

The meeting adjourned with no more dead bodies. Jake watched as the rest of his crew walked stiff-legged out of the room.

He turned to Beasley. “Wyatt and Cody haven’t texted me back. I should go check on them.” Jake’s face was stone-cold with disinterest. At least, he hoped.

“Not necessary. I’ve anticipated as such. Those idiots probably tied her up for a good time before dropping her off,” Beasley said, leaning back in the leather seat.

That’s what I’m afraid of. That weak-ass officer couldn’t keep her safe! “Shouldn’t I—”

Beasley chuckled. “I have a surprise for them. They think they can touch my girl. I’ve told one of the maids to awaken Hurricane. Jake, you have more pertinent matters to attend to. Round up the girls for the night. It’s about that time.”

Jake hid his grimace as he walked out. Once Hurricane caught up with them, everybody is dead. The seven-foot-two cannibal, Hurricane, was the only man Jake feared. If he could be called a man. Before Mary Jane entered his life, Jake had never crossed Beasley. He could always kill when he was unable to be loyal, but Hurricane was a different story.

Did Mary Jane mean so much as to ruin the connections he made? Just as he began to ruminate over it, another thought popped into his head. A thought so consuming, Jake knew exactly who he’d choose.

In the courtyard of the mansion, Jake called out to Steward, the newest member. “Come with me.”

Standing next to the red F-250 with three other guys, Steward pointed to himself and then looked around at the other hooligans in astonishment. “Me?”

“Yes!” Jake’s hand went to the back of the guy’s neck, and like a dog, he pulled him toward the trailer with MJ and two other girls on it. The bus he’d used to help Mary Jane escape. He’d barely gotten Gus to agree to let her ride along while they went to fill up the tank.

Jake got into the driver’s side, and Steward hopped into the passenger seat. While pulling past a Ferrari and out of the U-shaped driveway, Jake said, “Listen here, Stew, you’re gonna get the girls ready for tonight and take them into the neighboring towns. They know what street or which motel they should be dropped off. Got that, Steward?”

“But Beasley doesn’t let any of the new guys escort—”

“Steward,” Jake’s voice hardened, “I get it, you’re afraid. There’s repercussions of you screwing over Beasley. Shit, I don’t even want to finish thinking about it.”

“Yeah…me neither.”

“We’ve all gotta be afraid of something, Stew. So, I feel you on that. Keep your eyes open.”

On key, Steward glanced out across the wilderness as if he expected the king of the jungle to come bulldozing toward them.

Jake turned the large wheel and the big bus lurched onto the highway. “Steward, fear Beasley all you want. He’s almost at the top of the food chain. Right above him? Me.”

“Okay.”

“When we get to The Petting Zoo, the girls will be ready, like I said. You’ll transport them in this bus to their destinations for the evening. Do not touch the girls.”

Jake pressed on the brake at the stop sign. Usually, he wouldn’t stop, but he felt the need to give the guy a hard stare when saying, “This is our little secret.”

“Okay.”

Jake gave him a reassuring smile. Although, Steward’s agreement did not matter. Come morning, Jake would cover up what he’d done, and that meant a bullet to Steward’s brain. When he gave a shaky smile in return, Jake pressed on the gas. He needed to save Mary Jane before Hurricane forgot to keep her alive prior to his order of returning her to Beasley.

Jake had to kill Hurricane. He gulped down the lump in his throat. It would be a hard night.