Wulf pulled his shirt off as he slowed to a jog. He’d run hard, crushing his lungs to keep Mary Jane’s fiancé from his mind. Soon as he’d left the trio at Umbirtos to get acquainted, he called Quincy at once. They’d gotten into an argument about Keegan not being mentioned during Wulf’s agreement for them to meet. Quincy quickly briefed Wulf. Keegan Little was a History teacher in Long Beach, California. Little’s only run-in with the law were two parking tickets, each of which were paid within the allotted time.

Wulf trudged through the sand for Bogota Lane. He noticed Tom and Amy meandering down the stairs that led up to his villa.

“We wanted to say farewell before heading out,” Tom said.

“Okay.” Wulf wasn’t one for goodbyes or the like. “Did you see Mary Jane?” Is she still pissed?

“Yeah, she was on her way out,” Amy confirmed.

“Oh.”

“She had luggage,” Tom chimed in. “Her friends seemed a bit rushed.”

“What friends?” Wulf’s mouth subtly tensed.

“A guy and a woman.” Tom gave a sheepish grin.

Amy elbowed him in the rib and snapped, “Really, Tom?”

Wulf cut into the jealous dispute. “Did she say where they—”

“I can’t believe you!” Amy burst into tears. “We’re still on our honeymoon! Don’t think I didn’t see you take a double-take at the girl with a G-string bikini on the way over here either.”

Amy stalked off, leaving Tom to brew in the storm she left behind.

“Dylan, you have my number. I’d better catch up with the missus.” Tom hustled down the last few steps and trudged through the sand.

“It was her sister, right?” he yelled out to Tom, the insecurity from last night still ate at him. Hearing the words aloud hit hard. But with Tom and Amy arguing about twenty yards away, Wulf didn’t receive confirmation of what he knew was true.

His Mary Jane left with Megan and Keegan.

How could she? He scoffed, apparently, Mary Jane was planning a wedding with Keegan when she ended up married to that rich fuck. He told himself not to be an asshole. Peter stole her entire life. She deserved to be happy.

She deserved happiness. But the only road to his contentment led to Mary Jane. Wulf’s mind dissected the past few months. They were like an explosion together. Loving her was a drug. But recently, Mary Jane had grown agitated. She’d found out her true identity. Why wouldn’t she prefer her family and the history she had with Keegan over the bullshit start Wulf had built with her?

Then she’d made that comment about adoption, which Wulf hadn’t believed. She liked children, he was sure of it. She always smiled and engaged with kids when they were out. She took pity on Tito who would be standing in the heat selling toys to tourists all day if she hadn’t given him a task to bring a newspaper by in the morning. And she’d paid him generously.

The sound of children’s laughter brought Wulf back to the present. Families were beginning to line the beach for a dose of mid-morning fun in the sun. There were blankets and ice chests and people sporadically placed all around Wulf when he realized he’d been standing in the same spot for almost an hour.

He grabbed his cell phone from his pocket and texted Quincy.

WULF: I’m coming home.

QUINCY: Good. I’ll pick you up from LAX.

Without responding in kind or otherwise, Wulf powered off his phone. He didn’t need it for now.

It took all night for Wulf to return to the home they once shared. The moment he stepped in the door, he visualized them arguing about who’d cook dinner, which ended with them making love on the kitchen counter. Every room held a memory.

He picked up a lamp, yanking the cord from the socket.

“Fuck!” he shouted, tossing it against the living room wall. The turquoise glass shattered. He wanted to let the anger brew in his gut as he thought about their good times together. His Mary Jane.

But she never was his to have.

Peter stole her happiness. Wulf told himself not to be angry with her. She had an entire life to return to. An ex-fiancé that was compelled enough to take a trip with Megan to retrieve her. To reinsert her into their happy lives together.

He ruminated on pulling her beautiful body into his arms and cuddling her close after a dream where Peter threatened to break them apart. After she’d told him about those dreams, Wulf always declared that he’d never leave her. That wasn’t just truth in his mind, it was law.

“Good luck, Mary Jane,” he whispered, wanting the best for her.

It took Wulf less than an hour to pack his bags. He’d sat at the airport all night long on standby for any cancelations to get an early morning flight. He’d lucked out. As expected, a Federal Agent was waiting for him in the terminal when Wulf landed, since he’d used his debit card to pay for the flight. He and his luggage were transported to an FBI satellite location where he was met by an old associate, since the LAPD and FBI have a liaison program in full effect.

Agent Luke Gaston had offered his services once Wulf’s team made a connection to the Gunner gang and various FBI most wanted persons from a Mexican cartel. They sat with cups of coffee and for the most part talked about old times.

“So what, you’re babysitting today?” Wulf asked.

“I’d like to say I’m catching up with an old friend. But for now, yes, I’m keeping an eye on you, Wulf.” Gaston took a sip from his mug.

Wulf shrugged, then he spoke. “So tell me, how are Beasley’s girls?”

Gaston shook his head. “I don’t wanna know about it, don’t need to. Agent Samuels should be here in the next thirty minutes.”

“I get it. The less you know—”

“The better,” Gaston started, giving a gruff laugh. “Sounds like you’ve moved on to bigger and better things since ridding the street of the Gunner gang.”

“Better,” Wulf mumbled with a huff. He didn’t recall Agent Samuels, until about an hour later when the black man walked into the room. The Feds weren’t even consulting with their own agents on the Grienke case. Gaston’s thick eyebrows were less furrowed as he made his exit.

“The moment I used my credit card to book a flight home, they sent you?” Wulf asked as the man sat across from him. They were roughly the same age.

“Where’s Mallory Portman-Grienke?”

“So this is what we’re doing.” Wulf gestured between himself and Samuels. “Answering questions with questions? All right, my turn, where are the women that were rescued from Beasley?” He cocked an eyebrow. Every once in a while, Mary Jane would bring them up, her shoulders would slump in guilt. Now, his shoulders fell as it sank in that he was thinking about her again.

“Safe. Mr. Wulf, if you would like for us not to bring up charges as you’ve clearly impeded an investigation—”

He slammed his hand down on the steel table, the sound resonating against the wall. “She couldn’t stay there!” Wulf shook his head with a tight chuckle. “You expected Mary Jane to stay in a place where she was abducted, chased, and—”

“You’re still calling Mrs. Grienke that name?” Samuels leaned forward. “She’s gone, isn’t she?”

Chewing on his bottom lip, Wulf tried to determine what motivated the agent. With the cover-ups going on, there was no way in hell he’d give him information about MJ.

With a cocky smile, Samuels reached into the inside of his suit pocket and pulled out a photo of Mary Jane and Grienke, pearly white teeth were on display as they held each other like two lovebirds. She wore a custom lace wedding dress that gave Mary Jane an ethereal aura that didn’t quite ring true, but she was still gorgeous.

“You know, Mrs. Grienke was an intern at Grienke Pharmaceuticals, planning her wedding to another man, Keegan Little. And they had been friends throughout high school and college. I wondered if it was brainwashing myself while interviewing Little and the Portman family. I even went so far as to speak with the few police officers who were on the original case, when our little ditzy girl didn’t come home from interning. Funny she ended up married that weekend to the wrong man.”

Wulf stopped himself from rubbing the bridge of his nose. His outward façade was emotionless. Internally, these very thoughts had roamed through his mind when Mary Jane decided to return home with her family. If the idiot takes a ride to the Portman house, he’d know she is home with her family.

“You know, Wulf. I initially thought, a smart young woman like her—excuse me, she was extremely intelligent—must’ve been working so many angles while as an intern for Grienke. She used all that intelligence, all those lovely assets. She married Peter Grienke for his money, right? No brainwashing necessary to inherit a billion-dollar empire.”

Now, Wulf scratched his temple. “Wait, since you’re connecting motivation, I thought Grienke’s company was sold off, shares given to his other board members? Out of all the news flying low under the radar, I’m assuming the money bit was the most important.”

“This isn’t about the money, Wulf. But you’re right. Mrs. Grienke has survived for over a year without using a single credit card. Grienke had other offshore accounts. So, what? She traded you in while in paradise, the same way she did with Little?”

Wulf’s skin was on fire. Damn right, he wanted to bash in Keegan Little’s face. He gave a listless stare and asked, “Are you holding me?”

“Not at all. I’m going to watch you instead. Maybe I’m wrong about Mrs. Grienke. Maybe she’s here in Los Angeles. When you cross paths, I’ll be there.”

It was almost noon when Wulf was transported to his adoptive mother Brenda’s home in West Los Angeles. The home had character written all over it. Light yellow paint, just enough to be cheerful without being too bright. Light hued roses were in the garden as well, and it was the only garden on the block. Wulf recalled raking leaves as a chore while he moved his rollaway up the sidewalk and to the door.

Today, the yard was cluttered with two blue bicycles and a pink Big Wheel. Quincy and Shelly, along with their three children had moved into the home with Brenda a few years ago after her hip replacement.

Wulf’s hand was poised to knock on the door, and it flew open. Before him stood Brenda Miller in one of her shades of orange rose-print cotton loungers. She was the reason Wulf hadn’t reclaimed his unscrupulous ways as he grew up in her home—learning the difference between what did or did not belong to him.

Her brown eyes widened. “Dylan, my baby boy!”

Wulf’s chin rested on the top of her puffy gray hair as they hugged. It was enough to settle him from the past twenty-four hours.