“You’d be surprised,” the professor replies, his voice cracking, and Wolfe leans forward, listening intently. Roger shoots Richard a dirty look, shaking his head. After a moment, the anthropologist switches tacks. “Now, back to themahramcrap, Izzie. What did that entail apart from leading you around and knowing a couple of languages? I figure any man at this table could do the same thing.”
“Most days, that’s what it involved. But there was the time Wolfe died taking a bullet for me.”
Wolfe shakes his head. “Alright, you’re exaggerating now.”
I counter, staring wide-eyed at him, “If you hadn’t stepped in front of me last minute, it would have been me taking a bullet in my chest. Or more like my head, considering my height. And you flatlined for three minutes on the hospital table. That’s what the doctors said.”
He nods gravely. “I would’ve lost my wife and mother of my children without even knowing it.”
“How did you know to step in front of her? Was it a sniper that shot you?” Lucy asks, transfixed by the story. She’s an old soul and romantic at heart. She raptly listens as Wolfe continues.I’ve never been jealous of the woman, but now I fight the urge to slap her adoring gaze away from my husband’s face.
“I had a gut reaction and had to shield her. So, I stepped in front of her. Next thing I know, I’m in a hospital bed hooked up to all sorts of shit. I’ve got Izzie in tears seated by me, holding my hand, and Rutger standing behind her. But I don’t remember that part about being dead for three whole minutes.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal.
Rutger speaks up, “Izzie’s right, boss. Three whole minutes. Just cause you didn’t see lights or hear angel harps doesn’t mean you didn’t die.”
“Oh, I saw an angel, alright,” he whispers softly in my direction, holding my gaze. I have the briefest sensation that he and I are the only two people in this world, outside of time, space, all of it. Until Lucy sighs wistfully, bringing us back to the present moment.
Turning back towards the table. Wolfe shrugs again. “Enough about me. I want to know more about you, Professor Dick. It’s not every day you meet an academic of your stature, especially in a place like Ophir City. I can only imagine how good the pay has to be with all those degrees.”
I chuckle under my breath, looking down. Being married to an academic, Wolfe knows better than anyone how abysmal the pay can be. Yes, things change after earning tenure. But Richard’s not there yet.
“Honestly, the pay’s crap. But there’s no end to the young, tight pussy, and if you get creative about finances, there are ways to make it work.”
His words make me nauseous, and Lucy sits back, looking uncomfortable. But I have to play my part. “Creative with finances?” I reply with a smile. “We could all use a little of that. You know how bad museum pay is, after all. Everyone at this table can agree we’d like to get ahead.”
Lucy’s face clouds with confusion as does the librarian’sand the education curator’s. I’ll have a lot to explain to them later.
Richard laughs nervously, and Duncan heads for the door. Rutger saunters past, following a few paces behind. Roger glares at the young professor, trying to silence him, and I wonder what Wolfe knows that I don’t.
I don’t have to wait long to find out. In grumbly tones, Wolfe says, “Creative with money? And a Russian speaker? If I didn’t know better, Dick, I’d think you work with the Bratva or something.”
The nonchalant accusation sounds ridiculous to me. But Richard’s eyes widen into saucer plates, making me think differently. Wolfe leans forward, narrowing his eyes. “Of course, a paper pusher like you would never be that stupid. Am I right, Dick? The Bratva would eat you for breakfast, especially if they knew how loose your lips are or that your major source of artifacts is about to dry up.”
Richard stands, looking green, “I’m going to be sick.” He heads for the front, and McGregor follows a few steps behind.
Roger manages a fake laugh, excusing himself to the bathroom. My eyes follow him, and I notice another guy trailing behind. I don’t even know who he is, but he makes eye contact with Wolfe for a fleeting moment.
What I’m watching unfold is an operation, a sting. Wolfe, Rutger, and the rest of this crew have never stopped being private military contractors, soldiers of fortune, mercenaries, or whatever you want to call them. Just as I’ve feared. Wolfe’s merely working gigs closer to home. I wonder how long that will last.
I let out an exhausted sigh. Even though I should be thankful for how Wolfe’s helping me with the museum, I’m so tired of all of this intrigue and never knowing what’s going on with my husband. There’s always something standing in the way of him being straight up with me.Whether it’s a security clearance, an NDA, or concerns about my safety.
Like Rutger tried to warn me, I should have realized marrying Wolfe meant accepting his shadow life and career. Only one question remains: Can I learn how to live with this reality?
Lucy and the other curator and librarian have excused themselves, leaving Wolfe and I alone at the table. “Is something wrong?” he asks, looking at me concerned. My hand is still in his, and I look down, noticing how his palm and digits dwarf mine. I shake my head half-heartedly, but he’s not convinced.
Chapter Thirteen
IZZIE
Repeating the pattern of a week ago, Wolfe orders, “Izzie, I need to see you outside. Pronto.” He grabs my red wool peacoat.
Standing up unceremoniously, he seizes my hand, leading me out to the same alley where he wanted me to punch him seven days ago. Only this time, his strong, thick fingers tangle with mine, and he looks back over his shoulder, concern etched on his face. I should stop him, say I don’t want to go outside. But every physical part of me does—easily overriding the mental side of me.
We walk down the dark, cold alley, our percussive footsteps echoing off the brick. When we get to the end, I put on my coat while he paces back and forth in front of me, his thumb pressed pensively to his lips. I lean against the wall, watching his to-and-fro movements, confusion tangling my insides.
Finally, he stops in front of me. “Something’s wrong. You’re mad at me again. Tell me what it is.”
I clear my throat, feeling dangerously close to tears. “Yoursecurity company. It’s really a cover for something else, isn’t it?”
