by Amarie Avant
At the sight of his thick silhouette leaving the motel lobby, Mary Jane groaned. It was too late.
The hotel room was a blur of tans and browns with the typical two wood tables and two chairs by the window. It also had double queen-sized beds. A rush of relief flooded through Mary Jane. She’d leave once Wulf was asleep. Her eyes skimmed across the room where there was a Gideon’s Bible along with a token pen and tablet that had the motel insignia. Her body tensed further, plans ready for fruition.
Wulf came up behind her and skimmed a hand down her shoulder. She bit down harshly on the inside of her lip, warning herself not to cry. Needing the pain to remind her that he deserved better than all of the craziness she could offer. One foot before the other she subtly moved away from the caress.
“Don’t do this!” He yanked her around. “Don’t allow yourself to just shut the world out. I told you in the car don’t fucking do it, and right now, I am telling you that it is not allowed.”
She took calming breaths. Being good to her shouldn’t have been allowed. Wulf deserved better than Mary Jane.
“Peter had a means far beyond any man should. He’s tossed a wealth of curveballs at you. But concentrate on what you have. Your family cares. MJ, I care. Don’t shut me out. Talk to me.”
Digging down deep, Mary Jane clung to the despair she felt when Canelo and Soledad abducted her. There were so many emotions churning in her soul. Raw anger radiated through her, though her heart cried for him.
She pointed a stiff finger at him and channeled the actress Beasley’s goon had unknowingly gifted her with. Anya Randolph was so angry at Trent Winehouse for failing her. Mary Jane felt like shit for using the lines, but she needed Anya’s words. Anya’s actions. Anya’s broken heart. “Let’s talk!” She shoved her index finger against his chiseled chest with each statement. “So, you said you care. I waited for you, just knew you’d come. Put my trust in you.”
“And I fucked up. I love you, Mary Jane. I’m fucking crazy in love with you, but I fucked up.”
No, Wulf, you didn’t! It felt like a shot to the heart, her being unable to say it back. But Mary Jane had to stay strong in order to save him, give him the better life he deserved.
This next part was all her own but made Mary Jane’s guilt grow exponentially, because the man she loved didn’t deserve it. “And then when I figured you wouldn’t arrive, I almost ended my problems myself.” She nodded, tears in her eyes. The hatred Mary Jane had for herself—for being manipulated by Peter Grienke—was directed toward Wulf. “Yeah, Megan and Keegan came along and presented a good enough past. I can return to the life they’ve offered me, Wulf. I’ll give you that. But in the company of those crazy fucks we just left, I realized something. I’m kind of getting used to the bullshit. I put too much faith in you, Wulf. No more putting faith in you.”
No more putting your life on the line.
“Yes, I’ve disappointed you, Mary Jane. Yet, you’d conclude that not one person in the world gives a damn? Set me aside.” He gestured with his hands. “Reminisce on your family. Somewhere in your mind you remember them. I’m sorry about all the crazy shit Peter put you through. Man, I can say that until my face turns blue. Somehow, you recall your mother, your father, your sister. And, damn, I told you I made a mistake, but your parents haven’t. Your mom—”
“So, I tried to kill myself,” she said, not wanting to hear anything he had to say about the Portmans. Every word he spoke was like shit slinging against her face. Wulf was a good man, and he deserved better than her guilt trip. Mary Jane spoke again—no compassion, no empathy, just strings of coherent words, “I took the bedspread and cut it up into strings then tied it together.”
“Oh, baby.” He tried to wrap her in his arms but she pulled away. Needing his pain to lift herself up. She had to be on her toes, ready to abandon Wulf. Didn’t he understand that he deserved a better life?
“So I tied it to the light fixture, stood on the bed, and let go. Wulf, I let go.”
“What happened?” He breathed heavily.
Her eyes cast downward.
“What happened?”
“I…” Her hand went to her belly. “I might be pregnant.”
Mary Jane’s body shook. Tears coursed down her cheeks. Why had she spoken these words? Telling Wulf that she was pregnant was counterproductive to pushing him away. She was a walking plague and a baby would only compound matters no matter how dreamy the thought sounded.
“But how? You said Peter was outraged when you couldn’t have children?”
“That’s all a part of the deception, Wulf.”
He engulfed her in a hug before she could even push him away. The pure strength of him pacified her heart, calming the erratic beat. “You’re pregnant?”
“Wulf, once we confirm if I’m pregnant or not.” She began the ultimatum. He pulled her at arm’s length, giving her all of his attention. At the mere thought of it, she just couldn’t finish the sentence.
57
Keeping Mary Jane safe was Wulf’s primary goal and not for the sole reason that she was bearing his child. But because things were different now. The long ride and their arrival at the motel had been marked with Mary Jane pulling away from him. The woman he was madly in love with had lost all hope in him.
Wulf lay in the bed nearest to the door. Glancing at the popcorn ceiling, he ruminated over the conversation they had about ten minutes ago as the sound of the shower droned on.
“Once we confirm if I’m pregnant or not,” she’d said. Her tone had fluctuated with emotion.
“If she’s not pregnant, there’s no us,” he spoke the words into existence. The shit didn’t sound right exiting his mouth, albeit instincts told him she’d been inferring to them parting ways.
“Wulf,” she called out.
He was at the bathroom door in a flash. He’d seen and still went crazy with arousal over her body, but he averted his gaze to the glass door. He gave a nonchalant, “Yeah?”
“Can you wash my back?” Mary Jane whispered, her voice fought with the sound of the water.
He raised his eyebrows.
“Please,” she replied. No matter how tomorrow played out, with her being pregnant or not, she was out-of-this-world attracted to him.
Wulf slid the door to the side and grabbed her lathered towel. There was no nurture, no tenderness in the movements, not as he’d done in the past. She wanted to leave. A part of him was just as jealous and mad as Beasley had been, wanting to keep and claim her. His heart desired the best for her. And before the past few days, Wulf assumed it was him. Her head dipped as he deftly worked over her back muscles and neck.
“MJ,” he said, his voice reclaiming that uniformity she’d been used to when meeting him as an officer in New Mexico. “My arm is getting wet.”
“So, I’m all wet.” She gave a half-smile.
Their eyes connected. And Wulf became as greedy as he’d been the first night they’d screwed. He undid the clasp of his button up and slipped it over his head, then his pants.
She moved over in the shower. The confines of the area had shrunk tremendously and his cock was at attention, further taking up the space between them. He clasped a hand behind her neck and his mouth claimed hers. Those curvy, creamy golden thighs of hers slid around his waist.
“Oh, fuck,” she sighed against his ear as his manhood fit her like a glove. Her mouth was titillating, soft against his as he began to pump in and out of her. Mary Jane’s hands wrapped around his neck. His legs planted wide. and he hit home with each thrust, sending her screaming his name.
Then he sank deep into her core, harder than he’d ever been.
“I won’t let you go, Mary Jane,” he growled in her ear. They both understood. Baby or not, she’d unlocked this animalistic hunger in him.
“Wulf, please…” Her voice was hardly audible. “Please just fuck me, just fuck me.”
His eyes met hers. Gaze hard and unyielding. No other words were necessary. His biceps bulged as he
continued to thrust inside of her. With each force, Wulf recalled the shit he’d do for her. Every muscle, tendon. and bone in her body mellowed in serenity as he worked his cock inside of her. They were unconventional and more than dysfunctional, but out of all the chaos, this single moment was a driving force.
An eruption so strong took hold, his toes clutched under, and Mary Jane burrowed into the crook of his neck. She eternally belonged to him.
58
Wulf flew to a seated position in bed beside Mary Jane. Her eyes had just adjusted to the light of morning when she noticed he was holding a gun. With a huff of relief, he lowered it. Her line of vision focused in on Agent Robertson, seated with a bag of Starbucks and a four-holder set of coffee.
Ariel stood at the edge of the bed, hands on her slender hips. “Good morning, Mrs. Portman-Grienke.”
“Mary. Jane. Doe,” she corrected, sitting up with the sheet around her.
“Did you enjoy your rest?” Ariel asked.
“The mattress could be asphalt, but I slept like a rock either way.”
“Very well,” Ariel said. “I was in the room right across. Robertson and I took turns so I would have to say the night wasn’t a bust. Now that we’ve had enough sleep, Miss…Doe, I need you to come with us.”
“Not over my dead body.” Wulf broke into the girls’ chat with a growl.
“The ladies are chatting,” Robertson quipped, taking a sip of his coffee. He held one out for Wulf.
“Where are the harem of abused women who made it away from Beasley? The last time I asked that question, the two of you looked guilty.”
“Oh, don’t act like this is a conspiracy.” Robertson stood up and dropped a plane ticket on the frazzled bed comforter. “And no need for threats. Not over your dead body, Dylan Wulf. There’ve been enough deaths. We want Mary Jane with the request that you go home. How about, we also give our word not to advise local authorities that you carjacked a 93’ Honda, nor your pending felony for—”
“I’ll go!” Mary Jane shouted. “Leave Dylan alone.”
Wulf looked at her. She cracked a smile. Robertson and Ariel didn’t have to know that she only called him by the first name unless angry or to manipulate. But in this case, Robertson had just provided Wulf his way out. The edge in his broad shoulders disappeared. She smiled, glancing away because in this case, the only person being manipulated was the man she loved.
“Get dressed.” Robertson dropped a bag of clothes on the bed. “Wulf, your plane leaves shortly so we have to get you to the airport.”
The agents stepped outside, allowing them a few minutes to dress.
Wulf spoke, “I take it you’re using my first name is a sign of a plan? You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes and yes.” She smiled. “But, I have a feeling Robertson will add all kinds of felonies and knickknacks to your name if I don’t assist them.”
“What’s your plan?”
She tugged into the new jeans. “Let’s just get to the airport.”
“But, what’s your plan?” he asked more insistently.
Mary Jane smiled up at him before shoving a touristy Mexico shirt over her head. “You’ll know it when we get to the airport.”
“MJ.” He shook his head.
She snatched off tags and dressed also in clothes that fit comfortably. If these FBI agents knew nothing at all, they knew her and Wulf’s sizes. She gave a thankful chuckle while tugging on a brand new pair of socks and boots. Then headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth.
“I don’t see anything comical,” Wulf retorted, taking the toiletries the agents had brought as well.
“Really? Have you forgotten how I feel about clean undergarments? Anyway, I see something cute.” She pulled him into a hug and kissed his lips.
After they both took a deep breath, Wulf looked her straight in the eyes and said, “They are going to give you to a maniac killer. I’m sure you remember Jake as helpful, but do you recall in the late 90s? Jakob Woods?”
Mary Jane glanced away. There was no deterring Wulf as to how dangerous this situation was, so she gave a half-smile. “No, I don’t remember him. I was just a kid.”
“This is no joke.”
“No. It’s not. I’ll just see what they have to offer,” she replied, combing her hair back with her fingers.
“You are what they have to offer.”
“They’ll let you tag along, okay? You will get to rescue me. Isn’t that what you want?” She winked.
“No, I want you to be safe and sound, so I don’t have to rescue you. It makes life easier.”
“For the sake of women who unfortunately have my name, will you compromise?” She held out her hand. He took it, and they walked out together.
They traveled in the navy blue unmarked SUV to the airport. The moment they entered the terminals, Mary Jane complained of a parched throat. They stopped inside of a shop with Robertson muttering all the way. While the two Feds headed toward the checkout line, she slipped away from Wulf. Pretending to glance through a few gossip magazines, Mary Jane snuck over to the medicine aisle. She took a quick sweep of the shop as she grabbed a pregnancy test, stuffed it in her pocket, and pulled down her shirt.
“What are you doing?” Robertson questioned in a sharp voice.
“Can I have a headache in peace?” She snatched up a bottle of aspirin and tossed it to him, then stepped toward the exit where Wulf and Ariel seemed to be having a heated conversation. The chatter ended as she appeared.
“I need to use the restroom,” she said.
“No stalling,” Juárez warned. “If you’re not out in three minutes, Robertson will escort Officer Wulf to the terminal,” she said, staring at Robertson through the glass partition of the store as he finished making her purchase.
“All right, I get it. I’ll hurry,” Mary Jane replied.
She rushed into the bathroom and tried hard to pee, anxiety making it difficult to do so. This was the defining moment. If she were pregnant, then she’d beg and plead the agents to allow Wulf to stick around as they dangled her before Jake like a piece of Kobe beef.
If she weren’t pregnant…
“Keegan,” Mallory called, leaning against the granite counter in the en-suite bathroom. She could see him sitting on her bed in the apartment she shared with Megan.
“Are you pregnant?” He hopped up.
“No, I can’t.” Mal bit her lip. Dad was going to kill her.
“You just drank a gallon of water.” He folded his arms and leaned against the wall, but she could feel his elation shot down by a good dose of terror.
Her USC doctoral program flashed through her mind. The internship at Grienke’s would be lost to her, pending the pregnancy news. She whimpered, “Help me.”
“Do you want me to hold your hand while you do the deed or something?”
His light laughter made her smile. “Ha, ha. I’m thinking more along the lines of help me figure out how to get out of this—”
“If you’re pregnant, the baby is a blessing, Mal.”
A few minutes later, Mallory washed her hands. They stood over the marble countertop, glancing at the test, waiting for a sign. Her lips tipped upward into a smile as Keegan’s hand sought hers. The seconds ticked by a little faster with him being her teammate.
“Uh oh,” Mallory murmured as a blue ‘plus sign’ bled into the small white screen.
Keegan’s hands went behind his head, kneading his neck. “Your father is going to kill me, and I’m pretty sure he’s going to be harping about his army accolades as he chokes me to death.”
“Man up.” She kissed his mouth.
“You’re having my baby.” He pulled her into a hug. “A wedding and a baby.”
This shouldn’t have been a ritual that she completed on her own, not while she had a willing partner. While waiting for the sign to appear, Mary Jane had a vision of herself with Keegan. Although she hadn’t been ready for a child, there was a raw goodness to that moment. It overshadowed by her
despair while in Peter Grienke’s basement when he’d gotten rid of her baby. She’d bled and he’d been disgusted about it. Though her memory seemed to be grabbing fragments and not in any sort of chronological time, Mary Jane knew that much time probably didn’t elapse from her spontaneous abortion and her marriage to the wrong man.
Mary Jane bit her lip, scanning the pregnancy test results. She opened the stall door and chucked it into the trashcan, washed her hands, and then stepped out.
Robertson handed her a brown paper bag with the useless Tylenol. Wulf came up to her and placed a hand in her hair, pulling her to him. He kissed her. “MJ, we don’t have much time left,” he whispered against her lips.
She smiled, staring straight through him. Licking the kiss from her lips, Mary Jane regarded Ariel. There was no time to catch her bearings. She shoved a hand through her hair and said, “Um, I need a few things in writing before we leave.”
“What now?” Robertson commanded.
“Stipulations of sorts. Wulf gets his job at the LAPD.”
“I don’t want my job back,” Wulf cut in.
She continued over his voice, “Maybe not head of the Gang Unit but somewhere up the totem pole.”
“You’re not in the business of making commands, Ms. Doe.” Ariel smirked.
Mary Jane smirked. “Yes, I am.”
“You are not.” Robertson stepped closer to her and not a moment later, Wulf stepped forward and stared him down.
“I’ve got this.” Mary Jane softly patted Wulf’s shoulder and continued. “If we’re measuring balls, Robertson, mine are bigger than yours, baby. I’ve literally taken a pair, and I’ve been through so much that your demeanor nor Ariel’s demands will persuade me. You will let Wulf return home safely with a damn title parallel to his previous position. Or I refuse to help you take down Jake.”
“Listen, you little shit,” Robertson commanded. “We can erase Wulf’s LAPD pension in the snap of a finger. Oh, and not only that, I’m thinking about pinning all kinds of cases on Dylan Wulf.”
