Wolf’s Heart

by Ruelle Channing

  “You know if I could’ve changed things for you Carlee, I would have. I’m sorry for what they did to you.”

  She had to blink away the tears that stung her eyes. After all this time they were not going to talk about the past. “Hey, it was what I was made for. Looks like they finally found a cure. You look fantastic.”

  The tattoo gun buzzed along as they talked. “Dad found some new wonder drug that put me into remission about nine months ago. I’ve been doing great ever since.”

  Time in the tattoo parlor seemed to fly. In no time, both stars were completed and Kyle stood up, making the stars dance as he flexed his muscles. “Come on, let’s go for coffee.”

  It had been so long since she had seen him, there was no way she was letting him get away this quick. This time, as she walked out the door, her eyes were open. Standing against a dark SUV parked at the curb was her father. He never looked her way, his voice was firm. The Major was not one to make requests.

  “Get in Kyle, you have an appointment.”

  Even without touching him, Carlee felt Kyle’s irritation. “I was going to go have coffee with Carlee. It can wait.”

  Their father took a step away from the curb. “No, it can’t wait. Enough of this foolishness. Get in.”

  Kyle turned to his sister, obviously sensing her unease. “Come along, it can be like old times and you can tell me all about the man behind that tattoo you got.”

  “Carlee isn’t needed at this time. It will just be the usual staff. We keep with the program. No deviations. It is working well for us. Of course, you understand, Carlee.”

  She shouldn’t have been surprised by her father’s actions but somehow always was. “Of course, sir. It was nice seeing you again, too.”

  Kyle’s embrace was quick, her tears held back as he whispered his cell number in her ear before getting in the SUV. Her father never looked back as he got in and they drove away. She refused to let herself feel anything except the happiness at having Kyle back in her life.

  Voices out in the hall brought Carlee back to the present and her missing photo. She made it to the door just in time to watch two men turn the corner at the end of the hall. She knew for sure one was Special Agent Achilles Giannopolous. She would know those tight buns anywhere. She didn’t get a good enough glimpse at who he was with, but something about him was familiar. She just couldn’t put a finger on it.

  The phone rang, and she rushed to pick it up as she continued to search the room for the missing picture.

  “Carlee’s Kingdom.”

  There was a slight chuckle on the phone as Jacob spoke. “Get ready, Car. Fresh meat coming in. The body looks to be another one from your case.”

  Without waiting for a reply she hung up the phone and headed out the door. The mystery of the missing pic was gonna have to wait for now.

  Chapter Three

  Carlee rushed downstairs to pick up the box of evidence to bring back to her lab. Her mind was wandering in every direction—the missing photo, what Agent Giannopolous had been doing there, and who he was with. The elevator was moving too damn slow and she cursed herself for not taking the steps. Instead, she was sucked into the time warp of her thoughts.

  There were so many things that she had missed out on being kept mostly at home. She buried herself in her studies. She graduated college with a double major in pathology and computer technology. She teased her friends that she was a geek no one would want to cross.

  “Have you watched Dexter?” she told a classmate. “I could be a serial killer and no one would know.”

  Money was never a problem. Her parents were loaded. She let them pay for school, she wasn’t an idiot. When she needed extra cash for clothes, weekend trips or play time, she could get it by hacking into the school database and fixing grades for those who weren’t blessed with the genius gene. Writing a term paper here and a thesis there also got her by.

  At twenty-one, she had her master’s and by twenty-two was working for the FBI. Not that she started out wanting to work there. She anticipated working her way through the system just like anyone else. However, Major Daddy had other plans. She knew the truth; he had pulled strings to get her in. It wasn’t something that he had done for her. It was for him. If anyone found his daughter was working in some lowly office, he would die of embarrassment. She blamed it on a moment of weakness after receiving the “Dear Jane” phone call from her boyfriend, Ryden, that she accepted the position. She had been devastated by that call. The job at the FBI crime lab would keep her mind busy.

  The Major did his duty by making an appearance her first day on the job. She had to admit, it was pretty embarrassing when she walked past him without recognizing him. His hand had come out of nowhere as she made her way to the lab.

  “Carlee, it is nice to see you again.”

  She stopped dead and nearly tripped. It was the voice more than the hand that got to her. Reaching out, she took it, remembering to grip firmly.

  “It’s nice to see you again, sir.”

  Carlee knew as Carl O’Shannon took her hand and looked her over, that he was wondering if he had made the right decision. Except for that one night at the tattoo shop, she had not seen him since she was in her teens. Kyle had given her his cell number that night, but by the next day, it had been disconnected. She knew the Major had her watched to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid that would put him or Kyle at risk.

  She could see the flexing of his jaw muscles as he looked at her hair. She wore it long, colored black with purple streaks. On her feet were high heel tennis shoes with lime green socks. She knew that she was pushing the limits of the dress code but any chance to irritate the Major was taken advantage of. Grabbing her shoulders, he pulled her close so that only she could hear his voice. Anyone else would have thought it was an embrace. Anyone else would have been wrong.

  “You could have at least made yourself presentable. Do not embarrass me here, Carlee. I put you into this position, I can have you removed.”

  Carlee plastered a fake smile on her face. His feelings, or lack of feelings, for her were already known. She tried to tell herself that it didn’t matter. That he couldn’t hurt her anymore. If only it was the truth.

  Looking up at him, she said, “You seriously think the stilettos would have worked better? I thought they might give me trouble at the crime scenes.”

  A voice from down the hall called her father’s name, saving her from the rest of the lecture that was sure to come. His hand slid from her shoulder to her arm.

  “Don’t push Carlee. Remember, I will be watching.”

  With that, Major Daddy made his way down the hall. She turned to watch him shake hands and exchange greetings with her director. Sticking out her tongue behind his back before she turned, she made her way to the lab. One look at the place and his nastiness was forgotten.

  She had to give the old man credit, though. He was right. Working for the feds turned out to be one sweet gig, and she was in DC, not a far commute from the few friends from college or her old stomping grounds in Baltimore. The lab was equipped with all of the latest and greatest gadgets, the absolute best that money could buy. The job freakin’ rocked! She had hit the big time at a full run. Her brain went into overdrive with every case that she worked. Each one was like a puzzle that she just had to solve.

  The elevator was taking forever. She watched as the lights illuminated to show each floor they passed. She had to keep reminding herself to focus on the case, not on the past.

  She had been working days and sometimes nights trying to figure it out. The pieces were finally falling into place. Dead bodies were lining up, cause of death, designer drugs. These drugs were coming in faster than counterfeit designer fashions in the spring. Carlee knew that the drugs killed them, but the even stranger part was that the bodies were missing vital organs—livers, kidneys, lungs, hearts.

  The elevator signaled the third floor and she stuck out her tongue at the light. The missing photo had opened a portal to t
he past that she wished to hell would close.

  She didn’t need a calendar to tell her that it had been just over three years since she had her heart ripped from her chest. It had to be thinking about the tattoo that caused Ryden’s face to pop into her mind. That was a lie and she knew it. She just didn’t want to consciously she still thought of him. Even now, she sometimes felt her heart would break all over again when she heard a certain song or smelled a certain cologne.

  Her fingers seemed to move to her hip on their own and pressed against the skin. I swear, I am going to get that tattoo turned into an eight ball, or a grenade.

  Truth was, she had planned on it more than once but didn’t seem to be able to go through with the cover-up. Instead, she kept it as a reminder of what happens when you give your heart, when you trust someone too much. You get scarred. Maybe if she covered it, there wouldn’t be the constant reminder of what a schmuck she had been. She knew what military men were like. Major Daddy was a perfect example. Ryden had worked his way past the walls she built only to turn around and fire a bazooka from half-way around the world and shatter her heart. She swore she would never get that close to anyone again.

  The opening of the elevator door brought her out of her not-so-happy place. She was startled to see Special Agent Achilles Giannopolous standing outside the door.

  “’Sup, G?”

  “That’s Special Agent G to you, baby.”

  He placed a kiss on her neck as she walked out of the elevator. His large hand slid down her back, over the curve of her ass in a caress.

  “Exactly what is it that makes you special, Special Agent?”

  Laughing as he ran his tongue across his lips was not the reaction she was expecting. G started coming to her lab right after she started with the bureau. He’d been hanging around ever since. It wasn’t like she was planning on keeping him around. Of course, having him around did make for a nice view across the breakfast table. Greek God material with dark hair, olive skin and strong masculine features. She called him G for short. Screaming out ‘Achilles’ or ‘Giannopolous’ in the throes of passion was kind of like trying to recite the alphabet backwards.

  G grasped her arm, forcing her to face him as his dark eyes narrowed in on her. “You know exactly what makes me special. What’s your problem? Did someone put decaf in your cup this morning?”

  In no mood for the caveman routine, Carlee pulled away from his grip. While she might have G in her bed, he knew her feelings about running her life. It just wasn’t going to happen. The last thing she needed was G getting in her way today.

  “No problem. I’m just in a hurry to pick up a box of new evidence and take it to my lab. I’m really close to solving this case. Oh, and the pic of my brother is missing from my desk. That reminds me, I saw you outside my lab with someone. Who was that? He seemed familiar.”

  G gave her an annoying smirk. “Classified intel. I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.” Carlee stuck out her tongue as he continued. “Sucks you don’t have the security clearance. I will ask around about the picture but you probably just misplaced it.”

  She was already moving in the direction of the evidence room when he stopped her again. “Don’t forget we have plans for this evening. I have everything set up for your big surprise.”

  She squeezed her eyes closed. The last thing she really wanted tonight was to have to leave early. The new evidence was sure to keep her busy in her lab for days. She stiffened. “Don’t even think it, Carlee. This has been planned for weeks. I will be at your house at six.” He paused as though reconsidering. “Screw that. I know how you are once you get into your work. I will pick you up at the lab at five-thirty.”

  She knew there was no getting out of this one. She had promised, and one thing she was good for was keeping her word. “I know, but I hadn’t counted on a new vic coming in today. If I’m going to be ready, go away so I can get some work done before then.”

  When she turned and walked away, her mind was back on the evidence room and back on the case. Even so, she could have sworn she heard G mumble under his breath, “Frigid bitch.”

  Okay, well, that was rude considering she was allowing him into her bed. But he was probably right. She couldn’t make her family happy, couldn’t cure Kyle, and couldn’t keep the man she loved in her bed. Three strikes were enough for her to decide to sit on the bench as far as love and relationships went. There just wasn’t going to be an emotional attachment again, ever.

  Chapter Four

  After a fitful night’s sleep, Ryden woke up at the crack of dawn and packed his few belongings. As soon as he grabbed breakfast in the hotel lobby, he checked out and hailed a cab to take him to the storage facility where he kept his prize possession, a black ’65 Ford Mustang in mint condition. He could remember pictures of his real father owning one almost exactly like it, and when Ryden found this one, he couldn’t pass it up. It was one of the few good memories he had of the time before it all went to hell and his mother turned to alcohol and drugs.

  Opening the wide bay doors, Ryden dropped his bag just inside and walked to the covered car, removing the tarp and tossing it into the back corner of the room. He paid the owner of the storage facility well to make sure the sleek beauty was always gassed up, and running at peak performance so that whenever Ryden was back home, he could just get in and drive.

  Running his fingers across the glass-like surface, he appreciated yet again the beauty of the car. Eagerly, he grabbed the key from inside the door, tossed his bags in the back, started the classic car, and immediately heard the rumble of American muscle under the hood.

  A broad smile spread across Ryden’s face as he felt the steady vibration of the car beneath him. He put it in drive and left the bay without even bothering to close and lock the door. There was nothing else in the bay, so it didn’t matter. All Ryden owned was the car and the few personal belongings, meager as they were, tossed in the back seat.

  As he drove out of the city, making his way north on I-95 for the forty-five minute drive to Baltimore, his thoughts once again turned to his past and what he’d had to leave behind. There were too many memories he wished he could forget, but knew would be a part of him for the rest of his life, a life that could turn out to be much longer than that of the average man driving down the interstate alongside him.

  Had it not been for two men in particular who helped pull him back from the brink and put him on the right path at the age of sixteen, Ryden wondered how much worse it could have been. Now, many years later and on his way to see those two very same men, both retired and living the peaceful life, he hoped they were proud of the man he had become.

  Grant Holloway had once owned a store in town that sold CDs and DVDs, along with various electronics and prepaid cell phones. Ryden often wandered in there, always just looking and never buying since he rarely had money to spend. If he did, it was usually spent on food or necessary clothing, not frivolous things, no matter how much he wanted them.

  On one particular day, Ryden was there on a mission, one he wasn’t too keen on, but he felt he had no choice. The gang he wanted to join insisted on it, telling him he had to steal something; it was part of being initiated into the group of street thugs. After bouncing from foster home to foster home and never feeling like he belonged anywhere, Ryden wanted to be a part of this gang. He wanted a family and this was the next best thing. Or so he thought.

  Careful not to be seen, he picked up a couple of music CDs. Pretending to look them over, he then put them back and chose a couple more to peruse, until he finally tucked one of them in his coat pocket. He was desperately trying to stay cool about the whole thing. He was sure that would work as he looked around to see if anyone was nearby. Just as he pulled his hand out of the pocket and turned, Ryden saw Mr. Holloway standing at the end of the aisle with an exasperated look. Ryden swallowed hard hoping Mr. Holloway hadn’t seen what he had just done.

  When he got closer, Mr. Holloway stopped him with a hand on his shou
lder.

  “Ryden, this won’t work. Go put it back, son.”

  Ryden’s heart sank, and he knew this was it for him. He’d teetered on the edge of the law for years, often in trouble at school and just being trouble all around. Now, sixteen and having been caught shoplifting, he knew he wasn’t getting off easy this time.

  Instead of calling the cops, he called a friend who dealt with wayward boys. Grant Holloway recognized Ryden’s need for someone to care instead of kicking him farther down into the gutter. Never before had anyone cared about him this much. It was a new experience, one Ryden hadn’t been sure how to deal with at the time.

  Shaking himself from his memories, he took the exit into a residential part of Baltimore and saw the tree-lined streets of his home town. Grant lived on Hawthorne Road while the other man Ryden was there to visit, Justin Walters, lived across town. As he pulled up into Grant’s drive, he saw both men sitting on the porch, each with a cold brew in hand.

  “Damn, this early, guys?” Ryden gave a genuine smile at both men as he got out of his car.

  “Yes, this early. Don’t know when I’ll take my last breath, so I might as well enjoy it,” Grant said as he clinked the long necked bottle to Justin’s raised one.

  “Yeah, what he said.” Justin chuckled as he took a drink of his beer and sat the now-empty bottle on the table beside him. “’Bout time you got here. Took you long enough.”

  Grabbing Ryden in a tight hug, he patted him on the back and turned him to the porch where Grant struggled to get out of his chair.

  “Hold up, Grant. Let me help you.” Ryden quickly ran up the porch steps and helped his old friend to his feet, giving him a gentle hug. The years had not been kind to Grant. Ryden could see the gray hair had thinned, and his weathered face was drawn and pale. Time wasn’t on Grant’s side, hence one of the reasons for this visit. Justin had told him in their last phone conversation that Grant’s cancer was back, and the doctors had given him no hope.