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“If you would go to them yourself…” Wolf stops before I can tell him I won’t do that. “Doesn’t matter anymore. He’s in there. Talking to them, swaying them with his sweet words in their ears. They won’t believe a word anyone says against him now.”
I grimace. “My fault that we missed that chance.”
“You have no fault in any of this, Julia.”
No matter what he says, I can’t help but feel responsible. I decide to tell him about the phone call I had earlier today. Our food arrives and he stabs at his chicken parmesan with his fork, probably wishing it was Malcolm he was stabbing. “Don’t take any calls from numbers you don’t recognize. Don’t answer the door to any strangers, either. If you’ve got to go anywhere, let me or someone else know.”
I frown at my slice of lasagna and wish I had gotten something creamy instead of doused in tomato sauce. It reminds me too much of blood. “I feel my world shrinking.”
“We’ll get it figured out. I promise.”
I can only hope so. I try so hard to be positive. It’s getting harder and harder these days.
Wolf hoovers down his food while I poke at mine. At one point, his phone rings. He checks the screen, scowling.
“Don’t answer unknown numbers,” I tell him.
He chuckles a little, which makes me smile, pleased with myself. “It’s Tracker, the info guy I mentioned. I need to take this. I’ll just go over by the bathroom. You won’t lose sight of me.”
I watch him go over by the bathroom to take the call. He’s so dark and handsome there, which draws the attention of the tables nearest him. He turns away from those prying eyes, though keeps his head tilted in my direction to keep me in his sight. Like a bodyguard.
His jaw clenches as he listens to whatever that Tracker guy has to say. His shoulders tense as he says something that has an old couple on a date shaking their heads. Hanging up, he jams the phone back into his pocket and stalks back over to our booth. He’s shaking with pent-up rage as he sits down.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” I press.
Wolf rakes his fingers back through his hair. “Nothin’.”
“It’s not nothing. Tell me,” I say. “Wasn’t it you who wanted me to behave in public? If I tell you what I was just told, I might get us kicked out of here,” he says, his voice low and serious.
“Then when are you going to tell me? Because you are going to tell me! You aren’t going to keep me in the dark like before.”
“I won’t,” he says, nodding. “Just got to wait until we’re somewhere private.”
“Artie’s staying at Leah and Steel’s tonight,” I say.
“You wanna come to mine?”
“Okay.” I don’t really need to think about it. I’ve been fighting my emotions as far as Wolf goes since I learned he’d been in prison. Now I find out that it was my father who set him up, I don’t know what to think. We really need to talk.
About everything.
“Then we’ll go there when you’re done eatin’.”
“I am done.” I push my mostly untouched food away. “This place wasn’t very good. I don’t think I’ll come back.”
Wolf picks up the check this time. I don’t argue. It’s not very modern woman of me. I just don’t want to delay in getting to his place so we can talk.
He rides his bike ahead of me the whole way, leaning forward over the handlebars. The wind of his speed ripples his vest and tousles his hair.
He ushers me inside his house, which does look a bit neater than the last time, and grabs my arm to drag me to the couch. He makes me sit down on the cushion beside him, our legs touching.
“Okay then, tell me,” I whisper.
He closes his eyes to gather his control, and I don’t know how effective it is because his chest continues heaving with ragged breaths. “Tracker’s been diggin’ into Malcolm to see if he can find anything important. The guy is private. You probably knew that already.”
“No social media of any kind,” I reply, and Wolf nods.
“He did find something by looking at the places where Malcolm worked and researchin’ the people he would have come in contact with. Some minor crimes, a few old folks dyin’. Nothin’ much to report until he looked at the law firm where Malcolm got his first big fancy lawyer job.”
