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“What?”
“I’m glad you don’t feel the need to call me Dr. Becker, just as Rachel doesn’t call me daddy.”
“I meant no disrespect.”
“None taken. You can call me Howard anytime.”
“I guarantee once she realizes you care enough to take care of her, she’ll call you father.”
“Goodbye, Lev.”
“Goodbye, Doctor.”
Lev stared at his cell phone. I should just take a bath and sleep before my flight. He rubbed his stubble. No, I must call Natalya. He opened his brief case and took out a throw away phone and dialed the Russian agent capable of locating just about anyone from hidden terrorists to computer hackers. A human, but one he had worked for when he did undercover work.
“Good evening Natalya.”
“Lev, you disappeared from our radar for nearly a year. What are you up to?”
“I’ve gone off the grid and for your own well-being don’t try to find me.”
“Who are you looking for, Lev?”
“A young woman. Dr. Rachel Becker.”
“Wait. I’ll go in
another room so as not to wake up lover.”
Lev smiled. Typical Natalya. He’d slept with her once, pleasurable, but no sparks.
“Go on.”
Lev gave her details of her previous job, address and other stats.
Chapter 3
Rachel opened the shutters to her small balcony above a beautiful well cared for garden. Her temporary home stood in a quiet part of the New Orleans French Quarter. A thunderstorm brewed, but considering it was December 31, it felt like a balmy tropical night. The dark storm clouds cast the late afternoon into an early evening. She’d been here for two weeks, and finally had the house to herself. Maggie had gone to celebrate New Year’s with her boyfriend at his place and wouldn’t be back until January 2. Maggie and Jim apologized for leaving her alone for New Year’s, but she didn’t mind. She preferred to spend it alone. A few good books, maybe some bubbly. And of course, the Beatles’ Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, blaring in the background.
After she left the hospital, Howard had surprised her with her first turntable. Who knew she’d love retro music played the old-fashioned way. Last time she’d seen a turntable was at a museum.
Rachel never really liked crowds. Hunkered in and away from the crazy drunken celebrations just steps from her doors suited her just fine. Anyway, three was a crowd. And best of all, frozen pizza all for her.
Since her arrival, Maggie and Jim had given her the grand tour of New Orleans, from the popular spots to the secret hidden gems. She just wanted to rest and think about her future. Immediately, Maggie had found a job at a nearby hospital. In no hurry to jump back to work, Rachel wanted to chill in the safety of the states.
Guilt washed over her. Others didn’t have it so easy. Still, the thought of being in a war torn hot zone no longer drew her in. Probably PTSD from the horror of being kidnapped by the Boko Haram rather than suffering from Ebola. Treating disease had expected inherent dangers, but not watching people brutally killed. Knowing the terrorists were dead didn’t offer much comfort. She often woke in a sweat, panicked as if still being held hostage. Dying of Ebola.
Howard suggested she see a psychiatrist about her PTSD, but she’d put up a brave front and told him she felt back to normal. He didn't know her well enough to know what was normal and what wasn't, or decided not to call her on the obvious lie. Rachel rolled her eyes and returned to the kitchen. Too late to act like the caring father. Rachel took the pizza from the freezer and after placing it on a cookie tray, she popped it in the oven. Dinner, wine, a good novel. Nothing better. She had wanted to see the fireworks, but there was always next year.
Thunder clapped and she jumped. “Shit.” Rachel went upstairs to her room and shut the window and shutters. Lightning struck, illuminating the darkness. She gasped. A huge black wolf stood outside the backyard gate. Feral, but with glowing blue eyes narrowed on her. Not like the type of wolf she’d seen in Yellowstone or at zoos, but one the size of a bear and with eyes that beamed like sapphires. What the…? She closed her eyes and then blinked. Gone. How weird. Who kept such a big wolf as a pet? Maybe it had just been a dark husky or a giant Irish wolfhound. An illusion caused by the light.
Or could it be bad juju? Her term for anything out of the realm of reality. Like the giant lion that mauled Yusuf and his gang of murderers. The more she thought about their deaths, the more she wondered if it had been a Nigerian witch doctor who used juju against her kidnappers. She always believed in rational science, but how could it be rational to think a lion killed an entire well-armed gang of terrorists? A lion that left the kidnapped women alone.
Rachel ran and double checked all the doors and windows. All locked. Lightning lit the room again, followed by a loud clap of thunder that nearly deafened her. Too damn close.
Her breath hitched. Something big pattered outside the kitchen window facing a narrow alley.
Please, be a big dog. Curiosity dared her to look. Rachel slowly crept to the window. Her heart thrashed in her ears. Tomorrow, I’ll find out what idiot keeps a wolf hybrid as a pet.
