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“You’re not in danger from me,” he said, holding her gaze as he reached into his pocket. His fingers pushed down, curled around the square shape and pulled it out slowly. Without looking down at the battered brown leather, he said, “Opening it now.”
She nodded and he flipped it open. The distinctive FBI shield on one side looked authentic, with the eagle perched on top, the dark blue band that said ‘FBI’ beneath it, and the seal below that. On the other side of the wallet was a picture ID that identified him as Special Agent Gideon Wolf.
He held it out to her. “Go ahead. Take it. Make sure the shield isn’t plastic. Examine the picture. It’s not very flattering, but it’s clearly me.”
“Throw it to me,” she ordered.
His eyes flickered. Was he disappointed that she hadn’t reached for the wallet and given him a chance to grab her? Or was he acknowledging she’d made a smart move?
Didn’t matter. She held his gaze until he lobbed it over to her. She trapped it against her chest and backed up several steps. Flipped it open. She studied the picture, then looked at his face. Studied the badge. Touched it to make sure it wasn’t plastic.
Raised her gaze to his again. “It looks authentic, Gideon Wolf,” she said, tossing it back to him. His name rolled smoothly off her tongue. And he looked wolf-like, with that long, rangy body, dark hair and blue eyes. “But I’m not buying it. You can find anything online, including fake FBI badges and fake FBI ID’s.”
“True,” he said. “But these are authentic. You can call Bureau headquarters in Washington and verify my identity.”
Ignoring his words, she said, “You said you needed to talk to me. So talk.”
He nodded. Took a breath. “The FBI has credible evidence that your husband, Jeremy Trotter, is trying to hire someone to kill you. I’m here to protect you.”
“Right. And maybe you’re the guy Jerry hired to kill me,” she retorted.
Even before she’d finished talking, he shook his head. “No. Not here to kill you. You need protection, and I’d like you to come with me.”
She gave a short, bitter laugh. “Hell, no. I’m not going anywhere with you. I can take care of myself.” She studied him for a long moment. “How did you find me?”
The flicker in his eyes told her he didn’t want to answer that question. Had he assumed that fear would make her stupid? That when he told her what Jerry had done, she’d collapse into a puddle and beg him to save her?
Wolf studied her for a long moment. “I hoped you wouldn’t ask that question, but I figured you would,” he finally said. “You’re too smart not to. I put a tracker in your bag. At the Mexican restaurant where you ate three nights ago.”
She stared right back at him. “The drunk who bumped into my chair. Right?” Her eyes narrowed. “You were smooth as hell and I bought it completely. Another reason not to trust you.”
“Just a standard FBI trick. We know all kinds of them.”
“Including how to stalk women,” she shot back.
“Only when absolutely necessary. What’d you do with the tracker?”
“I found it in Fargo. Smashed it flat and tossed it into the trash outside the hotel.”
He sighed. “Which is why its app didn’t show you leaving your hotel.”
“So how did you find me here?” She studied his face, looking for tells she’d recognize if he was lying.
“I followed you from that restaurant in Fargo. Using the tracker I’d slapped onto your Subaru in Minneapolis.” He smiled, a feral curl of his lips. “I always have a backup plan.”
“Son of a bitch.” Anger flared in her chest. He’d been one step ahead of her the whole time. “Did you camp out in the hall last night? Listen for me moving around in the room this morning?”
“Hell, no,” he said immediately. “If someone had seen me, I’d be thrown out of the hotel. I slept in my car. Set an alarm for four a.m. Waited until I saw the light in your room, then came up to intercept you.
“So will you come with me? I’ll take you somewhere you’ll be safe while our agents take Jeremy Trotter down. He’s mixed up with some dangerous people, and I don’t want to take any chances.”
“Neither do I,” Alex shot back. “And getting into a car with a strange man, when I know Jerry hired someone to kill me? That would make me too stupid to live.”
His lips twitched for a moment, as if he liked her snark, then his face went carefully neutral again. “Use your phone to look up the number for the FBI headquarters in Washington D.C. Call and ask for Agent Tony Conklin. He’s the only one who knows what I’m doing.” He pressed his lips together. “We have some leakage problems, and Tony and I thought it best to keep your situation between the two of us. He’ll reassure you that I’m legitimate.”
“Maybe your buddy Tony is in on this, too. I’m sure not every FBI agent is a clean-cut straight arrow.”
His lips thinned. “You’re right about that. But that’s a story for another time. Tony is one of the good guys, and I trust him. He’s the one who found out what Trotter was up to, and I’m the only other agent who knows about it. I came after you because I was better positioned to protect you.”
