Page 32 of Tracking Wolfe

Jake. Of Jake’s Place.

Tall and good-looking. Because of course he was.

“Everything’s fine,” I said.

“Doesn’t look fine.” The man gave me a hard look. “And I didn’t ask you.”

I stared at him. What the fuck? Maybe I should have been grateful the guy was watching out for his patrons. But the heated way he watched Wolfe suggested it was personal, and that raised my own protective instincts. It was none of his goddamn business.

Wolfe looked miserable. “I’m fine, Jake. Thank you. Trace was just leaving.”

Jake looked at me expectantly. My chest tightened. But I could tell Wolfe was uncomfortable, and I knew he hated confrontation of any kind.

“Howbout I move to another table?” I suggested. “I actually came in for some food.”

Jake tilted his head. “Mm. Sorry. We don’t serve food.”

Not only was there a sign out front saying they did, but Wolfe’s own plate was still on the table in front of us.

“Fine,” I said, feeling exhaustion overtake me again. I had a pack of peanut butter crackers in my car. They’d have to do for now. “I’ll go.”

As I stood, I caught a brief moment of disappointment on Wolfe’s face. Within seconds, it was gone, replaced by a firm chin and a fake expression of disinterest.

But it had been there. I’d caught it.

I met his eye. “I’ll talk to you later, okay? Call me if you need me.”

He looked away. “I won’t.”

I exhaled and nodded before throwing down a few bucks for my untouched coffee and walking out.

Before heading back to the campground, I pulled into the gas station to fill up. If Wolfe decided to bolt, I wanted to be ready to follow him.

Thankfully, there was a small grocery attached to the gas station, so I stocked up on fruit, a couple of pastries, bottled water, and two sandwiches. When I made it back to the campground, I set up at the site’s picnic table and devoured one of the sandwiches and an apple before reaching out to Derek.

I found Wolfe at a campground in Hush, Colorado. He’s safe and seems okay.

Derek

I thought you were going home?

It’s on the way.

Derek

You don’t need to drive twenty hours for fuck’s sake. I’m happy to pay for a flight.

I rolled my eyes. As if I needed his fucking money for a plane ticket.

You know me. I can’t leave before I lock eyes on the target. Call it a SaR hangup.

Derek

Bullshit. You’ve done it a million times.

He wasn’t wrong. As soon as we knew the target was secure, that was all that mattered. But Wolfe wasn’t a target. He was family.

I was worried. Now I’m not.