Page 41 of Big Bad Wolfe

Farley’s swaggering defiance quickly crumbled. One deliberate shoulder lifted. “My bad, Ms. Ramsay.”

She continued to simply look at the kid, until he shuffled his feet. “Sorry, Special Agent Wolfe.”

Jillian bestowed a pleased smile on Farley, whose face blazed stoplight red. She waved. “Carry on, then, troops. I’ll be in my office if anyone needs me.”

“Special Agent Wolfe,” Calvin called. “You get bored hunt-and-pecking computer keys in the office, come on by. We’ll put a hammer in your hand, see what the FBI is made of.”

Zane grinned at the blatant challenge. “I might do that.”

Once more in the hallway with the doors shut, Zane caught Jillian’s arm before she could stride forward. “Farley has a major jones for you, you know that, right?”

“I do. And I’m very careful to never cross the line, to always stay professional with him.”

“He skateboards, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, why?”

“I spotted a kid with identical build, coloring, and mannerisms skateboarding in your neighborhood the day I arrived—now that I’ve met him, I’m positive it was him. Maybe unreciprocated infatuation has spilled over into frustration. And stalking … or vandalism.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Not Farley. You want to know how he got that scar? When he was thirteen, his father kidnapped him from his mother, who had custody, and encamped them both in a skinhead cult in Idaho. Farley made a friend in there, and last year when the cult discovered the other kid was gay, they tried to beat him to death. Farley not only defended his friend almost at the cost of his own life, he planned and executed their escape afterward.” Another headshake. “You saw his camaraderie with Calvin and Tala. He completely rejected the bigoted hatred his father tried to drill into him. That boy has been dragged through hell, and he’s still struggling a bit to find his way, but he’s determined to move forward.”

Her chin jutted. “Calvin’s oldest brother is a drug-dealing gang leader, bouncing in and out of jail and accumulating a rap sheet longer than the original unabridged edition ofLes Miserables.And Tala has been raised by her grandmother since she was three and her mom went to jail for stabbing a john.

“But they’reallmoving forward. Calvin disowned his brother and shunned the gang lifestyle, and works his butt off here at the center. He eventually wants a contracting business of his own. And Tala is giving her baby up for adoption and has diligently applied for every college music scholarship available. She has a brilliant future in musical theater.” Her index finger poked him in the chest. “These kids have had a rotten row to hoe, Zane, but not a single one is a criminal, and don’t you dare treat any of them like one. They’ve been well-vetted and proven themselves trustworthy. We don’t allowanyoneinto the Center who could be a potential threat to the smaller children.”

He frowned. There she went, diving into the deep end of trust yet again. “If you say so.” Which didn’t mean he wasn’t going to thoroughly investigate all of them anyway.

He walked beside Jillian as she sauntered down the hallway and around several corners. What if he and his brothers had had a safe haven like this when things got bad at home? Had a champion like Jillian who listened, believed … and stood up for them?

He rubbed his suddenly aching sternum. Maybe things would’ve turned out differently for all of them.

Maybe Trev would still be alive.

Zane followed her through the open door opposite the entry lobby and into the administrative offices. He finished a quick, silent check both in the reception area and Jillian’s office for listening devices, found two and pocketed them in bags he’d brought. He nodded at Jillian. “Clean.”

“Hello,” Jillian called out. “Anybody here?”

An attractive older woman with chin length dark hair and a voluptuous figure strolled out of one of the two back offices and rounded the empty reception counter in the front. “Jilly, honey, there you are,” she drawled in a soft southern accent. Her gracefully languid walk contradicted her worried expression. The woman saw him, and stopped short. Her glance raked down him, then back up, wise silver cat’s eyes a distinct contrast to her soft curves. “Oh, my. Hello, there.”

Jillian turned to him. “Zane this is Loucinda Wallis, my boss, the center’s director, and one of my best friends. Loucinda, FBI Special Agent Zane Wolfe. He’s the new volunteer I phoned you about yesterday.”

“Very nice meetin’ you, Agent Wolfe.” A soft hand firmly took possession of his. “You’ll need all the help you can get, Jilly. Dr. Dick is in fine form today.”

Jillian sighed. “Now what?”

“He came barrelin’ in here about ten minutes ago, all in a lather, wantin’ to yank Casey out of classes for some private school admission interview. I refused, and he threatened to pull his contributions to the Center’s financial support … and influence his colleagues to do the same.” The woman planted her hands on ample hips. “When I didn’t budge, he pitched such a royal hissy fit I picked up the phone to call the police. He stormed out, but warned he wasnothappy, and would be talking to you later.”

Zane curled his lip. Later couldn’t come soon enough. He had edifying info to deliver to Dickwad.

Jillian tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry, Loucinda.”

“Now, don’t you go apologizin’ for that belly crawlin’ vermin.”

“Thanks for sticking to your guns and not allowing Richard to take Casey. He knows damned good and well he’s supposed to arrange his visits in advance.”

“As if I’d let Asshat blackmail me with the funding? Dr. Dick blusterin’ out his blowhole doesn’t intimidate me one itty bit.” Loucinda gave Jillian a hug, waving at Zane over Jillian’s shoulder. “You just go right on into Jilly’s office and make yourself at home. We have some catching up to do here.”

Zane strode toward the room on the left, into what used to be Jillian and Deb’s shared office, now belonging only to Jillian.

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