The Big Bad Wolf

over and give your daddy some room,” I whispered, and kissed the top of his head. I don’t ever remember my father kissing me, so I kiss Alex every chance I get. The same goes for Damon and Jannie, no matter how much they complain as they get older and less wise.
    “I’m tired, little man,” I said as I stretched out. “How about you? Tough day, Puppy?”
    I retrieved his bottle from a space between the mattress and the guard bars. He started to drink, and then he moved in close to me. He grabbed his stuffed cow, Moo, and he fell back to sleep in minutes.
    So nice. Magical. That sweet baby smell I love. His soft breathing—baby’s breath.
    The two of us had a nice sleep-over that night.

Chapter 10
    THE COUPLE WAS HIDING out for a few days in New York City. Lower Manhattan. It was so easy to get lost there, to disappear off the map. And New York was one city where they could get whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted it. The Couple wanted rough sex. For starters, anyway.
    They had stayed out of reach of their employer for more than thirty-six hours. Their contact man, Sterling, finally got through to them on the cell phone in a room at the Chelsea Hotel on West Twenty-third Street. Outside the window was a sign: HOTEL CHELSEA in an L shape. The vertical HOTEL was in white, the horizontal CHELSEA in red. It was a famous New York City icon.
    “I’ve been trying to reach you for a day and a half,” Sterling said. “Don’t ever turn off your cell on me. Consider this a last warning.”
    The woman, Zoya, yawned and gave the phone the finger. With her free hand, she popped a CD,
East Eats West,
into the player. Rock music kicked in hard and loud. “We were busy, darling. We’re
still
busy. What the hell do you want? You have more money for us? Money talks.”
    “Turn down the music, please.
Please.
Somebody has an itch. He’s very rich. There’s a
lot
of money involved.”
    “Like I said, darling, we’re busy right now. Otherwise occupied. Out to lunch. How big an itch is it?”
    “Same as last time. A very big itch. He’s a personal friend of the Wolf.”
    Zoya flinched at the mention of the Wolf. “Give me details, specifics. Don’t waste our time.”
    “We’ll do it like we always do,
darling.
A piece of the puzzle at a time. How soon can you be on the road? How about thirty minutes?”
    “We have something to wrap up here. Let’s say four hours. This
need
that somebody has, this itch—what kind of itch is it?”
    “One unit, female. And not too far from New York. I’ll give you directions first. Then specifics on the unit. You have four hours.”
    Zoya looked at her partner, who was lounging in an armchair. Slava was idly fingering a pecker leash as he listened to her talking. He was gazing out the window at a sweet shop, a tailor shop, a one-hour photo. Typical NYC view.
    “We’ll do the job,” said Zoya. “Tell Wolf we’ll get his friend what he needs. No problem whatsoever.” Then she hung up on Sterling. Because she could.
    She shrugged at her partner. Then Zoya looked across the hotel room to a queen-size bed with a steel decorative headboard. A young blond man was lying there. He was naked and gagged, handcuffed to vertical rods spaced about a foot apart on the bed.
    “You’re in luck,” Zoya said to the blond. “Only four more hours to play, baby. Only four more hours.”
    Then Slava spoke. “You’ll wish it was less. You ever heard of a Russian word—
zamochit
? No. I’ll show you
zamochit.
Four hours’ worth. I learned it from the Wolf. Now you learn from me.
Zamochit.
It means to break all the bones in your body.”
    Zoya winked at the boy. “Four hours.
Zamochit.
You’ll take the next few hours with you through eternity. Never forget it, darling.”

Chapter 11
    WHEN I WOKE IN THE MORNING, Little Alex was sleeping peacefully beside me, his head on my chest. I couldn’t resist sneaking another kiss. And another. Then, as I lay there next to my boy, I found myself thinking about Detective Dennis Coulter and his family. I had been moved emotionally when they came out of that house together. The family had saved Coulter’s life, and I was a sucker for family stuff.
    I had been asked to stop at the Hoover Building, always referred to as “the Bureau,” before I drove down to Quantico. The director wanted to see me about what had happened in Baltimore. I had no idea what to expect, but I was anxious about the visit. Maybe I should have skipped Nana’s