Chernobyl Werewolf (Team Greywolf 3)

Lev turned off the television and then took a long shower. The evening became a blur of Rachel. Rachel baking pizza. Rachel calling the police after seeing his wolf. Rachel in her black cocktail dress that revealed her luscious sexy body. Rachel’s aroma of desire wetting her panties. Rachel’s sweet mouth as he ravished her with his final kiss.

His head pounded. Not from the explosion, but from the battle his wolf raged to claim Rachel.

He stepped out of the shower and crashed into bed. Escaping his torn emotions in exhausted sleep.

Rachel wiped tears from her eyes. From the way she mourned for Lev, anybody would think they were more than casual acquaintances, but lovers. She picked up her cell phone. Her father would want to know the details about how Lev died saving thousands. Perhaps, Howard would tell her more about the mysterious hero. Odd as it was, she decided to bury her resentment toward her father and practice medicine with him. Not an easy decision, but life was too short and she needed family more than ever. And he was all she had.

Rachel bit her lip and hit speed dial. Instead of his voice or voice mail, an automated voice said, “The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

“Huh?” Rachel sent him an email. After a few minutes, it bounced back. She huffed. “Figures.” He did his duty as a father when she nearly died of Ebola and nursed her back to health. Now he disappeared from her life again. End of her father and daughter dream of practicing in some clinic, for good. Time to sever her connection with Howard, and any clue about Lev as well.

Rachel batted back tears. She hadn’t slept well for the last couple days, and remained glued to the news. The officer on scene never called her back with the status on their search for Lev. No John Doe. No body. Or rather body parts, yet.

Only Maggie had called to make sure she was okay. Rachel told her what happened and how terrible she felt. Her mixed emotions pounded her head. Blaming herself for Lev’s most likely death, yet knowing if he hadn’t been there, hundreds might have died. Maggie said they were driving back. At least she could count on Maggie. Yet, if Howard turned on the news, he would call and make sure she was okay. These days any terrorist act upon Americans made global headlines. If he gave a rat’s ass about her.

Rachel sighed and brewed another batch of coffee. The only deaths were three men who had been on a boat near the explosion. The suspect apparently had been a terrorist with ties to ISIS. A lone wolf being held in the hospital with broken ribs and a concussion.

The reporter took interviews from witnesses who described the Good Samaritan as a big muscular man who ran with the speed of a horse. Rumors of a man in the special forces surfaced. A man who sacrificed his life to save others. No sign of him anywhere. No business associate claiming to know the missing hero. She furrowed her brow. Who meets with a client during the New Year’s holiday? Or had he been here looking to stop the terrorist? But why go after him singlehandedly? Did he work for the FBI or some special anti-terrorist task force? Still, if they’d known a lone terrorist lurked in New Orleans, they would have monitored all celebration events.

Rachel sipped her coffee. No. She got the impression Lev had not expected a terrorist in their midst. After all, their choice of venue had been hers and entirely random.

Rachel wished she had known which hotel he had stayed in. She called several expensive French Quarter hotels, but none had a registration or reservation under his name. She could call every New Orleans hotel, but why bother? If he survived, he hadn’t bothered to call her to tell her he was okay. Even if he saw her as a casual dinner date, he’d let her know. Freakin’ common courtesy.

Guilt overtook her resentment. She’d been left. Not stood up like a bride at the altar. Worse. Not knowing. Lev was gone and it was her fault.

Yet her sorrow was more than guilt. It felt as though a part of her had died along with him. Dang. She’d been infatuated by the drop dead gorgeous and charming macho man. No, there was more. She’d become obsessed with Lev, since meeting him while she recovered from Ebola so many months ago. Men never made her lose her mind. Lev had been so different. He turned her mind into a giddy fan girl.

Geez. Why am I so love sick?

Maggie and her boyfriend Jim, who wore his hair in a man-bun, walked in. “Rachel, are you okay?”

“No. I think I might have lost the love of my life.”

Maggie hugged her. “I’m so sorry.”

Rachel sobbed, but then broke away. “I’m sorry. I sound like a bumbling idiot.”

“Of course, you don’t.” She offered Rachel tissue. “Did you reach your father?”

“No. Howard’s phone is no longer in service. And his email bounced.”

“That’s odd.”

Jim poured a cup of coffee for Maggie, warmed up Rachel’s mug and brought them over. “I bet your dad works for some underground black ops group.”

Earlier, she’d told Maggie and Jim, about Howard’s mysterious calls and how he never mentioned where or rather who he worked for. Most telling, Dr. Howard Becker had no internet presence. Were medical staff that worked for the secret services listed anywhere? “If that’s true, I might forgive him.”

Maggie turned to Rachel. “Yeah, and from what you told me about Lev, he might have come to NOLA to find this mad bomber.”

Rachel blew over the hot coffee. “It was my idea to go to Jackson Square. He looked surprised on spotting the bomber.” Unless Lev manipulated her into thinking it was her idea to watch the fireworks?

Jim adjusted his hair-bun. “Or it could have been a false flag and Lev was part of the operation to ensure no one got hurt.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. Jim believed every terrorist activity including 911 was a false flag in order for the government to take away citizen’s rights and start some nefarious one world order.

“These men in black are convincing,” retorted Jim.

Maggie frowned. “Chill.”