Wolf was back in the lounge, staring at the TV without seeing it, wondering just how the hell he’d messed everything up quite this badly. How had he gotten Dawson so wrong? When had someone actually plant a bomb at one of his businesses? Why couldn’t they figure out whose finger was in the box? What had they missed?
What have I missed?
“Wolf…”
The voice came from the doorway behind him, and Wolf shot to his feet and spun at the same time, his hackles rising, his heartbeat accelerating.
“Dawson,” he said, in complete disbelief. He was too stunned to be angry right off the bat, because this was like Dawson wandering into a lion’s den, playing a kazoo and carrying fresh, bloody meat. This was literally the stupidest, most dangerous place on earth for the man to be, and just by showing up
