Chapter 45: Black Widow (Please Keep Reading!)

“Sorry, Ryder.”

After ending the call, Roan tilted his head and offered Ryder an apologetic look, waving his phone.

“Looks like I can’t make it tonight—something came up at the last minute. How about next time? I promise I’ll be there!”

“OK!” Ryder didn’t mind at all, grinning broadly as he launched into an animated discussion with Roan about the finer points of throwing things.

Watching Roan effortlessly flick business cards, photographs, and pens, each one landing neatly inside a folder, Ryder was soon exclaiming in amazement, repeatedly begging Roan to teach him this trick.

“Why?” Roan agreed, but couldn’t quite understand why Ryder was so eager. Ryder was already married, and from what Lacey had said, he wasn’t the type to sneak around behind his wife’s back. So why learn a move that, on the surface, seemed designed purely to impress women?

Besides, putting such a skill to practical use would take at least a year or two to master. That time would be better spent improving his marksmanship at the range.

Noticing Roan’s confusion, Ryder’s expression froze. He glanced over at Lacey, who was napping on her desk, and then at Mona, who was still battling her computer. Seeing neither paid them any mind, Ryder leaned in to whisper in Roan’s ear.

“My wife’s favorite thing to do every weekend is challenge me to some kind of contest. Aside from hand-to-hand combat, where she can’t beat me, she always wins at shooting and everything else. So I want to practice my throwing skills—just once, I want to beat her at something!”

“Uh, if you don’t mind me asking, where’s your wife from?”

“Texas!”

Roan glanced sidelong at Ryder’s glowing face, so full of hope, and fell silent. He recalled how, ever since joining Unit Five, he’d always seen Ryder doing push-ups at the back of the office whenever there was no work. He’d assumed Ryder was just trying to keep his muscles in shape.

Now, it seemed more likely Ryder had lost another contest, and his wife had banished him from the bedroom; without an outlet for his energy, he was left to do push-ups every day.

Ah, the married man’s life.

Roan shook his head inwardly, then clapped Ryder’s shoulder with great solemnity. “Don’t worry, Ryder. I’ll teach you a shortcut. It might not be enough to take out an enemy, but if it’s about distance or impact, you won’t lose to anyone!”

Ryder’s lips trembled with excitement. “Roan! From this day on, you’re my brother for life!”

Roan: “...”

Just what kind of desperation does it take to bring a man to this?

They chatted for a while longer, and soon it was five-thirty—the end of the FBI workday.

“See you tomorrow, Roan!”

“See you tomorrow!” Roan called out to a few other agents, then walked with Mona, Ryder, and Lacey to the parking lot, laughing and talking all the way—only to discover his car was gone.

“Hold on, Roan.” Lacey, noticing his shocked expression, rolled her eyes. Mona explained, “Roan, the car you’ve been using these past couple days belongs to Unit Five—it’s not yours. Since we don’t have any assignments today, August had someone take it for cleaning.”

Roan rolled his eyes, inwardly cursing August’s stinginess. So much for his plan to never buy a car and just freeload an FBI SUV for life!

Turning down Ryder’s offer of a ride, he got into the passenger seat of Lacey’s sedan.

“Take me to the Queen of Fire bar, please.”

“You… sure?” Lacey’s frown deepened. Roan blinked in surprise. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“Did Lydia ask you to go?”

“That’s right.”

Lacey took a deep breath, then turned to Roan with a stern look. “Roan, as your friend and teammate, let me give you a piece of advice—you’d best not get involved with Lydia for the long term. OK?”

Roan felt a chill as he saw how serious she was. He hadn’t picked up a Glock 18 from the armory today—if Lydia had any ill intentions… Maybe he should buy a gun first?

Lacey, seeing Roan was truly listening, relaxed a little and continued. “Lydia is thirty years old this year, but she’s already been married four times—at twenty-two, twenty-four, twenty-six, and twenty-eight. And after each marriage, her husband died within a year.

After their deaths, Lydia never got involved with anyone else until she found her next husband.”

“W T F?” Roan’s hair stood on end; his scalp tingled. “You mean Lydia marries men for their money, then kills them? …A black widow?”

He’d heard of such things in his past life—women who would do anything for money, even using marriage as a weapon.

Lacey paused, then shook her head. “No, Lydia didn’t profit from their deaths. On the contrary, each time a husband died, her own finances took a significant hit.

At twenty-two, she inherited a chain of bars from her father, but after each husband’s death, she paid out large sums to comfort their families. Now, all she has left is the Queen of Fire.”

“Hmm?” Roan was momentarily stunned. Was Lydia being targeted instead? But that didn’t make sense—if the husbands were dead, the money wasn’t even used. Was she really that selfless for their families?

“It’s not about the money, Roan.” Lacey, having guessed his thoughts, shook her head. “The problem lies with Lydia herself.”

Roan took a deep breath, his curiosity piqued. “Tell me the details.”

“After her husbands’ deaths, the FBI suspected Lydia of poisoning them. Without her knowledge, we made arrangements with their families to perform autopsies.”

Lacey’s expression grew uneasy, but after a steadying breath, she pressed on. “The medical examiner found no traces of poison or signs of abuse. The cause of death was simple—massive loss of seminal fluid, kidney failure, and sudden cardiac arrest during intense activity. They died before they could be saved.”

Roan: “...”

So, all her husbands died from overindulgence in bed?

He suddenly remembered his own grimace waking up that afternoon, the ache in his lower back—a cold chill ran down his spine.

He realized only now: Roan Greenwood had been with women before, but his body had never felt this sore. He wasn’t out of shape. Clearly, what happened wasn’t his fault—it was Lydia.

“That’s why, Roan, I hope you’ll stay away from Lydia.” Seeing Roan lost in thought, his expression shifting, Lacey smiled. “There are beautiful women all over New York. If you like, I’ll even give you a few more business cards tonight.”

“No, I have to see Lydia.” After a moment's thought, Roan glanced at his system interface, an idea forming in his mind. His eyes flashed with resolve as he rejected Lacey’s offer.

“I need to uncover the truth behind all this.”

It was obvious Lydia was targeting him specifically this time.

Whatever her goal, running away would solve nothing.