Page 26 of Deadly Hope
The pieces were starting to fit, but the picture they formed made Axel’s combat instincts scream. This latest stunt seemed designed to let them know they weren’t looking for a garden-variety loon stalking a therapist. Whoever broke into their surveillance system wanted them to know they had serious skills.
“Okay, we’ve got multiple angles to work here,” Axel said, looking around at his teammates. “Zara, you take point on the security footage analysis. Start with today’s incident. See if you can ID our mystery visitor. We’ll worry about Dr. Kane’s strange client later.”
“I’ll help with that,” Kenji offered. “I’ve got some new recognition algorithms we can run.”
Ronan grabbed his tablet. “I can start mapping out allreported security anomalies at the airport over the past year. Might show a pattern we missed.”
“Actually,” Olivia spoke up, “I have an idea. I keep detailed session notes with behavioral patterns, concerns, anything that raised red flags. If I redact all identifying information, would that help? We might spot something relevant.”
Axel nodded slowly. “That could work. I can do a preliminary search through your redacted material, look for anything that might connect to this level of operation.”
“I’ll grab my backup drive,” she said, then paused. “And Axel? Thank you for respecting the confidentiality issue earlier.”
Their eyes met briefly, and that familiar warmth spread through his chest—that feeling he was trying so hard to ignore. He watched her walk away, then forced his attention back to the files Ronan was pulling up.
They had work to do. Everything else—the PTSD, the growing tension between them, the way she somehow saw right through his defenses—would have to wait.
Right now, they needed answers. Before whoever was behind this made their next move.
15
Olivia hadn’t slept wellin Knight Tactical’s guest quarters, despite the comfortable bed and state-of-the-art security system. Every creak and footstep had jolted her awake—Axel doing a midnight perimeter check, Ronan heading to the gym at an ungodly hour, Deke’s heavy tread as he checked the monitors. Their presence down the hall should have been reassuring. Instead, it had only emphasized how much her life had changed in twenty-four hours.
Now, in the harsh light of morning, she traced her fingertips along the mahogany surface of her desk, transported to this temporary office in Knight Tactical’s administrative wing. The same desk. Her desk. Izzy had insisted on bringing it here, claiming clients needed familiar touchstones. The smooth wood felt both comforting and wrong, like seeing a favorite sweater on a stranger. The angel figurine from James smiled warmly, it’s sweet face offering a little breath of calm and hope.
She’d showered and dressed in the adjoining bathroom, grateful she kept spare clothes in her car for emergencies. Professional armor—tailored blazer, crisp blouse, pearls. Butshe couldn’t shake the awareness that Axel was somewhere in this building, probably in the hangar she could see from her new window. A very different view from her old office’s mountain panorama.
The late morning sun caught the crystal paperweight her next client, former Master Sergeant Ben Prado, had given her last Christmas—a thank you for the hard work, he’d said, though they both knew it was more a marker of trust earned. She adjusted it a fraction of an inch, aligning it with her laptop’s edge.
They’d done their best with the space. She had to give Axel and his team that. Her reading lamp cast its usual warm glow in the corner. Her favorite Rothko print dominated one wall, while her collection of smaller pieces created the familiar gallery effect clients would recognize. Even her “safe space” corner was recreated, down to the precise arrangement of pillows she used for EMDR sessions.
A small smile tugged at her lips when she spotted Izzy’s addition—a tiny Zen garden, its sand already bearing evidence of nervous raking. Next to it, Deke had somehow managed to disguise his high-tech security monitors as art installations. They blended seamlessly with her aesthetic, which was both impressive and slightly unnerving.
But it was stone-faced Griff’s contribution that had caught her off guard. Her credentials and diplomas hung in perfect formation—the exact same spacing, angle, and height as her old office. The precision spoke volumes about how many times he must have sat in her office, cataloging details while they worked through his own battles.
Olivia straightened her already-straight pencil holder, a tell she thought she’d conquered years ago. In ten minutes, Ben would arrive, precisely five minutes early as always, for his session. Ex-special ops, three tours in locations he still couldn’t name, though his hands always twitched when hedidn’t specify. Hypervigilant but controlled—the kind of man who managed his PTSD through rigid routine and absolute order.
Eight months of work had finally cracked the surface. Last session, he’d actually started talking about “the incident,” though his knuckles had gone white around the arms of his chair. They’d built trust molecule by molecule. If he wasn’t too thrown off by the change in venue, today might be?—
Her phone buzzed. The message made her smile.
Marisol: First day in Fort Knox! How’s the new digs?
Marisol: More importantly, how’s the view? And by that, you KNOW what I’m talking about.
Laughing now,she responded.
Working on settling in. It’s...different.
Marisol: Different good? Different bad? Different like that tall drink of water guarding your door?
Olivia: MARI.
Marisol: What? A girl can’t worry about her bestie’s security?
Marisol: BTW, got all your clients confirmed for the week. Will double-text everyone day-of.
Olivia: You’re the best Please stay safe.
