Page 53 of Deadly Hope
Olivia’s voice took on a slight edge as she transitioned to discussing grief counseling techniques. If Axel hadn’t spent the last week studying her every micro-expression, he might have missed it. But there it was again—she’d seen this woman before.
The woman leaned forward, her attention sharpening. Her notebook hadn’t moved in several minutes, pen hoveringabove an unfinished word. Everything about her screamed “gathering intel” now that Axel was looking for it. The carefully positioned bag at her feet. The way she’d chosen a seat that gave her coverage from multiple angles while maintaining clear paths to three exits.
He did the math. Middle-aged but fit, short practical haircut, business casual that could hide body armor. The kind of woman who could disappear into any crowd. The kind of woman intelligence agencies loved to recruit.
Zara was already moving, a slow patrol that would take her past the woman’s row. As she passed, the woman shifted in her seat, and Axel’s breath caught.
Her blazer pulled just slightly against her ribs. Most wouldn’t have noticed. But Axel saw the telltale bulge at her waist, the way the fabric draped around a concealed holster.
Their mystery observer was armed.
And she’d chosen her seat with a perfect line of sight to Olivia.
30
“And in conclusion—”Olivia forced herself to maintain eye contact with the front row, not the woman in the center row who hadn’t stopped watching her. The woman who’d been at the coffee shop more than once the past month. And the bookstore last week. And possibly?—
Axel’s voice crackled in her earpiece. “Movement at your three o’clock.”
Her carefully prepared closing stuck in her throat as she noticed Zara’s deliberate patrol past the woman’s row. Kenji had abandoned his doctor pose, shoulders tense. Even Deke’s good ol’ boy smile had hardened into something else entirely.
Where was Axel? She couldn’t spot him in the back anymore.
“Thank you all for?—”
Acrid smoke began pouring from the vents. Before Olivia could process it, the fire alarm split the air with a piercing wail.
The crowd erupted—chairs scraping, voices rising in panic, bodies rushing toward exits.
“Status report!” Axel’s voice in her ear, tight with urgency.
“Lost visual on target,” Zara’s response.
“Negative contact rear exit,” from Ronan.
“Kenji, get to the stage, now!” Axel’s command cut through the chaos.
Olivia tried to move, but the smoke was thickening, creating ghostly shapes in the auditorium. She could hear Axel and the team coordinating, their voices a lifeline in her ear, but she couldn’t see any of them through the haze and moving bodies.
“I can’t—” she tried to respond, but started coughing.
“Multiple hostiles at main entrance,” Deke’s voice crackled.
“Package compromised,” Kenji reported. “Repeat, package compromised.”
The package was her, Olivia realized with a jolt of fear. She was the package. And she was alone on the stage, the smoke now so thick she could barely see the first row of seats.
“Axel?” she whispered into her comm.
Static answered.
A shape materialized from the smoke directly in front of the stage. The woman.
And she was holding a gun.
Olivia backed up a step, her heel hitting the podium. The smoke was making her eyes water, burning her throat. “Who are?—”
“Little Cricket sent me.”
