Page 8 of Deadly Hope
“I’ll need to do a complete inventory.” She forced herself to breathe steadily, remembering the text message about Colonel Richards. The way her client files had been thinning for months. “But there have been other incidents?—”
“Other break-ins?” The younger officer perked up.
“My condo. Twice, at least. Items moved in my office. Nothing taken, though. And other things. My car being tampered with. Nothing serious,” she hurried to add. “A suspicious vehicle?—”
“But no items stolen?” The older officer’s tone carried that subtle dismissal she’d heard too often. “No direct threats?”
She saw Axel’s jaw tighten, saw something dangerous wake in his expression. He’d gone completely still—the kind of stillness that preceded action.
“The car tampering,” he said, voice deceptively casual. “What exactly happened?”
“Nothing mechanical. It’s all been inside. Seat adjustments. Radio settings changed. Nothing stolen, just ... altered.” She met his eyes, saw him processing this with tactical precision.
“And in your condo?” Axel asked. “You said they moved things around there too?”
“In my office. Small things moved. A box on the shelf from my brother. Coins rearranged. And they left … a paperclip.”
The officers both blinked, waiting.
Yeah, it sounded … lame. But in light of the attack, it all took on a more sinister look.
“I thought I was being paranoid until?—”
“Until today,” Axel finished, his tone carrying a weight the officers missed entirely.
“Look, Dr. Kane,” the older officer sighed, “without evidence of forced entry or serious threats, this is probably just an angry client?—”
“He wasn’t a client,” she insisted. “I got a great look at him today, believe me.”
“So someone connected to a client. Or a junkie who figured you’d have drugs around.”
“The guy I just fought off was no junkie.” Axel’s voice had shifted, carrying that quiet authority that made both officers straighten instinctively. “Dude was trained in close-quarters combat.”
The younger officer tilted his head. “You military?”
“Knight Tactical,” Axel said shortly. Something passed between him and the older officer—some unspoken understanding about classified operations and need-to-know bases.
“We’ll need to file a report,” the older officer said carefully. “But so far, we don’t have any evidence that this attack is connected to those other things.” The man had the grace to look abashed. He cleared his throat. “I’d suggest we get detectives on this ASAP, but given the ... circumstances ... you might want to handle this internally.”
Olivia opened her mouth to protest—this was her office, her life being systematically invaded—but Axel’s hand brushed her arm. A warning? A promise?
“I’ll make some calls,” he said, and she heard the steel beneath his professional tone. “Dr. Kane won’t be handling this alone anymore.”
The officers left, their report already half-written in their minds. But Axel stayed, his presence solid and reassuring as she finally voiced what she’d been afraid to admit.
“Someone’s been watching me,” she said softly. “For months. Learning my routines, my security, my clients ...”
His expression hardened. “Tell me everything. From the beginning. Every detail you noticed, every instinct you ignored.” His voice dropped. “Because if someone’s been targeting you this systematically, it’s not about a crazed attacker. It’s about something much bigger.”
Axel paced the length of her office, each movement controlled but radiating tension. His tactical assessment hadn’t stopped since the police left—checking sightlines, calculating angles, processing her story with military precision.
“The car tampering started when?” He kept his voice neutral, but she caught the underlying current of anger.
“Three months ago.” Olivia sank into her chair, exhaustion finally seeping in. “Around the same time my military clients started drifting away. Then the weird stuff started. Small things first: items moved on my desk, client files rearranged. Until now, it was all so subtle I thought I was imagining things.”
He met her gaze, and something shifted in his expression—a decision being made. “You have somewhere else you can stay tonight?”
“My condo?—”
