Page 9 of Deadly Hope
“Has probably been compromised for months.” His bluntness should have frightened her. Instead, it was almost relieving—finally, someone taking her concerns seriously. “Pack what you need. I’m calling in my team to sweep both locations.”
“I have clients tomorrow?—”
“No, you don’t.” His tone brooked no argument. “Not until we figure out what’s really going on here. Why they’ve been watching you, what they’re looking for in these files.”
She looked around her destroyed sanctuary—the violated space that had once felt so safe. “Do you think they knew about our appointment today?”
Something dangerous flickered in his expression. “If they did, they picked a really stupid time to attack you.” He moved closer, voice dropping. “Unless they wanted to make sure I intervened. The question is—why?”
Olivia had no response. Her brain, along with the rest of her body, seemed like it had simply switched off.
He studied her. “You’re managing the shock well.”
“So are you.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. Too personal, too observant.
Something flickered in his eyes—recognition or wariness or … interest? But his voice stayed carefully neutral. “Occupational requirement.”
A loaded silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken observations. She was acutely aware of how this reversed their intended roles—him assessing her condition, her trying not to analyze his responses. The irony might have been funny if her heart would stop racing every time he moved closer.
Her training screamed that this attraction was textbook transference—adrenaline and gratitude tangled with physical awareness. His protective instincts probably triggered similar responses. Simple biochemistry.
It felt like anything but simple.
“We should—” she started, just as he said, “About the session?—”
They both stopped. A ghost of a smile touched his lips, and for a moment she glimpsed the man beneath the operative—someone who could laugh at the absurdity of their situation.
Then reality crashed back in. They weren’t therapist and patient anymore. But they weren’t exactly rescuer and victim either.
They were something much more complicated. And much more dangerous.
“About rescheduling—” Olivia began, but Axel was already shaking his head.
“We both know that’s not happening.” He leaned against her desk, careful not to disturb the files she’d reorganized. “Professional ethics aside, I just assaulted someone in your office.”
“You stopped an attack,” she corrected automatically. Therapist mode, even now.
“Same difference, legally speaking.” His mouth quirked. “Pretty sure APA guidelines don’t cover ‘therapist and patient engage in joint combat operations.’”
That startled a laugh out of her, then she sobered. “You’re right. The therapeutic relationship would be compromised.” She didn’t add:Already is compromised.“I can refer you to several excellent colleagues?—”
“Let’s hold that thought until we figure out what just happened here.” His tone shifted, subtle but clear. “Because either I’m being paranoid?—”
“Or the timing isn’t coincidental.” She finished his thought, mind racing. “My appointment with you was the only new variable today.”
Their eyes met in shared understanding. The air between them crackled with unspoken possibilities, none of them good.
In one afternoon, her careful professional boundaries had been shattered as thoroughly as her window. The safe space she’d created for healing had become a crime scene. And this man, who was supposed to be her patient, had instead become ... what? Ally? Protector? Something else entirely?
6
Axel righted the fallen armchair,noting the quality leather, the deliberate positioning. Even amid the chaos his tactical mind couldn’t help appreciating the arrangement. Clear sightlines, multiple exit routes, no one’s back to the door.
“Nice setup,” he commented, adjusting a throw pillow while cataloging potential vulnerabilities.
“You noticed that?” She gathered scattered papers, and he caught the worry in her voice—concern for her patients’ privacy that surpassed even her own safety. That spoke volumes.
“Trained to. Though I’m guessing your reasons were different than mine.” He watched her movements, the way she maintained composure even with her office in shambles. The composed professional masking the woman who’d just taken down an armed intruder. Both sides of her fascinated him.
