Page 32 of Deadly Hope
The conversation flowed easily after that, punctuated by requests to pass dishes and good-natured arguing about call signs. But Axel didn’t miss how Olivia’s gaze occasionally drifted to the snow-covered windows, or the way her fork would pause halfway to her mouth when Zara’s computers pinged with new information.
She was here, safe with them, but her mind was with her clients—the ones they could protect, and the ones theycouldn’t find yet. He recognized that weight, the responsibility of others’ safety pressing down like a physical thing.
We’ll figure this out, he wanted to tell her.We’ll find who’s behind this before anyone else disappears.But promises were dangerous things in their line of work, so he simply passed her more bread instead, letting the team’s warmth and easy chemistry do what it could to ease her burden.
17
As the teamgradually dispersed back to their duties, Olivia stayed to help clear the table. Axel guessed the domesticity of loading the dishwasher grounded her somehow. He deliberately slowed his movements, giving her the space to decompress.
“The flowers are really coming down now,” she said, glancing out the window above the sink. “Sorry. I mean, the snowflakes.” She shook her head. “My brother and I used to—” She stopped abruptly, hands stilling on the plate she was rinsing.
“Used to what?” he asked quietly, not looking directly at her as he dried a wine glass.
She was quiet long enough that he thought she might not continue. Then she explained, “We called the fat flakes ‘flowers.’ We had this ridiculous tradition. First snow of the year, we’d go out at midnight with hot chocolate and make snow angels. Even when we were teenagers and supposedly too cool for that kind of thing.” A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “No matter how hard I watched him, James alwaysfound a way to dump snow down my coat. We were close then. I never thought we’d drift so far apart.”
“What changed?”
“He joined Special Forces.” She handed him the plate, her movements mechanical now. “At first it was just the distance, the deployments. That was hard enough. But when he was home ...” She shook her head. “It was like talking to a wall. Everything was ‘classified’ or ‘need to know.’ He stopped sharing anything real.”
Axel set the glass down carefully. He knew about James Kane’s suicide. It was one of the top items in her background file. He also knew the pattern. He was more than guilty of the same kind of withdrawal. “We’re trained to compartmentalize. To protect our families by keeping them separate from ... everything else.”
“I know. Intellectually, I understand it. But?—”
“But understanding doesn’t make it hurt less.”
“No.” She leaned against the counter, finally meeting his eyes. “The irony isn’t lost on me. I spend my days helping people talk about their trauma, but I couldn’t reach my own brother.”
Ouch. The bruised look in her eyes was way worse than the purpling around her throat. “What about your parents?”
“They’re in Upstate New York.”
“And you’re on the West Coast.” He couldn’t help voicing the fact.
“Exactly.” She grabbed a plate from the sink, scrubbing hard. “What about your family?”
Probably not the time to brag on his beautiful, boisterous sisters and his happily married parents. “They’re … Midwesterners.” He chose his words as carefully as he could, going for an off-hand vibe. “Dad inherited the local car dealership from his pop. Mom runs the household, and half the town. You know the drill.”
Her soft smile hit him straight in the chest. “Sounds wonderful.”
He scratched the back of his neck. So much for downplaying things. Plus, who was he kidding? The woman helped the most hardcore of hardcore warriors. She didn’t need his protection. Not emotionally, at least.
She scrunched up her nose. “So I’m guessing full parental representation at Little League and Pop Warner and all school functions?”
“Affirmative.”
“Hot chocolate and sugar cookies on snow days?”
“Pretty much.”
She nodded to herself. “Sounds like heaven.”
He couldn’t disagree. But why did he suddenly ache so badly to give that little red-headed girl the same memories?
Izzy called from the other room, “Axel? You need to see this.”
Olivia’s professional mask slammed back into place. He caught her arm gently before she could move. “Hey. Whatever we find, you’re not alone in this. You know that, right?”
Something flickered in her eyes—surprise, maybe gratitude—before she squared her shoulders. “I know.”
