Page 45 of Deadly Hope
Something dark flickered across his face. She wanted to reach out, offer professional comfort, but this wasn’t a therapy session. This was survival.
“James knew this would happen,” she said quietly, drawing their attention. “Everything in that safety deposit box—the codes, the photo—he left them knowing someone would come after them. After me.” She met each of their eyes in turn. “He trusted me to figure it out. But he also made sure I’d have help.”
Axel stopped pacing, studying her with an intensity that made her skin tingle. “You think he knew about the second player? The one protecting you?”
“I think my brother never did anything without multiple contingency plans.” She pulled out the compass, its weight familiar in her palm. “And I think it’s time we stopped reacting and started acting. Whatever game this is, I’m done being a piece on the board.”
The team straightened, energy shifting from defensive to offensive. Even Olivia felt it—the transition from hunted to hunter.
“Whoever they are, they just left the scene,” Kenji said.
Zara shook her head. “So weird. They broke in, snooped around and then slipped back out, repairing the security flaws on their way out.”
“Alright,” Axel said, authority settling over him likearmor. “Let’s show these rubes why they shouldn’t have made this personal.”
Olivia caught his gaze again, saw her own determination reflected there. Yes, she was scared. But she was also her brother’s sister. And it was time to prove it.
24
Back in Hope Landing,the pre-dawn shadows stretched across the snow-covered valley, turning the cabin’s great room into a study in grays and blues. Olivia uncurled from the window seat, her body still operating on Swiss time despite yesterday’s grueling flight home. The coffee Axel had silently delivered—her third cup already—did little to cut through the fog of jetlag.
Normally, she’d just be stirring, anticipating a first cup of coffee while she decided what to wear to church. Normally.
Today, she watched Izzy’s truck wind up the access road, fresh snow crunching under its heavy-duty tires. Strange, how just forty-eight hours ago she’d been staring at palm trees against Alpine peaks. Now she was back in the Sierra’s winter embrace, with questions that had followed them across an ocean, watching a woman she hadn’t even known a week ago arrive at a safe house, of all things, to help guard her.
The sound of Kenji’s keyboards provided familiar background noise. He hadn’t stopped analyzing data since they’d landed. Zara dozed on the couch, tablet still clutched to herchest, while Griffin maintained his vigilant watch from the kitchen doorway. They all looked as exhausted as she felt, but none had complained. Not even when their jet had been diverted twice due to weather.
The front door opened, bringing a blast of mountain air and Izzy’s characteristic energy. Snow dusted her short, dark hair, and circles shadowed her eyes, but her smile was bright. “I miss anything exciting?”
“Nada. Unless you count Kenji talking in his sleep about mission codenames,” Zara mumbled from the couch, not opening her eyes.
“That was one time,” Kenji protested. “And ‘Operation Snowflake’ is a perfectly reasonable suggestion.”
Olivia watched the team shift to accommodate Izzy’s return—Griff automatically moving to take her coat, Zara sitting up to make room on the couch, Kenji sliding a fresh cup of coffee across the counter without being asked. The easy synchronization reminded her of her hospital days, when you learned to read your co-workers’ needs before they spoke.
“Chantal made you something,” Izzy said, pulling a slightly crumpled piece of paper from her bag and thrusting it at Olivia. “She says it’s the team fighting bad guys in the snow. Note the tactical unicorn providing air support.”
“Kid’s got good operational instincts,” Kenji deadpanned, earning a light punch from Izzy.
Olivia spread the wrinkled paper across her thigh. The sweet rendering, stick figures and globs of white glue and glitter, caught at her heart. “I love it.”
Izzy beamed. “She’s a pretty amazing kid.”
Olivia found herself smiling, even as her chest ached. These people had built real lives here—homes, families, roots in this mountain community. Yet they maintained thatrazor’s edge of professional capability she remembered from her emergency response days.
The balance seemed impossible, but they made it work.
She caught Axel watching her from his position near the surveillance setup. His expression suggested he read more in her face than she meant to show. That was happening more often as the days went on—moments of connection that went deeper than professional courtesy or tactical necessity.
“Your coffee’s getting cold,” he said quietly, and she realized she’d been lost in thought, hands wrapped around the now-tepid mug. The small gesture of bringing her a fresh cup shouldn’t have made her pulse skip, but apparently jet lag was making her defenses as fuzzy as her mind.
They had work to do. A burner phone to analyze, a brother’s final message to decode, threats both known and shadowed to face. She needed to focus on that, not on the way Axel’s presence felt increasingly necessary to her equilibrium.
But as the team settled into their morning routine, she had to admit—what she wanted might be more complicated than just finding her place in their well-oiled machine.
From his position by the window, Griff shifted slightly. Olivia had noticed how the quietest team member always maintained sightlines to both exits and his teammates. If Axel had haunted depths, Griff was an ocean at midnight—fathomless, unknowable, yet somehow vital to the team’s ecosystem.
“Before we start,” Deke said, his deep voice carrying that particular gravity he got when switching to chaplain mode, “mind if we pray?”
