Page 50 of Deadly Hope
“Which means we can predict where they have to be,” Axel said, moving to the tactical board, grateful for the excuse to turn away from Olivia’s determined face.
“We can do better than that,” Olivia interrupted. “We can make it impossible to resist interfering.” Her voice hardened. “I’m tired of being watched. Let’s force their hand.”
“Olivia—” Axel started.
“Don’t,” Olivia cut him off. “I’m done being a pawn. It’s clear now this has something to do with my brother and his death. If we’re doing this, I’m all in.”
The marker nearly snapped in Axel’s grip. Every protective instinct he’d developed in spec ops screamed at him to shut this down. To keep her safe and contained and away from danger. But beneath that professional response lurked something far more dangerous—the way his chest constricted at the thought of her in harm’s way, how his hands itched to pull her close and never let go.
He forced himself to think tactically, not ... whatever this other thing was. She wasn’t his to protect, wasn’t his to ... anything. She was a client. An asset. Nothing more.
“Wait.” Olivia’s hand flew to her mouth. “I completely forgot. I’m supposed to give a talk tomorrow at the community center. Stress management for first responders.”
Axel’s head snapped up. “Cancel it.” The words came out harsher than he intended, betraying more than he meant to reveal.
“Actually ...” Zara looked up from her keyboard. “This could work better than anything we could manufacture. It’s already scheduled. Already public. Nothing suspicious about it.”
“Nope.” Axel’s voice was steel. “Too exposed. Too many variables.”
“Think about it,” Kenji said slowly. “The community center’s got basic security we can supplement. Limited access points. And it’s exactly the kind of situation our ghost has been monitoring—Olivia in public, potentially vulnerable.”
Olivia straightened. “I should text Linda. She’s coordinating the session. Just to ‘confirm’ the details.” She made air quotes. “If someone’s monitoring my communications ...”
“They’ll see it,” Ronan finished. “And they’ll have to decide whether to let you appear in public or intervene.”
“Either way, we get intel,” Izzy added. “And it’s more natural than trying to set up some elaborate sting.”
Axel paced, combat boots silent on the command center floor. Every instinct screamed to keep Olivia hidden, protected. But tactically, this wasn’t the stupidest idea ever.
“We’d have complete control of the environment,” Deke offered. “Could put our people in as attendees, facility staff ...”
“And I’d be doing something I actually know how to do,” Olivia pointed out. “Not trying to play some spy game.”
Axel stopped pacing. Studied her face. Saw the same determination there, but now mixed with confidence. This was her territory—helping people, sharing her expertise. She’d be more natural, more focused.
“If we do this,” he said finally, “we do it my way. Full security protocol. No exceptions.”
Olivia nodded, already pulling out her phone to text her contact. “I’ll just say I wanted to double check the time and room number ... maybe mention I’m bringing some new multimedia materials so I need to arrive early to set up ...”
“Good,” Kenji approved. “Gives us reason to be there ahead of time without raising flags.”
Axel moved to the tactical board, marking entry points with sharp strokes. They’d have to cover every angle, anticipate every possibility. Because whether their guardian angel was protector or predator, they were about to force their hand.
The sour taste returned. At least this time, Olivia would be in her element. He just prayed that would be enough.
28
Olivia had spentthe afternoon trying not to climb the walls. While she understood the necessity of preparation, being left behind at the cabin “for safety” had made her feel like a child relegated to the kiddie table. She’d attempted to help Kenji, Zara, and Griff with their digital hunt, but she wasn’t exactly a computer whiz, and watching them chase virtual breadcrumbs that led nowhere only heightened her anxiety. Their guardian angel remained frustratingly anonymous, and Bing Driscoll had mastered the art of invisibility.
She’d found herself checking her phone constantly for updates from Axel’s team at the community center, though she knew better. They were dark—no unnecessary communications while they planted cameras, mapped drone paths, and established security perimeters. Still, every time the afternoon light shifted through the cabin’s enormous windows, she imagined worst-case scenarios. What if someone spotted them? What if they were walking into a trap? What if tomorrow was a terrible mistake?
By the time everyone reconvened at the cabin that evening, the tension in her shoulders had reached migrainelevels. But something magical happened over Zara’s lasagna and Griff’s garlic bread. The team’s natural chemistry reasserted itself. Soon they were swapping stories and sharing wine, the tactical diagrams and surveillance feeds temporarily forgotten.
Gratitude surged through her. These people barely knew her, yet they’d thrown themselves into protecting her with everything they had.
Ronan leaned back in his chair. “We need to settle this team name thing before Christian and the Old Guard get back.” He swirled the last of his water. “For real. Something with serious gravitas.”
“Shadow Warriors,” Deke suggested with an exaggerated flourish.
