Page 52 of Deadly Hope
A burst of laughter from inside made them both jump. Axel cleared his throat, his usual fluid grace suddenly awkward.
“If anything were to happen to you tomorrow, I’d—” He stopped, seeming to realize how the words sounded. “I mean, not that I would ...” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Never mind.”
Olivia couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. The fierce protector, suddenly tongue-tied, was unexpectedly endearing. And then—before her brain could catch up with her body—she was standing on tiptoe, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “I know what you meant.”
The moment her lips left his skin, mortification crashed over her. What was she doing? She didn’t do impulsive. Shedidn’t do physical contact with quasi-clients-turned-security-details. She especially didn’t do quick kisses that probably meant nothing to him but left her acutely aware of the scratch of his beard, the warmth of his skin, the way his breath had caught …
“Just ... follow my lead tomorrow. Please.” His voice was rougher than usual.
“Copy that, Commander.” The teasing nickname slipped out as she tried to cover her flustered state, tried to pretend her heart wasn’t racing from a simple peck on the cheek like some lovesick teenager.
When they stepped back inside, the scene hit Olivia with unexpected force. Deke and Kenji arguing over whose turn it was to do dishes, Zara methodically wiping down counters, Ronan still trying to sell everyone on team names. It was so perfectly domestic, so achingly normal, that her throat tightened.
She watched Axel move easily through the space, automatically steadying a chair Izzy had left askew, his presence both powerful and carefully contained. The growing warmth in her chest whenever she looked at him was becoming harder to ignore—or to write off as merely professional appreciation. That impulsive kiss had proved that much, at least.
But tomorrow wasn’t about that. Tomorrow was about James, about finally understanding what had happened to her brother. About making sure his death meant something. She squared her shoulders, letting the familiar weight of purpose settle over her.
Whatever was growing between her and Axel would have to wait. First, she had a promise to keep.
29
Axel leanedagainst the back wall of the community center auditorium, systematically cataloging angles and exits. Main doors: Deke positioned as greeter. Fire exit stage left: Ronan playing janitor. Emergency exit rear right: Zara in facility security uniform, looking bored and authentic. Near the front: Kenji had infiltrated a group of doctors.
The mayor’s introduction dragged on, giving Axel time for another sweep. Two hundred seats, maybe a hundred and sixty filled. Afternoon sun through high windows—good visibility, bad reflections for potential snipers. No upper level. Simple stage with podium, blue curtain backdrop. A nice, classic setup, with manageable sightlines.
Then Olivia strode onto the stage, and his professional assessment stuttered.
She owned the room instantly—confident stride, shoulders back, warm smile that somehow reached every person there. Her charcoal suit was perfectly tailored, professional armor that still managed to ... He forced his thoughts back to tactical awareness. Wow, she was good at this. The audience leaned forward as one when she began speaking,drawn in by that perfect blend of authority and approachability.
He tracked his team’s positions by habit while she outlined the session’s goals. Deke giving his “just another good ol’ boy” grin to late arrivals. Zara radiating bored competence. Kenji taking actual notes. The overachiever.
The crowd was exactly what you’d expect. Medical professionals in scrubs or off-duty casual, community mental health workers, students with laptops, concerned citizens. Except?—
The woman in the fourth row caught his attention mid-movement. Something about the way she shifted her chair. Just slightly. Just enough to clear her sightlines to both main exits. Her slacks and jacket were perfectly unremarkable, her expression attentive but not overly so. But her situational awareness radiated like a beacon.
Odd, especially for a middle-aged woman trying really hard to look like a concerned community member.
He watched her catalogue the room with microscopic eye movements, the kind of spatial awareness that came from serious field training. She maintained what appeared to be a relaxed posture, but her weight was distributed for quick movement.
Axel’s hand twitched toward his concealed weapon. Not a threat. Not yet. But definitely someone who knew how to be one.
The woman was good, he’d give her that. To anyone else, she’d look like just another middle-aged professional taking notes and nodding at appropriate moments. But Axel hadn’t spent fifteen years in special operations without learning to spot his own kind.
There—the way she tracked the teenage kid who got up for water, maintaining visual contact until he cleared her personal space. The slight adjustment of her chair when alarge man sat directly behind her. The practiced sweep of her hand through her hair that let her check her six.
Zara caught his eye from her post, a minute nod confirming she’d clocked the woman too. They’d worked together long enough that he could read her assessment. Military background, probably specialized, current status unknown.
On stage, Olivia was discussing trauma responses, her voice confident and engaging. But he caught the slight hitch in her delivery, the barely perceptible pause when her gaze landed on the woman. Recognition flickered across her face before her professional mask slipped back into place.
The woman’s reaction was equally telling. No surprise, no acknowledgment—just that same studied attention. But her posture shifted subtly, becoming more focused. Like a predator scenting prey.
Axel did another visual sweep, this time looking for what he might have missed. The woman’s hands drew his attention as she wrote. Familiar callouses on her right index finger and thumb. Not from a pen.
He pressed his radio mic twice—their silent signal for elevated awareness. Around the room, his team acknowledged with subtle gestures. Kenji stretched casually, locking eyes with him. Ronan positioned his cleaning cart closer to Olivia’s side of the stage.
The woman noticed every single movement.
This wasn’t random. This was reconnaissance.
