Page 38 of Velvet and Valor
“Nah, the lace clashes with my tattoos,” he says.
“Well, of course,” I say. Axel offers me a hand down the steep concrete slope of the flood sluice. “We can’t have you clashing.”
He skitters down the slope and joins me at the bottom of the sluice. Our eyes meet. His gaze flickers down to my chest for the briefest of moments.
“Stop imagining what I look like in a push-up bra,” I warn. Axel holds his hands up and tries to look innocent. I chuckle to let him know I’m just kidding. “Shouldn’t we get going before you start bleeding again?”
He chuckles and joins me as we traipse down the sluice.
“This is the thanks I get for saving you from literal axe murderers?” he says.
“Hmm. Considering the state I found you in when I first came inside, maybe you’ve just about earned your way to a neutral position,” I counter. “I told you not to open that drawer.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” He can’t look me in the eye. At least it means it happened by accident rather than him being a perv.
“Forget about it. I’m the one who insisted on going, when you told me it was a bad idea.”
“I feel like I should make it up to?—”
“Axel,” I say as we reach the end of the sluice. “No, really. Forget about it.”
“Ah. Got it.” He salutes me, then scampers up the side of the steep concrete sluice like it’s not there. He bends over and offers me a hand. I kick my legs, but Axel does most of the work, lifting me up to street level.
When we’re not far from where he parked, Axel calls the Platinum Security office to report what’s happened. He sounds awfully calm for someone who just fought off three armed attackers. I’m still shaking in my boots.
We scramble into the car and rumble out of my neighborhood. I have a meager backpack filled with a few things, most notably my work tablet and the flash drive. But other than that, I’m leaving my life behind. I wonder how long it will be before I can return home?
A terrifying thought hits me. What if I can never return home? Moorcrock seemed like a professional type of criminal. And if the Chinese Triads are involved, then I might not have the luxury of keeping my place.
Or even my name. What if I have to enter witness protection? I don’t want to give up my life. A life I’ve worked so hard to build. Why should I have to quit being me because of some stupid criminal plan gone awry?
Axel seems to sense my foul mood. He stops for tacos and horchata. I hadn’t even known I was hungry. After sating my appetite, and cruising along the highway with the windows down a while, I’m starting to feel better. It’s as if the night air has swept away my fears and anxieties.
When we return to the beach house, the moon has risen high enough to cast a silvery reflection on the gently rolling waves. We both stop and just take a long moment to enjoy the sight. I start when Axel takes my hand.
“Sorry,” he says, pulling away.
“No,” I say, grabbing his hand and pulling it back. “It’s okay.”
I glance over at Axel. He’s a little banged up, but otherwise none the worse for wear. A real man of action. He’d been totally different when I was in danger. No more of his carefree attitude or lighthearted jokes. He’d become the perfect soldier, dispensing death and forming a hard wall in front of the innocent.
“You know,” I start. “Back when you were handling those guys with the axes…”
“What about it?” he asks.
“It was impressive,” I say. “That’s all. I just mean, you were something else. God, this is stupid. I can negotiate a deal for a potential million dollar film with half an hour of sleep and an empty stomach, and I can’t talk to a guy for a second without putting my foot in my mouth.”
“I think you’re doing fine,” Axel says. “I mean, it would be impressive if you COULD put your foot in your mouth, but that’s not really my thing.”
I cover my face and laugh.
“When you’re not trying too hard to be funny, Axel, you’re pretty damn cool. You have a way of making me feel like it’s okay to be…um….”
“Yourself?” he says.
I nod, turning to face him. The moonlight brings out the natural color of his gorgeous eyes. The way he looks at me quickens my pulse. My palm grows sweaty, and I try to pull away before he notices.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
