Page 6 of Velvet and Valor
Yeah, right. I’m so dead.
2
AXEL
“You know what I like about a knife, Dane?”
Dane arches his brows. He sits upon the battered but comfy leather sofa in the Platinum Security office’s rec room. Selene sits beside him, golden brown hair falling in curls over his broad shoulder. He has his arm around her. They’re adorable to be honest. Dane looks like a Ken doll plus a bunch of tattoos and a bit of grizzling.
He used to be a SEAL sniper, before leaving the military life. Selene is a Hollywood makeup artist. I was actually instrumental in their coming together--like literally the hero--but that’s a story for another time.
Dane’s eyes drop to the trench knife I’m holding in my hand, as opposed to the beer I hold in the other.
“No, what is it you like about knives, Axel?” His voice carries a note of indulgence. Dane feels like he owes me. He doesn’t, not really, but I’ll milk his deferment as long as I can because that’s an Axel kind of thing to do.
“They’re dependable,” I say firmly. “Perfectly suited to their function. They have a purpose and they excel at it.”
“Guns have a purpose,” Dane says. “And they excel at it.”
“True,” I say, dropping into a horse leg stance and putting the knife through a few practice swings. Some beer foams up out of the end of the longneck and spatters on the floor, but I’m on too much of a roll to stop now. “But they’re not as dependable or as focused as a knife.”
I hold the knife like it’s a rifle, imagining the stock against my shoulder. My beer is mostly empty now anyway so it’s cool.
“See, a rifle coughs and jumps with a life all its own,” I say, moving around like I’m dealing with recoil. “But a knife? A knife obeys the will of its wielder…”
I hold the knife up close to my eyes and smile wistfully.
“A knife becomes an extension of its wielder's body, until you can no longer tell man from weapon.” I sheathe the knife in my belt with a practiced snap of my wrist. I have scars on my fingers from when I did all the practicing but now I can even do it blindfolded.
“Mmm,” Dane says, clearly not impressed. “And does that line work when you’re trying to pick up on base bunnies?”
I straighten up out of my fighting pose and grin.
“Like a charm.”
He looks dubiously at Selene. She shrugs.
“It’s not a bad bit, to be honest. I can see some women going for it.”
Cole glances over from the pool table and grimaces. He’s the strong, silent type. Like most of us, he’s ex-military. Unlike Dane and myself, he doesn’t have much use for banter. His intimidating gaze bores into me from across the room.
“Axel, are you going to take your shot or what?”
“Oh, is it my turn?”
“Yeah, for about ten minutes.” He hands me the cue and cocks an eyebrow. “I thought you said you were the second coming of Minnesota fats. Bastian and Harlow are kicking our asses.”
He’s referring to Sebastian, Jax’s ‘little’ brother, all six foot four inches of him. He’s almost as reckless as me. Harlowe is the resident hacker/computer expert, and apparently much better at pool than she lets on.
“I said I was LIKE the second coming of Minnesota Fats. Not the genuine article.” I head over to the table and assess the situation. Four striped balls left, two solid, not including the dreaded eight. No direct shots possible.
Cole sighs. “You ever get tired of slinging bullshit?” he asks.
I aim at one of the diamonds near the center pocket runner.
“Nope.”
The cue glides through my cradled hand like glossy moonlight. It strikes the cue ball with a satisfying crack. The cue ball zips across the felt, smacking into the bumper and ricocheting precisely as I’d meant it to.
