Page 60 of Velvet and Valor
“Wait,” I say. “Why would Moorcrock’s nephew have any valuable information on a yacht he’s planning to sell?”
Dane snorts.
“I asked the same question, but Harlowe had a pretty good theory. Moorcrock faked his death, so he probably is in the process of establishing a new identity.” Dane glances over at me before returning his eyes to the road. “What do you think his plans are?”
“He’s gonna buy his own yacht back,” I say. “From his nephew. But why give tours?”
“To make it look legit,” June says. “I co-produced a spy movie based on a true story. These jewel thieves in Eastern Europe hid their loot in a house they were renovating. They had contractors and potential buyers walking around on top of millions of dollars in stolen goods, but the police never thought to look there.”
“Well, I’m sold,” I say. “All right, Dane. Let’s hit that Marina.”
“No way,” Dane says. “Look at the state of you two. If we’re going to do this, you’ll have to get some decent clothes, maybe some shades or something in case some of Moorcrock’s men are hanging around.”
“He’s got a point,” June says. “We’ve obviously been through Hell.”
“You're right. I guess I got used to wearing soiled clothing for days on end in the Rangers. But now that you mention it, I could use some fresh garments to adorn myself with.”
Dane takes us downtown so we can acquire better clothes. It feels so weird to have been in the mountains a couple hours agoand now be surrounded by the glass variety. Makes me wonder what this place looked like before it got developed.
My instincts kick in as Dane slows the car to a stop near a once-grand but now struggling mall. I check the street, making sure the coast is clear. No one appears to have followed us. I don’t see anyone giving us more attention than is warranted. So far, so good. I still can’t shake the feeling there’s more danger here than we realize.
“Are you okay, Axel?” June asks. She closes the door and the wind catches it, making the door slam hard. Hard enough to sound like a gunshot.
All of a sudden, the concrete canyons are gone, replaced by the high banks of a shallow, muddy river. I’m slogging through with mud filling my boots, dragging one of my squad-mates on a makeshift raft behind me. I don’t know which one. His face is mostly gone, and there’s so much blood I can’t read his tags…
“Axel?”
A pair of warm, soft hands envelope my face. I open my eyes and see June’s concerned face looking up at me.
“Axel, can you hear me? Breathe, Axel,” she says. Her voice seems to come from far away. I realize darkness edges my vision, and my chest feels tight. I let out the breath I hadn't known I was holding and suck in a deep lungful of fresh air. The darkness recedes and I return fully to the present.
“Hey, is he all right?” Dane asks with the edge in his voice of someone who knows.
“I’m fine,” I say, more aggro than I need to. I’m compensating, I know, for my own perceived weakness but it’s an instinct. “I don’t think you’re going to find a place to park.”
“I don’t either. I’ll just cruise around until you're done.” Dane reaches into his front pocket and pulls out a black piece of plastic. “Here. Jax wants receipts and he says if you get designer label shit he’s going to take it out of your paycheck.”
Dane turns to June and his expression softens.
“Ms. June, Jax says you don’t need to worry about the budget, his wife has you covered.”
“She really is a sweetheart. You wouldn’t expect that from a movie superstar,” June says.
“Man, I get no respect,” I mutter as Dane pulls off. June still has a hold of me, like she’s afraid I’m going to drift away or something. It feels good to be held, to be cared for. My heart flutters in my chest and I feel weak in a whole different way.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” June asks, caressing my cheek.
“Yeah, I’m fine, Junebug,” I say, curling my fingers around her hand and squeezing gently. “I’m always fine when I’m with you.”
Her eyes get that glowy, dewy look women get when they’re feeling the moment. When they’re feeling you. I rarely got to see it in my life before and seeing that expression on June’s face takes the experience to a whole other level.
“You can be so sweet, Axel,” she says. “Then the next moment you’re a goofy dork. And then the next you’re John Rambo taking on an army with your bare hands. You’d make a great character for a movie franchise.”
“I’ve been saying that for years!” I kiss her and then pull her toward the mall entrance. “Come on, let’s get you ready for the ball, Cinderella.”
We hit the clothing stores, and I run into a couple of problems. Problem number one? My size. Most of the stores don’t have things that will even fit me. Pants are too short, shirts aren’t big enough across the shoulders or the neck, or the sleeves stop in the middle of my forearm.
“There has to be a big and tall store in here somewhere,” she says. “We don’t have time for them to make alterations at any of the other places.”
