by Alexa Wilder
“Hi, I’m Leigha,” she said. “I’m so glad to meet you! Chloe and I have been badgering the guys to invite you over since we found out Axel had a real girlfriend and not some piece of fluff. Sorry you’re having such a bad time. Come meet Chloe.”
I didn’t have a chance to respond—not that I knew what to say—before she was leading me to another woman, this one as curvy as Leigha and myself, but a few inches shorter, with honey gold skin, loose chestnut curls, and warm brown eyes.
“You must be Chloe,” I said, holding out my hand as soon as Leigha let go. “I’m Emma.”
Between Leigha’s enthusiastic welcome and Chloe’s sweet smile, I didn’t have a chance to get nervous. Leigha spilled that she and Chloe had been tempted to fix Axel up, but Dylan and Sam had warned them off. I couldn’t help laughing at the idea of anyone setting Axel up on a date.
He brought me a glass of wine, introduced me to Dylan and Sam, and then left me to get to know Leigha and Chloe a little better, whispering in my ear that I didn’t have to hide anything, but he wouldn’t mind if I didn’t tell them exactly what a jerk he’d been.
At their open and kind curiosity, I shared a little of what I’d been going through, though I went out of my way to downplay Axel’s mistakes. It was one thing for me to be pissed at him, but I didn’t want to throw him under the bus in front of his friends. Chloe took my hand when I mentioned the Russian mob, admitting that her brother was tied up with them and she’d met Sergey Tsepov in person. With a shiver, she said,
“He’s terrifying, Emma. Seriously. Elegant, urbane, very intelligent, and he’d kill you in a second if he thought it would benefit him. I don’t like that he’s after you.”
“Axel won’t let him get to me,” I said. I wasn’t entirely sure of our relationship, but I knew Axel would do everything he could to keep me safe.
“Axel’s the best,” Chloe agreed. I wasn’t going to argue with that. Looking across the room, watching him as he had a quiet conversation with Dylan and Sam—probably filling them in on the past few days—I felt like I’d stepped out of the turmoil of my life and into a dream world.
The elegant dining room, with its dark red walls and walnut wainscoting, the beautiful and friendly women, and the three examples of male perfection all belonged in a story, not real life. Dylan Kane’s thick, dark hair and vibrant green eyes were even more arresting in person than in the paper. Sam was the perfect match for Chloe with his messy blond hair and piercing blue gaze. And Axel. He was all mine. While Dylan and Sam were undeniably handsome, Axel was in a class all his own. He wasn’t just gorgeous. He had an air of danger, of control that was irresistible.
Catching my eye, he ended his conversation with the guys and came to get me. “Sorry, ladies. You can have Emma all to yourselves another time. Right now, I don’t like letting her out of arm’s reach.”
We settled into chairs around the fire, and I discovered that the guys were hot, but also genuinely welcoming. We talked about everything and nothing, avoiding any discussion of my problems, sipping wine and nibbling on hors d'oeuvres until tuxedoed waiters brought in our dinner. I loved seeing Axel kick back with his friends. They joked and gave each other shit, but the underlying affection was clear. And the women were wonderful: smart, kind, and fun, not unlike my own friends.
“What do you think, Emma?” Leigha asked, her gray eyes glittering with laughter.
“Hmm?” I said, not sure what we were talking about. Dylan had been explaining something about their upcoming wedding, and my attention had drifted. I liked a good party, but their wedding sounded like a three-ring circus. Or a military campaign. Way too much work to be fun.
“Are you in favor of a big wedding or eloping?”
I glanced around the room, catching Dylan and Sam’s amused looks, as well as Leigha and Chloe’s curious ones. My gaze snagged on Axel, who didn’t look either amused or annoyed at the topic of conversation. I flushed, not sure what to say.
Axel and I were barely on the good side of an almost-breakup, nowhere close to talking about marriage. It had been a while since I’d thought about the perfect wedding, and for a moment, I considered dodging the question.
Then Axel asked, “What do you think, Emma? Big or small?” The way he asked made the question personal, as if he wasn’t asking if I liked big weddings, but asking if I wanted our wedding to be big. I swallowed, blurting out what was on my mind.
“Small. I wouldn’t want to elope, but I’d only want close friends and family.”
“With big families, that could still get out of control,” Axel commented. My heart lurched in my chest and my cheeks felt hot. What was he saying? We hadn’t known each other nearly long enough to be talking about marriage.
Nervous, I deflected. “Size isn’t really what’s important. I want to hear about the dress. You have to have a picture on your phone that I can see.”
Leigha jumped up, a brilliant smile on her face as she took the bait. The conversation went on a side trip to honeymoon destinations, and I stayed quiet by admiring pictures of Leigha’s beautiful gown. I looked up once to see Axel watching me, his dark eyes serious. I looked away, my cheeks still pink.
The rest of dinner was fun, without any more embarrassing moments. I was hiding a yawn by the time we called it a night, trading numbers with Leigha and Chloe with promises to get together once my troubles were cleared up. Axel led me out of the dining room and we left as we’d come in, surrounded by guards, except this time I was tucked tight into Axel’s side, my head on his shoulder, eyelids drooping. I almost drifted off in the elevator. We really needed to sleep more at night and save the sex for daytime. On second thought, never mind. Sleep was overrated.
At first, I thought the two sharp, loud bangs were a car engine backfiring. A blaze of agony cut across my arm and another down my cheek, and my sleepy brain scrambled to understand what was happening. Axel knocked me to the ground, covering me with his body while shouts echoed through the parking garage and tires squealed.
“Are you okay?” Axel said urgently in my ear. Was I? I was crushed beneath him, struggling for air, but aside from the pain in my cheek and arm, I thought I was all right.
“I’m fine. Just a cut or something,” I said, feeling sticky blood drip down my arm. “What happened?” I couldn’t see much over Axel’s shoulder, just feet running and the concrete ceiling.
“Someone took a shot at you,” he said.
Looking past me, he nodded at someone and moved off me, picking me up and carrying me to the back of his SUV. Another man got in the front and said, “Where to, boss?”
“One second,” Axel replied, examining my injuries. “Fuck, Emma. That first bullet hit a glass panel. This cut on your arm needs to be stitched.”
“Hospital?” the driver asked.
“Not secure enough. Take us to the office and call in the doc. I want this taken care of right away.”
“How could anyone shoot at me?” I asked, thoroughly confused. No one should know where I was. I’d been out of sight for most of the trip to the Delecta. “This is crazy,” I said.
“Not crazy,” Axel responded, stroking my cheek with his thumb, his eyes dark and furious. “Not if we have a mole.”
25
Axel
We had a fucking mole. How the fuck could we have a mole? It wasn’t one of my guys. I knew everything about my people. Everything. I couldn’t believe one of them had betrayed us to Harper or Tsepov.
It was possible that someone at the Delecta was compromised, but Dylan hadn’t told any of his security team who we were, just that a high-profile guest was coming in. And I’d vetted his security staff when he’d hired them.
Yet the shooting proved that there was a leak somewhere. Emma had almost been killed. I wasn’t letting her out of my fucking sight until Harper and Tsepov were neutralized. In his arrogance, Harper had told her too much, making her more of a target than when she’d simply been working for the FBI. If Tsepov had any idea how indiscreet Harper
had been, he’d come after Emma with everything he had.
I cradled her closer to me, wiping away the blood on her cheek with the cuff of my sleeve. Her face was pale, her skin cool to the touch. Shock. She’d been under too much stress lately. Nearly getting shot didn’t help.
My phone rang in my pocket as we neared the Sinclair Security building. Tierney. What the fuck did Tierney want?
“What?” I answered.
“Tell me the report of shots fired in the Delecta garage didn’t have anything to do with you,” he said.
“They had nothing to do with me,” I answered, semi-truthfully. They hadn’t been about me. The shooter had been after Emma.
“Bullshit. Do you think I’m not watching you? Is Emma all right?”
“She’s fine,” I said, his interference one more thing I didn’t need.
“I’m coming to your office. We need to talk.”
“We don’t. Make an appointment, and I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said. I knew the FBI and respected them most of the time. But Tierney didn’t give a shit about Emma. He’d already made that clear. I wanted to get Emma taken care of and inside the walls of the Sinclair building. I didn’t have time for Tierney’s demands.
“Not tomorrow,” Tierney insisted. “Now. I’ll be at your office in ten minutes. If you can’t reassure me that you can keep Emma alive, I’ll arrest you and take her into protective custody. Got it?”
I hung up the phone without answering. Five minutes ago, I would have said getting shot at was the worst part of our day. But if the FBI was going to try to take Emma from me, things had just gone from bad to worse.
26
Emma
Axel held me against his chest, his arms locked tight around me, with one hand clamped on my injured arm and a wadded up piece of fabric—I think his tie—soaking up the blood. Too much had happened too quickly, and I was still trying to get my bearings. Someone had shot at us in the parking garage of the Delecta.
No one should have known we were there. Axel claimed it was proof that somewhere, there was a mole. I assumed he wasn't referring to a small woodland creature, but rather some kind of leak in our security, but I wasn't really up to date on spy lingo. A leak was the only explanation that made any sense. I’d been well hidden in the back of the SUV, and access to that section of the Delecta parking garage was restricted. The only way for the shooter to know I was there was if he’d had inside information.
I looked up at Axel's face, illuminated by the streetlights as the SUV sped back to his office. I was more worried about the rage I saw in his eyes than I was about my own safety. Axel had put himself between me and the bullets. The second he’d sensed danger, his only priority had been to protect me. I’d been cut by flying glass, but all things considered, that wasn't much of an injury.
Axel had proven he’d do anything to keep me safe, but his temper was volatile. I had a feeling it could be our biggest weakness. We were on our way to meet with Agent Tierney and, based on comments Axel had made in the past about the FBI, I was afraid he was going to blame Agent Tierney for the attack in the garage. I didn't think that was going to go over very well. I was right.
The Sinclair Security building wasn't far from the Strip, and we pulled into the secure garage not long after we fled the Delecta. Axel carried me to the elevator, unwilling to put me down.
"I can walk, Axel," I said. His grip on me tightened, his arms steel bands around me. He dropped his lips to my ear and whispered, "Stay still. I don't want you on your feet yet. Not until the doctor takes a look at you."
"I’m fine," I said and settled my head on his shoulder. He seemed to need the reassurance of control, and if carrying me to the office made him feel better, I wasn't going to argue. We’d have plenty to argue about later, especially if he started a fight with Agent Tierney.
A man I didn't recognize met us at the door and followed us back to Axel's office, giving him an update as we went.
"Doc is on his way. ETA less than five minutes."
"Expect Agent Tierney of the FBI," Axel said, his tone brisk.
"Am I letting him in?" the man asked.
I got the impression that if Axel told him to keep the FBI from the building, he would do it, no questions asked. My stomach rolled as I contemplated the ramifications of going against the FBI. I didn't like Agent Tierney as much as I'd liked Agent Jensen, but he was still the FBI, and I was still his informant. I understood all the reasons Axel claimed to lack confidence in their security, but I didn't agree. The FBI wasn’t our enemy. Harper and Tsepov were the ones we had to worry about. The FBI were the good guys.
"Let him up," Axel said. "Check him for wires and weapons before you bring him in."
"Got it," the man said. Then he was gone, back to the front of the office without another word.
Axel set me down on his couch and peeled his blood-soaked tie off the wound on my arm. My skin and dress were stained red and sticky with the mess, but the cut looked worse than it was. It couldn't be too bad, because while it hurt like a bitch, it had mostly stopped bleeding on our short car ride.
"I'm fine, Axel," I said. "I don't even think I need stitches."
Axel crouched before me and examined the cut on my arm, then the smaller slice on my face, gently stroking his fingertip over my cheekbone as he traced the red line the glass had left on my skin.
"When my guys catch the shooter, I'm going to kill him," Axel said in a level voice that sent a chill down my spine.
"Axel, you can't kill anybody," I protested, knowing very well that anything I said was unlikely to change his mind. I knew him well enough by now to understand that when Axel was angry, he got stubborn.
"What did you mean when your guys catch the shooter?"
"Don't mention this to Tierney, but I had more men watching us than the three you saw. The second they got eyes on the shooter, they went after him. When they catch him, they’ll bring him here. Then I'll deal with him."
Alarmed, I jerked into a sitting position and grabbed Axel's arm. "What are you going to do with him? If you catch him, you should take him to the police or the FBI."
Axel shook his head. "We can't afford for this guy to be out in the general population, even in jail. We don't want anyone to know you and I are together, especially not whoever sent him after you."
"Whoever sent him after me? Isn't it obvious?"
"Odds are it’s either Harper or Tsepov," Axel said. "But I don't want to make any assumptions that could end up getting you killed."
I heard footsteps in the hallway. Axel leaned in and whispered in my ear, "That’s either the doctor or Tierney. Say as little as possible. Don’t, under any circumstances, mention Summer or the backup evidence to Agent Tierney, understand?"
I nodded. The door to the office opened, and the man who'd greeted us earlier ushered in another man, this one younger and carrying a black bag that looked so much like the stereotypical old-fashioned doctor's bag, I couldn't help but smile. He returned my smile, earning a glare from Axel, and said, "What happened?"
Axel laid out the cause of my injuries, my blood loss, and how much pain he thought I was in. In my opinion, he underestimated the amount of blood and overestimated my pain level. The doctor was efficient, checking the cuts with a bright light, and cleaning them thoroughly with something that stung like hell.
When he was done, he applied bandages to both injuries, assured Axel I didn't need stitches, and left. Moments later, Agent Tierney was escorted into the office. When his eyes hit the bandage on my face, he turned to Axel and said, "This is how you keep her safe? What the fuck happened?"
Axel stared at Agent Tierney, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowed in fury. If we’d been in a comic book, I would have expected a laser to flash out of his eyes and incinerate the FBI agent on the spot. Taking the offensive, Axel said, "This is not my fuck up. You have a mole."
"How do you know the leak is on my end?" Tierney asked. Axel gave a derisive laugh.
"You thin
k it's on my end? I would bet my life none of my people would sell me out. Would you do the same? Can you guarantee no one in the Las Vegas FBI office is working for Tsepov? Don't even answer, because he’s got his fingers all over law enforcement in Vegas."
Tierney didn't respond verbally, but his cheeks flushed in frustrated anger. I took that to mean he wasn't going to argue the accusation that Tsepov had sources in the FBI. Which made his next comment all the more terrifying.
"I'm taking Emma into protective custody," he said.
"The hell you are," Axel roared. "She almost got shot tonight because of you. You're not taking her anywhere."
"We haven't determined who leaked Emma’s location," Tierney said, refusing to back down. I didn't think that was a good sign. He was too calm, absolutely assured that he was going to get his way. I didn't understand a lot of what was going on, but I knew, despite almost being shot, that I'd rather stick with Axel. I definitely did not want to go into FBI protective custody, and I said so.
"I don't want to go into protective custody."
Agent Tierney didn't even look at me. He kept his eyes on Axel. "What you want, Miss Wright, is irrelevant at this point. I'm taking you. I will arrest you to do it if I have to. And if you try to stop me, Sinclair, I'll arrest you, too."
"You can't do that," Axel said.
"Do you want to try me? You’re impeding an FBI investigation. If she won't come with me, so is Emma. I will do whatever I have to do to secure the evidence, which at the moment is Emma, and get you out of the way before you completely fuck up my case. I will not hesitate to take you both into custody. Separately. In fact, separately would be my preference."
Fear clutched at my stomach at the thought of being separated from Axel. If Axel was in jail, who knew what he would have to do get out? Agent Tierney didn’t seem to like him very much. If he wanted to, I had a feeling he could make things very difficult for Axel.