by Alexa Wilder
I had no doubt that Axel and Sinclair Security had excellent lawyers on retainer, ready to jump whenever they needed anything. But I watched a lot of TV. I knew it wasn't always that simple. What if Agent Tierney brought him in but didn't book him properly? He could disappear into the system much in the same way that Axel was apparently planning to make my attacker disappear. If they didn't press formal charges, his attorney might not be able to get him back out. Axel was the only person I trusted, and he’d put himself in danger to help me. I couldn't let Agent Tierney take him away.
"I'll go with you," I said, "but only if you promise not to press charges against Axel."
Agent Tierney shook his head. "I'm not making any promises. If he doesn't stay out of my way, I'll do more than take him into custody, I’ll have this fucking company shut down."
Axel cocked an insolent eyebrow at Tierney. "Your threats just crossed the line. You can try to take me into custody. Maybe you can make some charges stick. But I would think very carefully before you go up against the Sinclairs,” he said. "You’re one agent in a regional office. Do you know who our contacts are in D.C.? I think you do. I'll play along—for now—but don't forget who I am and who you're dealing with."
Agent Tierney's bluster faded at the mention of D.C. With a quick intake of breath, he rallied and said, "If you do as I tell you, I'll let you come into custody with Emma. That's the best I can do."
"I choose the location," Axel shot back. "We can continue to stay here. We won't leave. This is the safest building in Las Vegas."
"I don't doubt that," Agent Tierney said. "But after tonight, your enemies know you two are together, and this is the first place they're going to look. Nowhere associated with the Sinclairs is safe."
"I've got other options," Axel said.
Agent Tierney shook his head again. “No. You come in my custody to an FBI safe house, with my agents. No compromises."
"That's unacceptable," Axel said through a tight jaw.
"Ever since you got involved in this mess," Tierney said, “you've been fucking things up for me. This time, we're playing it my way, or I will have you arrested, and I'll deal with the consequences later. It’s your choice. Stay with Emma and both of you come with me, or I'll have my agents arrest you, and I'll take Emma. We're running out of time. Make a choice before you don't have any left."
"Fine,” Axel ground out. “We’ll come with you."
Everything moved quickly after that. Axel, his arm protectively wrapped around my shoulders, followed Agent Tierney and several other FBI agents down to the parking garage, where we got into a somewhat shabby beige sedan. I looked at Axel in the dim light in the car with questions in my eyes. He gave a shake of his head in response. I wanted an explanation for his change of heart, but it looked like I was going to have to wait.
A little lost at the quick shift in our circumstances, I resigned myself to wait until later to find out why Axel had agreed to go into custody. I settled myself against him in the back of the car and let my head rest on his shoulder. In the confusion of almost being shot, getting back to Axel's office, the doctor, and Agent Tierney, I'd forgotten how tired I was. In the quiet of the car, my exhaustion came rushing back and, with my head on Axel’s shoulder and his strong arm around me, I drifted to sleep.
27
Axel
Emma fell asleep in the car, exhausted from the night’s events. She'd been ready to pass out before she'd almost been shot, so I wasn't surprised she dropped off in the car. Careful not to disturb her, I eased my phone from my pocket and tapped out a quick text to Evers. He was working with Griffen or he would have joined us for dinner, but I knew, even if he had his phone turned off for the moment, he’d get my message eventually.
Assassin at the Delecta. 3 men on him. Bringing him back to office. E & I in FBI custody.
My phone illuminated with a message less than a minute later.
At office w/G. Shooter in safe room. Information?
I typed back, Get what you can. Need to be sure who $$ him. Hold him.
There was no answer, but I didn't expect one. I didn't trust a lot of people—it was a drawback of being in the security business. Divided loyalties were so common that at any moment, a former ally could be your enemy. And it seemed like people always had a second, or even third, agenda. But I trusted my team, and deeper than that, I trusted my family.
My brothers and I loved to give each other shit. It was a sibling curse and a privilege, depending on which side of the shit-giving you were on. But no one in this clusterfuck would have my back like Evers. When I’d first seen him in my office, I'd been pissed. Things had been bad enough with Emma without my brother showing up to complicate them even more. Now I was relieved he was here. I knew he had everything at the office under control so I could focus on Emma.
Agent Tierney was determined to be a pain in the ass. He and I both knew we were safer outside of FBI protective custody. Why had he forced us into it? I could think of a few reasons, none of them good. The first was ego and the need to control his own investigation. It might be as simple as that. So far, I hadn't been overwhelmed by his intelligence, and it was possible he was just that stupid. Even so, I wasn't buying it.
The other explanation was that he knew we were less secure in FBI custody and he wanted it that way to give someone else a chance to get to us. I'll admit, part of my emphasis on the vulnerability of FBI informants was to encourage Emma to stick with me. It wasn't a lie. History would show that a private security company like Sinclair could keep an individual safer than the FBI in circumstances like this. That was a fact. But I wasn't above using that fact in my favor, especially when Emma had been ready to run from me.
I was armed, with more weapons than anyone seeing me in my suit and tie would guess. I was trained for this, and I had full confidence that I could keep Emma alive even in an uncertain situation. That didn't mean I liked it. The best that could come out of this was confirmation on the source of the leak. My people didn't know where we were going. If we were attacked from this point on, we’d know the FBI was the problem. It was cold comfort.
I would rather have locked Emma in my penthouse until the case was resolved. Whatever happened, we wouldn't be staying with the FBI for long. Emma's friend would be back from her business trip on Friday, and the package with the evidence would have arrived by then as well. I planned to have Emma out of FBI custody and on a plane Thursday night, without Tierney's knowledge. I had seventy-two hours to figure out how I was going to pull that off. Plenty of time.
The car finally slowed as we pulled into a generic tract home neighborhood in Henderson. Perfect. The setting was straight out of a cheesy movie where they grab the witness and stick her in protective custody. The sedan turned into a driveway, and I got my first look at the safe house. The FBI hadn’t killed its budget on this one.
For one thing, the place was all kinds of exposed. It was on the end of a cul-de-sac, and if it had had open desert behind it, with some nice bright lights in the backyard, that would have been a plus. But, as we pulled into the driveway, I caught a view of the backyard. It had been attractively landscaped with various plantings and a gazebo that looked like it was falling apart, but it would provide cover for anyone approaching from the rear. There were houses on either side, both close enough that they, too, would provide cover. On top of that, the general quality of the neighborhood told me that our accommodations were not going to be top of the line.
For myself, I didn't really care. I preferred the best when it was available. I could afford it, so why not? But I'd spent years in the military, and a lot of my assignments had involved sleeping on the ground, often in miserable weather. Then, there were the things I'd had to do since I’d been working at Sinclair. High profile security sounded glamorous, but a lot of it was waiting and watching, rarely in comfortable locations.
We pulled into the garage and I lifted Emma into my arms, carrying her into the house, escorted by two agents and Tierney. I’d been
right—the accommodations were crap. Tierney only turned on one light, trying to keep a low profile, though the two vehicles pulling in at this hour would have been noticed, regardless of how many lights we turned on.
The kitchen was a time warp of avocado appliances and almond countertops. The family room boasted a worn and stained, rust-colored shag carpet. Deep shag carpet. Hello, 1970s. I thought wistfully of my so very secure, almost impenetrable without a rocket launcher, penthouse. Then of the three other safe houses we had secreted around the city, also almost impenetrable. I had agreed to bring Emma here?
I had a gut feeling that sticking with the FBI was the best way to flush out the mole. On top of that, there were Tierney's threats of arrest. He couldn't hold me, and I wasn't worried about disappearing into the system once the FBI had me. I was way too high profile, and there were too many people that knew of Tierney's connections to me and my work on his case.
I hadn’t been bluffing when I’d brought up the Sinclair connections in D.C. Tierney could have arrested me, but he wouldn't have been able to hold me longer than twelve hours, and it likely would have ended up costing him his job.
It was the time I’d spend in custody that had me worried. Time away from Emma was time she’d be completely vulnerable. My brothers and my team could have gone after Emma for me, but that would have caused a shit storm that would've been a lot more complicated than me staying by her side.
So here we were, in this dilapidated safe house with an unsecured perimeter, and two FBI agents for protection, both of whom looked like they'd only been shaving for a few years. I barely listened as Tierney gave me a quick lecture about behaving myself. I declined to respond. I set Emma on her feet and she leaned into me, still sleepy. Stifling a yawn, she looked around, then said in a low voice, “Is this it?” Her eyebrows were raised in doubt. I laughed. Like me, she was clearly unimpressed with the FBI's safe house.
Rubbing my hand up her spine, I said, “This is it. It looks a lot more secure than my penthouse, don't you think?"
She wrinkled her nose and said nothing. Smart girl. Tierney scowled at both of us.
"I need your cellphones," he said. “They can be tracked, and they’re not secure."
"Emma doesn't have hers," I said. "And I'm not giving you mine. It's untraceable and unhackable. You're going to have to take my word for that."
Tierney tried to stare me down, clearly weighing the cost of demanding the phone against my unwillingness to turn it over. Proving he wasn't as stupid as I thought, he backed down and let me keep the phone. Good thing for him.
I could handle Tierney stashing me in this unsafe safe house with our inexperienced guards and only a handful of weapons, but I wasn't letting Tierney take away my access to my team and my brother. I worked out of the office so often that I had everything set up so that if I had my phone, it was the next best thing to being there myself.
"You have two agents in the house,” Tierney said, “and an agent outside watching for an approach. You're completely covered, and you're safe. I'll check in tomorrow."
“You're leaving?” Emma asked. “You're dumping us here and leaving?"
Tierney gave her an oily smile and said, “You’re safe here, Emma, I promise. I have leads to follow. The sooner I get this case wrapped up, the sooner this will all be over. If lover-boy there," this he said with a sneer, “hadn’t lost the evidence, I wouldn’t have to work twice as hard to get this wrapped up. We have you as a witness to Harper's confession, but it's not enough. Stay out of trouble, do what the agents tell you to, and this will all be over before you know it."
Tierney let himself out through the garage and was gone. Emma turned to me with wide eyes and opened her mouth to speak. I shook my head and said to the two agents in the room, "I'm taking Emma up to bed. She's exhausted. You two will have the first floor covered?”
“Yes, sir," the taller of the agents said. I led Emma upstairs, tucking her behind me on the narrow staircase, and checked every room before choosing what was supposed to be the master suite, though master suite was a stretch of the imagination. It had a king size bed, so that was something. When we were in the room, with the door shut, I turned on the taps in the bathroom sink to create some background noise.
Pulling Emma close, I dropped my head and whispered in her ear, “It's a safe bet that they're listening. Don't say anything you don't want to be caught on tape." She nodded and whispered back, “Did you tell Agent Tierney about the tape? That Harper confessed to me?”
My girl was smart. I’d wondered if she'd caught that. “No, I didn’t. Either the FBI has ears at William Harper's house, or Tierney is working with someone who does."
Emma pulled back and looked up at me, her blue eyes wide with horror. She hadn't entirely believed me when I’d said the leak had to be in Tierney's office. His slip indicated I was right. Protective custody just got that much more dangerous.
28
Emma
Axel couldn’t stop pacing the bedroom. I sat on the bed, watching him walk back and forth, every so often ducking to the side to peer through a tiny crack in the blinds. I knew he didn’t want to be in FBI custody, but I hadn’t realized how strongly he felt until we were here. His shoulders were tight, his eyes too sharp, and I was beginning to hate the way he looked when he clenched his jaw.
I knew it wasn’t my fault this was happening, but all the same, I felt guilty. Axel’s life was upside down. He didn’t need to be here, locked in this run-down house with me, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“You should go to sleep,” he said without looking at me.
There was no way I could sleep, even though I was exhausted. I wasn’t pacing the room, but I was as wound up as Axel. The second Agent Tierney had mentioned Harper’s confession, my adrenaline had surged and my brain had begun to spin. How had he known Harper had confessed his crimes to me? Could he be working with Harper? Or worse, Tsepov? I couldn’t believe it. I wouldn’t. It was more likely that the FBI had bugged Harper’s office, just as Axel had. After all, Axel had been Harper’s client, and he’d still bugged his office. Why wouldn’t the FBI, who were investigating Harper, do the same?
It made sense. But if there were such an innocent explanation, then why was Axel so tense? I was intelligent and had reasonably good judgment, most of the time, but there was no denying that Axel had far better instincts when it came to stuff like this. If he was too tense to sleep, then so was I.
“I can’t sleep,” I said. “I’m too wired.”
“You were exhausted when we left the Delecta,” he said, still pacing from one side of the small room to the other. “You need to rest.”
“Are we safe here?” I asked. “I mean, for now. Do you think we’re safe?”
Axel stopped his pacing and gave me a long look. “Safe enough. Why?”
“Come sit next to me,” I said, patting the worn comforter on the bed. I was trying not to wonder when the house had last been cleaned.
Reluctantly, Axel came to sit beside me. He vibrated with contained energy and the need to move. I couldn’t help him with the case. I’d done everything I was able to where that was concerned. But I couldn’t stand seeing him so wound up and knowing it was my fault. If I couldn’t do much to help him with the FBI or Harper, at least I could help him relax.
As soon as he was seated, I stood and faced him, my hands going straight to his tie. He looked up at me, eyes tense, the dark brown lighting with heat as his mind shifted gears and he realized what I was up to.
I rarely initiated sex since we’d gotten together. Axel's need for control and my desire to give it to him put him in charge of our encounters—most of the time. Not tonight. Axel needed me. His instincts had him too on edge to unwind on his own. I’d had a plan the day before, one Axel had thwarted. This time, I was determined to get my way.
I didn't need him naked, but I liked him that way. His tie off, I unbuttoned his shirt—carefully, methodically, appreciating every inch of skin that I bared. For onc
e, Axel was content to let me take charge, and I reveled in his compliance.
I wouldn't go so far as to call it submission. I don't think Axel had it in him to submit. But compliance was close enough. Once his shirt was stripped off and laid out on the bed beside him, I dropped to my knees and went to work on his belt. His erection pressed against the fabric of his pants. My hands brushed his length as I worked the leather belt free of the metal buckle and pulled down his zipper.
"Up," I commanded. Axel's lips worked in a half smile, but he did as I ordered, lifting up just enough for me to slide his pants and boxers over his ass and down his legs. I placed a hand on each knee and urged his legs apart, scooting forward so I knelt between them.
It was exactly where I wanted to be. His cock rose before me, thick and hard, a pearly drop of pre-come beading on the tip. I opened my mouth and my tongue dipped out to taste him. Salty, a little bitter, and all mine. Before I could taste more of him, his guttural voice said, “Take off your clothes.”
I thought about objecting, just to remind him that this was my show. Then, I remembered that I didn't want the barrier of clothing between Axel and me. I wanted to be naked, on my knees, his hard cock filling my mouth. Maybe this time, we could both be compliant.
I had my clothes off in seconds and was back where I had started, tucked between his legs, my mouth open, ready for him. Oral sex hadn't always been my favorite thing. With Axel, it was different. I loved the feel of him on my tongue, the heat of him, his scent—earthy and all man—the way his silky skin slid over the steely muscle as I stroked him from base to tip.
I couldn't take all of him in my mouth, but I was getting closer. To make up for the lack, I circled my fingers at the base of his cock and squeezed, sliding them up and down in time to the rhythm of my mouth. My other hand was busy between his legs, cradling and stroking his balls.