by Mandy Harbin
“Um—”
“Please relay that info to all parties. Thanks.”
“O-okay.” Yeah, she definitely needed to do something nice for them all.
Realizing she’d watched this particular footage already, she fast-forwarded the video, but she didn’t get far before having to pause it. Someone had slammed the main door and was now stomping toward her room. She didn’t have to hear his voice to know who was going to be on the other side any second now.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. “Caitlin,” Axle said tersely. “The demilitarization zone is ninety-seven klicks. We need to un-ass now to keep schedule.”
“I told Brooks and whoever else knocked that I’m not going. You can reschedule it.”
The knob rattled right before her door flew open, but she gasped anyway when it hit the wall. She should’ve known Axle would come barging in.
She tore her gaze away from him and tried to act nonchalant. “Good morning,” she said as she went back to watching the video.
“You’re not dressed,” he said, and she hated the fact that he’d voiced it so cold.
“Depends on your definition.” She’d slept in a tank and shorts because she if she had to exit the building quickly in the middle of the night, she didn’t want to be in a t-shirt and panties.
“We don’t have time for games, Caitlin. You need to put your ass in gear and get some clothes on.”
She turned up the volume on her laptop in an effort to show him she was seriously not going anywhere. Although she didn’t look at him now, she could feel his anger building. She didn’t have to see his face to see the vein in his forehead bulging.
“Seems I missed my calling,” Alec said when he walked in with a tray of food. He put it on her bedside table along with a cup of coffee. “I wonder if waiters get hazard pay.”
“Oh, thank you.” She smiled and reached for the dark, steaming liquid.
“Wait outside,” Axle said, and she knew he wasn’t talking to her. “We’ll be out in a minute.”
She looked at him then as the guys started to file out. “I know you understand English. I’m not going. Get. Out.”
The men crowding her door froze, obviously shocked at the way she’d talked to their leader, and he barked, “Now.” They scrambled to leave, and Axle shut the door behind them. When he turned to look at her, her gaze shot to her laptop, pretending to be deep in work.
The seconds ticked by.
He took a step toward her, and her heart leapt. She hated having that reaction. Hated it. Hopefully, it was just adrenaline from the confrontation and not because this was first time they’d been alone since he threw up his emotional barriers.
The room was so tiny, but with him in it, she felt claustrophobic. He filled the space with just his presence, but his size was commanding it, too, consuming every void. He took another step and sat on the other bed in the room.
He was as far from her as possible in this little space, but he could stretch his arm out and graze her.
He wouldn’t, though. She knew he wouldn’t dare.
God, I hope he doesn’t.
That was a lie. She wanted him to touch her, hold her, kiss her…
“What’s wrong?” he asked almost softly.
She gaped at him. “Are you fucking joking?”
He nodded slowly. “So this is about us?”
“There is no us. You made that painfully clear.” Her eyes stung, so she quickly looked away to get her bearings. She shook her head infinitesimally as she grappled with herself not to show any emotion. She couldn’t show any weakness. She’d already lost, but he didn’t have to know that.
Her bed dipped, and her gaze flew in that direction even though she knew the reason.
Axle. He’d sat on her bed. If he was all-consuming in the other corner, he was downright lethal this close to her. Not to her life, no. She’d never think that of him. But he was to her heart, her head. To everything else that mattered.
He searched her eyes, his darting back and forth between hers. He finally said, “I can’t decide if I want to kill my sister for getting me involved with this or thank her.”
She frowned at him, not sure what he meant and also partly surprised he was talking to her about something personal. He’d been strictly business now for several days. “What are you talking about?”
“That this is such a small world.” He shrugged and looked ahead, but not really looking at anything in particular. “You mentioned Ishmael is the reason you have protection, but why me? Why not someone else? Someone more involved with frontline work might’ve been a better fit, or at least a more seamless one. God knows, there are qualified men stationed here that could’ve taken this duty.” He hesitated, but she was almost too scared to speak for fear he’d clam up. He looked at her again. “My sister, that’s why. She works with him. Your friend.”
“Oh.” She’d wondered before if Axle worked with Hunter. When she’d called her childhood friend and he’d dismissed the notion that Axle was a mercenary, she hadn’t though much else about it. She’d assumed Axle had been randomly selected for this operation when Hunter hadn’t known him. “When did you figure it out?”
“When she told me about Ishmael.”
“So she knows him,” she said, letting the news settle as she moved her laptop aside. It was possible his sister worked with him and didn’t really know him. Caitlin worked with a lot of people she didn’t personally know, but there had to be a relationship of some kind for his sister to help Hunter pull the strings.
“Ishmael? No. But Hunter Anderson?” he asked, tilting his head to the side as if catching her in the lie.
Caitlin winced playfully. “Technically, his name isn’t Hunter anyway.”
“I know. Had some sleepless nights I needed to somehow fill. Digging up intel on your boyfriend back home seemed like a wonderful way to torture myself.”
She didn’t know what to say about that. Hunter never was and never would be her boyfriend. Plus, there was the whole looking-into-her-causing-him-pain aspect of that statement. Instead, she asked, “What does your sister do?”
Just because Axle wasn’t a mercenary didn’t mean his sister wasn’t. She didn’t think it was common for women to be involved in that life, but anything was possible.
“Not an easy question to answer,” he said slowly.
“Does it have anything to do with being paid to handle problems?”
He frowned. Opened his mouth. Closed it. He shook his head. “She’s not a psychologist, if that’s what you mean. I’m not exactly sure what she is right now. Something happened, and she’s going through some, I don’t know, regret maybe, with the path she chose.”
“Ahh.” Because she’s a mercenary.
“Shit went south on her last assignment. Somebody betrayed her team, and she got shot.”
“Wow, she’s okay, though, right?”
“Mm-hmm. Just thinking if she wants to live the dangerous life.”
Oh yeah, she’s definitely mercenary.
“I take it her career choice didn’t sit well with you?” He was a regimented military man, and what his sister did was illegal.
He laughed lightly. “Hell no. Dad and I gave her a lot of shit about it.”
Caitlin gaped at him. “She told your parents? I’d think that would be something you couldn’t tell everybody about.” She wasn’t sure how long Heather knew about Hunter, but her friend had kept it from her even after drunken nights in Vegas.
“I—er, what do you think she does?”
Caitlin grimaced. “You know…takes care of problems…for cash.”
He smiled. “I’mma need you to be more direct than that.”
The way he looked at her had her second-guessing her theory. If she wasn’t a mercenary, then why was she working with Hunter? She could be a mechanic. Axle had told her about his father’s garage back home. She could be working with Hunter in that respect.
Working under cars could be dangerous, but that wouldn’
t explain why she’d been shot. “Do you know what Hunter does?”
His gaze narrowed. “I know it had to be illegal on some level to get the feds involved.”
“But your sister knows?”
“Yeah. She’s an FBI agent assigned to work their case, or contract, or whatever the hell it is.”
“Ohh.” Okay, that made sense. “I thought she was one of his teammates.” Then she laughed. “You know, because of the betrayal and shooting and working for money.”
He seemed to contemplate that, and she worried she’d said more than she should have. She didn’t know much about Hunter’s team and had every intention of getting more information from Heather when she got back, but it seemed Axle knew even less. “No,” he said with a pause. “She’s a linguistics expert. Speaks half a dozen languages.”
“Really?” she asked, genuinely intrigued and a little relieved he didn’t ask more about Hunter.
“Yeah. Smart as shit. Doesn’t always get to focus on translations,” he said with an eyeroll.
“Uh-oh,” she said jokingly. “I don’t think I should ask about that.”
He chuckled. “Best not to. It involves a questionable sexual harassment thing.”
She curled her lip. “Most women have those.”
“What happened to you?” he asked. She didn’t really want to get into it, but the tone of his question told her he wasn’t going to let her get away without answering.
“Nothing major. Just a slimy experience with the now lieutenant governor of Arkansas.”
“Hmm,” he said, almost as if filing away that information.
“Don’t suppose your sister speaks Pashto,” she said offhandedly, partly as a distraction.
“I’m not sure.” He shrugged. “I know she studied Arabic and a host of Middle Eastern dialects. The feds pay big money for language skills even if linguistics isn’t someone’s primary focus.”
“You think she’d mind watching some videos and listening to people speaking in the background?” she asked without thinking. “Sorry, she’s probably busy working on a case or something. Forget I asked.” She waved her hand and looked away from him. It was too easy to talk.
To forget.
She missed this, speaking freely with him.
She missed him.
“I’ll ask her,” he said gently.
She nodded and glanced at him. “Why didn’t you tell me before that she got you involved in this?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Engaging in causal conversation wasn’t high up on my priority list the night she told me. There were other, more intimate activities that demanded my focus.”
Caitlin felt her face flame, and she watched as his breathing got deeper, almost labored.
“You are so beautiful when you do that,” he whispered so lightly that she almost missed hearing it. It felt like a confession to her alone that no one else could ever hear.
Her body rioted with her brain. She wanted to reach out to him, but he stayed locked in place. His words had come from the heart, but she could tell they wouldn’t change anything. In that moment, though, she began to understand. He hadn’t wanted to stop what was happening. Not completely. Something or someone had made that decision. Even if that person was himself, she could see it hadn’t been as cut and dried for him as she’d assumed.
“I can’t help it,” she murmured, not really sure how to proceed around the elephant in this tiny space with them. “Happens when I get embarrassed or uncomfortable or—”
“Turned on,” he said, interrupting her. “Come so hard your whole body shakes. I know. Fuck, I know.” His head lowered slightly, but his gaze never wavered. Her palms began to sweat as the moisture in her mouth completely dissipated at his voiced memory. Of her. Of them. “I know exactly where that red tint spreads on your body,” he said, his voice raspy.
“Axle,” she breathed.
He shut his eyes on a sigh. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what it is about you, but I can’t do this.” He shook his head and looked at her again. Even though his words were no different than the before, where last time he’d spoken them with cold finality, this time, his torment shone through. Her heart wanted to comfort him. To tell him it’d be okay. Her brain saw it for the lie it was. Words used to soothe, to excuse just one more touch. She couldn’t do that to herself. It would only cause more pain.
Her body didn’t get the message. Before she registered her movement, she reached for him. His hand shot out and fisted her hair, stopping her advancement. She’d grabbed his arm on instinct, not to pull him away, but to stabilize herself. His wild gaze pinned her for the briefest of moments, but it felt like a dozen lifetimes passed as he stared at her, into her soul, neither moving, both held prisoner as time seemed to stand still.
“Please,” she breathed. If this was goodbye, she at least wanted a kiss to remember him. She needed it more than her next breath. It would help her accept the fact that she had to let him go.
That was a lie, too. She still didn’t care. She’d learn to deal with the pain later because no matter what, when they went their separate ways, there would be crushing hurt.
There would be no getting over this man.
He groaned before leaning toward her while tugging her toward him. Blood rushed in her veins in anticipation. He was going to kiss her. One last time. The moment his lips brushed against hers, she let go of his forearm and, with shaking hands, skimmed up his biceps to cup his neck. She let out a moan when his tongue slipped into her mouth, and that broke whatever tether was holding him back. His other hand dove into her hair, clutching her to him as he deepened the kiss. It was powerful and passionate.
Tender and sad.
Her breath caught just as he pulled away. He kissed her cheek twice and her forehead once before letting go of her and standing.
“I can push back this morning’s stop, shorten the time we spend at both locations, and we can get back late tonight.” His mouth was still red, lips swollen. She wiped her own as she watched him. His eyes dilated, but that was the only reaction.
“I can be ready in three minutes.” She’d be dead on her feet, but it’d be the right thing to do. The faster she finished her story, the quicker she could leave. If anything could help, it’d be distance. Besides, if she didn’t keep today’s itinerary, others would be inconvenienced. She honestly didn’t want that to happen.
He nodded once. “Send me whatever video you want me to have my sister watch. Can’t promise Shelby will be able to help, but she can take a look.
“Thanks,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t crack too much.
Then he indicated the tray of food on the table beside her bed. “Grab that, too. You can eat in the transport.”
She took a fortifying breath and saluted. “Sir, yes, Sir,” she said without the urgency of anybody else she’d heard giving the command.
He cracked a smile. “I’ll be waiting for you,” he said before walking out.
“If only that was true,” she whispered to the closed door.
“Do you have any idea how early it is?” Shelby asked Axle when she answered his call.
Any hope of finishing early today crashed and burned the moment they’d gotten a late start. Caitlin had refused to leave at first, and he’d been ready to pull her over his lap and spank her ass. Yeah, it was barbaric, but the image taunted him as he griped at her about holding them up. She’d eventually agreed to continue on as scheduled, and it had taken every ounce of strength not to cancel everything anyway and spend the day locked in her room showing just how bossy he could be.
“Sorry, Sis. Couldn’t be helped.”
“You look like dog doo.”
He exhaled a short chuckle. “Feel like it too.”
“At least you showered, or you’d smell like it too, I bet.”
“No doubt.” A cold shower had cleaned the grime and helped wake him up enough to call a couple of his teammates and his sister. He talked to the guys first, knowing those conversations would be sh
ort, and hoped the one with Shelby would be too. He was tuckered out. Looking out his open doorway to Caitlin’s closed door, he asked, “Did ya get the link I sent to the video library? They were too large to attach to an email.”
“Yep. Most of what I heard seemed irrelevant—talking about markets and wives and such—but there were two different conversations that contained interesting details. One talked about the MOAB, referring to it as Mother. There’s mention of U.S. Military involvement in an arms deal.”
“Shit,” he breathed.
“What?” she asked slowly.
He sighed. “It classified. I can’t go into it.”
“Dude, then why would you ask me to translate it for a journalist?”
“Fuck, I don’t know.” He rubbed his head. “She needed help with the footage. How was I supposed to know some random villagers would be discussing it?”
“Um, because she was there reporting on it?” she asked sarcastically. “People aren’t stupid.”
“Apparently, I am. Fuck.” He looked at the ceiling, trying to figure out what to do now. “What all was said?”
“The gist? Some soldiers were there, asking about selling weapons, and days later, the good ol’ boys came back with bombs to cover their tracks.”
“Jesus Christ. That’s not how it went down.”
“Were there traitors selling arms?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“That’s a yes. Is that where the explosion was?”
He groaned.
“That’s another yes. Doesn’t matter if that’s not why forces dropped the bomb. The locals believe that, and a journalist has every right to report local reactions to what’s going on in their town.”
“I’ll tell her you couldn’t help.”
“Too late. I’ve already noted the timestamp and sent a transcript to the email address on the video library link.”
A litany of cusswords flew from his mouth.
“What’s the problem here?” she asked. “I mean, I get what really happened is classified information, but it’s not like somebody with the inside scoop told her anything.”
