Axle: A Military Bad Boy Mercenary Romance (The Bang Shift Book 5)

by Mandy Harbin

  “I was ordered not to help her with her research.”

  “Yeah, but you didn’t. I did.” She shrugged.

  “Burge is not going to see it that way.” Axle wouldn’t either if the shoe was on the other foot. “Shit’s going to hit the fan when news comes out.”

  “Hate to break it to you, big brother, but there’s another conversation on one of the clips that’s much more damning.”

  He stared at her, hoping she was not about to tell him about the tunnels they’d destroyed. It’d been a major hub for the Taliban, and the government did not want that information known to the general public. They’d been used for more than illegal weapons purchases. “What did you hear?”

  “Not just me. It was hard to make out, so I asked Viola to watch.”

  “You showed it to a federal agent?” he asked incredulously.

  “She’s my friend,” Shelby defended. “She couldn’t make out anything, either, but she did suggest I have Gauge enhance the audio.”

  “Who’s that?” he asked, but deep down, he knew, and it was bad. “Tell me you did not send the video to the FBI.”

  “No, not technically. I mean, yeah, Gauge was an agent, but he works for the Bang Shift now, which means he’s teammates with Hunter.” She hesitated while his brain continued to spin. “I was surprised she even mentioned him,” she said quickly. “She and Gauge have a history, and she usually avoids anything to do with him. When she said he should take a look, I about crapped my—”

  “Shelby! What the fuck is going on?”

  “Jeez. There was background noise that made it difficult for me to understand the conversation these two men were having. Gauge did some computer magic and cleared it. Meaning, he knows about its existence, but I didn’t tell him what I translated.”

  “Good.”

  “Yet,” Shelby added.

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Someone needs to know about it. I haven’t decided who’d be best to get this information. If I wasn’t on leave, I’d tell Rick and let him figure out how to address it, but since Gauge helped, I don’t know. His team takes contracts to handle messes the government doesn’t want to be connected to. This has the makings of being a huge government FUBAR, as you’d say, so I thought maybe the Bang Shift could deal with it.”

  Fucked up beyond all repair. The motto of this mission. “Deal with what?” he asked slowly.

  “It’s bigger than them, though. This could have far reaching implications.”

  “Goddamn it, Shelby…”

  “The two guys were talking about prices being put on U.S. military targets. People, Axle.”

  He frowned at her. “It’s well-known we all have a price on our head over here. This is war, and the Taliban pays good money the higher the rank of the target.”

  “I understand that, but where does the Taliban get the money? Seems they’re more focused on spending their funds on weapons to fight their guerrilla-warfare-style battles, right?”

  “True. And if Caitlin’s story wasn’t focused on that angle, it sure will once she reads your email.” He glared at her, still needing to figure out what he was going to do about that.

  “Sorry, Bub. You asked me to translate it.” She shrugged. “But her story will be more explosive than the bomb itself. Those two men weren’t just talking about how much money they could make taking out members of U.S. forces and its allies. They mentioned where the terrorists got the money to fund the rewards.”

  “Jesus, we have more traitors in the midst.” It was the only explanation. The U.S. had tons of money to blow on the war effort and thousands of smart people with varying levels of intel. Money made people do stupid things.

  Private William Adin Richardson had already proven that by selling weapons to the enemy.

  “The money didn’t come from the U.S. It came from Russia.”

  “What?” he asked, drawing out the word.

  “I don’t know. Their conversation was short, but there’s no doubt Russia is funding the rewards on the deaths of American and Allied fighters.”

  “Holy shit.” Shelby was right. This was huge. Russia was a world superpower, just like the U.S. If they were covertly taking out Americans through the guise of the Taliban…

  “Exactly. So you see why I feel like I need to let someone know before this hits the press.”

  “What makes you think they don’t?” he asked, being realistic. They had ears on all kinds of communication. Chances were, if locals were openly talking about it, the U.S. government already knew. If that was the case, Caitlin had stumbled upon classified information that was above his paygrade.

  Caitlin’s door opened across the hall, and his gaze darted toward it.

  She walked into his room. Even still dirty, she was the most beautiful creature to him. She hadn’t stormed in like before, and he stayed still, waiting, partly transfixed by her, but also wanting to see what she was going to do…to say. Had she read the emails from his sister? Had she come in to confront him with the truth?

  Had she come to him for other reasons?

  “What’re you looking at?” his sister asked, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off Caitlin.

  She then tossed something at him, and he didn’t have to look at it to know what it was.

  His pen.

  Without a word, she walked out, went back into her room, and closed the door. He’d kept his door open to keep watch of her room, but there was a sadistic part of him that didn’t want to block any glimpse of her he could get. He knew those opportunities were numbered, and like an addict, he needed his fix no matter what it cost him in the end.

  “Ax?”

  He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “What?”

  “Is someone in there?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Who—”

  “Caitlin,” he said, penning his sister with a fuck you look.

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Don’t start with me.”

  “Damn, you have it bad for her.”

  “I’m not talking about this with you.”

  “Okay,” she said slowly. “But have you talked about it with yourself? Because you didn’t see your eyes just then.”

  “Shelby. Don’t. For real. I can’t go there with you. I’m fucking serious.”

  She nodded slowly. “All right, but I think there’s something you should know.”

  He shook his head, ready for this conversation to be over. “If you tell me Ishmael is in love with her, you do realize I will fucking kill him, don’t you?”

  “No way. Dude is totally head over heels for his girlfriend, who, by the way, I hear is behind the Ishmael profile name. Get it? Moby Dick. He probably has a huge—

  “Jesus Christ. You can’t focus for five seconds. How in the world did you ever learn a bunch of languages?” he asked, exasperated.

  “Ha. Ha,” she said, deadpan. “But this isn’t about Hunter. It’s about Gauge. The more I thought about it, the more I thought it was weird Viola had suggested him to enhance the video. There are other computer experts whose connection to the bureau isn’t as hazy.”

  “Maybe she understood you looking at the footage needed to stay secret. You said he wasn’t technically a fed anymore.”

  “Yeah, that was my thought, too.”

  “But,” he said, waving his hand, encouraging her to continue.

  “But, remember, when I mentioned you being assigned to Caitlin that he was the one who was the driving force behind it? When I backpedaled on suggesting to do it, he argued you were the best choice. He made the calls. He made it happen.”

  “Uh-huh. You said that before.”

  “Well, you’re never in a million years going to believe who he is.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dead on her feet, that was the only way to describe how Caitlin felt. Her fit yesterday morning hadn’t backed them up too much on their schedule, but it had caused a domino effect. Twenty-five minutes late leaving, being rerouted in t
ransit, forty minutes extra at first location, it all added up. By the time they’d gotten back last night, it was late enough for her to video call her producer and not be too early for him to answer. She’d gathered enough footage that she was free to wrap up her investigation and head back at the end of the week. She should’ve been happy to hear that. With the hours she’d put in on the last several assignments, she was due a vacation.

  Somewhere not hot and dirty, and preferably not hazardous to her life and wellbeing.

  No weapons of mass destruction.

  No rocky terrain.

  No testosterone-filled groups.

  It wasn’t only because of Axle why she sought a man-free refuge. The men on his team had all taken a turn hovering around her at one point or another, and when she’d eventually come out of the barracks yesterday morning, each of them had ragged her. She’d shown her ass, not wanting to leave, and ten minutes alone with their commander, and she was hightailing out of her room.

  They didn’t know the two of them had been locking lips. As far they figured, he’d chewed her ass out, and she’d jumped to comply. She hadn’t been able to correct their thinking. No, she’d had to take the ribbing in stride. It would’ve been easier if Axle had put a stop to it, but that would’ve looked suspicious and brought on scrutiny he hadn’t wanted. By the time they’d reached the first stop, the comments from them had died down, and she’d been able to put all of her focus onto work.

  Okay, most of her focus. She still watched Axle. He’d kept his word and stayed far enough away so that he didn’t interfere with her interviews, but he’d never taken his eyes off her. Each time she looked at him, he met her gaze, and she’d always been the first one to look away. It frustrated her that he’d been so close but so far. It pleased her to know he cared enough to not lose sight of her. It saddened her to know their time was limited.

  She’d gone through a complete range of emotions throughout the day and into the night back at the barracks. Even when getting ready for her shower, she’d berated herself for all the conflicting emotions coursing through her. As she’d gathered her toiletries and metaphorical big girl panties, she’d caught sight of Axle’s note and pen from the side of her bag, taunting her all over again. She’d been on the frustration cycle at that moment, so she’d dropped her shower supplies and grabbed the piece of paper he’d left for her the morning after their night of passion. Without hesitation, she’d ripped the note into shreds.

  It hadn’t been as satisfying as she’d hoped. She should’ve known better, but logic had no place among the vast feelings she’d been experiencing.

  She’d picked up the pen and looked at it. It’d crossed her mind to have it meet the same fate as the note, but she didn’t think it’d destroy easily. Apparently, she’d possessed a tiny bit of sense after all.

  Not enough, though. She was hurt, not crazy. Besides, it didn’t belong to her anyway. Breaking it might’ve given her momentary satisfaction, but it wouldn’t last, and then she’d feel guilty. She couldn’t in good conscience break something that wasn’t hers, but neither could she keep it around. It belonged to Axle.

  So she’d done the only thing she could.

  When she’d walked out of her room, his door was open, and Axle spied her from his perch on his bed.

  The one they’d shared.

  The last time she’d gone in there with that pen, she’d been furious and had hurled at it him, hoping to cause harm. What had transpired had hurt her more in the end than any damage she could have done to him in that moment in time.

  Rather than storm in with fury nipping at her heels, she’d wordlessly stepped into his room and tossed it gently with perfect aim onto his bed. It had landed by his feet and bounced by his boot. Her gazed had stayed locked on his until it came to a stop. With the note tattered and the pen returned, she’d have no more reminders of him in the sanctuary of her room.

  It was as it should’ve been.

  She’d returned to gather the rest of her toiletries and retreated to the shower. A large part of her hoped he’d follow her in there—a part she’d wanted to smack.

  He never did. The man was keeping his distance.

  When she’d finished, she’d gone back to her room without looking through his open doorway. It had been tough, but she’d found the will somehow.

  She’d left her laptop and had intended on glancing at her messages before turning her lights out and going to sleep.

  What she saw jolted her awake.

  Shelby Landry had messaged her.

  And blown her story wide open.

  Caitlin had spent the next couple of hours gathering her notes for her next live report. She wanted to make sure she had all of the angles covered for what would be the shocking newsbreak of her career.

  This morning, nothing had changed with Axle, but her mind was reeling. How much had he known? Had it played a part at all in him pushing her away? She wanted to ask him, but she couldn’t risk him stopping her live segment.

  But if his sister had sent her the information, she could have also sent it to him. The desire to talk to him about the U.S. arms deals and Russia’s funding of the Taliban were great, but she bit her tongue, hoping he’d show his hand first.

  He hadn’t. He’d been just as distant with her as before.

  Maybe even more so.

  When they’d boarded the helicopter earlier, he hadn’t helped her strap in, though he’d stood in front of her staring down, watching as she secured the harness. She mentally jumped from wanting to demand he acknowledge what was happening...either in this country or between them, she wasn’t sure.

  Had he seen her as nothing more than a fling? Would he deny his feelings if she pressed him?

  Would he tell her if she asked him outright about his mission and the rewards the Russians were offering?

  She wanted all the answers, but she was scared of the truth. She bet Christiane Amanpour never had that problem.

  Caitlin battled with wanting to force him to deny what they both knew was true and face it head on together while also wanting to catch the first flight out of this country and forget she ever met him.

  She was so confused, but she knew once she was gone, she’d never feel his gaze on her again and that had scared her on a completely different level.

  If the previous few days had been torture, the last twenty-four hours had been a new agony.

  At least focusing on work helped dull the ache a little. She was in the middle of an interview with the sixth villager who’d agreed to speak to her in yet another part of the Achin District. No new information had developed from direct sources since they’d been farther east a couple of days ago, but several had confirmed what she’d learned, which was also important.

  She asked a question, and Karzai, the interpreter who’d replaced Asad, translated her question. Her new colleague wasn’t as relaxed as Asad had been. Where this guy was laser focused, Asad had been laidback. Karzai had done an excellent job, though, always quick to relay her questions and speak the responses clearly. She’d been impressed with him, but honestly, she’d been with Asad too. Being able to speak a second language took an extraordinary amount of discipline.

  She could only imagine the dedication it took for Axle’s sister to learn several.

  When he told her flatly that Asad had been removed from duty without any other explanation, she hadn’t thought much about it. The locals ironically had a freedom the military force did not. They could come and go as they wanted. Some earned enough to care for their families for months with these assignments and would worry about money later when they ran low again.

  It was no wonder there was a certain number who sought out the rewards that came at the cost of human lives. She understood some had a hatred toward Americans and probably saw it as a bonus to kill those they’d happily do away with anyway. They were at war, after all, and the reality was a frightening one. Thankfully, most of these people just wanted their home back from any strict Taliban control
and understood the need of foreign help to make it happen. They didn’t necessarily like it, but a necessary evil of sorts to achieve what they ultimately wanted.

  “Stand on this side,” Lorenzo barked at her. “There’s a glare from the sun.”

  Although she’d had no reason to question Axle about Asad’s replacement, Lorenzo had been the complete opposite. He’d demanded answers, reiterating that he’d worked with Asad for years, but Axle had shut down his questions that morning, ushering them to the helicopter to load up and head out. Ever since that day, Lorenzo had been a bear with a sore paw, either outright ignoring her questions about the footage or snapping at her about the camera angles and the questions she’d been asking the locals.

  He’d been pissed and had taken it out on her. He was smart enough not to anger the troops because, if he irritated them, he’d be gone just as fast as Asad. Not that she was pleased with his tone. If she hadn’t been so consumed with Axle, she might’ve taken him to task sooner, called him out on his attitude toward her, but she had more important things to focus on. She just bit her tongue and did what he asked, like right now, moving over so he could get a better shot as he finished setting up the still camera for the live feed.

  In just a few minutes, this story would be all over the world.

  She turned back to the man she’d been interviewing, knowing she only had time for a few more questions before her segment began.

  “Sir, do you know anything about the alleged member of the Shinwari tribe recruited by ISIS?” she asked directly, and Karzai translated her question.

  The villager quickly answered, and Karzai repeated in English, “Yes. His name was Aarif Yasin. He was killed when the bomb dropped.”

  She blinked, his answer rolling around in her head, slowing clicking together with what she’d learned last night. “Wait a minute. Are you telling me the U.S. dropped a bomb targeting tunnels and just so happened to take out a man who’d been buying weapons from the military?”

  Karzai asked her question, but she didn’t need to hear the translated confirmation to understand his answer. It was exactly what he was saying. There was more to his answer, though, that she needed repeated in English.