The Alpha Billionaire Club Trilogy

by Alexa Wilder

  We ate dinner in silence, the FBI agents trading off, one eating while the other walked the perimeter of the house from the inside. With them sitting at the table, none of us wanted to discuss anything important. Axel talked shop with Evers, discussing ongoing cases in shorthand to protect the clients, thus leaving me completely out of the conversation.

  It was rude and frustrating. Axel usually had better manners than to shut someone out of a conversation, especially when that someone was me. In another situation, I would have confronted him about it, but I was feeling so off balance, I let it go. I was cranky from being trapped in the little house, and I knew he wasn’t feeling any more relaxed than I was.

  We played cards again after dinner, though at that point I barely bothered to pay attention. Funny how boredom could erode fear. I was still scared, and I knew I was in danger, but the monotony of sitting in the same room for hours, waiting for something to happen, was almost as bad as being afraid.

  Not long after nine o'clock, Axel stood and said, “Bedtime. I'm exhausted. Emma, you tired?"

  It was the first thing he’d said to me in over an hour. He and Evers had been playing poker for the past two hours, locked in a battle for a pile of pennies they’d found in a drawer. Neither of them had noticed when I’d dropped out of the game. I wasn’t used to Axel ignoring me. Knowing that the house was probably bugged, I couldn’t tell if he was really ignoring me or if it was a show for the agents or our eavesdroppers. Since I couldn’t ask, I tried to relax and let it go, but with every minute that passed, the knot in my stomach got tighter.

  I wanted my phone. I wanted to talk to Summer. I wanted to go home. Since none of that was going to happen anytime soon, and I was tired, though I’d done nothing all day, I got up and followed Axel to the second floor, with Evers behind me.

  At the top of the stairs, Axel halted and leaned into his brother, pulling me close so I could hear his almost inaudible whisper.

  “Keep your things in your bag, and sleep in your clothes. I want to be ready to move."

  Evers raised an eyebrow at Axel. For a second, I thought he was going to question Axel's orders, but he didn't. He nodded his head and turned to the room opposite ours. I followed Axel into the master bedroom and went straight into the bathroom, suddenly desperate to wash my face and get ready for bed.

  Remembering Axel’s orders, I carefully repacked my toiletries and makeup before I left the bathroom. Tucking the bags back into the duffel Evers had brought, I changed for bed, trading my cords and sweater for a long sleeved t-shirt and yoga pants. Axel sent a pointed look at the sneakers I’d left on the floor. I raised my eyebrows at him in disbelief. I got sleeping in our clothes, but he didn’t want me to wear shoes to bed, did he?

  He pointed at the shoes, then at my feet before he went to the bathroom. Fine, I’d wear the shoes to bed. I was annoyed with Axel, but if he wanted me to wear the shoes to bed, he must have a good reason. I put them on, tying the laces securely, and lay down on top of the covers. As tired as I was, I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep.

  Axel climbed into bed beside me. For a moment, I thought he was going to stay there on his side of the bed, leaving me on my own side, alone. The whole day had left me feeling unsettled, and Axel getting into bed without touching me just made it worse. Tears blurred my vision as I stared at the shadowed ceiling. I felt weirdly homesick, the exact same hollow, lonely feeling in my chest I’d had the summer I’d gone to sleep-away camp when I was eight. I’d missed my family with a desperation I’d never felt for the entire three weeks I was gone. Just then, lying beside Axel but not with him, I wanted my mom and dad, my brothers and little sister. I wanted my normal life back.

  With a hard exhalation of breath, Axel reached over and rolled me into him, settling me half on top of him and tucking my head into his neck. He didn’t say a word, but he stroked my hair back from my face, his fingers tugging lightly at my scalp, the gentle affection soothing my tension better than any words. I drifted into an uneasy sleep, comforted by Axel’s touch and the beat of his heart beneath my ear.

  32

  Axel

  Everything about this fucking mess had me on edge. It was bad enough that I'd had to listen to Harper basically say that he planned to kill Emma to get her out of the way, but being stuck in this ridiculous excuse for a safe house was grating on my last nerve.

  Every instinct told me we needed to get out from under Tierney's control. The only thing that held me back was Emma. She was tied to the FBI, on record as their informant. I could take care of myself, but until I was absolutely sure I could prove we had a good reason, I wasn't prepared to drag her into open defiance against Agent Tierney and the FBI.

  So we stayed in the little safe house, and every second that passed cranked my nerves tighter. I’d barely talked to her all night. I'd wanted to, but nothing I had to say could be said with the house bugged. I'd settled for playing cards, then holding her close and feeling her fall asleep beside me.

  I must have drifted off, though I'd intended to stay awake all night. A creak on the stairs woke me. Adrenaline slammed into my brain, washing away every vestige of sleep in an instant. Suddenly alert, I rolled from the bed, gun in hand. Putting my back to the wall beside, I waited. Across the hall, I heard the metallic sound of a door latch click, then a mechanical, racking, coughing sound—the sound of a suppressed weapon firing.

  In the movies, silencers sounded like nothing more than pft, as if screwing in a silencer turned a gun into a blow dart. In real life, it didn't so much silence the sound of a gunshot as alter it and make it not quite as loud. If a killer was truly concerned with being quiet, he used a blade or his hands. Whoever was here, they planned to take us all out and weren’t overly worried we’d hear them coming.

  Questions crowded my mind. What had happened to the two FBI agents we’d left downstairs? Had Evers been on the wrong end of the silenced bullet? Part of me wanted to check on him, but I knew better. If Evers had been shot, I wouldn't do Emma any good if I got myself killed trying to find out. Evers was wearing body armor, and he was smart. I’d take care of him once the immediate threat was neutralized.

  The door to the master bedroom swung open, inch by inch, and I raised my gun. The barrel of a weapon cleared the doorway, followed by a shadowed form dressed all in black, a balaclava covering the head, concealing everything but the eyes. Not Evers. I put my gun to the intruder’s temple, then saw a familiar weapon rise to press against the back of his head.

  That was Evers. With my brother next to me, we had the situation under control. The intruder whirled to face us, his gun raised. Before he could get off a shot, Evers and I both fired. The intruder collapsed to the floor in a heap, his head thunking against the foot of the bed. Emma sat up, startled from sleep, her blue eyes wide and panicked.

  "Axel?" She asked, scared, but aware enough to keep her voice low.

  "Stay down," I said.

  Emma rolled to her stomach and held her breath. I listened to the house. No movement. All was silent, as if we were the only ones there. That wasn’t a good sign for the agents we’d left downstairs. An hour before we’d come up to bed, the two agents from the night before had returned to relieve the agents who had been on duty all day. All four of them were no more than a year or two out of Quantico, and they had so little experience, I hadn't paid them much attention. I hoped they were still alive.

  A whiff of smoke hit my nose. Fire, downstairs.

  Leaving the body on the floor, I crossed to the bed in swift strides.

  "Let's go," I said, helping Emma off the bed. I grabbed one duffel bag and handed Evers the other. If they got in the way, we’d leave them, but they might come in handy. “Stay between us, Emma,” I murmured. “If I tell you to do something, do it, no questions."

  "Okay,” she said, stepping behind me and tucking her tall frame against me as if trying to make herself as small a target as possible. I loved a lot of things about Emma Wright, and her intelligence was at the top of t
he list.

  Evers moved into place behind her, using his body to shield hers as we moved to the top of the stairs. I didn’t want to rush headlong into danger on the first floor, but every second that passed, the smoke filtering up the stairwell got thicker. I didn't think we had much time to waste. Flames had already engulfed the back hall to the garage and most of the kitchen by the time we hit the bottom step. A body lay collapsed by the kitchen table, too close to the flames. One of the young FBI agents. Another body was facedown in the living room. The second agent.

  From behind me, Evers said, "I'll check them; see if we're alone."

  I shifted to tuck Emma into my side and made my way to the front door. We had backup in the neighborhood, but not much. Evers joined us at the front door, saying, “They're both dead. First floor is clear."

  We had to get out of the house, but I took one more second to make a call.

  “Status?” I asked when the phone was answered in our control room at Sinclair Security.

  "No answer from Phillips," Billy said. “His line went dead ninety seconds ago. I've been trying to reconnect."

  “We’ve got two agents down and a fire in the house," I said. “We've got to get out of here, even if we don't have any backup. Send a pickup. Look for my phone in the system in a minute.”

  "I'm on it,” Billy said and hung up.

  Quickly, I reactivated the GPS on my phone, shoved it in my pocket, and opened the front door, my gun raised, ready to shoot. The yard appeared deserted. I didn't like taking Emma out into the open without knowing who might be waiting for us. There was cover between the landscaping and the houses next door, but it still felt too exposed.

  Evers left Emma’s back again and disappeared into the night. With my arm around her, I ushered her across the yard to the side of the house and into the neighbor’s backyard. It was hard to see where we were going, but it was far less conspicuous than we would have been if we’d taken the sidewalk. Evers rejoined us two houses over.

  "There were two more at the back of the house,” he said. “Both out.”

  “Dead?" I asked, feeling Emma flinch at my side.

  "Negative," Evers said. “Out cold. I didn't want to draw attention by firing outside."

  "Billy's sending a pickup our way. Still no word from Phillips."

  "The gazebo was empty," Evers said. “I took a quick look, but I couldn't find him.”

  I didn't like that. Phillips was one of my best guys, an excellent operative and a good man. If he'd been awake and functional, Phillips never would've left his post. I'd have to worry about it later. For now, my job was to get Emma to safety. We kept to the shadows, using the darkness for cover as we crept through the silent neighborhood, waiting for the hum of an engine that would mean rescue.

  33

  Emma

  Chaos swirled around me and I could barely keep up. We were in another safe house, this one belonging to Sinclair Security. It was the polar opposite of the FBI safe house we'd been in the day before. This one was a newer apartment in a nondescript building in a suburb of Las Vegas—nothing special, a generic semi-upscale apartment building with a nice entry and a swimming pool out back. Evers had told me that Sinclair Security owned the apartments on both sides, as well as those above and below, and had wired the building, unbeknownst to the other tenants. They’d know if a mouse squeaked anywhere near the apartment.

  On the inside, it had a brand new, upgraded kitchen, a spacious living room, three bedrooms, and a TV—with cable—in every room. I would've loved to be here the day before. Now, I didn't care.

  Axel was pacing again and talking on the phone. They’d found their missing guy, Phillips, two houses away, with a severe concussion, a broken leg, and what they thought was a stab wound to one kidney. He was in the ICU, but he was hanging in there. I wished I could do something to comfort Axel. Based on the way he gripped his phone and was wearing a groove in the carpet of the living room, I didn't think there was any way I could help.

  He didn't look like he wanted a hug, and it didn't feel like the right time to drag him off to the bedroom for some stress relief. So far, he hadn't told me what we were doing next. It was obvious to all of us that the leak had to be with the FBI.

  Evers had told me that Phillips had been the only one on Axel's team who knew precisely where we were. Until we’d needed a pickup, Axel and Evers had disabled tracking on their phones and hadn't told anyone at Sinclair Security where the FBI safe house was. He’d been sure the leak hadn’t come from his team, but Axel wasn’t taking any chances.

  Unless Phillips was playing a very deep game by hospitalizing himself, it was nearly impossible for anyone at Sinclair to be the mole. On the other hand, the FBI and everyone working with Agent Tierney knew exactly where we were. Axel's phone had rung several times with calls from Agent Tierney, and Axel hadn't answered.

  According to the police band, the fire at the safe house had been reported and the bodies discovered. I was sitting on the couch, clutching a cold mug of tea, waiting to see what was going to happen next. Axel and Evers seemed to have a plan, but no one had bothered to fill me in. Across the room, Axel swore and tossed the phone down on the kitchen island.

  "What?” Evers asked.

  Axel turned to look at us, anger turning his dark brown eyes black. "I just got confirmation from Billy. The night we went to the Delecta, Tierney called into the control room looking for me, and Alan let our location slip."

  My heart sank. I didn't like Agent Tierney very much, but I hadn’t wanted him to be the bad guy. If Agent Tierney was the mole, it went against everything that I believed about the way the world should work. I could accept that my boss—my former boss—was working with the Russian mob. It was a stretch, and it was crazy, but I'd seen the evidence and he’d admitted it to me, so I could believe it was true.

  It wasn't hard for me to accept the fact that the Russian mob was involved in dealing guns, drugs, and human beings. I didn't like it, but it fit with everything TV and the news had told me about the mob.

  But to find out that the FBI agent I’d trusted with my life was the one selling me out? The one who’d set me up to be killed? Those men had broken into the safe house, killed two FBI agents, and put Axel’s man in the hospital. They would have killed Axel and Evers if they could have. Everyone near me had been marked for death. And then, as if murder weren’t bad enough, they'd set the house on fire. All of that had happened because Agent Tierney of the FBI had told them where to find me.

  Nausea rolled in my stomach and I had the horrifying realization that I was going to throw up. Lurching to my feet, I raced to the bathroom, one hand clamped over my mouth. I got there just in time, hitting the marble floor with a jarring slam to my kneecaps, doubling over and losing every bite I’d eaten for dinner.

  I heaved into the toilet until my stomach was empty. Then I heaved a little more, as if my body was so shocked it didn’t care that there was nothing to throw up. It still wanted to empty me out. When I was done, I laid my hot cheek on my arm and sat there, still slumped over the toilet seat, trying to catch my breath. A cold sweat had broken out on my forehead, and my mouth wouldn't stop watering.

  In my rush to get to the toilet, I hadn’t turned on the light. I sat in the dark, tears dripping down my cheeks, my stomach rolling, threatening to turn itself inside out again. A knock sounded on the bathroom door, then Axel's voice, muffled by the wood, asked, “You okay?"

  I wasn’t, and I did not want Axel to come in. As badly as I could use some comfort, I had just thrown up, and I felt disgusting. Not just gross, but sweaty, weak, and shaky.

  I could handle this. I had to handle this. I couldn't lose it, not now. There was too much going on. It was dangerous for me to fall apart and be more of a burden than I already was. Axel would take care of me. He’d proven over and over that he would go to any lengths to keep me safe, but I had to do my part. Being scared didn’t mean I could afford to be weak.

  Clearing my throat, I said, "I'm ok
ay. I'll be right out."

  When I was sure what was left in my stomach was going to stay put, I got to my feet, splashed water on my face, and rinsed the sour taste out of my mouth the best I could without a toothbrush. I left the bathroom and headed straight for the kitchen, wanting a glass of ice cold water.

  Axel followed me. "You're sure you're okay?” he asked quietly.

  "I'm fine," I said a little too brightly. "So, what now?"

  “We’re getting you out of Las Vegas," Axel said.

  “We were going to leave anyway, right?” I asked, remembering that we’d planned to go after Summer in a day or two anyway. I was happy to get the hell away from Harper and Tsepov—the sooner the better.

  “We were,” Axel said carefully. “But plans have changed.”

  I was confused. “I thought we were leaving,” I said, getting nervous when he looked down at his phone, avoiding my eyes.

  “We were. Then I got this.” He showed me the screen of his phone.

  I don’t want war with you. Give me the girl, and your assurances that you’ll stay out of my business, and I’ll let this go. Let’s meet. Tomorrow.

  “Who is that?” I asked, already knowing the answer. “Is it him?”

  “It’s Tsepov,” Axel confirmed. “He knows you’re with me. If I stay with you, he’ll use me, and Sinclair Security, to track you. I can’t keep you safe while he’s watching me.”

  “So you’re sending me away? Alone?” I knew I sounded pathetic, and the tears spilling down my cheeks didn’t help. I couldn’t stop it, though. Axel had become my rock. How could he send me away?

  He set his jaw and shoved his phone back in his pocket. “It’s all been arranged. We have a friend in Atlanta who will watch over you. He isn’t associated with Sinclair Security in any way, but he’s an old friend. We did his system, and his place is as secure as one of our own. You’ll be safe with Jacob.”