Page 18 of Deadly Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #2)

The snow was falling harder now, dusting Olivia’s dark hair as she climbed the cabin steps. Axel kept his attention split between scanning the perimeter and watching her shoulders gradually sink under the weight of the day. She hadn’t said more than ten words since they’d left the Prados’ house.

He did a final sweep before following her inside, where Zara had already colonized the dining room table with enough tech to run a small intelligence agency. “Deke and Griff are on the perimeter,” he reported. “Ronan’s handling client calls with Marisol.”

“Found something,” Zara announced, not looking up from her screens. Kenji and Izzy crowded behind her chair as windows of data scrolled past. “Ben Prado’s financials are ... interesting.”

Axel watched Olivia flinch slightly at the invasion of her client’s privacy, though she tried to hide it.

The motion was subtle—most people wouldn’t have caught it.

But he’d spent years reading micro-expressions in high-stakes situations, and right now, she was radiating distress beneath her professional mask.

“Define interesting,” he said, positioning himself so she didn’t have to look directly at the screens.

“Multiple transfers through shell companies,” Izzy reported, tapping rapidly on her tablet. “All technically legal, but designed to be hard to trace. Someone went to a lot of trouble to make his money disappear into the system.”

“His wife’s accounts too,” Kenji added. “Though hers are more recent. Last six months.”

Olivia’s hands tightened on the strap of her bag. “I don’t think we should?—”

“Need to,” Axel cut in gently. “I know it feels wrong, but right now, their privacy isn’t as important as keeping them—and you—alive.”

She met his eyes then, and the conflict there made something in his chest tighten. He’d seen that look before, in operatives trying to reconcile mission parameters with their personal code. It never got easier.

“Got it,” Zara announced. “Primary accounts traced to—” She stopped, frowning at her screen. “That’s ... military? No, wait. Treasury Department?”

“Let me see,” Kenji leaned in closer.

Axel watched Olivia turn away from the screens, moving to stare out at the falling snow. Her reflection in the window looked drawn, haunted. He knew that look too—the weight of responsibility, of wondering if your actions had put others at risk. He’d carried it himself too many times.

The team needed to dig deeper, but first he needed to get some food into everyone. And maybe, over dinner, he could help Olivia understand that she wasn’t alone in this. That protecting people sometimes meant making hard choices.

He headed for the kitchen, already planning the meal his grandmother had taught him to make on nights when the world felt too heavy.

The kitchen was well-stocked—as in amazingly well-stocked.

Axel figured there were full-on restaurants that didn’t have pantries as gourmet as Knight Tactical’s legendary safe houses.

He pulled ingredients methodically: arborio rice, mushrooms, fresh herbs.

His grandmother’s risotto had been her answer to everything from scraped knees to broken hearts.

For a woman who’d survived three wars and raised five children alone, comfort had always come with a wooden spoon and precise instructions.

He was dicing onions when he sensed Olivia in the doorway. She had that particular stillness that spoke of someone trying very hard to hold themselves together.

“Can I help?” she asked quietly.

He nodded to the mushrooms. “Those need cleaning and slicing.” It would give her hands something to do, at least.

They worked in companionable silence for a few minutes, the steady rhythm of chopping punctuated by occasional updates from the dining room. He waited until she’d settled into the task before speaking.

“Something’s been bothering me,” he said, keeping his tone conversational as he stirred the rice. “Most therapists I’ve encountered—military ones, anyway—they come in armed with our complete files. Know everything about us before we walk in.”

Her knife paused briefly. “And you’re wondering why I didn’t know about Ben’s background?”

“Among other things.”

She resumed slicing, but her movements were more measured now.

“There’s this ... perspective in certain circles that efficiency matters more than process.

That if you have access to someone’s complete history, you can cut through the defense mechanisms faster.

Address the real issues sooner.” She slid the mushrooms aside, started on another batch.

“It’s especially common in military settings, where time can be critical. ”

“But you don’t agree.”

“I believe that what someone chooses to tell me—and when they choose to tell me—is as important as the information itself.” Her voice grew stronger as she spoke, and he recognized the conviction of a hard-won philosophy.

“Trust isn’t just about what you know about someone. It’s about how you came to know it.”

Axel added stock to the rice, thinking of all the times he’d sat across from someone who already knew his worst moments, his darkest days, without him having chosen to share them. “Must make your job harder.”

“Sometimes. Often.” She passed him the mushrooms. “But I’d rather take longer to earn trust than break it before it’s even formed.”

He nodded slowly, folding the mushrooms into the rice. From the dining room, he could hear Zara cursing at whatever encryption she’d encountered, Kenji’s low voice offering suggestions. “And now we’re digging through your client’s life without permission.”

“Yes.” The word was barely audible. When he glanced over, she was gripping the edge of the counter, knuckles white. “I keep telling myself it’s necessary, but ...”

“But it feels like betrayal.”

“Yes.”

He turned down the heat, letting the risotto simmer. “Sometimes protecting people means making choices they wouldn’t make for themselves.” He faced her fully. “Doesn’t make you less worthy of their trust. Makes you more worthy of it.”

She looked up at him then, and something shifted in her expression—a subtle ease in the tension she’d been carrying. Not gone, but lighter somehow.

From the dining room, Izzy called out another discovery. Olivia’s shoulders tensed again, but not quite as severe as before.

“Here,” he said, handing her the wooden spoon. “Stir this slowly. My grandmother swore the motion was meditative.” His lips quirked slightly. “Also, if you stop stirring, it burns, and then she’d come back to haunt us both.”

That earned him a small but genuine smile.

He’d count that as a win.

Axel moved through the cabin, gathering the team.

Griff and Deke had just rotated in from perimeter duty, snow melting on their jackets.

Ronan emerged from the back office, looking drained from hours of client calls.

The way they all gravitated toward the kitchen spoke of countless shared meals, missions where breaking bread together had been their only moment of peace.

Deke tilted his head back, sniffing the air. “Tell me that’s your risotto,” he said, helping set the table without being asked.

“Not exactly MREs, is it?” Axel caught the subtle way Olivia watched them fall into their familiar patterns—Izzy automatically grabbing the water pitcher, Zara moving her laptops to another table to make space, Kenji distributing napkins with military precision.

When they were settled, Deke bowed his head. “Mind if I say grace?”

Axel saw surprise flicker across Olivia’s face, followed by something softer as Deke’s deep voice filled the space. “Lord, we thank you for this food, for safety, for the strength to protect those who need it. Watch over those we can’t be with tonight. Amen.”

The tension in Griff’s jaw was visible as he stared fixedly at his plate. Axel exchanged a knowing look with Ronan—they’d both been where Griff was, wrestling with faith and purpose after everything they’d seen. Ronan’s slight nod said what they both knew: give him time.

“This is amazing,” Olivia said after her first bite, some color returning to her face. “Your grandmother taught you?”

“ Nonna Giorgio believed food was the answer to most of life’s problems.” Axel passed the garlic bread. “She also believed no one should live alone, which is why I learned to cook for an army.”

“Speaking of armies,” Kenji piped up, “we still need a name. I can’t take ‘puppy crew’ another minute.”

“Yeah. That’s a no-go,” Ronan added firmly.

Zara aimed her fork at the handsome doctor. “It’s marginally better than STEAM Team.”

“Hey!” Kenji protested. “Strategic Tactical Elite Asset Management is a perfectly?—”

“If you finish that sentence, I’m putting you back on perimeter duty,” Axel warned, but without heat. These conversations were familiar territory, comfortable ground. He could see Olivia relaxing incrementally as the banter continued around her.

“My six-year-old still votes for Unicorn Candy Team,” Izzy offered, shooting Olivia a conspiratorial grin. “Chantal’s very invested in the decision.”

“I’ll take that over Kenji’s ideas,” Deke muttered.

The conversation flowed easily after that, punctuated by requests to pass dishes and good-natured arguing about call signs.

But Axel didn’t miss how Olivia’s gaze occasionally drifted to the snow-covered windows, or the way her fork would pause halfway to her mouth when Zara’s computers pinged with new information.

She was here, safe with them, but her mind was with her clients—the ones they could protect, and the ones they couldn’t find yet. He recognized that weight, the responsibility of others’ safety pressing down like a physical thing.

We’ll figure this out , he wanted to tell her. We’ll find who’s behind this before anyone else disappears. But promises were dangerous things in their line of work, so he simply passed her more bread instead, letting the team’s warmth and easy chemistry do what it could to ease her burden.