Page 30 of Deadly Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #2)

Olivia had spent the afternoon trying not to climb the walls.

While she understood the necessity of preparation, being left behind at the cabin “for safety” had made her feel like a child relegated to the kiddie table.

She’d attempted to help Kenji, Zara, and Griff with their digital hunt, but she wasn’t exactly a computer whiz, and watching them chase virtual breadcrumbs that led nowhere only heightened her anxiety.

Their guardian angel remained frustratingly anonymous, and Bing Driscoll had mastered the art of invisibility.

She’d found herself checking her phone constantly for updates from Axel’s team at the community center, though she knew better.

They were dark—no unnecessary communications while they planted cameras, mapped drone paths, and established security perimeters.

Still, every time the afternoon light shifted through the cabin’s enormous windows, she imagined worst-case scenarios.

What if someone spotted them? What if they were walking into a trap?

What if tomorrow was a terrible mistake?

By the time everyone reconvened at the cabin that evening, the tension in her shoulders had reached migraine levels.

But something magical happened over Zara’s lasagna and Griff’s garlic bread.

The team’s natural chemistry reasserted itself.

Soon they were swapping stories and sharing wine, the tactical diagrams and surveillance feeds temporarily forgotten.

Gratitude surged through her. These people barely knew her, yet they’d thrown themselves into protecting her with everything they had.

Ronan leaned back in his chair. “We need to settle this team name thing before Christian and the Old Guard get back.” He swirled the last of his water. “For real. Something with serious gravitas.”

“Shadow Warriors,” Deke suggested with an exaggerated flourish.

Izzy threw a dinner roll at him. “That’s a hard no.”

Ronan dodged the bread. “Yeah. Maya would totally agree with you.”

Olivia hid her smile behind her own glass, grateful for the lightening mood. She’d noticed how the name debate resurfaced whenever the tension got too thick.

“Speaking of Maya ...” Kenji wiggled his eyebrows. “When’s your lady love back?”

“Tomorrow.” Ronan’s entire face lit up. “Rest of the team’s about four days behind her.”

“Finally,” Griff muttered. “Maybe she can keep Romeo here focused.”

The familiar banter washed over Olivia, but her attention kept drifting to Axel. He’d barely touched Zara’s lasagna. His silence throughout dinner felt weighted, dangerous. The others seemed content to let him brood, but something in the set of his shoulders made her chest ache.

She recognized that particular tension, had seen it too many times in her practice. The rigid control of someone trying desperately to contain their anxiety, to push down memories that threatened to overwhelm. And she knew, with a guilt that twisted her stomach, that she was the cause.

When the others moved to clear the table, she gathered her courage. “Hey.” She touched his arm lightly, feeling the coiled tension even through his sleeve. “Could we talk?”

His eyes met hers, dark with something she couldn’t quite read. He nodded once.

“Bundle up,” she said. “The deck’s beautiful in the moonlight.”

Five minutes later, they stood at the deck railing, breath clouding in the frigid air.

The full moon painted the snow-covered landscape in silver, making the drifts glitter like scattered diamonds.

The thermometer by the door read zero degrees, but the sky was crystalline, stars sharp enough to cut.

Olivia pulled her borrowed parka tighter, searching for words.

The warmth and laughter from inside filtered through the windows, making their private moment feel somehow both isolated and protected.

Now that she had him alone, her carefully planned speech evaporated like her visible breath in the frigid air.

“I need to apologize,” Olivia finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. The words formed tiny clouds in the freezing air. “About tomorrow. About all of this, really.”

Axel shifted beside her, his shoulder brushing hers. “Nothing to apologize for.”

“I know what today’s doing to you,” Olivia finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.. “The hypervigilance, the constant threat assessment. I see it.”

Axel’s fingers drummed against the railing, a staccato rhythm that betrayed his tension. “Not your problem to manage.”

“But I made it your problem.” She turned to face him, even though it was harder than staring out at the moonlit snow. “I pushed for this plan, knowing—professionally knowing—exactly what it would trigger. The kind of stress it would put on someone with your history.”

He went very still beside her. “You think that’s why I’m—” He broke off, shook his head. “You really think I’m worried about myself?”

“No!” She scrambled to explain. “The exact opposite. I think you should take a little more time to consider what works for you.”

He eyed her with that same cold skepticism she’d expected to see in that first session that never happened. “I’ve done this before. More than once. Don’t worry. The wheels won’t come off.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She gritted her teeth, feeling like she was sinking farther and farther into the mud with each utterance.

She stared out over the snow wishing the sharp cold would clear her head.

“I’m totally blowing this. I just came out here to tell you that I wouldn’t be pushing for this if it wasn’t important.

And I wanted you to know I appreciate the sacrifice.

I need to know what happened to James,” she said softly.

“If he was involved in something he couldn’t live with, or if someone—” Her voice cracked.

“I need to know if I missed something. If I could have ...” She trailed off, unable to finish.

Axel’s hands tightened on the railing. “You didn’t miss anything.”

“You can’t know that.” She wrapped her arms around herself, less from cold than from the need to hold herself together.

“Just like I can’t know if this is the right call.

If I’m letting my need for answers override my professional judgment.

” She attempted a weak smile. “You would have made a fascinating client, you know. All those complex layers of trauma and resilience. ”

The words felt like ash in her mouth, because deep inside, she knew she was lying—not about his complexity, but about regretting their lost therapeutic relationship.

If he had become a client, there would never be hope for .

.. anything else. And despite her better judgment, that hope had taken root, growing stronger with every shared look, every accidental touch.

Axel shifted his weight, his typical fidgeting more pronounced in the cold. His gaze darted everywhere but her face. “I’m glad I’m not your client.”

She blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.” Now he did look at her, and the intensity in his eyes made her heart stutter. “And not because I don’t believe in therapy.”

Understanding bloomed between them, delicate as frost and just as transformative.

Tears pricked at her eyes, her careful professional boundaries crumbling like sugar in rain.

The moment stretched, filled with all the things they couldn’t say—not yet, not with tomorrow looming over them like a stormfront.

A burst of laughter from inside made them both jump. Axel cleared his throat, his usual fluid grace suddenly awkward.

“If anything were to happen to you tomorrow, I’d—” He stopped, seeming to realize how the words sounded. “I mean, not that I would ...” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Never mind.”

Olivia couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. The fierce protector, suddenly tongue-tied, was unexpectedly endearing. And then—before her brain could catch up with her body—she was standing on tiptoe, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “I know what you meant.”

The moment her lips left his skin, mortification crashed over her.

What was she doing? She didn’t do impulsive.

She didn’t do physical contact with quasi-clients-turned-security-details.

She especially didn’t do quick kisses that probably meant nothing to him but left her acutely aware of the scratch of his beard, the warmth of his skin, the way his breath had caught …

“Just ... follow my lead tomorrow. Please.” His voice was rougher than usual.

“Copy that, Commander.” The teasing nickname slipped out as she tried to cover her flustered state, tried to pretend her heart wasn’t racing from a simple peck on the cheek like some lovesick teenager.

When they stepped back inside, the scene hit Olivia with unexpected force.

Deke and Kenji arguing over whose turn it was to do dishes, Zara methodically wiping down counters, Ronan still trying to sell everyone on team names.

It was so perfectly domestic, so achingly normal, that her throat tightened.

She watched Axel move easily through the space, automatically steadying a chair Izzy had left askew, his presence both powerful and carefully contained.

The growing warmth in her chest whenever she looked at him was becoming harder to ignore—or to write off as merely professional appreciation.

That impulsive kiss had proved that much, at least.

But tomorrow wasn’t about that. Tomorrow was about James, about finally understanding what had happened to her brother. About making sure his death meant something. She squared her shoulders, letting the familiar weight of purpose settle over her.

Whatever was growing between her and Axel would have to wait. First, she had a promise to keep.