Page 35 of Deadly Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #2)

The smell of garlic and herbs filled the safehouse kitchen. Olivia stirred the sauce simmering on the stove, trying to focus on the simple task instead of Axel’s presence beside her at the counter, methodically dicing onions.

Zara’s sharp intake of breath drew everyone’s attention. She’d been unusually quiet while prepping vegetables, and now she gripped the edge of the counter, her usual warm brown complexion gone ashen.

“I just need to—” She swayed slightly. “Maybe lie down for a minute.”

Kenji was at her side instantly, one hand at her elbow. “I’ll walk you.”

“It’s only a headache,” Zara protested, but she didn’t shake off his support as they left the kitchen.

The moment they were gone, Izzy swooped in with all the subtlety of a carnival barker. “Olivia, can you take over the garlic bread prep? Axel, why don’t you help her?” She practically shoved the extra cutting board in front of Olivia. “You two work so well together in the kitchen. ”

From his spot at the table cleaning weapons, Deke made a sound suspiciously like a snort.

Olivia’s cheeks burned as she moved to the counter.

They did work well together. That was the problem.

Even now, with everything strained between them, she and Axel fell into an easy rhythm.

She’d reach for the garlic press just as he finished mincing herbs.

Their movements synchronized in a dance that made her chest ache with what could have been.

His team’s matchmaking was sweet but painful—like pressing on a bruise to see if it still hurt. Every time Axel shifted away when their shoulders nearly touched, every careful inch of space he maintained between them, did hurt.

Kenji returned, his usual grin dimmed with concern. “She’s resting. Just overtired, I think.”

“I’ll check on her later,” Izzy said.

Olivia couldn’t miss the look that passed between Kenji and Izzy. Not being a part of the team, and having no history with these folks, she didn’t feel she should pry.

She focused on spreading butter and herbs across the bread, hyperaware of the careful distance Axel maintained even in the cramped kitchen. The silence stretched, broken only by the rhythmic sound of his knife against the cutting board and the soft bubbling of sauce on the stove.

Axel glanced at her twice, that particular look he got when he wanted to say something but thought better of it.

The third time, she nearly snapped at him to just spit it out already.

But Voss chose that moment to join them in the kitchen, and whatever Axel might have said dissolved in the agent’s presence.

Dinner itself was a study in contrasts. They crowded around the table, passing dishes family-style, the scent of garlic bread and pasta almost masking the gun oil from Deke’s earlier weapons maintenance .

“So,” Voss said, twirling pasta around her fork, “how long did you all serve together?”

“Six years as a SEAL team,” Deke said, pride evident in his voice. “Though some of us,” he gestured between himself and Axel, “went through BUD/S together before that.”

“Best team in Group Eight,” Kenji added.

“Until we weren’t,” Izzy said softly, and a shadow passed over the table.

Axel’s jaw tightened, but Deke picked up the thread. “Mustered out one by one. Tried the civilian thing. Then Tank—” He stopped, cleared his throat. “Well, Ronan and Axel got us back together. Turns out hunting killers is something we’re pretty good at.”

“Knight Tactical noticed,” Kenji said. “Offered us legitimate work, our own team. Better than chasing revenge.”

“Speaking of the team,” Voss said, clearly sensing the need to shift away from painful memories, “‘Operation Ninja Penguins’ probably doesn’t send the kind of message you want to convey to paying clients.”

The tension broke as Deke snorted. “Better than what this joker suggested.” He jerked a thumb at Kenji. “What was it? SEAL Team Seven Point Five?”

“At least it’s accurate,” Kenji protested. “We’re like ... SEAL adjacent now.”

“The A-Team was clearly superior,” Izzy insisted.

“If it were me, I’d go the mystery route. Shadow Protocol,” Voss suggested. “Or Genesis Initiative. Something that smacks of intrigue.”

“Those are good,” Axel said, nodding with immediate approval. “Professional. Low profile.”

Olivia pushed pasta around her plate, remembering how quickly he’d dismissed her suggestion of Phoenix Group yesterday. It shouldn’t matter. But somehow, these small moments .. .

The conversation drifted as they finished eating, but Olivia found herself tracking the pattern.

Every time Voss spoke, Axel leaned in slightly, his attention focused and appreciative.

When the agent mentioned a surveillance technique she’d used in Belgrade, he asked follow-up questions.

When she suggested modifications to their security rotation, he nodded thoughtfully.

It wasn’t that Voss was wrong—her insights were solid, professional. But he didn’t give Olivia’s professional insights the same attention.

After dinner, she found herself at the sink with Axel, falling into their old pattern—she washed, he dried. The others drifted away, Kenji heading up to check on Zara, Izzy and Deke arguing about whose turn it was for first watch.

Voss lingered, filling a glass with tap water. Olivia watched as the former agent held the glass up to the light, then added three drops from a small bottle she pulled from her pocket. The movement was so familiar it took Olivia a moment to place it.

“James taught you that trick?” The words were out before she could stop them.

Voss looked up, surprised. “The pH test? Yes, actually. Said he learned it in Venezuela in 2018.”

Memories assaulted Olivia, this time soft and bittersweet. “I knew he’d been in South America. He brought me an embroidered blouse. I still have it.”

Axel went still beside her, his shoulder brushing hers as he reached for another plate.

The brief contact sent warmth through her arm, but he pulled away quickly, putting space between them again.

Her hands were suddenly clumsy in the soapy water, and their fingers brushed as she passed him the last glass.

He jerked back like he’d been burned, nearly dropping it.

But her mind was already racing past the awkward moment, pieces clicking into place. James and water treatment. His obsession with clean water sources after Caracas. The way he’d modified all his equipment to?—

“Oh wow,” she breathed. “That’s it.”

“What’s it?” Axel’s voice was carefully neutral, the tone he used when he thought she was reaching.

“I think I know where James might have left the evidence. His climbing gear?—”

“Olivia.” The weariness in his voice cut deeper than outright dismissal would have. “You can’t base operational decisions on childhood memories.”

“They’re not just—” She stopped, recognizing the set of his jaw. He’d already decided she was wrong. Before he would at least hear her out, push her to defend her logic. Now he just ... dismissed her. “Never mind.”

She dried her hands and left before he could see how much it hurt, feeling his eyes on her back the whole way out of the kitchen.

“I’m going to get my laptop.” She retreated to her room, closing the door silently behind her.

She had work to do, leads to follow. She couldn’t afford to waste time on feelings that didn’t matter anymore.

Her brother’s gear was in a storage box in the garage of her condo.

They could retrieve it first thing. In the meantime, she’d show them photos of James climbing.

He’d caught the bug as a teen. She had dozens of photos through the years.

And she could show them just what had caught her attention.

Her computer waited on the desk. She’d prove her theory about James’s gear was solid. And she’d do it without Axel’s approval.

She didn’t need it anymore.