“We have plenty,” I assure her because she loves chocolate and it just became a habit to keep it in the house. “Always.”
Her eyes soften with the knowledge that any stock of chocolate is about her, not me, and she kisses my cheek before she walks to the kitchen. “We both know that whiskey isn’t going to affect you.” And because I’m an observer, a man who reads people fast and well, I add, “We both also know that you’re a duty kind of guy, a rule-maker, and follower. Drink it. I won’t hold it against you.”
Mia deposits a big bowl of chocolate on the table. “I claim the Heath bars. I’ll chew your arm off for these things.”
Axe studies me a moment, grabs the whiskey glass, downs the bourbon, and smiles. “Damn that’s good. Thank you.” He then grabs a Mr. Goodbar. “I’d chew your arm off for one of these things, I love them so much.”
Mia laughs and hands me a basic Hershey’s. “That’s all that’s left for you.”
She manages to tease a hint of a smile from me, that I don’t expect. I down my whiskey, set my glass down, and accept the candy.
“Did you know that chocolate really does affect the stress cortisol levels during an extreme stress spike?” Mia asks. “If you eat it every day just to eat it, then it increases your stress cortisol but during stress, it lowers it.”
“Well, then I better have another Goodbar,” Axe says, snapping up a second candy bar.
“What’s your story, Axe?” I ask.
“Ex-CIA which means I have no story.” He down his candy and grabs three more.
“Of course you have a story,” Mia insists. “Do you have family?”
“No,” he says.
“Where are you from?” she asks.
“All over.”
Her brow furrows. “Considering you don’t talk unless it’s about chocolate and all Adrian does is talk, how do you put up with each other?”
He holds up a miniature Goodbar. “I eat candy so I won’t kill him.” His eyes catch on the TV before he points to the remote. “Turn that up.”
I down the chocolate in my hand and grab the remote, turning up the volume as a picture of a man flashes on the screen. “In a bizarre twist,” the newscaster is saying, “This man, Brian Johnson, was not home when his home exploded tonight, but he was later found dead in his car outside an event he attended tonight. The cause of death is yet to be determined.”
Axe grabs his phone from his pocket and dials. “Adrian,” he says. “Yeah. I just saw it on the news.” He listens a minute and hangs up. “He’s on his way to the lockdown location to try to get answers.”
“Lockdown location?” Mia asks before I get the chance.
“If our team locked down for safety reasons,” Axe explains, “that’s where they’ll go.”
The doorbell rings and my spine stiffens, my eyes narrowing on Axe. “If Adrian isn’t here, who is that?”
Axe is already on his feet, drawing his weapon.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Grayson
“Grayson?” Mia asks, pushing to her feet, all doe-eyed with fear, and why wouldn’t she be? Axe has a gun in his hand, charging for the door that he knows is protected by a security system. I like the guy but damn it.
“Not enough chocolate or whiskey clearly, baby,” I reply mildly by intent. I’m not going to add to her stress with a bombastic reaction. “Stay here just to be safe.” I kiss her temple and force myself to walk with measured steps toward the door when I’d rather fucking run.
Still, I manage a fast enough pace to be on Axe’s heels when he enters the foyer. “There’s a security camera,” I say because maybe I’m wrong and he doesn’t know.
He walks to the panel and I open the drawer to the hall table and remove the Glock I do more than keep on hand. I know how to use it and use it well.
Now that I'm armed and ready for trouble, Axe lowers his weapon. “It’s them,” he murmurs, unlocking the door.
I don’t know who “them” references, which is why I don’t return my weapon to that drawer. For just a moment though, I’m back on that golf course, when my invincible father tumbled to the ground. I’m leaning over him, and my father’s pale face and raspy breaths have me screaming for help that never comes. It never comes because he never had a chance. He’d had what they call a “widowmaker,” a massive heart attack that shreds the heart. So yes, Mia’s right about Eric being a SEAL and a genius, but I know from experience that even the good ones, even the strong ones, are not invincible.
Which is exactly why when Axe opens the door, I hold my breath, waiting for the enemy that I can’t defeat, the one that takes and takes and just keeps on taking: death. I’m not holding the gun to shoot someone. I’m holding it because I just need some damn way to feel under control. I’m waiting for bad news, and I’d welcome another enemy, one that I’d have to battle because I can fight and win any battle that isn’t death.
Axe backs up and the first person that I see walk through the door is not an enemy at all. It’s Rick Savage—one of the Walker men. A giant of a man with a scar that ripples down his cheek. “Don’t shoot,” he says, holding up his big hands. “I told Eric not to cut that wire, but you know, I’m just a surgeon, not a fucking savant, and he didn’t listen.”
“I didn’t cut a wire at all,” Eric growls, entering the foyer. “We weren’t there when the damn house exploded.” He eyes my gun and then me. “You’ve been hanging around these guys way too much.”
I’m just processing that Eric’s really here and okay, relief washing over me when Mia beats me to an outward reaction.
“Eric!” she exclaims, rushing forward and throwing her arms around him. “We thought you were dead. God, Grayson would not have survived losing you. I wouldn’t survive losing you.” She looks up at him. “You have no idea how relieved we are that you’re here.”
We.
God, I’ve missed being a “we” with Mia.
Mia gets to Eric, too. I see that in the softening of his facial features that are normally steel and stone. And Eric is not an emotional man. He’s not a man of many words. He’s also a man with a blood family that treats him like shit, but I am his family, we’re his family now that Mia is back. Mia has driven home that point—she’s affected him in that way she does everyone around her.
“Well then,” Eric says, “I guess I better come all the way in then, shouldn’t I?” He squeezes her shoulder. “And your man there needs to put away that gun before he shoots one of us.”
Mia whirls on me but she says nothing. She knows I have the gun. She knows how to use it herself, but I want her to practice. I want her to become an expert. I want her to protect herself in every way possible. I seal the gun back in its drawer, and Axe and Savage head to the living room. Mia kisses my cheek and follows them, a silent understanding in her actions that I need a minute with Eric.
God, I really did miss this woman.
I close the space between me and Eric and while we don’t hug, we do lock palms. And I go one step further and grab his forearm with my free hand. “You’re not a damn SEAL anymore. Don’t do that shit again.”