Chapter Five
AUTOMATIC
Early October rolled around several days later, and Axel finally got to the last plastic bag.
Didn’t mean everything was organized, but at least they weren’t sitting out in the hallway anymore like bad luggage.
Wreckage from his past.
He couldn’t say he missed May. Not really. He’d come to terms with the fact that he hadn’t been in love with her.
He stared into the garbage bag.
His life was actually…okay right now.
Coffee already brewing.
Whip talking shit from the kitchen.
Dirty laundry.
He snorted and grabbed a few missing shirts from the bottom of the bag.
“That’s where they are.”
He tossed them into the overflowing hamper before sorting through old mail and paperbacks shoved beneath them.
Light knuckles tapped against the open door.
From the hallway, Whip’s blue eyes landed on him hard enough to pin him there.
“Breakfast is ready,” Whip said slowly.
Then he walked away without waiting for an answer.
Whip used to always wait.
Axel sighed, fisting the papers.
Things at home had felt off for almost two weeks.
Not fighting.
But this was almost worse. Hell, he’d take a fucking fight right now over this strained weirdness.
Axel knew most of it was his fault. What the hell was he supposed to say anyway? Sorry for interrupting your life? Sorry for showing up here and wrecking the peace? Sorry for turning your house into storage for all my bullshit?
Sorry for becoming a burden.
Jaw tightening, he grabbed the laundry basket and dropped it beside the washer before following the smell of bacon and something sweet enough to be waffles down the hall.
The kitchen windows rattled beneath steady rain while gray morning light spread across the counters. Coffee hissed in the pot beside the stove. Bacon crackled in a pan on the stove.
Whip stood near the waffle iron in a dark Henley and jeans, blond hair still damp from the shower.
Normal.
Too damn normal.
Axel grabbed his coffee and leaned against the counter automatically, waiting for something that used to come easy between them. A smartass comment. A shoulder check. Whip talking shit. Anything except this odd careful silence.
Instead, Whip slid a plate onto the table.
“Storm’s supposed to get worse tonight.”
The fucking weather?
“That’s your big conversation starter?”
Whip shrugged and moved past him toward the sink without touching him.
Axel clenched his jaw.
Whip never used to do that. He usually crowded the space without thinking about it. Reaching across him for coffee mugs. Bumping shoulders. Standing too close.
Hell, he’d been doing that since high school.
Hallways. Football sidelines. Locker rooms.
Same shit. Different decade.
Now, Whip moved around him politely.
Like he was a guest instead of somebody who lived there.
Like Whip was already making room for him to leave again.
Morning rain hammered the Jeep’s windshield hard enough to blur half of Lakeview into gray smears and brake lights.
Whip killed the engine outside the Marshals office.
Axel climbed out into cold drizzle.
Whip came around the front of the truck, tugging his jacket higher against the weather.
Neither of them spoke as they headed inside.
The office smelled like cinnamon rolls and stale coffee instead of rain for once. Phones rang somewhere deeper in the building beneath the steady hiss of weather against the windows.
Beth stood near the copier in a too-short skirt and boots, blond ponytail bouncing while she shoved a pastry box away from Knox’s reach.
“Touch another one and lose a hand.”
Knox grinned. “Your cinnamon rolls are worth the risk.”
Beth snorted and gathered her papers against her chest.
Then she spotted Whip and Axel walking in.
“Help yourselves. I baked.”
“Thanks, Beth,” Whip said, dropping his keys onto his desk before moving toward the coffeepot on autopilot.
“Here.” Beth dropped a bear claw in front of Knox on her way past.
Knox hooted like he’d won the lottery.
By the time Whip and Axel reached their desks, Knox was already halfway through the pastry, sitting sideways in his chair with one boot hooked beneath the desk.
Bright blue eyes lifted immediately.
“And here they come,” Knox announced around a mouthful of bear claw. “Fern’s favorite divorced couple.”
Axel flipped him off without heat. Little bastard never knew when to shut up.
Knox grinned wider.
“Didn’t ask for commentary,” Axel growled.
“Good thing commentary’s free.” Knox leaned back farther in his chair with his boots hooked on the desk edge, still working through the pastry. “You two glaring at each other for the past two weeks is starting to hurt office morale.”
Whip snorted softly into a freshly poured cup of coffee.
Axel couldn’t tell anymore if Whip found the joke funny or just painfully accurate.
Probably both.
“See—” Knox started, clearly winding up for another smartass comment.
Then Boone’s office door swung open hard enough to cut through the room.
Knox’s boots hit the floor immediately.
“Tauber. Bain. Granger. My office, now.”
Conversation died instantly.
Even the phones suddenly sounded louder.
Knox shoved the rest of the bear claw into his mouth and pushed upright fast enough to rock his chair backward.
Beth glanced up from her desk with a grimace. “Oh boy. He is in a mood.”
Whip grabbed his coffee automatically and turned to him.
“Come on,” Whip said, waiting for him.
Axel fell into step beside him automatically.
The weird silence from breakfast. The careful distance. All of it dropped away beneath instinct and routine.
Knox trailed behind them, still chewing.
Boone stood near the windows with his arms crossed over his chest, broad shoulders blocking half the gray daylight bleeding through the rain-streaked glass.
Cold blue eyes tracked all three of them at once.
Nobody spoke.
Boone didn’t waste time.
“Got a lead on Clay Cutter,” he said.
The room shifted almost imperceptibly around the name.
Whip spoke first.
“Thought he was still in Belize.”
“So did everybody else,” Boone said. “State police got a hit off a gas station camera outside Paisley three nights ago.”
Boone’s cool blue gaze settled on both of them.
“The deputies in Paisley think he’s couch-hopping with locals who don’t ask questions. I want you there ASAP.”
“Fucking locals always messing up shit,” Axel groused, earning a hard squint from Boone.
“Got it,” Whip cut in smoothly.
Their boss nodded once before his attention shifted toward Knox still standing there with both cheeks full of bear claw like a damn chipmunk.
A dangerous silence settled over the room.
“Where’s my donut?”
Knox nearly choked.
Beth breezed in from the hallway carrying a paper plate wrapped in a napkin. “Right here, boss.”
Boone took it without looking away from Knox.
“Thought maybe you forgot me,” Boone said mildly.
Knox swallowed hard, shaking his head fast enough to deny several crimes at once.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Beth answered with a smile.
Axel snorted under his breath, grabbed the case file from Boone’s desk, and took that as his cue to leave.
Whip fell into step beside him.
Behind them, Knox was still trying to explain the donut he was eating definitely hadn’t belonged to Boone.
Neither of them wasted time escaping the office before Boone decided everybody needed another meeting.
Cold rain hammered the parking lot hard enough to bounce off the asphalt in silver sheets.
Axel followed Whip out of the building while Boone’s voice carried faintly somewhere behind them and Knox kept trying to defuse the stolen donut situation.
The office door shut behind them.
Quiet.
Just rain again.
Whip tugged his jacket higher against the weather and headed toward one of the task force SUVs parked beneath the flickering lot light.
“We’re not taking your Jeep?”
“I don’t want bullet holes in my Jeep,” Whip muttered. “Paisley’s gonna be a mess.”
“Whole town’s a mess.”
Whip snorted softly, his lips cracked in a smile.
And there it was again.
Easy.
Natural.
Like the tension from the house had never happened.
Whip reached the SUV first and tossed his empty coffee cup into the trash can beside the curb before unlocking the doors automatically.
Axel slid into the passenger seat beside him without thinking about it.
Never had to.
Neither of them ever questioned it.
Whip already had the heater running before Axel shut the door against the rain.
“You still remember the turnoff outside Silver Lake?” Whip asked, pulling onto the highway.
“County Road 5A?” Axel settled the case file across one knee. “Yeah.”
“Flooded last winter.”
Axel grunted. “Then he’s probably bouncing between places closer to 31.”
“Easier to move fast if somebody spots him.”
“Exactly.”
“Still think he’ll stay in town?” Whip asked.
“Not if he’s got half a brain.”
“Questionable.”
“Fair.”
The conversation moved easily through the details. Routes. Gas stations. Back roads. Trailers deep around Paisley. Not to mention the people willing to hide a man everybody else wanted caught.
And suddenly, in the middle of the radio, rain, and case details, Whip started talking smack.
“If there’s any running, it’s all you, buddy,” Whip said.
Axel huffed, choking on a sudden laugh. “You wish.”
“What? You boast about being faster than me. Now here’s your chance.”
“I’ll show you fast.”
Whip barked a laugh.
Axel rolled his eyes, tipped his head down to the case file, and tried to hide his smile.
And all he could think was…
Thank fuck.
He had his partner back.