Axel #2
The look Warner shoots him is downright frosty. Blaine laughs harder then returns to shovelling down his food. You’d think the man has never tasted a home cooked meal from the rate he’s piling it in. Perhaps the mob doesn’t hire professional chefs to feed them.
Angry footsteps storm into the room, announcing Tom’s arrival. He’s looking stronger on his feet. Still a little thinner than before and visibly breathless, but no longer clinging to life while fighting off near-fatal pneumonia.
“This is cosy.” He scans over us, frowning unhappily. “Nice to see everyone’s alive and well.”
“Tom.” Warner blows out a heavy exhale.
“Don’t even start with whatever bullshit excuse you’re going to pull out. She’s my sister, Warner!”
“I know, I’m sorry—”
“A little head’s up that you’ve returned home safe wouldn’t go amiss. Let alone that someone tried to run you off the road!”
“We were marched straight into HQ,” Ember tries to explain behind him. “I told you, I was going to come over to check on you.”
“After finishing your nice family dinner?”
“Just sit down.” Warner waves for him to take a seat. “Hy, grab our guest a beer before he rips me a new asshole.”
“I’ll still be tempted.” Scowling, Tom drops down onto the sofa. “Water is fine, thanks. Someone want to fill me in on what the hell happened?”
I let myself drift while they update him, ignoring the twinge of my stitched bullet wound every now and then. I’m not taking another pill. The more I pop, the longer it’ll be before my teammates get off my case and let me get back to work.
A hand on my leg rouses me, Ember’s sexy smile looming overhead when I open my eyes. She presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth then settles into the empty spot at my side, ignoring the narrowed look her brother trains on our touching legs.
“I take some time off, and everyone starts breaking the law left, right and centre.” Tom pinches the bridge of his nose. “You can’t just invite convicted criminals into the fold and start trusting their intelligence.”
“Then what exactly am I?” Blaine supplies coolly.
“You’re a stowaway, Blaine Madden. Your freedom is denoted by a scrap of paper.”
“You are a charmer, Mr Lawson.”
Smothering a laugh earns me a frigid look from Blaine. After my recent behaviour, it’s nice for someone else to be caught in the firing line for once.
“Speaking of stowaways…” Tom sighs exhaustedly. “I’ve been asked by the directors to approach the courts with a clemency proposal for one Gunnar Slaughter. Since when are we in the business of pardoning assassins?”
Beside me, Ember curses. “Gunnar has offered to aid Sabre with gathering intelligence on Madden’s trafficking operation and his ties to the Gael cartel in exchange for a plea deal.”
“No shit! Why are we entertaining this?”
“Because someone knew we were on that road, Tom,” Warner barks at him. “We wiped out Madden’s overseas base, yet somehow, he’s still one step ahead of us.”
“The authorities can’t just hand out get out of jail free cards every time the company needs a leg up in an investigation,” Tom argues back.
“You’re over-simplifying. None of us want this. But what we do want is to see an end to this case without any further casualties.”
Right on time, multiple sets of eyes slide in my direction. I merely flash a saccharine smile back.
“The bullet my brother put in me was personal, for the record. But I do agree with Warner.”
“Because men who attempt to kill their family members in cold blood definitely should be trusted.” Tom shakes his head in dismay.
No one can argue against that. I’m not even going to fight my case. While the past is a matter for me and Gunnar to resolve, he put my team in danger. That’s the first issue I’ll be raising with him when I get the chance.
“Sure you don’t want that beer?” Hyland jokes around a deep pull from his bottle.
“Got anything stronger?” Tom massages his temples.
“Only the best. Hold on.”
“Make that two.” Ember raises a hand. “I need a drink.”
With a glance at Warner and Blaine, Hyland ducks out to pour everyone a measure of whiskey. I stifle a pout while he hands them out. Damn, I’d kill for a real drink.
“So should I be expecting a wedding invitation soon, or what?” Tom breaks the silence.
Across the room, Warner splutters on a mouthful, almost coughing up a lung. “What?”
“You heard me. My sister deserves no less.”
“Fuck me sideways,” Ember mumbles. “No wedding invites. That wouldn’t even be legal between the five of us anyway. Why do you have to make things weird?”
“Just looking out for you, sis.” He winks at her. “And—wait, five? Did you say five?”
“Um…”
Gaze flickering around our group, I watch Tom mentally count. His heavy stare lands on Blaine last. I’m glad not to be sitting next to the convict. He’s about to get the same ass-kicking I hear Warner received.
“You.” A vivid flush creeps over Tom’s face. “You’re number five?”
“Thought I was just a name on a scrap of paper?” Blaine grins.
“You… You’re not… This isn’t—”
“Tom.” Ember remains surprisingly calm. “I’m a grown woman. Mind your own business.”
“He’s a convicted criminal, Em! An ex-mobster!”
“And I was a street fighter for the fucking cartel, or did you forget? People change. You’d do well to remember that in your line of work.”
“Four men! You couldn’t choose just one?”
“No. I can’t, and I won’t.”
While Tom dissolves into a series of flabbergasted splutters, Blaine observes the scene with a look of mild amusement. Trust him to make no apologies. We all know what he spent our first night home doing in Ember’s bed, based on the echoes. I’m not ashamed to admit I tugged off to it.
“No wedding invitations,” Blaine repeats Ember’s answer, ever the shit-stirrer. “Though you’ll be the first to know when the church bells are going to chime, Mr Lawson.”
Visibly terse shoulders rolling back, it’s not a surprise to see Tom place the crystal tumbler of whiskey down and launch himself at Blaine. Outgunned or not, he might be mad enough to win in a fist fight.
“Tom!” Ember leaps to her feet. “No!”
While she dives between the two warring men with Warner hot on her heels, I lounge back on the sofa to watch the show. Hyland sips his drink, doing much the same.
“Ten pounds on Tom,” he mutters to me.
I watch Ember’s brother cock a badly-formed fist. “You’re on.”