Page 50 of Axel

“This is my brother, Grant. And Grant, this is Ruby Jones, my spying paralegal. She knows my name and way too much about us; don’t kill her.”

I glance up at two mountains of muscle, towering before me.

“Ms. Jones.” Grant nods.

“Oh my god,” I murmur, “you’re Reacher’s twin. Like the hot, huge Alan version, not the sad Tom one. Tom needs to stick toMission: Impossiblebecause you’reimpossiblyhuge.”

Axel laughs coldly. “Are youdoneeye-fucking my brother, Ms. Jones?”

“It’s a fact, not eye-fucking.”

“I like her.” Grant grins, taking a seat across the aisle from me in the private jet Axel insisted we take. “She’s a veryfactualwoman.”

But Axel smolders, settling into his seat facing mine.

I’ve really messed up his plans with my daring one.

This morning, I snuck out earlier than usual for myrun, and when I got back, Axel was livid that he missed chasing me. He didn’t speak to me all morning. Then he got a call and suddenly said he had a lunch meeting.

“Who are we meeting with?”

“You’restayingherewhile I’m gone.”

“Um, the only pussy you can order around here isthatone.” I stood in his kitchen and nodded toward Sparky, enjoying her Fancy Feast.

He clenched his jaw. “You’ll stay here, pack for our trip, and wait until I get back.”

“You know,” I chomped on a banana, “I already know you can be a dickhead, so you don’t have to open your mouth and prove it.” His nostrils flared. “At least tell me where you’re going in case hell freezes over, and I run after you.”

“Delta’s.”

“The fancysexstore?”

At first, I was jealous, taunted by an irrational fear that he was meeting Alena Allen there.

Why do I keep getting these weird vibes on them?

Then I realized that one of Axel’s hundred ex-Bratva brothers works there, so it had to have been mafia shit.

“Good,” I chirped. “Get me a sexy blonde wig, some fake tattoos, a lipstick vibrator, and whatever you think would float a boss fucking his secretary’s boat.”

He shoved his gun into his holster. “Your plan is fucking crazy.”

“My plan will work if you commit to your role. Just consider it your chance to help me win a ‘Best Orgasm’ Oscar.”

“You’re notcomingfor that man’s camera,” he barked.

“Yes, Martin Scorsese, I’m aware. If you direct me right, I’ll act like I’m coming for you. I’ll even let you keep the golden statue.”

“Listen to me.” Axel stalked my way, shocking me with how tenderly his finger lifted my chin. “I’ll never let you be exposed like that. I’m not talking about the sex; I’m talking about the sextortion. Even in disguise or whatever the hell game we play today, I won’t let you get hurt. Iwillkill for you, Ruby, but digital files don’t die.”

“Between the two of us,” my heart pounded at his threat, at his tender touch, “we can make it work.”

Make what work?

Whatever this is, boiling hot between us?

Or my risky plan to help Nick and Zar?

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