Page 18 of Stalked By Axel

“Fish out of water?”

She heaves a dramatic sigh before breaking into a fit of giggles. “What about this says fish out of water to you?”

“I don’t know! You’re flapping your fins? I have no idea!”

Her teammates keep guessing and when their time is up, Brooke laughs at the disappointment she reads on their face. My eyes are locked on her as she walks back to her place, giving room for the other team. When she turns around to look at me, her brown hair dances in the light breeze, catching the glow of the fire and for a moment, I’m mesmerized. She offers me a gorgeous smile before turning back to the game.

My eyes stay on her and just watching her is enough to send blood rushing south. This is not an ideal time to have a fucking hard-on, but I can’t fucking control my dick’s reaction to the sight of such a beautiful woman—my woman.

I start to take another sip of my beer when I sense a presence behind me. I turn and watch Gray take the seat next to me. He has a beer in hand as he settles in to watch the game next to me.

“Not playing?” he asks, taking a sip of his own beer as he nods toward the group, and I shake my head.

“I prefer to watch.”

“Same,” he says, titling his head a bit as he watches Kyle act out what appears to be the dramatic death of a…goose? There’s honking and arm flapping involved, I have no idea what else it could be. “I heard something interesting the other night,” Gray says after a moment. “Something about a Rebel showing up at Rave and leaving with two girls.”

“Did you now?”

“Yep,” he confirms, popping the P. “Caused quite a stir among the door guards.”

“And where did you hear this?”

He chuckles. “I have my sources.” Which I assume is code for some informant he’s got in the gang that owns the night club.

My brow quirks up, but since that’s not something I want to talk about, I change the subject. “Any idea how you’re going to get in with the Vipers?”

Gray hums noncommittally, reserved as usual, even with his club brothers. “I have a contact who says he can get me in front of Stone, the president. But that’s not has me most concerned right now.”

“No? Then what does?”

“That they’ve been quiet. Blaze a couple of the guys dealt with some trespassers recently. We still don’t know what they were doing snooping around our territory, and even after Blaze sent them home with their tails tucked, they didn’t retaliate. It’s not like the Vipers to do nothing. Don’t you find that suspicious?”

I mull over his words. I’ve been too tied up with Brooke to even think about it. If a Viper laid a hand on a Rebel, there would be hell to pay. That would almost be like declaring war with the club, and I would have expected some attempt at retribution from them, and yet…nothing.

“Maybe they are gearing up to start some shit,” I say. That is the only thing that makes sense.

“Could be, but we can’t be sure. I’ll figure out what they’re planning once I earn their trust.”

I nod before turning back to the game. “Have you taken the club’s insignia off your bike? I assume you’ll have to strip it of the club’s identity before you go in.”

“You’ve never seen me in action, have you?”

“I don’t imagine I’m supposed to, or you wouldn’t be doing a good job as a mole, now would you?”

“Touché.” He laughs, sipping his beer. “And no. I’ll be an entirely different person. So much so that it’s doubtful anyone from either club would recognize me. Recognition is a risk I can’t afford.”

“You’ll be careful,” I say, although my concern is useless. This is not his first rodeo. I know enough of his history to know the one time he was caught crossing the line was a decade ago when he was barely eighteen and before he’d joined the club. He’d ended up doing time, but something good came out of it as he met with a Steel Rebel in prison who introduced him to the club. Since then, he’s been working for the us secure in the knowledge his brothers would get him out of a jam if he ever landed in one. Luckily for him and us, he’s never found himself in that position.

Even so, it doesn’t stop me and the rest of us from expressing concern when the topic arises.

“I’ll be fine,” he says with finality, and more than anything, I believe it. “So, are you not going to tell me what you were doing at Rave? Or who you left with?”

Why am I not surprised that he wouldn’t let me get away without answering? “I’m surprised you don’t already know.”

“I didn’t ask, it would have seemed suspicious if I had.”

“Then how do you know it was me?”

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