Page 61 of Axe-ing for Trouble
And here I was, sitting on the floor beside him, arm in a sling, waxing poetic about spreadsheets.
I couldn’t help but give in to laughter too.
It was absurd. All of this. Him. Me. The situation I’d gotten myself into.
Ripley padded into the room, as if to check on us. The silly humans who were on the floor, surrounded by cardboard boxes, losing their minds.
“Sorry,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye. “I’m sleep-deprived, and the way you said that—”
“I know I’m ridiculous.” I chuckled, holding my ribs to ease the pain.
“And just, all this.” He gestured around the room.
“I need something to do,” I argued. “And regardless of what Parker says, I have to be ready. Things are happening, and when the shit hits the fan, I can’t be caught off guard. Plus, I can only sit around reading dragon smut for so long.”
His breath hitched and his eyes widened behind the lenses of his glasses. “Dragon smut?”
I lifted a shoulder. “Technically it’s romantasy. The smut only involves humans, but they ride dragons.”
He scratched his beard, head tilted to one side. “I don’t want to be pedantic, but dragon smut would probably involve the dragons in the smut.”
A rush of humorous affection for this man washed over me. “Fair. And honestly, the dragons are the best characters in the book.” I threw a packing peanut at him.
“I’ll read it. I love dragons.”
“You are such a nerd.”
He shrugged. “I love reading, especially epic fantasy. And then we can talk about it.”
Cheeks heating, I looked down at my lap. That was so goddamn sweet. Why did he have to be like this, all considerate and thoughtful, after turning me down?
Why couldn’t he have been a good lay with a shitty personality? That was how the universe was organized. There were basic truths about men. Many were dumb, and many were terrible in bed. Some were both. And the ones who were neither were usually narcissists, players, or sociopaths.
Jude Hebert was breaking all the rules, and it was making a difficult situation impossible.
He got up, thankfully sparing me from having to stare at his stupidly handsome face any longer. This room was too small, and I needed the distance so I could focus.
“I’ve been going through the recordings.” I cleared my throat. “Most of it is hours upon hours of stupidity, but I’ve come across a few interesting things.”
I eased myself up to my feet and shuffled to my wall of Post-its. Though my movements were still slow, the pain was lessening every day. “I’ve heard some chatter about Friday the thirteenth. During the poker game, they were talking logistics. They were using some kind of code. But it’s come up multiple times, and then there was a reference to Jason. But not as a person. Like Jason was an object. I was so confused.”
I wound a piece of string around a thumbtack, then looped it around another on the corkboard.
“But then I realized that Jason is the bad guy in theFriday the Thirteenth.”
He hummed. “How does that relate?”
“If you look at a calendar—wait. Do lumberjacks keep track of dates on logs?” Lips pursed, I tapped my chin.
He let out a snort. It was alarmingly cute.
“October thirteenth is a Friday,” I continued. “And I think Jason could be a big shipment coming in that day. There seems to be a lot of activity and planning, so something must be happening.”
I pointed to the maps of the Quebec border where I’d crossed with Razor. The forest around it was privately owned, which meant trafficking without being detected was possible.
“I’ve got to figure out where and how. Then it’s lights out.”
He nodded slowly. “Okay, I’m following.”
