“Oh my God, she is soo cute. Can I hold her?” I lift her into my arms, and as she sings da-da-da-da-daaa, her father’s face beams with pride.
Soon after, the sun rises to its peak. Lunch consists of grilled hamburgers, hotdogs, and various fancy kababs. Done eating, we sit in the shade of the house. The sliding glass doors stay open to the inside pool, allowing the kids to play in the water without fear of sunburn. Together with Bear, Slate’s sheepdog patrols the edge, barking if horseplay becomes too chaotic.
Now relaxed, we grab a few beers before joining our weekend-from-hell gang by the pool. The women embrace while the men bro-slap each other on the back and clink beer bottles.
We catch up for a while, then Sam stands. “Yo, G-man. I have a couple of questions for you.”
Turning, my husband quirks up a brow. “Shoot.”
“Did you ever learn Dolly DeClaire’s real identity?” Sam’s question quiets all the conversations within earshot.
Pensive, Axel purses his lips. “Well, I can’t tell you everything, but she was born in Israel to American parents. She went into the army and attended Penn State here in the US. Then, she was recruited by Mossad. After her daughter was born, she retired from spook work to work in emergency management. She had a year’s worth of supplies in a Maine log cabin. In her manifesto, she wrote that she believed the end was coming soon.”
“What pushed her over the edge?” No surprise, this question comes from Blakely, our resident shrink.
Axel’s gaze drops to his beer bottle, his brows furrowing as he sighs. “Her daughter worked for Doctors Without Borders. After she died in the fighting in Gaza, she dove into the darkest corners of the web, determined to bring an end to our government.”
Cassie towels off her youngest, drags a T-shirt over the tot’s head, then asks, “What about the survivalist camp? Did they shut it down?”
My ears perk up. Surely, the ATF, the FBI, or some agency would ensure it never again opened its doors.
Axel’s expression darkens as he shakes his head. “Another paramilitary group bought it. They own similar facilities across the country.”
“Listen up, y’all.” Suds taps a spoon against his bottle until everyone looks up. “It’s not a bad idea to be prepared for the worst. I say we all talk to Grayson about creating our own hive, just in case. I’ll even volunteer to be the cult leader.”
“I’ll second that.” Slate lifts his lowball glass.
The Aussie grumbles, “We’re not here to fuck spiders, mate.”
I have no idea what he means, but Axel does and even nods his head in agreement. “I’m in, too. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I believe we have booked a personal tour of the guest house.”
Smirking, Slate points at the door. “Don’t forget the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign.”
Face heated, I turn to Callie. “Can you watch Abbie for us?”
“You got it.”
While the men hoot, Axel throws me over his shoulder and sprints to the cottage. Inside, he sets me down in the tiny kitchen, both of us slightly out of breath.
The wide centers of his eyes black, he takes in my swimsuit. “That should be illegal.”
“Why? Is it too revealing?” I double-check myself in the full-length mirror. “All my parts are covered.”
My man’s voice lowers, full of promise. “Expose all those parts, sweetheart. I need to make love with you.”
“But everyone saw us sneak away.” My face heats, which is nuts because we’re a married couple. We’re supposed to do stuff like this.
Axel grins, his teeth flashing in a way that always makes my pulse quicken. “They’ll get their turn. Don’t worry.”
“That’s not what I meant. Oh my God. Anyone would think you guys weren’t getting any. I speak with the wives all the time, and I know, for a fact, you’re all extremely well satisfied.” My teasing causes him to shoot me a wolfish grin.
“I beg to differ. A man can never have enough sex.”
“Poor baby. Let’s see if I can quench that thirst.” As I kiss the tip of his nose, he leads me three steps to the bed.
A folded note sits on the pillow, which I read aloud, then laugh. “Help yourself to anything, and don’t worry—we’ve hired staff to change the sheets.”
“Well,” he murmurs, pulling me into his arms, “they thought of everything.”
