The Temptation Trap, Complete Series (An Alpha Billionaire Club BBW Romance) (20 page)

T
he day had passed
in a flash. I’d been so worried about what was going to happen that I hadn’t realized how long Axel and I had spent with Agent Holley until he'd left, Evers in tow.

Summer had also gone, giving me a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek, telling me she was coming out to Vegas for a long weekend soon so she could check out Axel’s lake house and get to know him a little bit better. I thought that sounded like a great idea. I was only sorry that she had to go so soon.

I thought that Jacob would stay with us, but he left shortly after Summer, saying, "I'd love to be your third wheel, but I have a socialite dying to be my arm candy and a god-awful, boring art opening to attend."

“Can you skip it?" Axel asked. Despite his humor, Jacob didn't look all that excited about his plans for his date.

"No, I promised I'd go.”

Axel studied Jacob for a moment, then he said, “Someone there you want to see?”

I thought it was an uncharacteristically nosy question, but Axel knew his friend well. Jacob’s face closed down and he said, “Of course not. Just an art opening I said I'd go to. Then I have something tomorrow. I won't be back for the rest of the weekend."

He was gone a few minutes later. Surprised by Jacob’s abrupt change of mood, I said to Axel, "I think you made him mad. Why did you ask him that?"

"I don't know,” Axel said. “He had a look in his eye when he mentioned the art opening that I thought was interesting. I was curious."

Thinking about the pearl and diamond earring I'd found in his desk, I said, “He doesn't have a girlfriend?"

Axel burst out laughing. "There are about a hundred women who would kill each other for the chance to be his girlfriend, but he never dates any of them for very long. I don't think he's built that way. Jacob doesn't do love."

I told Axel about the earring I’d discovered in Jacob's desk, and Axel looked thoughtful for a moment before shaking his head. "I wouldn't spin any romantic dreams about Jacob Meyers falling in love with some woman. I'd be happy as hell for him if he found someone he cared about enough to settle down, but I don't see it happening. He’s just not that kind of guy."

"You never know," I said. "People can change."

Axel turned and drew me into his arms. I was suddenly acutely aware that we were alone in the penthouse and likely to remain that way for at least twenty-four hours. I lost all interest in dinner.

"No they don't. Not really," Axel said, interrupting my thoughts.

“What?” I asked. Distracted at the thought of being alone with Axel, I’d lost track of the conversation.

"People don't really change," Axel said. "Things about them might change, surface things, or goals, dreams. People themselves don't really change. I was never a one-woman man until I met you," he said. "But I always hoped that one day I would be. I just wasn't willing to settle down until I met the right woman."

I reveled in the thrill his words sent through me. I loved that Axel didn't feel the need to hide that he was in love with me. “Are you are saying you don't think Jacob is capable of falling in love?" I asked.

"I could be wrong,” Axel said. “If anyone I know has hidden depths, it's Jacob Meyers. But he's never struck me as a guy waiting for the right woman. He makes me look completely laid-back. And I've heard rumors that he’s into some kinky stuff in the bedroom. My best guess would be that if Jacob were looking for a committed relationship, it would have nothing to do with love and everything to do with sex, but who knows? Maybe someday he'll surprise me."

I liked Jacob. He’d proven that he was a good friend, and he'd been more than welcoming to me during a time of extreme stress and uncertainty. I liked that he’d come to Axel’s aid without question. I’d also liked him even more when he’d flirted with Summer the night before just to irritate Evers. The idea that he might never find the right woman and fall in love was a little sad, but to each his own. I was too happy, and too in love with Axel, too thrilled to know that Axel was in love with me, to get depressed about Jacob. Pushing him from my mind, I leaned into Axel and rested my head on his chest.

“Now that we're alone, what do you want to do?" I asked, teasing him. In answer, he picked me up, swinging me into his arms, and carried me off to bed.

We didn’t come up for air until late that night, emerging from the bedroom to scrounge for food in the kitchen, me in a robe and Axel in a pair of boxer briefs that made my mouth water. Someone had made a huge grocery run, because the fridge was packed with tasty treats. We settled on reheated mushroom ravioli and key lime pie.

While we ate, perched on stools at the kitchen counter, I asked Axel, “So what
was
the plan? Who went back to Vegas with Evers, and what are they doing?”

“Evers, an agent who looks a lot like you, and Agent Holley went to Vegas, though Holley only went to hook Evers and the other agent up with the FBI contact who would help arrest Tierney. Holley should be on his way back here by now.”

“Why did they need an agent who looks like me?” I asked.

Axel popped a bite of tart, sweet pie between my lips and said, “Because we want to see what he’ll do if he has the opportunity to get to you. You’re a loose end. If he’s really working for Tsepov, then he’ll want you taken out of the picture. You’ve seen the evidence Harper collected. You know too much.”

“So the agent who looks like me is going to set up a meeting with Tierney?” I asked, dismayed at the thought that he would harm me. I knew Agent Tierney was the bad guy, but it still bugged me.

“Nothing that overt. She’s going to send a text from your phone saying that you got away from me and you have back-up evidence that you want to deliver. We think he’ll try to kill you—or really, her—when he realizes you still have the files. Either way, we’ll know if he’s truly dirty or not.”

That made sense. It might have been wrong, but part of me hoped the plan didn’t work and that Agent Tierney showed up to collect the evidence like he should. I didn’t like him, but if he was working for Tsepov, it made me doubt my own judgment even more. I told Axel as much, and he said,

“Emma, that’s not fair. You’re not a trained operative, and you had every reason to expect that an FBI agent was trust-worthy. When you’re predisposed to assume someone is honest—someone in a position of authority like an FBI agent—it’s very hard to know that they’re up to something unless you catch them in a direct lie.”

“I still feel stupid.”

“Well, don’t. You’re not stupid. You managed to get all those files and collect what the FBI needs to arrest Tsepov with no training and very little guidance from Jensen or Tierney. I’d say that you’re not only smart, but you’re resourceful.”

I loved Axel’s compliments. He could have said something empty and clichéd to soothe my worries, but instead he gave me logic, logic that gave my flagging confidence a boost. I thought about saying
thank you
, but that didn’t seem good enough. So I jumped him.

It was a good thing Jacob wasn’t coming home that night. I ended up on my knees between Axel’s legs with the can of whipped cream we’d grabbed for the pie in my hand. Axel’s cock tasted great on its own, but everything was better with whipped cream on top. By the time we were done, the can was empty and Axel was coming in my mouth, his hands buried in my hair, calling out my name as he gasped for breath.

He paid me back with the fudge sauce we found in the pantry, laying me out over Jacob’s huge dining room table and drizzling the thick, sweet chocolate over my body and licking it off. He took his time, painting my nipples and licking them clean more than once before making swirls of chocolate over my pussy and sucking it off. I came twice, then begged him to fuck me. Jacob’s table was the perfect height. After my third orgasm, I made a mental note to try out the table in Axel’s penthouse. I liked table sex with Axel.

We passed out in bed, our bodies wrung dry and exhausted. I woke deep in the night to hear Axel on the phone, his voice too low to decipher his words. He hung up and I asked, “Who was that? What time is it?”

“It’s just after 2 A.M. It was Evers. Tierney took the bait. He set a meeting with the agent he thought was you and tried to kill her.”

I sat up in bed, sleep forgotten. “What? How?”

Axel pulled me down and tucked me under the covers, pressing my head to his chest and stroking strong fingers down my spine.

“He set the meeting for a dark parking lot, then he tried to shoot her. She’s fine. She was wearing a vest. He was taken into custody, and everything is okay.”

“What if he’d aimed for her head? She could have been killed,” I protested, freaked out that this woman I didn’t even know had risked her life pretending to be me. And—to be honest—a little more freaked that Agent Tierney had tried to murder me.

“It’s her job,” Axel reassured me. “There’s always a risk, but she had plenty of cover. Evers said that they’re picking up Tsepov tonight. He’s headed back here on an early flight, and we’re going to take the plane back to Vegas in the morning, after we get some sleep.”

I tried, but I couldn’t relax after Evers’s phone call. Axel eventually gave up on the back rub and cradled me in his arms, pulling my leg over his hip and sliding inside me. We took each other slowly, whispering insensible words of love as we moved together. My orgasm, cresting in a wave that built bit by bit and fell away just as gradually, seemed to last forever. I didn’t remember falling asleep.

I woke to the sound of birds singing and Axel’s smile, as bright and magnetic as the morning sun. Our troubles were finally over. It was time to go home.

I
napped
through most of the flight home. I still didn't have a phone or tablet. We’d flown out of a private airstrip, so I hadn't been able to grab so much as a magazine. And I was tired. We’d gone to bed late, then woken in the middle of the night—not that I was complaining about all the orgasms.

I was
really
not complaining.

The plane was the same one that Griffen and I had taken a few days before, with the same plush, spacious seats. This time, Axel sat beside me and raised the armrest between us. He pulled me against him, tucked my head into his shoulder, and draped a blanket over us both. Of course, the first place my head went was all the trouble we could get up to underneath a blanket, but a few minutes later, I was out cold.

We didn't eat on the flight and were met at the airport by one of Axel's guys in another of Sinclair Security’s ubiquitous black SUVs. I don't think I'd seen any of them drive anything else. On the way back to Axel's penthouse, we stopped and went grocery shopping, the most normal thing Axel and I had done together since the night he’d taken me in handcuffs to William Harper.

I knew as time went on that something as mundane as grocery shopping would be a chore, but just then, grocery shopping with Axel was the most fun I thought I'd ever had. We bickered good-naturedly over how ripe the fruit was and tried to decide what we wanted to cook for dinner that night, or if we wanted to cook at all. We ended up choosing something in between: eggs, potatoes, asparagus, and brownies—ready-made. We'd be cooking, but it wouldn't take much effort. After everything that had happened, I just wanted to relax with my man.

I had to find a new job, and eventually, I supposed I had to go back to my apartment. There would be time to face all of that later.

We went back to Axel's place, where I found a brand-new cellphone, tablet, and laptop waiting for me. Axel just shrugged and said, “You needed upgrades, and I'm the one who took your laptop, so I should replace it.”

He’d replaced all of my things at a much higher quality, but at this point, I knew better than to complain. The money wasn't a big deal to him, and I appreciated that he thought to spend some of it on me. I played with my new toys for a while, downloading some books to read, setting up my phone, and generally chilling out. I was tempted look at the want ads or work on my resume, but I didn't bother. Job hunting would stress me out, and I'd had enough stress to last me for a lifetime.

Axel was in his office, catching up on business he’d missed while he was dealing with my situation. There was something homey and comforting about lying on the couch in his modern living room, listening to him on his computer on the other side of the penthouse. Looking around, I wondered if he'd let me redecorate a little. I liked aspects of his penthouse—it was modern, expensive, sleek, and a little dangerous. And cold. I didn’t like that part. Axel was tough, and sometimes he was even scary. He was never cold.

I'd ask him later. So much had changed in the last week, and I knew men could be funny about women coming in and changing their stuff around. Maybe I'd wait for him to offer. Later that afternoon, after we'd eaten lunch, I wandered into Axel's office.

"You think we could run by my place?" I asked. "All the stuff that Lola got me is great, but I would love to have my own makeup, hair stuff, and everything . . .” I trailed off, suddenly not sure if I should assume I was supposed to stay. “Or if you want, I could just stay there and—”

Axel was out from behind his desk in a flash, his face hard. “You want to go back to your place? You need some time?”

“No,” I said uncertainly. This was a first for me. I had no desire to have any time away from Axel, but I didn't want to crowd him. All of a sudden, I wasn’t at all sure where we stood.

“If you don't care either way," Axel said evenly, "I'd rather have you here. We can go get your things. I was gonna give you a couple of days before I brought this up, but if you feel like it's not too soon, I'd like you to move in with me."

He spit the last part out in a rush as if he were nervous. His brief lapse into uncertainty reassured me. Axel was always so in control. It made me feel better to know that he was a little at sea as well.

"I want to be with you," I said, “and I'm not that attached to my apartment, but are you sure you're okay with me moving in? It's a big step. You might get sick of having me under your feet all the time."

Axel's eyes heated and he gave me a lecherous grin. "You won't be under my
feet
, Emma," he said, pulling me in for a hot, slow kiss.

I was moving in with Axel Sinclair. We've come a long way since I’d worried that I'd never seen Adam's apartment. Axel reached into his desk and opened the top drawer, pulling out a gun. At the sight of it, the dark black metal, so foreign in his hand, I stiffened.

"Do you need that?” I asked. “I thought everything was fine now."

"I carry a gun most of the time," Axel said. “Partly out of habit and partly because it’s my job. I wouldn't have brought you home if I wasn't sure you were safe, but with everything that’s happened, I'd rather be prepared."

"Okay," I said, not willing to argue about it. I wasn't anti-gun, which was probably a good thing, considering who I was about to move in with. We took the elevator down to the garage, and Axel said, “We’ll go into the office tomorrow, and I'll get your prints and palm recorded so you can control the elevator."

That was pretty cool. Axel pulled into the parking garage at my apartment building and circled twice before choosing a spot. Everything looked normal enough to me, and we went up to my apartment, me in front, Axel taking the rear.

It was weird to be back at my place after a week. My house plants were a little wilted, but otherwise, everything looked normal, not as if my life had been turned upside down. Everything but the door to my bedroom. That was still torn from its hinges, on its side in the hallway. Looking at it, I said, “I don’t think I’m getting my security deposit back.”

Axel’s eyes darkened at the sight of the damage. “I’ll have it taken care of. Just get as much of your stuff as you want, and I’ll have movers come in and take care of the rest. Do you want your furniture?”

My things were on the shabby side of shabby chic. They’d look awful at Axel’s place. “I don’t think my furniture would look right in your place, Axel,” I said.

He gave me a level look and said, “I don’t give a fuck. If you want it, we’ll redecorate.”

Hmm, that gave me a lot to think about. I packed my clothes and make-up, considering what, if anything, I wanted to take with me. In the end, I said, “I don’t think any of this stuff is worth moving to your place. I’ve been carting it around since college, and most of it is ready to fall apart. But maybe we could redecorate a little.”

Axel pressed a kiss to my forehead and said, “Whatever you want, Emma. Whatever you want.”

I leaned into him, wondering if we had enough time to make out. For once, we didn’t have anything pressing to do. No work, no appointments with the FBI or running from the mob. Life was about to get blissfully boring. I couldn’t wait. I wound my arms around Axel’s neck, burying my fingers in his silky hair as I drew him down for a long, slow kiss. His hands dipped below my waist, cupping my ass and pulling me into his hard, thick length.

We had plenty of time and nothing more important to do than to be together. With that in mind, my hands went to the buttons on Axel’s shirt and I got to work. I had most of them undone when I heard it—the distinctive squeak of the hinges on my front door. I’d always meant to take care of those, but I kept forgetting. Who would have guessed they might save my life?

I stepped back to see who was at the door as Axel whirled and shoved me behind him, his gun raised. I caught a glimpse of a tall, distinguished looking older man at the door, and the flash of a gun in his hand, before the room exploded around me. Gunshots. I thought that’s what they were, though they sounded different than the shots I’d heard at the safe house. These were more like the attack in the parking garage. Three of them. One from Axel, two from the man at the door.

“Get down. Take cover behind the bed,” Axel hissed at me, not taking his eyes off the threat down the hall. I dropped to my knees and scrambled to the side of the bed, drawing my knees to my chest to make myself the smallest target possible. Axel stood in the doorway, his eyes and gun trained on the intruder, leaning to the side to minimize his exposure. It took me a minute to spot the blood trickling down his left arm, staining the sleeve of his button-down a muddy red.

“Axel,” I said, staring at his arm. He didn’t turn, but gestured at me with his free hand, telling me to be quiet. “He shot you,” I whispered.

He waved his hand at me again, reminding me to be quiet. I pressed my lips together, telling myself to think. It had been a stupid thing to say.
He shot you
. Axel probably knew he’d been shot. Duh. But I was in shock, too overwhelmed at the shift from kissing to dodging bullets to come up with something more intelligent to say. Since I didn’t have anything useful to contribute, I’d huddle on the floor and keep my mouth shut.

Digging his hand into his pocket, Axel tossed his phone to me and said, under his breath, “Text Evers and tell him Tsepov is here and shots have been fired. Then call 911 and tell them the same thing.”

Relieved to have something useful to do, something that would take my mind off the fact that the man I loved was bleeding, had been shot and was holding off an armed gunman, I sent a quick text to Evers and called emergency services. I wondered if they’d been looking for Tsepov, because when I identified who had broken into my place, the operator became far more alert. She directed me to stay on the line and assured me that the police and an ambulance were on the way. The police had an ETA of five minutes, the ambulance a little longer. I knew that was a fast response time, but cowering on my floor, watching blood drip from Axel’s arm to stain my carpet, five minutes felt like an eternity.

“The police are already on their way, Tsepov,” Axel said. “Drop the gun.”

“Why?” Tsepov responded. “You betrayed me, sent the FBI to me, and let your whore sell me out. I said I didn’t want war, but you’ve forced my hand. I’ll kill you both and be gone before the law gets here. Then I’ll go after every Sinclair I can find until you’re all dead.”

Axel fired his gun down the hall. I flinched at the sound, reporting what had happened to the frantic 911 operator. For a moment, I thought Axel could hold Tsepov off until the cavalry arrived. Then Tsepov fired, not down the hall, but through the wall of my bedroom. I stared at the little round hole that appeared in the wall, the puff of drywall dust, and watched in horror as Axel dropped to his knees, a red stain spreading rapidly across the right side of his chest. In slow motion, he hit the floor, his gun tumbling from his hand.

I dropped the phone and lunged for Axel, grabbing the gun as I moved. I didn’t know how to shoot—not beyond pointing and pulling the trigger—but I wasn’t going to let Tsepov take us both without a fight. Not if I could help it. I scrambled behind Axel, cradling his head in my lap and lifting the gun to point it at the door. It was surprisingly heavy.

“Good girl,” Axel whispered. I started to look down at him, but he said, “No, eyes on the door, Emma. I’m okay. Shot was high. Keep that gun on the door and shoot anything that moves. Got it?”

“Got it,” I whispered back, my hand shaking from fear and the strain of holding the weapon up, aimed at the open doorway.

“Fucking got both arms, the bastard,” Axel whispered. “You have most of a clip, Emma. Don’t be afraid to shoot.”

“I’m not,” I lied, holding my breath, waiting for Tsepov to come for us. The apartment was silent except for the rasp of Axel’s breath. He’d said he was okay, but as the seconds passed, his breathing became louder, strained and thick as if he were breathing through water. I didn’t allow myself to think about what that might mean. All that mattered was staying alive until the police got here.

I wanted to beg the 911 operator to tell the ambulance to hurry, that Axel needed help, but I stayed silent. The phone was a few feet away on the carpet, and I didn’t think it was a good idea to announce to Tsepov that Axel was hurt.

My ears strained for the sound of movement. Nothing. Either Tsepov was waiting for us to come out, or he was really good at sneaking around. A few seconds later, I spotted the edge of his sleeve at the doorway. My finger tightened on the trigger, but I didn’t fire. Not yet. I didn’t want him to know I was ready while he still had time to duck out of the way.

With my whole arm shaking from the strain of holding up the gun, I eased my other hand away from Axel’s head and used it to brace the hand holding the gun like I’d seen on the cop shows I watched on TV. Instantly, the gun steadied and I felt more in control. When Tsepov took a step into the doorway, I fired. The gun lurched back at me and I almost dropped it. I didn’t remember seeing
that
on TV.

Tsepov stumbled to the side, but he caught himself and raised his gun again, pointing it right at me. I thought that I’d hit him, but if I had, it wasn’t enough to stop him. Remembering what Axel had said, I braced my arms to shoot and pulled the trigger again. And again. I pulled it over and over, unloading the whole clip into Tsepov, numbly watching the bullets slam into his body—and the wall behind him—until the gun stopped firing and made useless clicking sounds.

I dropped it on the floor beside me, looking at Tsepov only long enough to be sure that he wasn’t moving. Crawling to the phone, I snatched it up and shouted to the operator that we needed an ambulance before I went back to Axel. His eyes were closed, but he said, his voice almost inaudible, “Did you get him?”

“I think he’s dead,” I said, afraid to ask Axel if he was going to follow Tsepov into the dark. Axel’s shirt was red with blood, his breath a hollow rattle in his chest.

“That’s my girl,” Axel said, closing his eyes, a tiny smile stretching across his lips. “Love you, Emma.”