"Your phone is lighting up on the desk," I tell him as the colorful display catches my attention.
The moment between us is over, and Axel grabs his phone, answering it without missing the second buzz. "Yeah, man. I—ah—I just got Harley back to the hotel." There's silence as I watch Axel squint an eye closed and look up to the ceiling. "You're in the hotel?" He squeezes his fingers against his temples and squeezes his eyes shut. "We're in her room, yeah." Axel ends the call and tosses the phone onto the bed. "Everett's on his way up."
"Oh, okay." Should I be bothered by this?
"Your face is flushed. He's going to take one look at you and know," he says.
"He's going to know what?" I question.
"That I just had the best sex I’ve ever had with the chick Everett hasn't shut up about for the past week." Well, this should end well. I'm guessing the least of my worries is the martial arts training they both want to offer me. I should be more concerned that they’re both evidently very good at martial arts.
I walk past Axel and close myself inside of the bathroom. What am I doing? Why am I still doing it? I have to make this stop. This is stupid and dangerous. I turn the sink on and lean forward to splash water onto my face. There's already a knock on the door, and within a matter of seconds a conversation grows from within the room. I can't make out what they're saying, but I think there's laughter. I face my nearly unrecognizable reflection and note the obvious red coloring on my cheeks—that well-fucked look hasn't faded, but probably because of the looping memories from the last half hour still playing in my head.
I splash my face with more cold water from the faucet and try to switch my thoughts to something less appealing … like convicts, interrogation, brainwashing, and suicide.
I’m going to hell.
After a long two minutes of imagining what hell might look like, my complexion has returned to the pasty white hue I’m used to. I look unfazed enough to step out of the bathroom.
"Hey," I’m greeted with only one foot out of the bathroom. "How do you feel about traveling?" Everett asks me with a wide grin. "Oh, and I'm glad you're sticking around."
"Travel?" I question. "Where would we be going?"
"D.C.," Axel says. "We need to meet up with someone."
Flying may be an issue for me, considering Isabelle Hammel is wanted. My fake ID may work with the bars, cops, and state prisons, but TSA has the governmental scanners that check for a chip I don’t have in my nearly perfect fake ID. "Um," I stall.
"We have a private jet," Axel adds in. Of course you do.
"What about the martial arts training?" I ask like it’s important. It’s a way to distract and stall me from running. In any case, I don't want to go to D.C. After what I learned from Mason earlier today—that’s the worst place for me to be.
"You won't need training for what we need to do in D.C., but we will be tending to that when we get back," Axel says.
"You're scared of flying, aren't you?" Everett says, teasingly.
I raise a brow and open the closet I'm next to. "It's not that."
"It's a quick trip," Axel says.
"Um, I don't think I should go," I tell them.
"It will be fine," Axel continues.
"I don't think you understand," I begin, but then realize Everett wasn’t here for our conversation over the last hour. "Never mind."
"But, I do, and you're safe with us." I have spent the last couple years trusting no one, and now I'm expected to toss that aside and put my faith in them, knowing how close I’m walking to the edge. I've been hiding from the world for a reason.
"Everett knows who you are," Axel says. Even though I still haven't orally admitted to it, he remembers me from class, and I'm not sure there is a way to persuade him otherwise.
"Great, then you both know how dangerous D.C. is for me."
"You'll be okay," Axel says.
"Tell me who you work for … or I'm not going."
Axel looks at Everett, and Everett shrugs. "Your call, man."
"We're mercenaries."
"Oh my God, you're fucking with me right now, aren't you? Mercenaries for the government," I tell them, not bothering to ask.
"You don’t have to worry. You are Harley outside of this room. We've hired you to be on our team," Axel says. "We need you, like I said."
"No, I just—I should never have fallen for this shit. Your ‘someone’ that you have to see … he or she is after me, aren’t they?"
Axel reaches for me and grabs my arms, holding me in front of him. "You're safe, and you’re Harley, not Isabelle. That's all that matters. You don't have to talk to anyone. We just need to retrieve some assignments. This has nothing to do with you. Okay?" I look into his eyes, hoping to see whether his words are a lie or the truth, but he's as good at this as I am, and I see nothing but a straight-edge stare in return.
I could run from them, but it’s useless. They have me now, and I need to cooperate until I can safely remove myself from this situation. Hopefully, they aren’t dumb enough to think they’re getting any more information from me than they’ve already managed to obtain; although, I can’t help but consider how much easier my life would be if I gave up, like I threatened Mason earlier. Would I be thrown into prison too, for being an accessory to Mason’s doings? It’s the only fear stopping me from handing everything over. Allowing life to play out is pretty much the only choice I have at this point.
I grab my bag and fill it with the clothes I have and grab my cosmetics out of the bathroom, tossing them into the bag too. "Wow, that was fast. Looks like Axel sweet talked you pretty good, huh?" He laughs. Neither Axel nor I, are laughing though, which may be more of a giveaway than if we just laughed along with him.
"Don't question me, or I'll change my mind again," I tell him, exhaling with aggravation after I turn away from them.
"Meet us downstairs in an hour," Axel says. He walks past me as if we’re no more than strangers passing on the street. "Everett, are you coming?"
"Nah, I'll keep Harley company," he says.
Axel gives me a quick look, and I can only imagine what's going through his head. "I need your help, Everett," he says. "Let's go." Everett rolls his eyes and follows Axel out the door.
18
Axel
"What's the problem?" Everett asks me as we're heading down the hall toward the elevators. "Did I miss something?"
"You need to stay away from her," I tell him.
"Who?" Everett asks, playing dumb. He’s really good at that.
"Who do you think, jackass?"
"I knew it," he says. "You still have a thing for her, don't you?"
I reach up and squeeze my fingertips around the bridge of my nose. "She's Isabelle," I tell him.
Everett doesn't pause or seem surprised by this. It's what we've thought all along. "Are you shocked by this or something? How did you get her to admit it?"
"That's not important," I tell him.
"And we're going to D.C. with her," he reminds me. "So you must have some kind of plan."
"No," I tell him. "She's Harley, for all intents and purposes."
Everett stops in front of the elevator and presses the button before turning to face me. "Okay, I think I might be a little confused. You just said she's Isabelle."
"She's Harley, okay?"
"Dude, I—whatever you say, but what the hell are you doing? She’s literally the one thing standing between you having a criminal record for the rest of your life, and having a free and clear name. Let’s not make this a wasted trip to D.C."
I should have known this was going to be an issue. I should never have accepted this proposal in the first place, especially without knowing who was involved before I agreed. The worst part of all is that I don’t know if she understands the severity of what she was involved with. Isabelle had everything going for her—she could have had any career or job she desired, but instead, she followed Dr. Phillips around, shadowing him and his malpractices. She had to have known something wasn’t right. I sure as hell did.