AXEL

Sparrow

Limitations, Knox hated them. He stared at the last lick of whiskey drowning in ice cubes at the bottom of his glass. He swirled the remainders around, the amber liquid slipping in and out of the ice cubes like Kit snaking through the mannequins in his warehouse.

He loved the thrill of the chase. The pretty little redhead sat across from him, her lean body slumped back in the brown leather armchair. Knox's eyes wandered down from her small breasts to her thighs, oh how he'd love to have them wrapped around him. Her legs wide open, the baggy denim shorts giving him a glimpse of her lacy underwear, inviting him when she knew that she was untouchable under Axel's watchful gaze.

Kit's lips twitched as Knox's icy blue eyes trailed back to her face.

"Ptichka, what would your mother say?" Knox abandoned the stray whiskey and melting ice cubes, placing the glass on a coaster. He pressed his elbows on the top of the desk and leant forward, nodding his head to her posture.

Her brow arched at the mention of her mother, "well she told me to ruin men." Kit rose from her seat and reached a scarred hand out, she plucked out an ice cube and popped it into her mouth. She fell back into the leather armchair, her tongue running down her fingers as it chased the warm whisky on her knuckles.

"Well, Victory, tell me how Henridge is doing?" His smile spread across his face, dimples appearing on his glowing skin.

The bastard was irresistibly beautiful, but beauty was danger in a place like this. Kit was well aware of monsters dressed in suits and wearing human skin.

She slammed the heel of her boot on the edge of the desk and crossed her legs. Dry mud shook from the pattern of her soles, a thin layer of dirt standing out against the stained wood. "Well, he's breathing," she mumbled crossing her arms over her chest.

Knox slammed his palm on the desk, "that's something we can change."

"We?" She blurted out smacking her hand over her chest.

A leather-clad hand cut through the tension in the room, Axel slapping Kit's boots down as he entered the room and took his usual seat on the left. His eyes lingered on the collection of first edition books adorning the shelves, red leather spines dripping with gold embossed letters of historians.

Axel pulled his gloves off and laid them on the desk in front of him, his finger tracing the nick on his jaw from his close shave.

Kit smoothed the stray hairs sticking to her forehead, the braid resting on her right shoulder a knotted mess and she wondered when the last time she'd brushed it. She fought the urge to lick her palm and tame the unruly curls that sprung out every time she tucked them behind her ears.

A smile tugged her chapped lips. "Oh, I see, this is the colleague that's going to end Henridge." Kit glanced to Axel before turning her attention to the monster across the room. "I thought you only killed women, Mr Stallen?" She tilted her head to the side and held a finger up to silence the two men. "You like men."

His muscles shifted under his tight shirt like a snake slithering through the swamp. Her fingers curled around the edge of the leather chair, waiting for him to snap. She heard Axel's deep sigh beside her, but she didn't dare look away from the predator in front of her.

"What a wild imagination you have, Ptichka." Knox chuckled, he unclasped the silver cufflink adorning his white shirt and threw them into a dish. His icy gaze flickered from the redhead and his fingers rolling up his sleeves. "I have a score to settle with Adrik Henridge."

Just saying Henridge's full name out loud made every bone in Kit's body lock, the heavy weight on her chest twisting in pain as she flinched. She ran her tongue along the top row of her teeth and narrowed her eyes at Knox. This man knew too much, even Axel didn't know Henridge's full name or the Russian nickname her mother used to call her as a child. And if he called her Victory one more time, she wasn't sure how she'd react. There was something about Knox Stallen that screamed familiar, and it wasn't the cold stare or the fake smile sitting on his pretty face.

Kit placed her boots back on the desk, the fountain pen in its metal case trembling. "Why me or Axel for that matter?"

"We all have a common objective," Axel interrupted, "Knox deals with death, I bury it."

She rolled her eyes, "Yes we get it. You don't kill the living. You dispose of the dead." Kit spued out the same line he'd been feeding her since she'd met him. "And what is that I'm supposed to do?" Kit's fingers dug into the leather armrest, her nails denting the thick fabric in her grasp.

Knox's smile faltered. He dragged the glass towards him and unscrewed the cap of Sparrows Vodka, an old company that went bust decades ago. "The only reason you're walking out of these doors, Ptichka is because you're the only one that can get me in and out of Danvers Organisation." He raised his glass, "to Victory," he said gulping back the Vodka.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she mumbled crossing her arms over her chest.

"Ah, I didn't have you down as being modest. You are the famous Red that escaped the compound more times than Adrik Henridge can count?" Knox rose from his chair and crouched beside Kit. He wound his finger around the curl of her stray hair.

She jerked away from him, "Henridge can't even count that high in English."

Axel snatched his gloves from the side, "I'm going to clean up your pretty blonde," he muttered under his breath as he shoved his hands in his pocket and he stopped in the doorway. "We have a deal, Knox. Remember it."

The door slammed behind Axel, a cold breeze sweeping through the room. Kit blinked back the tears, "who the fuck are you?" Knox reminded her of the cold hard truth waiting for her in the compound.

"I am just like you. I once held a gun to your mother, but I didn't pull the trigger. Tell me little Sparrow, how do go home when you've killed it?" His whispered breath curled around as he walked behind her and pressed his finger on the bird tattoo covering her shoulderblade.

Kit twisted in her seat and stared up at Knox, "I don't make things, I break them, I ruin them." She clenched her fists and bit the inside of her cheek, the taste of blood telling her this was real.

He placed his hands on the back of Kit's neck and squeezed her as he leant down to her face. "You ruin him like he ruined me. Your mother asked the same of me."