Chapter 4: Chapter Four

Bexley

The Wolfe pack was cutting it fine, strolling into the boardroom like they all swung the world’s biggest dicks. Uncle Zane headed the procession. His beard wasn't as wild and unkempt as I remembered it to be. He cropped it short, which suited his angular jawline. Dad stood up to shake their hands, but I remained seated, casting them all a catty smile as they sauntered past. I used to call them A, B, C, and D. Asher and Braxton were always the dark-haired devils, and Cruz and Dominic were the poisonous blonds. A and D were the brains behind their quartet, and B and C were the brawn. It was how I could tell them apart.

I stored their profiles in my memory bank: Asher was the evil villain, Braxton was the sporty one, Cruz had an aura of danger, and Dominic clung to his Game Boy like it was a vital organ. They were as thick as thieves. Where one would go, the rest would follow. I always felt like an outsider. Like I was never good enough to join their stupid club.

Was that the root of my hatred? Did I resent them for pushing me out, when all I ever wanted was for them to accept me? Probably. I guess time doesn't heal all wounds.

"It's nice to see you, Bexley. I hope life has been treating you well," Braxton inquired.

I swallowed thickly. "It has. It's good to see you too," I lied through my teeth, and it showed.

I still held a grudge over the swimming pool incident.

Dad cast me a steely glare, warning me to 'play nicely'.

A permanent scowl creased my brow as I kept my guard up, waiting for them to show their true colours. It would only be a matter of time before they did. After all, you couldn't polish a turd, but you could roll it in glitter. Maybe they had Dad fooled, but they certainly didn't fool me.

"You look amazing," Cruz mentioned, dragging his gaze all over my body. Dominic was doing the same. Asher and Braxton followed suit.

It was unlike Cruz to make complimentary remarks. I couldn't believe it. Were they checking me out? In front of my dad, too. How could they be so shameless?

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with us with such short notice," Dominic added. "We can appreciate just how busy you are. If there's anything else we can do to accommodate you or make your stay more pleasurable, then don't hesitate to contact us. We're available night and day to cater to your needs." His eyes bounced down to my exposed cleavage, and he caught his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Dom, cut it out," Asher whisper-hissed, giving his brother an elbow nudge.

Oh my God, it was blatantly obvious what he wanted. Although I was flattered by that, my pride took the lead.

I slapped a hand over my chest. "I'm perfectly fine, thank you very much. My needs are none of your business." I glanced at Dad, but he was speaking to Zane.

He was talking in code; it was something he did whenever he met with Uncle Zane. He knew how much that pissed me off. The Wolfe Brothers were eyeing me up like an all-you-can-eat buffet. Some filthy part of me liked the way they were looking at me. Knowledge was power, and I intended to use it to my advantage. Maybe if I changed my attitude and flirted a little, I could have them eating out of the palm of my hand.

It was worth a try.

I stretched my leg out beneath the table and trailed my foot along what I thought was Dominic's shin. He didn't flinch, but Braxton did, sucking in a sharp intake of breath. His breathing stuttered and his nostrils flared.

Shit! Wrong brother.

We made eye contact, and I went with it, holding his gaze and casting a sultry smile.

"If I change my mind, I know where to find you," I added, twisting my pendant between my fingers to draw his line of sight to it.

Braxton's chest heaved beneath the suit. A look of dominance blazed behind his eyes. Did he realize I was playing them? I noted the challenging glint he cast back as if to say, 'game on.'

Damn it. This could backfire on me.

Asher's eyes twitched and formed suspicious slits. Nothing ever got past him, did it? I was sure they could all mind-link, holding private conversations inside their heads.

"Pressing on with important matters . . ." Dad took the lead. "We ought to lay all our cards down on the table, starting with me."

His comment snatched my attention, and I flashed my father a startled glance.

"Dad, what are you doing?" I asked in a moment of alarm.

Rule number one when cutting a deal — never be upfront and honest. A boardroom table was no different from sitting at a poker game. You had to hold your cards close to your chest and bluff like you were gambling with your life.

Dad scrubbed a hand over his stressed-out face. "Bexley, I need to be straightforward with you. I should have told you years ago."

My posture froze, and my lungs failed to function. A split-second of fear locked my mind into the present.

"Dad, what are you talking about?" My palms grew sweaty and moisture pooled from my pores like a wrung-out sponge.

"The businesses are just a smokescreen to hide what we're working on," he confessed, making no sense at all.

Had he gone mad and finally lost his marbles? What did he mean by a smokescreen? For what?

My gaze bounced from each pair of eyes in a game of “what the fuck is going on in here, roulette”.

"You better start talking," I warned, dreading his next words.

Dad reached out to take my hand, but I pulled away as our fingers touched. His eyes flinched with sorrow, but I didn't back down. He started this. He brought me here, and now he owed me a damn good explanation.

"We work for the Secret Intelligence Service, and so did your mum.” He pointed to my necklace. “She designed it herself. It's a key. When using the correct combination, it opens a file containing classified Military of Defence documents. Your mother died protecting those files. She entrusted you with her secrets,” he revealed, shocking me into oblivion.

"Jesus, it's hot in here?" I breathed, feeling overwhelmed.

My cheeks were heating to combustion-level, my upper lip and brow beading with perspiration.

“Why isn't the air conditioning turned on?” I complained, fighting to remove my jacket. "I can't breathe."

"I'll check," Asher offered, dragging his chair back.

The silky lining of my jacket clung to my arms as if it was afraid to let go. I couldn’t bring myself to look at the Wolfe brothers, but I could feel their eyes boring into me. My sleeve became caught on my watch bracelet and pulled itself inside out.

"Here, let me help," Asher tugged on the offending garment, freeing my arm.

"Thanks, I've got it," I uttered, snatching it from his grasp and flinging it across the back of my chair.

Dominic hurried to the window and flung it open. A life-saving breeze swept in to rescue me, quenching the fire that was raging inside. The vertical blinds did a Mexican wave around the room, just to add insult to injury. I plucked at my neck scarf, pulling it free. Asher huffed a smile, his almond-shaped eyes creasing at the corners.

"Better?" he asked, eyeing me fondly.

"What do you care?" I replied, briskly. "I just found out that my entire way of life has been a lie, and you're asking me if I feel better?" I pointed to my face. "Does it look as if I'm jumping for fucking joy?"

For the first time, I rendered Asher speechless.

"Bexley, that's enough," Dad scolded.

"This is bullshit," I exclaimed, burying my face in my hands. "I'm going back home to salvage what's left of my life."

"Please, just hear us out," Dad begged. "We need . . ."

"We need your help," Uncle Zane answered for him.

"Me?" I spluttered, looking around at them like a deer caught in the headlights. "What use could I be? I have a degree in business management. Not a licence to kill."

Cruz huffed a smirk. "That's my job."

"Oh my God, have you killed people?" I blurted out. "Actually, don't answer that. I don't want to know." I swatted my hand in dismissal.

Dad moved from his seat and crouched beside me. "I appreciate its difficult news to swallow, but it's all true. Your mother was an agent, and we believe a man known as The Chameleon poisoned her. She didn't die of cancer, but the symptoms were the same. It was easier to let you think that. That's why she became ill so suddenly, and why she wasn't able to have treatment."

My throat swelled with emotion and tears distorted my vision. "And you couldn't tell me this before?" I grimaced with despair. "My mother was murdered, and the man responsible is still out there living his life. He needs to be punished. He has to face justice for what he's done."

"And he will," Dad promised. "But first, we must destroy the one thing he's after — the classified files. It's only a matter of time before he strikes again. If he succeeds, then your mother died in vain. We can't risk the information being leaked to terrorist groups. It has to be destroyed."

The room was revolving, my mind was whirling — just like I was sitting on a carousel that kept spinning around and around relentlessly.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Braxton reinforced, backing up Dad. “But you're the only one who can decrypt the codes. We need to break them to destroy them. We can't risk them falling into the hands of The Chameleon.”

I flicked my gaze to my father. “Is this some kind of wind-up?” I asked, wondering whether a film crew was going to come bursting into the room and announce that I was being punked.

Braxton leaned forward in his chair and his eyes softened with warmth. "It's all true. We can verify it."

I didn't want them to prove it. I just wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

“Can I just take a moment to get my head around this?” I asked, pushing back on my chair.

Dad stood up and turned away, pinching the bridge of his nose. I needed to step out of the room and hyperventilate in private. Braxton's chair tipped backwards and toppled over as he leapt to catch me. Asher caught him by the arm and urged him to let me go. I ran down the corridor and bumped into an office junior, causing him to drop a stack of papers all over the floor. Tears were rolling down my face by this point. It embarrassed me to be seen like this, so I darted into the ladies’ toilets and ugly cried.