Chapter Forty One

Chapter Forty One
Bexley

We landed in a field not far from my house. It wasn’t a big enough area for the agents to land alongside us, which was just as well. It meant that Emilio and I could sprint across the grass and cut through a gap in the hedge without being accosted.

“Who do you think the father is?” Emilio asked as we hurried down the country road.

Only the crossroad junction was lit by lampposts, the rest of the lane was cloaked in darkness. Few cars came down this way, preferring to use the bypass several miles back the other way. Moonlight was our only light source, so it was just as well I knew my way around.

“It could be either one of them,” I answered, not wanting to think too much into it.

“But you know her best,” he pressed. “Who do you think she looks like?”

This was going to make me sound like a jealous bitch, but it was how I felt, and I didn’t know how to explain it without sounding awful.

“I don’t know; It’s hard to say. I just know that I don’t want my dad to be her father,” I replied, the words leaving a bitter aftertaste in my mouth.

We arrived at the front gates to my property and we stopped to catch our breath.

“I don’t mean that in a nasty way,” I mentioned. “I just don’t want it to be my dad. Anyone else but him.”

“I know what you’re saying,” Emilio added, understanding it from my point of view. “You don’t want to share a sister with your mother’s killer. That’s completely understandable.”

I swallowed hard as he uttered the words, having not thought about it that way before. Emilio had raised an excellent point. Susan was Caz’s mum, and she murdered my mum. Meaning, my half-sister would share the same DNA as my mother’s killer, and my dad. That was just too much to process. The actual reason I didn’t want Caz to be my half-sister wasn’t because of that. It should have been because of that, but it wasn’t. The real reason was because I wanted my dad all to myself. It was a jealous reason, and I was ashamed of myself for feeling that way. He was my dad. It had always been him, Mum, and me. I wasn’t prepared to share him with anyone. The thought of him and Susan together made me feel physically sick. I didn’t even like the thought of him banging the housekeeper in the Maldives. Emilio clapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was all okay, but I was far from okay.

“No,” I told him truthfully. “That wasn’t the reason at all. It should have been the first thing to pop into my mind, but all I could think about is keeping my dad all to myself. The guys have learned to work through their issues and share me between them, but what does it say about me? I’m clinging to my father like a spoiled, jealous child who is afraid he will love me a little less if Caz turns out to be his daughter. I haven’t learned how to deal with my jealousy issues at all. If anything, this just proves just how jealous I am. I can’t stand the thought of him getting intimate with another woman other than my mum, which is totally unreasonable. Dad is allowed to have a life. He shouldn’t have to live like a monk. I’m just having a hard time with letting him go.”

Emilio huffed a smile. “You’re talking about it, and that’s a start.”

“But it’s not right though, is it?” I swallowed down a lump of remorse. “I know how badly Caz has been let down throughout her life, and I know my dad would make her feel like a priority. He would never pick a favourite. He isn’t like that. He would love us both equally. I have loved her like a sister since we bonded through our school days. It’s my stupid jealousy that’s the issue. I’m a terrible friend, and I’ll be an even shittier sister.”

“Yet here you are, prepared to die to save her,” he pointed out. “I don’t think you’re terrible at all. In fact, you’ll be the most loyal, bravest, best friend, and sister that Caz could ever ask for. She could be my sister yet. She’ll need to take a DNA test, then we’ll find out who her father is when we get her back in one piece.”

I cleared away the overgrown shrub from blocking the keypad, then typed in a code to unlock the gates.

“I’ll go on ahead,” I told Emilio. “If you creep around to the back of the building, climb the trellis to the balcony bedroom, you’ll be able to let yourself in. The code I typed into the keypad activated a warning signal. It meant that the doors and windows were now unlocked. I designed the system myself. It allowed my dad to see everything that was going on via an app on his phone. He could instruct the agents on what to do when they get here.

We reached the end of the drive and saw that my front door had been left ajar. Crumpled cigarette butts littered my doorstep. Topiary trees stood at either side of my door in tall pots, and someone had shoved an empty cig packet into one of the spherical shrubs. Emilio darted around the landscaped garden, keeping out of sight of the windows. Susan would think that I came here alone, just as we planned.

I reached for the gun that I stashed in my waistband, keeping a firm hold on the grip. Carlos and Tania’s voices could be heard muttering in Spanish. The sounds were coming from the kitchen and it seemed like they were disagreeing about what they should do next. I just hoped that Emilio remained unseen, using the cover of night to cloak his movements. As they had probably noticed, the security lights were no longer working as they should. Only I had access to the security system because this was my domain, my houseful of tricks to trap them inside. I used the app on my phone to trigger the locking mechanism in the kitchen, sealing the doors and windows shut, and isolating the electricity supply. They had access to running water, but that was about it. I heard them panicking, rattling the door handle, wondering what was going on. Then three gunshots echoed around the house. One of them had tried to shoot at the locks, but it was no use, that wouldn’t be enough to open the seven-point locking system I had installed. Aside from the glass windows, this house was like Fort Knox.

“Bexley,” Susan chimed in a sing-song voice meant to intimidate me. “I know you’re here. Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

I heard footsteps coming from inside the living room, then saw movement from the upstairs hall. Emilio made a “Psst” sound and waved to me as I backed against the wall, my gun pressed lengthways against my chest. He jabbed his finger at the doorway, informing me that Susan was there. I sidestepped around to the dining room doorway, where I could enter the living room from another access point. The false bookcase served as a secret passage, allowing me to take Susan by surprise and gain me a better vantage point. The floor-to-ceiling windows would provide the perfect view from the gardens. If the agents wanted a clear shot at the Chameleon, they would get one from there. Emilio watched from the balcony hall as I slipped through the false door, then Susan’s footsteps came to a sudden halt as she discovered an empty entrance hall. I found Caz tied to a chair in the same position I saw her in the night before. Those bastards had beaten her and then strapped an oxygen mask to her face. Her left eye was swollen shut and she had dark purple bruising all over her face. Any jealousy I felt about Dad being her father vanished in that instant. Sure, she was my best friend, but a strong protective urge swept over me, making me want to open fire at Susan and empty a cartridge of bullets into her chest. What if she was my sister? My flesh and blood. That same fierce protectiveness Dad and I shared had me seeing red.

Caz lifted her beaten gaze and noticed me standing there. She shook her head, spilling a fresh tear from her eye. I raised my hand to my lips, silencing her. Then I edged through the open doorway, just in time to see Susan coming back. She raised her weapon at the sight of me standing there with a gun pointed at her head, the sheer look of bewilderment painted on her face as to how I managed to slip past her unnoticed.

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot,” I cautioned her, seeing her hands slowly rising at either side of her head.

“There’s no need for hostilities, Bexley,” Susan spoke calmly.

She seemed way too composed for a woman who was staring death in the face. Asher taught me all abut the art of bluffing, and Susan Wolfe was calling my bluff.