Chapter 6: Chapter Six

Cruz

“You better take good care of my daughter, or else,” Jaxx warned, staring us all down. He glimpsed over his shoulder. “Speaking of Bexley . . . where is she?”

I cleared my throat. “I’m sure Braxton and Asher are bringing her here as we speak,” I replied, hopefully.

Either that, or they were busy spit-roasting her in the ladies’ toilets.

Dad scowled, lifting his finger to point at me. “I need you to call me with regular updates. If you spot anything unusual, I want you to get Bexley out of there. Do you understand me?”

“Of course,” I responded, scrunching my face with irritation. “We’re not amateurs.”

Uncle Jaxx’s face lit up as he saw past Dominic and me.

“There they are,” he announced, giving a vigorous wave.

I turned to see Bexley hurrying across the rooftop, holding on to Braxton’s hand. Asher lagged a few strides behind, carrying her handbag, jacket, and scarf.

“Dad, what about my luggage?” Bexley mentioned as soon as she reached us. “I left it all at the hotel.”

Jax pulled Bexley into a tight hug. “I’ll take care of it,” he promised.

Bexley’s expression pinched with emotion. “I love you, Dad.”

Jaxx stroked her hair and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I love you too.” He drew back and braced her shoulders. “Do as they tell you and try not to be so stubborn. This isn’t a game, sweetheart.”

Bexley nodded, her brows dimpling in the middle. “Stay safe, Dad. I’ll see you soon.”

Jaxx managed a delicate smile. “You too.”

He released Bexley and steered her into the chopper, flashing us all another warning look. “I’m counting on you, boys. Don’t let me down.”

“We won’t,” we all pledged.

“Take care, Uncle Jaxx,” I answered, returning a curt nod out of respect.

Dad lifted his hand in a simple wave as Jaxx slid the door closed. Braxton assisted Bexley with her harness. Dominic offered her a stick of gum, but she politely declined. Asher flashed me a winning grin that I instantly recognized. His scheme had worked. Something had transpired between Braxton and Bexley, just like Asher had arranged.

I fucking love it when a plan comes together.

“What the hell am I going to do about clothes?” Bexley fretted half-way into our journey.

“Who said anything about wearing any clothes?” Dominic teased, wiggling his eyebrows, suggestively.

Bexley blanched. “You better be joking.”

“He is,” I assured, beating Asher to it. “You will find everything you could possibly need in your room.”

I expected Dominic to retort with a witty comeback, but the held his tongue. It was a good thing too. We didn't want to piss her off, or worse . . . spook her by confessing the details of our fathers' pact. She might jump head-first into the Thames, and it was a long way down from this height. I didn’t fancy giving her a sky-diving lesson, just yet.

Bexley narrowed her eyes. “You picked out clothes for me?”

This time, Asher jumped into the discussion. “Yes, you’re a size ten, right? You wear a size six shoe, and a thirty-four C bra?”

Her face contorted with outrage. “How did you? You must've . . . uh! How dare you invade my privacy!” she ranted, getting all incensed over nothing.

If this was going to work between us, and I’m not just talking about our potential harem, I mean us working together to catch the Chameleon, then all this unnecessary drama had to stop.

“We’re part of a team, and that includes you too,” I interjected, adopting a no-nonsense approach. “We have planned this entire operation right down to the finest detail. It's our job to leave no stone unturned. I know everything there is to know about you; your weight, height, eating habits, everything down to your fucking menstrual cycle. Say, for shits and arguments sake, that we have to evacuate to safety. You can rest assured that we have everything prepared in advance. That includes packing Tampons.”

Bexley swallowed that information, taking some time to let it digest. “That uh . . . that makes sense,” she conceded, her fierce scowl disappearing from her face. “I appreciate that you're treating me as an equal part of the team. So, thank you.”

“No problem,” I added, flashing a lazy grin. “You can thank Dominic for picking out your underwear… or lack thereof.”

Bexley cast Dominic a sceptical frown, which he returned with a flirtatious wink. She rolled her eyes and huffed a defeated sigh. I spotted movement between Bexley and Braxton and saw their pinkie fingers lock together. They assumed I couldn’t see them from this angle, but the reflection in the glass never lies. I was almost envious of him, but patience was a virtue. I would have my chance with her soon enough. We arrived home less than thirty minutes later. Bexley marvelled through the window, admiring the stunning view of the quartz sandy coast.

“I can’t believe it’s been so many years since I came here,” she muttered, more so to herself. “Mum adored this place. She always talked about moving down here when she retired.” Her eyes glazed like polished glass.

Braxton turned to her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “We all loved your mother, Bex.”

She lay her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes for a moment. Seeing her take comfort from him didn’t spike my jealousy like I thought it might. It felt just as natural as breathing.

“I remember the time she came to our nursery school's Christmas play,” Dominic mentioned, capturing Bexley’s attention. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she listened to him, a wistful smile tugging the corners of her lips. “You know . . . before our dad took us out of regular education.”

“Some kids at school used to make fun of us for not having a mum, and they saw your mum waving at us from the audience. She was sitting between your dad and ours with a huge, beaming grin on her face like she was proud of us, you know? You were there too, but you were pouting and complaining that it was boring. You were wearing a red coat and gold tinsel in your hair.”

Bexley chuckled. “I think I remember that.”

“Well, one kid asked if your mum was ours, and I told him she was. I didn't even feel bad about lying.” He held Bexley’s gaze and a mutual understanding passed between them.

“Even though I pretended, I felt proud to call her our mother,” he continued. “She was the kind of parent you wished you had. I just wanted you to know that it's okay to miss her and remember her all at the same time. I feel her sometimes . . . especially when I'm out surfing or sitting on the beach, waxing my board. I turn to look at the balcony and I know in my heart that she's there.”

Bexley’s tears quivered on the rim of her eyelids. “Thank you, Dom. That means a lot to me.”

He pressed his lips together in a narrow smile, then glanced through the window to conceal his grief. We all took a moment to reflect on the people we had lost and count our blessings for all the things we were lucky enough to have, or likely to receive. Time was short. I had never taken a day of it for granted, and nor will I ever. We had just days to train and prepare Bexley for the greatest adventure of her life. I don't know where that will take us, but if she falls in love with us along the way, I will resign from the agency and walk away from this way of life for good. The next endeavour for me would be to live, love, and lay down some roots.

I had given so much of myself to this country, but now it was time for me to devote myself to another queen.

Dominic

My emotions like to creep up on me when I least expect them to, kicking me right in the balls. I could count on one hand all the times I’d broken down over the years. Not counting the early stages of childhood, when I was a baby, or when I dropped my ice-cream onto the sand or stepped on Lego, or when the bank of Dad said “no”. I have cried over trivial things as all children do, but that's irrelevant. I'm talking about post fifteen “shit-happens” kind of grief. Like making the heart-breaking decision to have my beloved Retriever, Pixel put down. Her liver was failing, and she was going blind in both eyes. She was old and had lived a glorious life, but it still killed me to say goodbye. Another occasion was when I crashed my first-ever car, writing it off on the motorway. I bawled like a baby at the end of The Fast and the Furious 7, which was emotional as fuck. There wasn’t a dry eye in the cinema. But the worst was when Dad told us that Bexley’s mother had passed away, and when he named the man responsible. It was a cruel, callous attack on a woman that didn't deserve it. That only left one finger unchecked. But I don't plan on shedding any more tears.

Not if I can help it.

There’s no point in dwelling on the past because it won't change anything. I didn’t own a time-travelling DeLorean that could take me back to stop the Chameleon, but I could fixate on inventing gadgets to catch him. That way, we could focus on living the rest of our lives without constantly looking over our shoulders.

Bexley relaxed as soon as we touched down onto the helipad. As we reached the house, I punched the six-digit code into the control panel on the door and pressed my thumb against the touchscreen. The green laser light scanned my print, and the lock clicked open. Her heels clacked against the marble tiles, echoing in the vast open space. Light flooded in through the domed skylight, the golden fleck to glittering across the floor.

“I forgot how jealous I am of your home,” Bexley commented. "It's so clean, bright, and luxurious. Just look at the that," she said, gesturing towards the bifolding doors in the kitchen. "How beautiful is that? You get to eat breakfast with a panoramic view of the ocean."

"Make yourself at home," Cruz insisted. "What's ours is yours."

Bexley cast him a quizzical look, but he was quick to add, "Partner," to the end of his statement.

Our residence was now hers, subject to contract. Any other time I would have thrown that into the conversation, but I didn’t want to jinx it. We still had to convince her to stay here and marry us. Well, technically, sign a civil contract that would bind her to each of us. I wasn't worried. We could be pretty persuasive when we wanted to be.

“Would you like something to drink, Bex?” Asher offered. “Tea, coffee, perhaps something stronger?”

She took a seat at the breakfast bar, her elbows resting against the cream marble countertop.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” she answered, not seeming fussy.

“Is beer okay?” Asher asked.

Bexley scrunched her nose and shook her head. “No, on second thoughts… I’ll have a glass of your dad’s best Chardonnay. I know he has a cellar full of the stuff. That’s the only reason I agreed to come.” The underlying humour in her tone implied she was only joking.

Nope, she is still as fussy as ever.

Asher huffed a smirk and chortled to himself. I could tell he was thinking the same as me: she was going to be quite a handful. Lucky for her, he had the patience of a saint. We were the same in that respect. Cruz and Braxton were the dominant ones who wouldn’t stand for any crap. Here’s believing that Braxton pulls through on Asher’s ice-breaker challenge and fucks her ready for the rest of us.

Asher dragged a condensation-glazed bottle from the chiller. “Hand me the bottle-opener, please,” he asked Braxton because he was standing right next to the drawer.

Our brother obliged, disturbing the utensils as he searched for it. “Here, don’t cork it like last time,” Braxton muttered, poking fun at his twin.

Under a minute later, Asher filled a glass and handed it to Bexley. Her fingers coiled around the stem, and she brought the rim to her lips.

“Mmm,” she made a grateful noise as she savoured the taste. “Better than sex.”

“Then you’ve been having shit sex,” I voiced, confounded by that.

Bexley bounced her shoulders in a disinterested shrug. “It’s been too long to recall.”

I saw the audacious look upon Braxton’s face and smirked to myself, knowing he was about to knock the cobwebs off her formally redundant pussy. With that amount of muscle powering a ten-inch cock, he would be sure to have her howling the house down.

Cruz loosened the knot of his tie and pulled it free. “Who’s up for a cookout tonight? I feel like we should celebrate.”

I raised my eyebrows with intrigue. One mention of the waterfront and I was game. “Count me in.”

Asher, Braxton, and Bexley liked the sound of that too.

“So, what happens after tonight?” Bexley aimed her question at Cruz.

He leaned back against the kitchen counter as he removed both his cuff-links.

“We will need to prepare,” he enforced, looking at her dead in the eye. “You’ll be spending time with each of us. I will show you some basic self-defence techniques. Asher will train you how to think and react under pressure. Braxton will teach you how to handle a gun, and Dominic will kit you out with some exceptional spy gadgets.”

Bexley snapped her gaze to me, her eyes wide with awe. “I get to play with spy gadgets?” The excitement in her voice was too cute, even for a softie like me.

“I’ve been saving the best for a queen like yourself,” I told her, stroking her ego. “But it’s a surprise that I’m keeping for another day.”

Bexley was mesmerized. I guess Asher was right — she was crying out for some action and was craving an adrenaline rush.

“I still can’t believe you all work for MI6 — my dad, too. Right under my nose for all this time. I should have known something was off. I bet this house is like Tracy Island with fucking rocket ships that pop out of the swimming pool, and secret doors that lead to an underground lair. It wouldn’t surprise me. I’ve seen every James Bond film that ever was; I know how things work.”

Cruz barked with laughter. “Oh, dear. You might need to lower your expectations a little. You’re talking about the British Secret Service; they are a bunch of tight-arse twats when it comes to blowing the budget. We do have an underground shooting range though.” He jerked his head toward me. “And this one has a workshop where all the magic takes place.”

I rolled my eyes at that comment. “It doesn't just happen in there,” I added. “Most of that goes on in the bedroom.”

Bexley flicked her eyes up and down as if she expected my lewd comeback.

“You don’t believe me, eh?” I muttered, fully intending to prove my point.

“I believe you,” she chuckled. “But thousands wouldn’t.”

"You haven't changed one bit," I asserted, flinging the truth out there. "You're just as snarky as ever." I slapped a hand over my heart, pretending to be wounded.

"Me?" Bexley snorted. "I think you'll find it was the other way around, she circled her finger to gesticulate what she meant. "You were the nasty ones. Not me."

Asher scrunched his lips as he thought. "Maybe we should erase the past and start on a clean slate."

He raised his beer bottle, and we all did the same. Bexley rolled her eyes and wiggled her almost empty glass in front of her.

"To new beginnings!" Asher toasted.

We all drank to that. All except Bexley who stared up at Asher with a sarcastic expression on her face.

"Oh? I was holding out my glass for a top-up," she muttered, giving the glass another wiggle.

She was asking for trouble. The little minx was hell-bent on pushing our buttons, just like old times. My brothers and I were going to take great delight in seducing her into submission. I was going to show her just how magical a night with me could be. Did she honestly think I spent all of my time own in my workshop inventing spy-gadgets? I had an arsenal of sex-toys that could get her wetter than springtime in England.

Bexley Barker . . . you're in so deep and you don't even know it yet.