When I pull my gaze away from him, I’m shocked that the yelling hasn’t begun. They seem to be scrutinizing me, so I let them. I can do this all night. But I need to move, so I tread around the perimeter of the room.
“Something’s off here,” Axel begins, “and I can’t put my finger on what that is. If you’d like to fill me in from the start, we can skip the bullshit.”
It would be a rookie move to speak before I’m certain what he’s pissed about. So, I silently pace in response.
“Fine,” he barks after a stretch of nothing. “You were asked to step up, to take one goddamn call, to move over to the more confidential side of our operation, which was a huge torch being passed on to you. And you had a girl under your desk for it. Let’s start there.”
That’s all speculation, so I maintain my stride and wait.
“Not just any girl,” Ryker breaks in, smooth and calculated. “Tessa. We checked the security cameras.”
That’s when I halt. And also when I decide to launch my next move. To an outsider, what I’m about to do would probably seem like I’m throwing someone under the bus to save my own ass, but that’s not the case. Because this is the kind of ammo that’s like a boomerang. It’s going to come right back and smack me in the face. But that’s all part of the plan.
It’s a deflection stew. If you throw in enough ingredients, they all blend together, and people can’t focus on one flavor.
Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I curl my fingers around my butterfly knife and shrug. “Might want to ask Cash about that.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Axel snarls, eyes searing my little brother.
Cash, who is settled into one of the boardroom chairs, knows exactly what I’m doing and comes through like a fucking champ. “That’s a long story. We’d have to go back to the cabaret girl.”
Jax’s head falls back, lips folded tight to stifle a laugh. And Axel is about thirty seconds from combusting because he glimpses the fuckery we’re determined to lay down.
But Ryker jostles his dice in his palm and investigates. This is an example of good-cop, bad-cop reversal. Ryker is generally the one huffing and puffing, but since Axel is barely composed, Ryker seems amused when he asks Cash, “The cabaret girl who tied you up naked? You want to talk about that?”
Cash scoffs. “You want to know why she did that sh—”
“Because you ditched her,” I cut him off.
“She knew the terms, going in,” he volleys, indignant.
“Stage-five clingers are dangerous,” Jax chimes in. “That was someFatal Attractionshit.”
“Not quite,” I argue. “She didn’t stalk all of us—”
Axel smacks the conference room table. “Why the hell are we talking abouther?”
Cash wags his finger at him. “There was a point to that sidebar.”
When he leaves it at that to guzzle his drink, I feel the love.
Ryker loses his patience with playing the good cop, yanking on his dark brown strands. “Mind fucking sharing that point?”
Cash flashes his sly grin. “I don’t mind. Thanks for asking so politely.” He flings a thumb toward me—or where I was on my pacing path two seconds ago. “Maddox was the one who encouraged her to do that.”
I wave it off before anyone gets too uptight. “That was to teach him a lesson. He was out of control.”
Axel’s jaw clenches. “You arranged for an employee—”
“Who he was fucking,” I fill in, and Jax loses the battle with his laughter.
“To tie him up in our sex club and leave him there?” Papa Axe finishes.
“I did. And if you’ll notice, that was the last time he fucked around with an employee, so you’re welcome.” I take a slight bow because theatrics really cloud their thinking, and before they can decide if they should yell about my confession, I hurl a finger at today’s instigator. “But what Cash did today was just plain vindictive.”
“Or a lesson in teaching you not to humiliate your own goddamn family,” he counters, cutting his hand through the air.
“There is a statute of limitations on that shit.” Flicking my butterfly knife, I let theclicksandclacksharmonize with my counterargument. “Lessons are no good if they aren’t timely. You held on to that shit for too many years, man. You gotta let stuff go.”
