Page 61 of Trapped Truth

“You shouldn’t have had to handle it at all. We’ll get to the bottom of your breach in security, I promise. None of you will be put in that position again.”

Letting Warner and Hyland walk ahead, Kade shakes Blaine’s hand somewhat awkwardly then guides us through his home. The decor is simple but tasteful. Bright splashes of colour, blossoming house plants and a collection of hand-painted artwork warm up the generous square footage.

“Ripley’s work.” Warner gestures to a wall covered in art. “She’s talented with an easel.”

“She painted all of these?” I can’t help but gape, thoroughly impressed.

“Doubt she’d let us hang anything not created by her,” Kade quips.

“Damn, she really is good.”

“Her abstract work is phenomenal.”

The open-plan kitchen living space lies ahead of us through a large archway, bustling with life and conversation. Their Christmas tree takes pride of place. The tip of the oversized fir almost brushes the vaulted ceiling, adorned with an eclectic variety of homemade decorations and mismatched bows.

“Who let this big kid into my kitchen to steal cookies?” a female voice demands, rasping with exasperation.

“I’m a fully grown adult,” Axel responds around a mouthful.

“The chocolate chips melted on your face would disagree, Axel Slaughter! Get out!”

“Run, Logan! Take the cookies!”

Standing barefoot in the kitchen, a willowy woman with platinum hair pulled up into a sloppy ponytail wears a glower that would unnerve most grown men. Even I’m a little intimidated by her steely exterior.

Assessing grey eyes scan over us, perfectly round underneath inky lashes that dapple light across her sharp cheekbones and pale, alabaster skin. Even dressed in an oversized vintage tee, I can tell she’s muscled and fit.

I try not to linger on the stark scars that mar both her arms, visible in short sleeves. The scars appear old and faded, creating a patchwork quilt of vertical and horizontal marks, covering every available inch of skin.

“Come in, don’t be shy.” She flaps a hand for us to enter. “Introduce us, Kade. I want to meet the kick-ass agent I’ve been hearing all these stories about.”

“Ember, this is our wife, Brooklyn.” Kade stoops to kiss her thoroughly. “Brooke, Ember. Play nice.”

“I’m always nice.” She swats him away.

“Uh-huh. Infamously so.”

“Shut it, you.” Brooklyn trains her gaze on me. “Hey, Ember. Welcome.”

“Hello. Thanks for having us over.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve fed these boys. The more the merrier in this house. Frankly, I’ll take any free babysitting I can get.”

“I’m not a baby!” a young voice loudly protests.

Rolling around in front of the Christmas tree on a dark wool rug, a little boy breaks off chunks of cookie to share with Axel, sitting by his side. As I smile in greeting, I’m struck by the crystal-clear opacity of his aquamarine jewels.

Hudson’s eyes.

The kid rolls up onto his feet then approaches to exchange a fist bump with Warner. He’s slim and lanky, the shock of jet-black hair on his head making his cute face and button nose seem starker.

“This is Logan.” Brooklyn smiles warmly at the boy. “Our firstborn.”

“Hi, Logan. You have chocolate around your mouth. Saving it for later?”

His big pink tongue flops out to swipe over his lips. “Mm, so good!”

“See?” Axel pouts from his spot on the floor. “Logan started it.”