Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

Mason

Mase: Not sure when I'm coming home, but I'll call you tonight.

Nine: Is there a new national emergency, sir?

Mase: Yes. Has Porter contacted you?

Nine: No.

Mase: Call me if he tries, please.

Nine: Should I be concerned?

Mase: No. Everything will be fine.

I pocket my phone and enter the Decker's house. Hawk and Harrison are behind me. Dad is in the foyer, standing rigidly with his eyes fixated on the three of us.

"Hey, Mr. B." Harrison shakes hands with my father.

"Bradley Senior." Hawk does the same. "Pleasure to see you, sir."

"Nice to see you both." Dad tilts his head toward the living room. "Can you sit for a moment? I need to have a chat with my son."

Dad doesn't wait for them to respond. He takes a few steps and opens the door, ushering me outside. Instead of saying anything, I hand him the folder with the information I have. The database of donors and the properties they are using as warehouses.

"You're dating Ainsley Decker," he says without opening the folder. "Why would you do that? I'm not sure if you're ready for that, Son."

He stares at me. I wait for him to say something else, and the silence continues until I break it, "Yes. I'm dating her."

He shakes his head, and I don't like that he doesn't approve of my relationship. My father tried hard to be there for me, but I bet he spent more time with the Decker's children than me. This worry is about her and not his only son.

"Concentrate on this, Dad." I point at the folder. "I'm not discussing my relationship with Nine."

"Mason, can't you see you're not ready? You can't even commit to leasing an apartment. The idea of owning a house gives you hives." His eyes darken.

Not the first time he disapproves of my life.

"I'll be here when you need me, Son." He places a hand on top of my shoulder and squeezes it.

Why does everyone offer me a shoulder to cry on? Dad takes his gaze away from me and directs it toward the folder I gave him.

"No. There must be some mistake. Are you sure?"

"Of the data? Yes. I'm running a thorough investigation, Dad. I wanted to clear the Deckers first. If they need a lawyer, I'll send you the code. Can we talk to them?"

"Yes, of course. They're waiting for you in Gabe's office." Dad opens the door of the house, and we both enter.

"Dad, if it came to them or me?"

"The answer is obvious. You." He shakes his head. "There's no contest. This isn't about you, but a job. You're my son."

He stops and looks at me with that semi-pissed and serious face that I've never understood if it meant he was worried or angry.

"You need to let the past go, Son. If your mother had given me full custody of you, I'd have switched my line of work and dedicated my life to you."

There's not much time to process what he said or ask questions as Harrison and Hawk join us. We all walk to the office where Christian Decker is pacing back and forth, and Gabe is watching outside the window.

"Is Ainse okay?" Christian stops right in front of me. "The boys called, asking us if we knew anything about Porter and the house in Austin."

Those three communicate with each other too quickly. I should use them on my team.

"Yes, of course." At least, the last time I checked. "My business here doesn't involve her—directly."

Before I start the recording, I answer my girl's last message.

Mase: Stop overthinking and worrying. I promise to talk about it as soon as I can. Enjoy your day.

Nine: Enjoy? If you call my brothers ganging up on me to make me cook ‘fun,' then I'm having a blast. Can I text you later?

Mase: Yeah, take your time, and don't let the paybacks get out of hand.

Nine: Now, how much fun would that be? You go and do your ninja thing. I'll keep these two on their toes. xoxo

A side-smirk stretches the muscles of my mouth. She's too competitive for her own good. Everyone is staring at me, and I put away my phone and take out the small recording device.

"Nine, okay?" Hawk asks, and I nod. "Don't worry, we finish this, and you can go home. A few days with her naked will take away that edge you carry."

The Deckers clear their throats while I give Hawk a murderous glare and keep my hands busy before I deck him.

"Have you met Gabe and Chris Decker? Her parents." I quirk a brow and send him a menacing glare.

"Gabe, Chris, meet Harrison Everhart and Anderson Hawkins."

Fuck, Hawk mouths, sorry.

"I'm going to record this conversation," I warn them. "We're not using this as evidence unless I have to save our asses."

"We trust you, Mason," Chris stares at me. "Not with my daughter, though."

Well, that's another story.

"Are you aware that you donate a monthly sum of five thousand dollars to Salva a Los Ni?os ?" I mispronounce the entire name. Bring me some French, Arabic, or Japanese, and I can read it fluently, but my Spanish is rusty.

"We donate to a lot of different non-profits, Mason." Gabe's blue eyes harden, and his stiff posture is directed at me. "The answer is probably, yes. My husband loves Mexico, and there are children involved. There's no point arguing with his logic on why we should help a good cause. Is that a new felony?"

"No." I swallow the big knot in my throat. These two men are good people, and I hate to tell them that the good cause is a sham. Someone is using their money for other things instead of saving children. "Are you aware of what the organization does?"

"Yes," Christian answers. "They have different group homes where they give children a house to live in and educate them on how to live."

"So, you know what I'm talking about?" He nods, but Gabe remains impassive. "What if I tell you they are a different organization?"

"No." Chris walks around the desk and types a few things on the computer keyboard, then turns the screen around to show me. "This is what they do. We researched this, boy. We've been helping for the past year or so. Porter, who, like I did, had a pretty miserable childhood, brought this to me."

I hand them the folder with the pictures of the paramilitary camps, the children that are between the ages of sixteen and twenty training with guns in their hands. A list of their suppliers, what they supply to the young minds in that country, and what they import into our country.

"This is…" Chris's head drops.

"We didn't know any of this," Gabe tells me. "But why are you investigating it?"

"A job, like any other I take," I explain. "You have no idea of everything that my company does. This is another portion. I'm helping an agency take down this group, and to do so, I have to do research—and I don't like what I found." I take the other folder and show them the list of people who donate monthly to the cause. Celebrities who, like them, swear they are helping children. The properties they use are included, and I wait several minutes until both of them turn paper white. I know exactly what they have read.

"She wouldn't." Gabe opens his eyes wide as if pleading for me to understand. "Wait, why does she own a house?"

"That's the place Porter wanted to sell," Chris says. "That's the only money he has left, and he needed it. I refused to help him because he'd use the money for drugs."

"Why is the property under her name?" Gabe questions.

"Because he bought the house for her, babe," Chris replies, and my stomach churns. Even Kendrick is capable of buying a house for my girl. I can't think that far ahead in my life. "She can sell it."

"No, the last time we checked, the place is being confiscated," Hawk intercedes. "The DEA and the FBI are taking care of it. Some of our operatives are helping them. They are arresting whoever is inside, confiscating everything. We recorded a conversation with Ainse that she had no idea about the current tenants or that the house belongs to her. It's a measure to keep her out of trouble."

Gabe and Chris sigh and they hold each other for solidarity and strength. No wonder Nine believes in fairy tales. These two make me want to have that exact connection, support, and admiration of another person. From my Nine.

"For now, I need you to stop the monthly donations," I advise them, shaking away the mess inside my head. My father is right; I can't even imagine signing a six-month lease. My relationship with Nine makes less sense after looking at what she might want from us if I don't incorporate some limits.

"Ainse?" both parents ask. "Will she be safe?"

I nod. I'll give my life to save hers.