“Oh look,” Evan’s silver haired father commented with heavy sarcasm, “Only thirty eight minutes late. This must be some kind of record for you four.” His beady gaze turned to me and he corrected himself. “Five.”

A gentle push to my lower back from Dylan encouraged me to take a seat when they all did, and I found myself sitting directly opposite my vile, conceited birth mother.

“It was late notice,” Beck replied with that perfectly flat tone, betraying nothing. “And traffic was bad.”

The disturbingly handsome older version of Beck sitting opposite him snorted a sound of disbelief as he shook his head.

“You insolent child,” he spat at his son, “if I weren’t bound by Delta traditions and seventeen hundred pages of legal documents, I’d be refusing your succession to this council.”

A cold, cruel smile curved Beck’s lips, and I needed to look away to stop from gasping.

“But you are,” he replied to his father, “bound, that is. Now, what have you called us here for? I’m assuming something needs to be done that you old fucks lack the finesse to pull off on your own.”

Catherine—nowhere near as practiced in “blank Delta face”—looked like she was about to shit an egg before Mr. Langham spoke over her.

“There is a charity gala this evening at City Hall. We’ve all been invited, as have Graeme and Christie. No doubt some of their spawn will be attending also.” His lip curled a little in disgust as he said those names, and it took me a moment to click the pieces together.

Oh, shit. Graeme and Christie Huntley were invited?

This ought to be interesting.

Was it a bit twisted that I was curious to meet the bastards responsible for almost killing all of us in that plane crash? Not to mention the murderers they sent after us to make sure the job was done. Oh, and their daughter of course. She was a real delight.

I opened my mouth to say something on the matter, but Beck’s hand closed over my knee under the table, silencing me.

“You called us in to attend a gala?” Beck asked, flat and skeptical.

“Bullshit,” Jasper commented from his seat where he lazed like it was a beanbag. He was slouched low, his hands folded behind his head and his legs wide. I was pretty sure he was only a minute away from putting his feet up on the table.

“Appearances are important,” Mr. Grant informed us. “Delta did not grow as large and as powerful as it has, without us always presenting a united front.” This time his gaze landed on me. “I’m sure you’ve learned the importance of a united front now, Miss Deboise?”

My temper flared, and I needed to sink my fingernails into my leg to stop from screaming at these megalomaniac fruit loops. Was Dylan’s dad seriously making casual mention about my attack at school like it was some kind of educational exercise? Fuck me, if I found out they had anything to do with it…

Beck firmly withdrew my fingers from my knee and wrapped my hand in his. We were hidden by the table, but still it sent a spike of panic through me that someone would see.

“But to answer your question, Son,” Mr. Beckett continued, “No, that’s not all. We have reason to believe Senator Green has been up to his old tricks again, but he’s been using his office at City Hall rather than his home—which you know we have closely monitored. He’s apparently created a hidden room behind one of the bookshelves, which is where he’s storing all the video equipment along with the recordings. We need you to get in there during the gala and procure one of the tapes.”

I was totally lost but was getting a vague idea that this Senator Green was a dodgy motherfucker.

“Of who?” Dylan asked.

“Natalia Petrova,” Evan’s dad replied. I was slowly figuring out which face belonged to which man, but I couldn’t remember most of their names. I’d never really cared enough to ask. As far as I was concerned, they were all evil, old, and fucks. Nothing else was important to know.

Evan let out a low whistle and Jasper made a small sound of surprise.

“Konstantin Petrov’s daughter? This senator either has shit for brains or balls of steel, I can’t decide which.” Jasper sounded genuinely impressed, and now I was even more confused.

“Konstantin Petrov is a Russian mob boss,” Dylan whispered in my ear while the attention was on Jasper. “If this senator has a recording of himself fucking Petrov’s daughter, it’s invaluable blackmail material.”

“Wait,” I blurted, bringing all eyes on me, “You’re telling me this senator fucks girls in his office and secretly films it? That’s revolting, not to mention illegal.”

Everyone just sort of stared at me for a moment, then Catherine snorted an ugly, condescending laugh, and Mr. Grant just rolled his eyes.

“Miss Deboise,” Beck’s dad drawled, “you have a lot to learn.” Turning back to his son, he clasped his hands in front of him. “You have your mission. Don’t fail.”

“Appropriate evening wear will be delivered to your rooms. You’re dismissed.” This came from Catherine, and I had to resist the urge to reach across the table and smack her straight in the arrogant, Botox filled face. Not because I had anything against evening wear, just her in general.

The guys all stood without any further arguments so I followed their example.

None of us spoke again until we were inside the elevators, at which point I opened my mouth to ask a million and one questions, but Dylan gave me a sharp head shake.

“Not here,” he told me, his Delta mask still in place. Looking around, all of them still had their Delta masks in place. Did that mean someone could be watching us?

Of course it did. This was Militant Delta, not some above the line legal company. Well, sure, their banking and investments looked above board, but they were so fucking deep in other illegal things, that they should spend the next 400 years in prison.

Once in the parking lot, we all piled back into the SUV and Jasper drove us out of the Delta Headquarters. It wasn’t until we were out on the busy street in front of the towering skyscrapers that the tension slipped from the guys and their Delta faces melted away.

“Okay, Butterfly,” Beck sighed, “Fire away.”

I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shifted slightly in his seat to face me and arched a brow. Fuck him for being so damn sexy. “You’re practically vibrating with all your questions, and we’re as safe as we’re ever going to be in Jasper’s car. So have at it. Ask away.” His lush lips curved with a teasing sort of smile, totally capturing my attention.