Chapter 5 Who Are You?

The car came to a stop in the parking lot, it’s lights were dim and flickering., Alex quickly got out from the front seat to open the door for Jaxon. As Jaxon stepped out, his men stood firmly behind him, prepared to follow his commands with unwavering focus. Jaxon’s eyes swept the area with sharp vigilance, fully alert. Suddenly, the headlights of an SUV parked among the other vehicles blazed to life, and armed men emerged from concealed corners, their heavy guns gleaming under the dim light. Despite the sudden show of force, Jaxon remained composed, his gaze fixed on the SUV. The vehicle’s door swung open, and out stepped a fat, bald-headed man with a confident smirk. He wore a vintage shirt and a thick gold chain that gleamed against his chest. "Waverly!" the man called out, spreading his arms wide. "Apologies for the dramatic welcome," he said with a casual shrug, gesturing at the armed men stationed strategically around the lot, their weapons trained on Jaxon and his entourage. "You can never be too careful these days, right?" "Fine." Jaxon forced a smile. "Shall we get straight to business, Mr. Wommie?" "Why so serious? Your father and I were great business partners—we always had a little chat before diving into work." "There’s nothing else to discuss besides business, Mr. Wommie. I’m not my father," Jaxon replied firmly. He stepped forward, his gaze keen on him. "You mentioned you had some information for me," Jaxon said. "Indeed," Mr. Wommie replied with a nod, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Clef Roberts, a trusted associate of mine, has come into possession of some items I believe will interest you." He gestured to one of his men, who handed him an iPad. Taking it, Mr. Wommie passed it to Jaxon, then resumed his stance. "Roberts wants to meet at the Noble Pursuits Auction tomorrow by noon," he added. As Jaxon scrolled through the tablet, images of rare and intricately designed firearms filled the screen. He gave a slight nod before raising his gaze to Wommie and handing the tablet back. "I’ll be there. Should I prepare for any surprises?" Jaxon asked. Wommie chuckled dryly. "Why would you even say that? I’d never send you to a client with surprises. Your father—" "That will be all," Jaxon interrupted, his tone dismissive. "I’ll be there tomorrow. Tell him I don’t tolerate lateness." Without waiting for a reply, Jaxon turned and strode away, leaving Wommie mid-sentence. Alex trailed close behind. As Jaxon settled into the car, Wommie’s men lowered their weapons and regrouped with their boss. The car pulled out of the parking lot, Jaxon’s convoy following closely. Once they were on the road, Alex let out a sigh, turning in his seat to face Jaxon in the back. "Are you really going?" "Why?" Jaxon replied coldly, his eyes fixed on his phone. "I mean, we can’t just take his word for it. What if he can’t be trusted?" "He can," Jaxon replied curtly. "He worked with my father. Annoying as he is, his cut of the deal matters more to him than anything else." Alex nodded, pulling out his iPad and scrolling through it briefly. "I’ve got a meeting with Freebo tomorrow at noon about the cargo shipment. I could cancel—" "You don’t need to." "You’d go to the auction alone?" Alex asked, a note of concern creeping into his voice. Jaxon looked up at him with a faint smirk. "Did I say that? Don’t forget—I have a secretary now." Alex raised an eyebrow in realization, though worry flickered in his expression. "Are you sure it’s wise to involve her in something like this on her first day? Freebo can wait." "Freebo is just as important," Jaxon countered. "Don’t cancel. To her, it’s just an auction. My meeting with Clef stays off the record." Reluctantly, Alex nodded. "Yes, sir." Jaxon looked up from his phone and turned to Ray, his driver. "Take me to my aunt's," he said, his tone steady yet authoritative. "Let the men go; I don't want to alarm her by arriving with an entourage. And Alex, you're off duty for tonight. I'll see you at the company tomorrow." "Yes, sir," Ray and Alex said in unison. Alex stepped out of the car as Ray took a turn toward Jaxon’s aunt’s house. Before long, they arrived at Mageret’s compound. Jaxon got out, releasing a tired sigh. Being at Mageret’s always felt like a refuge for him—a place where the pressures of the company and the shadows of the underworld faded away. Here, he could relax, feel normal, and even have a little fun. Pushing the door open, Jaxon called out, “Mageret! You home?” “Where else would I be, hun?” came her cold reply from the living room. “I’m so tired of staying home all day!” she complained, her tone a mix of exasperation and playfulness. Jaxon chuckled. “Come on, Mageret, you love staying at home. You’ve always said that.” He walked into the living room and found her sitting in her wheelchair, facing the television. A muffler was wrapped snugly around her neck, and a woolen blanket draped over her legs for warmth. “That’s only because I don’t have a choice!” she retorted, opening her arms with a warm smile. Jaxon leaned in and embraced her. “Hello, Auntie,” he greeted. “I almost thought you’d forgotten me,” she teased lightly. “Why would you even think that? You’re all I have,” Jaxon replied, sinking wearily into the couch beside her. “Well, that’s exactly why it has to change,” Mageret said firmly. “I told your father the same thing. He was the only one I had, and when I lost him, I was shattered. The only reason I survived was because I saw so much of him in you—it felt like he never truly left.” Her smile faded as her gaze turned distant, lost in memories. “I am not losing you anytime soon,” Jaxon said with quiet determination. Mageret scoffed softly. “You can’t be so sure. I’m not getting any younger, Jaxon. Sixty isn’t exactly a spring chicken. That’s why I keep telling you—you need more people in your life.” She shifted closer, placing a hand over his. “And I don’t mean employees or assistants. I’m talking about a wife and children.” “Not this again,” Jaxon muttered, rolling his eyes. “Listen, Mageret,” he said, sighing, “I want that too. But I haven’t found the right one yet.” “You’re still searching for Teresa?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern. “Jaxon, it’s been nearly twenty years. She could be gone. Why are you still waiting?” “Because she’s the only woman my heart longs for,” Jaxon said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “She’s alive, Auntie. I know it. I can feel it.” “C’mon, Jaxon,” Margaret groaned. “Even if she’s still alive, don’t you think there’s a chance she’s already with someone else? Maybe even married with kids? I’m not saying you should stop looking for her, but can you at least have a plan B? I could help you find someone—someone just as amazing as you think Teresa was or is—whichever it is.” “I don’t need your help, Auntie,” Jaxon replied firmly. “All I need is for you to take care of yourself.” “At least promise me you’ll keep an eye out for other women,” Margaret insisted. “In fact, plan B should start with the company. But, oh, all your employees are men! How is that supposed to work?” Jaxon tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “Well, about that—I have a receptionist…” “Who is married.” Margaret butted in. “And… I have a new secretary.” He paused, watching suspense build on her face. “It’s a woman?” she asked eagerly. “Yes,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t—” “What?” Margaret’s eyes widened in disbelief. “This is a miracle. You hired a woman as your secretary? Tell me everything about her. Who is she? Is she single?” “She’s no one, Margaret,” Jaxon said flatly. “She showed potential, so she got the job. Don’t read too much into it. I can fire her at any time.” Margaret frowned. “No, you won’t. I won’t let you.” “Fine. Whatever you say.” Jaxon glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s late, Auntie. Let’s get you to bed.” He stood, moved behind her wheelchair, and began to push her. “I forgot to ask—where’s your caretaker?” Jaxon asked, glancing around. “Danika. I sent her home when you told me you were coming,” Margaret replied, looking up at him. “You know you tuck me in better anyway.” “And I’m very proud of that,” Jaxon teased. Once in her room, he carefully helped her into bed, tucking her in and adjusting the air conditioning to her liking. “Now you see why I wish you could tuck me in every day? Danika always forgets to fix the air conditioning,” she said with a soft smile. Jaxon chuckled, reaching for the door. “I’ll be in the next room, okay? Goodnight, Margaret.” “Goodnight, darling.” He stepped out, quietly shutting the door behind him. Letting out a tired sigh, he headed to his room. Once inside, he undressed and stepped into the shower without hesitation. As the warm water poured over him, his mind wandered to his day. One thought stood out: Isla. “Why does she seem so familiar?” he wondered, furrowing his brows. “Like I’ve seen her somewhere before.” He shook his head, brushing off the thought. “It’s impossible.” After his shower, he lit a cigarette and settled on the bed, his damp, curly hair sticking to his forehead. Picking up his phone, he logged into his anonymous social media account and searched for “Isla Bennett.” Her profile popped up first. Clicking on it, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Her profile was sparse, with almost no information. No posts, no details—just a single selfie as her display photo, and it looked like an old one. “Mysterious—just like me,” he thought, staring at the picture. “Why did I feel that way when I saw you? Who are you, Isla?”