I'm super duper excited about this chapter, but I can't tell you why. You'll have to make your own conclusions.

Chapter 4

"Who's driving me?" I called out as I rolled through the command centre on my way to the elevator. Realistically, I could have checked the duty roster myself, but it was so much more fun to watch the guys fight over it until someone else pulled out the roster and proved it was their turn. As I pushed the button, I was surprised when Lester appeared by my side, a smug smile on his face. "What's with the face?" I asked.

"I won an extra shift by your side in poker last night," he informed me. "This was supposed to be Tank's shift."

I stared at him for a moment, not quite sure I understood what was going on. The elevator dinged open and we got in before I was able to voice the question on my mind. "You were gambling with shifts?"

His nod was brief, as was his attempt at keeping a straight face. "I also got Cal's Monday morning shift, Hank's Tuesday afternoon, and Zero's Wednesday morning for next week," he rattled off proudly.

I shook my head, amazed that these things actually happened in real life. Next thing I knew they'd be gambling with slave for a day tokens. I'd like to say I'd be in on that kind of betting, but the idea had two downfalls. A) The Merry Men already did anything I asked them to. And B) Unlike Lady Gaga, everyone can read my poker face without even trying, so I'd be the one enslaved to them anyway.

Lester chuckled, pulling me out of my thoughts. "That's nothing, Beautiful. You should hear the type of bets that are tossed around in Anti-Poker."

"Anti-Poker?" I tried to raise an eyebrow at him to convey my intrigue, but clearly the ability hadn't suddenly sprung up overnight like I kept hoping it would, because he laughed again.

"The aim is to lose," he explained. "We place bets that ours is the losing hands – things like 'If my hand wins I will clean the gyms showers' – and the person whose hand wins has to do all the horrible tasks that everyone has proposed."

Men are bizarre, but I was still curious as to how it worked. "I don't get it..." I said slowly. "Why would you put such disgusting bets on the table?"

"Because the object of anti-poker is to lose," he repeated. "At the end of the night, the person with the least number of task slips is the winner."

Trying to understand, I questioned, "Do you all start off with a certain number of horrible tasks?"

"Course not," he said. "We start with a notepad and pen and each hand you make up another horrible task or chore, unless you have slips that you've 'won' in previous hands."

"Right," I nodded as we exited the elevator. "And you fold..." I purposely left the sentence unfinished in the hopes that he would insert a clarification.

"If you have a hand that you think will win regular poker," he formed me, opening the passenger side door of my new BMW for me to drag myself in.

Twenty minutes later, Lester was making sure the boys were properly strapped in the back seat while I checked the time – three fifteen. That was probably the quickest pick up I'd had all year. Usually I got stuck talking to the teacher about something the boys had done, or engaged in conversation as the other mothers complained about their kids' fathers. I was acutely aware that when Carlos or the guys executed a school run they were in and out in less than five minutes. Men.

"Where to?" Lester asked, slipping easily into the driver's seat after ensuring my wheelchair was stowed safely away.

"I'm meeting someone at the cafe down the road," I informed him. "We've got some time to spare though, so don't try to rush out of the car park."

"Not a problem, Beautiful," he assured me. "Do you want me to mind the kids so you can have some adult time?"

I shook my head no as he pulled out of the parking lot. "No. I think I'd like for you to stay with us," I admitted. "Just in case."

Of course, admitting that I wanted my body guard put him on alert straight away. He was scanning cars and pedestrians carefully as if expecting a cartoon contraption a la Wile E. Coyote to crop up at any second. "What kind of person are you meeting?" he questioned. No humour. No teasing. Just business.

"The guy whose car blew up with mine yesterday," I admitted on a sigh. I really needed to develop a way of keeping the guys around when I wanted or needed them without alerting them to the fact. I explained about Brodie and his father's crossword, hoping to put Lester's mind at ease, but it just seemed to make him more suspicious. By the time we were seated at the cafe waiting for him to arrive, Lester was on the phone to the office asking for the quickest background check in the world on the guy, only to be transferred to my husband who apparently already had a complete search file in his hands. From the half of the conversation I caught, the decision was to proceed with caution despite the fact that all checks were clear.

Just as he hung up, Brodie walked through the doors. I waved to him and he made his way through the busy tables to our fairly secluded corner.

"Good to see you again," I greeted, shaking the hand he extended. "This is Lester Santos."

"Another designated driver?" Brodie asked good naturedly, offering his hand to Lester.

Lester gripped his hand firmly with a lack of expression on his face. "Something like that," he responded. Something told me he was going to make this meeting rather awkward. More awkward that it had to be. It was just like the Merry Men to be over protective of me and the boys. For all we knew, this was an innocent foreigner visiting the country on his father's last wish.

"Lester, why don't you get the boys some juice and cookies," I suggested, laying a hand on his forearm. I hoped he would take the hint, but you never know with the guys. "And I'd love coffee." Before he had time to argue with me, I turned to Mat and Edi, changing my demeanour entirely as I asked them energetically, "Would you like some cookies?" Of course, I knew the answer before I asked. They were, after all, my sons.

"Yeah!" the cried together, jiggling in their seats.

"Go with Uncle Lester to pick them out, then. You can have one big one or two small ones each."

Despite the fact that I'd suggested they go with Lester, it appeared more of a drag-Uncle-Lester-over-to-the-counter. Matias grabbed his left arm while Eduardo grabbed the right and they were practically running in place in an attempt to get him moving. Finally, Lester allowed them to lead him to the display, leaving me alone with Brodie for however brief a moment it would take Lester to order.

"Sorry about that," I mentioned, slouching back in my chair. "He works for my husband's security company. Sometimes they can be a little over protective."

His smile was warm as he brushed his wavy brown hair out of his eyes, and scratched his stubble. "Don't worry about it," he assured me. "A little over protectiveness is a good thing in this day and age." I nodded my agreement – I couldn't very well deny that I needed protecting, especially given my track record – and reached into my bag to search for the crossword. "So your husband is in security?" he asked conversationally.

"More or less," I said, digging through the excess junk that seemed to accumulate in my purse over time. "He does some private and corporate security as well as fugitive apprehension in conjunction with Vincent Plum Bail Bonds," I explained.

Now it was his turn to nod, fiddling with a sugar sachet. "And you?" he asked. "What do you do?"

I avoided looking at him, continuing to rummage through my bag even though I'd already found the piece of paper I was after. The problem with this kind of question was, I wasn't sure if I should answer it. It seemed fine to talk about Carlos and what he did for a living; he could clearly handle himself if something came up. I, on the other hand, was vulnerable as a lamb. I couldn't even run away from an attacker in my current condition. After a long pause, I figured there was no harm in telling him. If he really wanted to know he could find out through other avenues anyway, so I may as well cut out the middle man.

"Currently, I run searches and handle part of customer relations at the security company," I confessed. "Pre-wheels I was in on the action side of things a bit more. Helping with the odd take down, and stake out where it was needed." He seemed to be listening intently, staring directly into my eyes. To be honest it was a bit unnerving. Most people don't maintain constant eye contact during a conversation. I had to scramble to maintain my train of thought. "Before the kids and marriage I was working mainly for Vincent Plum Bail Bonds."

"So that's how you met?"

I simply nodded, pulling my hands out of my purse, but leaving the crossword in there. Something told me that now was not the time to pull it out. "What about you?" I asked. "What do you do... back in Scotland?"

"Actually, my job doesn't necessarily tie me to one place. I can pretty much do my job anywhere in the world." He paused, briefly looking over his shoulder in the direction of the counter. And I followed his gaze to where Lester stood with Mat and Edi, who were literally bouncing up and down in excitement as they waited in line. Lester's eyes met mine across the room and I could see the silent question in them, asking if I was alright. I gave the slightest of nods, more blink than head movement, and he looked back to the boys engaging them in conversation of some kind. "It appears you're used to tough men, so don't laugh when I tell you, okay?" Instead of say anything I just drew a cross over the left side of my chest. "I'm translator," he said. "I translate instruction manuals."

"Instruction manuals?" He nodded and I had to give a short little smirk. "So how does it feel to have your work ignored by millions of men all around the world?" At that moment Mat ran up to the table with a handful of napkins, followed by his brother with a handful of straws. They climbed into their seats and placed their items in the middle of the table, sitting quietly as Lester brought a plate of cookies over. "What did you get?" I asked the boys, and in typical fashion they both started talking at once. "Wait, wait, wait!" I said, holding up my hand. "Eduardo, you first. What cookies did you choose."

The boys were content to sit quietly for the duration if their cookies, during which time Lester and I made small talk with Brodie – some of us were talking smaller than others. We found out that it had taken three days of staring at the clues on the page before he finally figured out one-across, at which point he knew that while it seemed like a crazy gesture on his father's part, it was a clue to something he was supposed to figure out or discover.

"How could a foreigner such as yourself come to the conclusion that the first solution was Trenton?" Lester asked, not bothering to hide his suspicion. "It's a little obscure, don't you think?"

Brodie met his eyes, not willing to be intimidated by my muscled protector. "Normally, I'd agree with you," he said. "But my Da spent two years living in Trenton when he was young." He paused, finally breaking eye contact to gaze out the window. "In fact, I was born here."

At that moment juice spilled across the table, catching all our attention. I looked over to the boys to find Mat with his hand still outstretched as if to grab hold of his drink which was now on its side flowing freely in all directions.

"Juanito Matias Manoso," I sighed, "What did you do?"

"Sorry, Mommy!" he exclaimed. "It was an accident!"

I nodded that I understood and sent him to grab more napkins before it went too far.

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