Page 74 of Dangerous Temptation
‘Mr Wolfe,’ more than one person called as the door finally opened.
Instead of the good-looking tycoon, a mean-looking bodyguard stepped out. He was pumped and amped. His sunglass-covered gaze swung around from left to right, and more than one skinny cameraman took a step back. If anyone got out of line, this guy was ready to squash them like a bug.
The hungry group of reporters waited.
Their caution was thrown to the wind when two more bodyguards bulldozed through the door. The Ax was at the security team’s centre.
Questions started shooting through the air like darts.
‘Mr Wolfe! How does it feel to be back?’
‘What was it like on the inside?’
‘What do you plan to say to your investors?’
That one finally stuck. Their interview subject’s chin swung towards them, and it was set in stone. ‘They’re not my investors. I wasn’t a part of Wolfe Financial.’
‘Yet you’re going to their board meeting, right?’
The security team kept their client moving, and the group shuffled along after them. Hips bumped and elbows dug.
‘I’ll be speaking during the open public comment period,’ the man said flatly. ‘At the board’s behest.’
Another reporter jumped forward and the front bodyguard blocked him with a straight arm. The reporter kept coming, though, trying to crawl over the sentinel as he threw out his question. ‘Do you plan to apologise? Will you tell them where the money went?’
Wolfe slowed. As big as his men were, the crowd was impeding their progress.
‘I had no involvement in that unspeakable crime.’
‘How can you say that?’ the reporter pressed. ‘You just spent the last year in prison.’
That got a response. The Ax turned, his body clenched. ‘Get your facts right. I was convicted of insider trading, even though I had written orders instructing my traders to sell Wolfe Financial stock if it fell below one-twenty.’
‘Are you saying you were a scapegoat?’
Putting down his shoulder, the front bodyguard moved Jimmy Olsen about five feet back from where he’d started, but it was too late. The rest of the reporters picked up his line of questioning.
‘What about your grandfather?’ someone in the back yelled. ‘Have you heard from him? Is he in Belize?’
‘No comment,’ Wolfe snapped.
The driver wedged open the limo’s door and planted his massive form in front of it. The bodyguards became more aggressive and marched forward. The crowd had no option but to part and get out of their way.
One last reporter tried from his position, squashed up next to the kerb. ‘Are you back in New York to stay?’
The question was met with silence as Wolfe entered the vehicle and the door was closed behind him. The all-black limousine offered no more answers and no more shots. The opaque windows blocked their view of the elusive, enigmatic man. Still, the news crews took what video they could as the driver pulled out from the kerb and drove away.
The moment the car blended into traffic, the cameras powered down and the crews rushed to their vans. Considering the dearth of communication they’d had with Alex Wolfe since his release, they’d just scored big.
More reporters awaited in FiDi, the financial district in the southernmost section of Manhattan. They’d been put on alert by their colleagues up on Park Avenue, and they were on the hunt when the limousine pulled up. Microphones were ready, earpieces were in place and cameras were rolling as the black limousine cruised to a stop in front of the building on Wall Street.
The driver eyed the crowd suspiciously as he rounded the car to open the back door. Moving with the synchronicity of a pit crew, bodyguards spilled out and took their positions. A tall, good-looking man rose in their midst, smoothly buttoning his suit jacket.
The press swarmed, hungrier now that they’d gotten a taste.
They jockeyed for position, trying to get the best shots. The Ax had always gleamed under the spotlight. His handsome features and playboy ways had made him a media darling. With one snap of a camera, the reporters could sense the change. This version of the man was different. Harder, leaner and more dangerous. His sunglasses hid his reactions to their presence, but the line of his lips was flat and his steps were clipped.
Put him in a black suit and tie, and he would have blended in with the security detail perfectly.
