Chapter 2
Aron
It’s not the worst hit I’ve ever taken for Matt. Not the lightest, either. Harrison’s shot nicked an artery, but Matt got me taken care of in time. I just need to “take it easy” for a few weeks while the shoulder heals.
Bah. Take it easy my ass. Matt’s always in danger; I can’t “take it easy.”
Emily’s not helping matters. She’s emotional enough with the pregnancy, but now every time I head off to work she lays into me.
“Get another job, Aron.” “This is too dangerous, Aron.” “Think about your family, Aron.” She doesn’t understand that I wouldn’t be where I am today without Tito and Matt Mangione.
Those two are the only reason I’m alive to get shot at.
Tito gave my dad a job, a coveted position as his personal bodyguard, when he hadn’t had a penny to his name.
I grew up next to Matt, playing with him as kids before I knew the kind of business our fathers were in.
When I was old enough to be told the truth of things, it was only natural for me to accept my role as Matt’s guard full-time.
I had grown up watching over him, after all. That made my job easy.
I’ve taken bullets for Matt since I was ten. I can’t expect Emily to understand the bond we share, and I certainly can’t tell her the truth of it all. I can’t tell her anything more than the fact that I’m a professional bodyguard, and that Matt’s a businessman who pays me well to keep him alive.
Does Emily suspect? Probably. She’s certainly come close in some of her accusations. But I can’t confirm it. Not if I want her and the baby to be safe. I haven’t even let her meet Matt. Imagine the chaos if she recognized Matt on the news!
It’s best this way. Two halves of my life, separate but equal.
Much in the same way that the two aspects of my life are polar opposites, so are my two main companions.
Where Matt is tall, dark, muscle-bound, and tattooed from here to Kingdom Come, with the kind of Italian gangster good looks that Hollywood producers crave, Emily is petite, slender, and delicate, with pristine creamy-white skin.
I couldn’t have found a woman less like Matt to marry.
The only similarity, one that sometimes haunts me, is their twin sets of sapphire-blue eyes.
Matt’s eyes come from his mother, Lucinda, something Tito has dubbed her “parting gift to the world.” Emily’s are a mystery, as she was adopted as a baby. She never met her parents, and maybe that’s why she’s so hung up on me surviving long enough to raise our kids.
Or maybe that’s what normal people do. They live for their families.
Except Matt’s family, in a way. Tito, too. So which family should I live for?
Sal’s funeral was peaceful, if not a bit strained.
If Sal’s wife had any disillusion about his career choices, the funeral would have obliterated them.
Between Tito’s appearance and the plentitude of men in crisp black suits standing off to the side to pay their respects, only an idiot would have assumed Sal was in “sales,” as I overheard one mourner say.
The widow almost started screaming at Tito for ordering the hit that ended Sal’s life, but one hard glare from my dad shut her up.
Then Tito calmly explained that Sal had outlived his usefulness to the Syndicate, pointed at me and Matt off to the side, and told her Sal was lucky I got hit and not Matt.
I guess in Tito’s mind there are worse fates than a quick, clean assassination when it comes to retirement from this life.
I remember a similar funeral when Matt and I were kids. A Syndicate officer who had outlived his usefulness, dead by my dad’s hands.
At the time, I didn’t understand our world as well as I do now. I was maybe five years old, so funerals were formative memories for me. I asked Dad why he killed Tony, unfortunately while we stood just feet away from the widow.
“Tony messed up, son. Uncle Tito and I couldn’t let him live after that.”
“What did he do?”
Dad squatted down next to me, ignoring the glares Tony’s widow gave. “You remember how Matteo almost got kidnapped while Tony was watching you two? That’s unforgiveable.”
“Oh.” I thought about it for a second. “So, he died because Matt was in danger?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll never let Matt get hurt, Dad.”
He patted my head as he stood back up. “I know you wouldn’t, son.”
Days after Sal’s funeral, while I stand there in my stupid shoulder immobilizer and contemplate life, Matt runs the gamut of cardio equipment at the gym.
Tito owns the place, so it’s safe for Matt to work out shirtless.
If anyone questions his more unique tattoos, like the signature crowned angel of the Royal Syndicate across his back, Tito’s people will take care of them.
It’s also a relatively safe place for me to relax a bit during work hours. The staff routinely sweeps the gym for bugs and incendiary devices, so I feel comfortable allowing my mind to wander.
“Hey, Aron. That guy’s new, isn’t he?”
I glance in the direction Matt’s pointing. There’s a young man doing the same circuit of machines just a few behind Matt. His brown eyes follow Matt’s every move, and the sweat from his workout causes his dark hair to fall in damp curls.
“Yep. Want me to check him out?”
Matt smacks my good shoulder. “No! You’ll ruin my game. He’s pretty hot, yeah?”
I shrug and continue my surveillance of the gym. “If you say so.”
He rolls his eyes and scoffs at me. “Are all straight guys afraid of admitting when another guy is hot? Y’know, women don’t seem to have that problem.”
“What would you know about women?”
“Touché.” His eyes wander back to the other gymgoer. “I’m going to say something.”
“What are you going to say? ‘Hey, my dad owns this place. Wanna go fuck in the showers?’ That kind of shit never works, Matt.” I glance over. “Besides, he seems interested enough. Just wait for him to make the first move.”
Posing dramatically with his hand over his heart, Matt gasps. “Me, let someone else make the first move? Really, Aron, how long have you known me?”
“Long enough to know how ridiculous that sounds, now that you mention it.” I shake my head with a sigh. “Fine. Go. But if he tries anything nonsexual, I’m stepping in.”
A wide grin spreads across Matt’s face, and he winks at me. “Watch and learn.”
I do my best to feign disinterest while he saunters over to the other man. The loud clank of the machines stops as Matt approaches him, giving me the opportunity to hear Matt use my stupid pickup line.
I’ll be damned if it doesn’t seem to work. Matt puts an arm around the stranger’s shoulders, and they make their way to the showers. I hustle to catch up in case this is some kind of trap.
If it’s a trap, the other man is playing his part well. When I enter the locker room, they’re already half naked and all over each other. The other man catches sight of me and freezes mid-kiss, looking back and forth from me to Matt.
“He stays,” Matt says, cupping the man’s chin with his hand and turning his head away from me. “You got a problem with that?”
Those dark eyes look back my way flit up and down as he gives me a once-over. “Nah. But I get first dibs on you.”
Rather than being insulted, Matt bursts into laughter. “You hear that, Aron? Josh here is okay with you watching.”
Josh frowns. “He’s not going to participate?”
“Aron’s just a spectator.”
“Kinky.”
Matt and Josh practically trip over each other on the way to the showers. I check the room for other occupants, but Matt’s timing is impeccable as always. Nobody’s here but us three. I lock the door as a precaution against anyone wandering in.
While the two of them do their thing—and each other—I pick through Josh’s discarded clothes until I find his wallet and phone.
His ID seems to check out. Joshua Blake, twenty-seven years old, lives a few blocks away from the gym.
I use his own phone to vet the man, doing a deep dive on the device for any information I can find on him and double checking it against what I can find on my phone.
Good credit score, not much debt, works as a personal trainer.
Just moved here, which normally would be suspicious, but it doesn’t seem like he left his last job under unusual circumstances.
Ah, but what’s this? He’s married … to a woman.
Further digging tells me that this is Josh’s second marriage, and he apparently has a history of gay liaisons going back several years.
That’s what ended the first marriage, and a quick search of his current wife’s socials indicates that he’s probably been up to his old tricks recently.
That may even be the reason for the move, if Tricia Blake’s vague media posts are to be believed.
If this is all a front, a ruse to get close to Matt, it’s an elaborate one. I can’t find any obvious cracks in Josh’s persona, not a single sign that he’s not exactly who he seems to be.
I’m not worried about Matt’s feelings getting hurt by any of this.
Matt isn’t one to settle down, so Josh might have picked the wrong sugar daddy to seduce.
My charge is more of a love ‘em and leave ‘em type; if tonight ends in disappointment for either of them, I’m betting on Josh being the odd man out.
Matt and Josh pause to lather up and actually get clean, and I check my watch. Twenty minutes. Not too long, but they need to hurry in case someone else wants to use the men’s locker room.
As soon as they shut the water off, I toss them a couple of towels. “Clock’s ticking, Matt.”
He nods. “Roger that. So, Josh, what are you up to tonight?”
Oh, great. Matt wants to bring him home.
Josh grins. “I could be persuaded to spend a night away from my own bed …”
I clear my throat and wave his phone at him. “I’m not sure Tricia would agree, Josh. Maybe you should make plans for another night?”
Like a night when he can give his wife a believable alibi.
We don’t need some jilted spouse showing up and harassing Matt in public.
I might recognize her and be able to step in without causing a scene, but if it’s a night that I’m home with Emily, one of Matt’s other guards could fuck up and jump the poor woman for approaching him without explicit permission from the don.
Josh pales as he realizes I went through his shit, but Matt appears unphased by the revelation. He cracks a smile of his own and turns his back on Josh, opening his locker and getting dressed without giving the other man another glance. “Tricia, huh? I’m guessing she’s Mrs. Josh?”
“I-I can explain—”
“No need.” Matt slams his locker shut after pulling out a fresh pair of shoes. “This was fun, Josh, but if you’ve got someone waiting for you at home, I won’t get in the middle of that shit.”
Smart move, Matt. We don’t need to add any extra complications to our lives.
Josh, unfortunately, doesn’t seem to take rejection well. His hands are halfway to Matt’s neck when I step in, knocking him to the ground and pressing my shoe to his windpipe while I draw the gun I’ve hidden in my sling.
“What … the fuck?” With my foot on his neck, Josh can barely get the words out.
“I don’t think you’ll be coming back to this gym, Josh,” I say through gritted teeth.
“I think you’re going to find a new gym across town.
When Tricia asks why you left, you’re going to admit that you cheated.
You’re going to tell her you’ve had a change of heart, and that you want to be faithful from now on.
If you don’t—” I release the safety “—then you’re going to give her the freedom she deserves.
You’re going to give her everything in the divorce, and you’re going to stop using women as a cover for your true desires. ”
“But—”
“No ‘buts.’ It’s this, or you disappear tonight, and Tricia gets everything you own anyway.”
While Josh sputters and fumes on the floor beneath my shoe, Matt snaps his watch on his wrist like nothing unusual is happening. “I mean, honestly, Josh, did you really not wonder why I was at the gym with a bodyguard?”
“I-I thought you guys were just workout buddies …”
Matt throws his head back as he laughs. “Please! Consider for a moment that my ‘buddy’ took you down with his arm in a sling and didn’t even break a sweat. If you’re smart, you’ll take Aron’s advice. There are plenty of decent gyms across town.”
“Wh-what’s to stop me from spilling your dirt? I bet a rich asshole like you doesn’t want people knowing his … preferences.”
Matt and I exchange a glance before I respond. Josh just gags as I press harder with my shoe.
“Me.”
With that, we leave Josh coughing and wheezing on the floor of the locker room.