Chapter 13
Aron
I normally don’t pay much attention to what Matt’s doing when he’s checking Syndicate funds.
I’m a guard, not an accountant, so most of it is meaningless to me.
When Matt’s face turns white, though, I start to get curious.
I glance at the screen over his shoulder, but it still doesn’t make much sense, so I ask.
The answer makes my blood boil.
I already suspected my dad of being the mastermind behind the attacks, but now? Now it’s a given.
Dad killed Emily. Tried to kill me. I can’t believe it.
To his credit, Matt stops me from storming out of the panic house and finding Dad.
All I want to do is hunt him down and make him pay, but Matt’s more level-headed about it than I am.
He didn’t lose his wife and unborn child in the explosive attacks on the Syndicate, so I guess it makes sense that he’s more composed.
“Not yet, Aron. We’ve got to plan this more.
” Matt holds me tight, half embrace and half restraint.
His lips brush my neck gently, and the mere touch is enough to start calming me.
My strained muscles relax, and I lean into him.
“Javier will pay, but we’ve got to be smart about how we make that happen. ”
Tears sting my eyes. “I just can’t believe Dad would do this to you, to Tito. He loved him like a brother. You guys are family.”
“Well,” Matt says with a sigh, “we were family. I guess that changed, for Javier at least.”
I turn in Matt’s arms. “But why? What could have happened to make Dad go to these lengths? Tito gave him everything. It makes no sense.”
There’s something about Matt’s pause, something in his pained expression, that tells me he has a theory—one I won’t like. I press him for more, but he shakes his head and leads me out of the control room, shutting the door behind us.
“It doesn’t matter what I think. Suffice it to say that maybe what my dad was giving Javier just wasn’t enough anymore.”
What’s he suggesting? Does he think Dad got greedy?
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go spar for a few.”
“What about the others? I thought we were going to find somewhere to meet with the survivors.”
“And we will. But for now, we’re both agitated by this new development. I think we could stand to work off a little steam. Since your shoulder’s still off-limits, we’ll keep it light. Nothing too strenuous.”
“I’m fine,” I say, but Matt’s not having it.
“You were shot in that shoulder less than a week ago. Don’t push it.”
We head for the gym, where we change into workout shorts for comfort and ease of movement. After a few stretches, we step onto the padded mat and square off.
“Anything goes?” I ask.
“We’ll spare each other a bit. I’ll steer clear of your shoulder, and, if you would be so kind, take it easy on my torso.”
I frown. “That’s rather limiting.”
“What do you suggest?”
Testing my shoulder, I throw a few aimless shots. “Well, I suggest we fight like we would if it was Dad we were up against. He’s not going to pull punches, and he’s not going to take it easy on either of us. We were both on the hit list, after all.”
“Good point.” Matt fires off a few test punches of his own. I don’t miss the slight grimace on his face with each hit. “When do we stop?”
“When one of us can’t stand anymore.”
He rolls his eyes. “And you’re concerned about limiting each other.”
“Less talk, more action.”
With that, we start.
At first, it’s like we’re back in the dojo again, being trained by Tito’s top enforcers. We pace around each other, sizing each other up, before either one of us moves close enough to be a threat.
Matt strikes first, faking a right jab to hide the windup for his left hook. His fist lands square on my jaw, and my head whips to the side. My cheek stings, inside and out, and I spit out blood.
“Nice one,” I say, but Matt doesn’t let up. He’s already rounding on me for a second hit, and I realize he’s taking my words to heart.
This is about to get violent.
Since my left arm is hampered by the still-healing gunshot wound, I’m limited in the punches I can throw. That means I’ll have to either keep Matt at a distance or draw him in, where we can grapple.
He throws several hits back-to-back, striking my chest, shoulder—the injured one—and face.
I barely spot the opening in time to grab his hair and bring his face down to my raised knee.
Matt grunts, and when we separate for a moment, blood gushes from his nose.
It doesn’t look broken at first glance, but I’ll have to apply some ice for him after this.
Matt wipes his upper lip with the back of his hand and grins wickedly when he sees the blood. “Fighting dirty, I see. Even Tito wouldn’t harm my face.”
“Javier would.”
He shrugs, and we’re back at it.
We trade blows for over an hour, working up quite a sweat.
By the time Matt calls it done, we’re both drenched and covered in smeared blood.
My stitches have popped again, Matt’s cuts from Tito’s beating have opened up, and both of us have bloody noses and various new wounds all over our bodies.
We haven’t reached the point where one of us is on the ground, but we’re damn close.
“Okay,” he huffs out, his chest heaving, “that’s enough for today.”
“You need ice,” I say, grabbing a towel from a nearby rack and blotting the sweat on my face. “I got your nose pretty good there.”
“Your lip could use some TLC as well,” he says, reaching for his own towel.
I touch the spot and wince as a lance of pain shoots through my lip. “Ooh, yeah. So much for your stellar stitching.”
To my surprise, Matt breaks out in a grin. “We’re going to have a hard time explaining this to the men when we all meet up. They’ll assume we got attacked by rivals, when it was just the two of us dicking around.”
“Training,” I correct him. “Not dicking around.”
“You’re right,” he says, pulling me close for a kiss—blood and all. “Dicking around comes later.”
“Here?” I ask, hoping for some roughhousing of a different sort.
“No. Let’s not confuse things. Besides, we’ve still got work to do.”
“I suppose. Off to find a new safehouse, then?”
Matt nods. “For a start. The locations that were hit housed our best men. We’ll need to find some new recruits. This really set us back.”
Ooh, Matt’s got a point. With our remaining associates scattered and licking their wounds, we’ll need to start recruiting new blood.
That means weeding out the wannabes and upstarts, finding new members with the kind of skillsets we need—if our rivals haven’t scooped them up and recruited them first, that is.
“How do you propose we find these recruits?”
“I’ve got a few ideas, actually.”