Miles
It’s not always easy to find a good position in Hunter’s home.
There are so many plants everywhere that vision is obscured in random ways.
The sheer number of them outside gives a good semblance of privacy, and I know that the security he has is more than adequate to alert for any unwanted visitors.
That doesn’t mean I’ll relax. Not all the threats come from outside.
When Hunter and Xavier circle each other like this, neither of them sure where they stand or what to expect from the other, it always puts me on edge.
The unpredictability of it—whether they’ll fight or fuck—means that I can’t let my guard down.
And then there’s Matthew, awkwardly in the middle of it and having no real idea just how significant that fact is. No one has ever been able to make space between the two of them. He hasn’t separated them, or changed what they are to each other, simply created more.
“I need a drink,” Hunter mutters, turning away from us and moving around the island bench to the fridge and pantry.
Instead of a glass for alcohol, he pulls out four mugs and places them beside the kettle. Without asking what anyone wants, he sets about making coffee. No one says a word about it.
Matthew fidgets, tugging on the hem on his T-shirt and shuffling his feet. “I’m just going to—” He sits at the dining table without finishing the sentence. He bites his bottom lip and starts tapping on the table. Then stops, shoving his hand into his lap.
“Where should we start, Hunter?” Xavier drawls, one hand in his pocket, hip cocked to the side. It opens his suit jacket to the white shirt underneath. The cut on his lip looks angry, though it’s not bleeding. Jericho got in a lucky hit. I’ll have to return the favour.
“I…” Hunter runs a hand through his hair. He drops the spoon he was holding in the other hand with a clatter. “I don’t know.”
There’s a lot to cover, depending on just how much they want to reveal. There’s no need to tell Matthew everything if they don’t want. Only what includes him. That begs the question: how much includes him?
“Maybe—maybe we could start with the shooting part?” Matthew asks weakly. “That doesn’t really happen to me every day. Or any day, actually. I can’t think of a single day that’s ever happened to me before. I didn’t even know that people outside of law enforcement carried guns.”
“Do you not watch the news?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. Surely someone who speaks about social media would have an idea about the world around him.
“Not even for the sports.”
As if that puts anything into perspective. The sports are the most boring part of the news. “Firearms are far more prevalent in Australia than anyone wants to believe. They’re simply hidden in the shadows. Until they aren’t, of course.”
Matthew nods, though he’s lost a little colour in his face. “They need a feel-good section.”
“Fear sells,” Xavier says simply, sliding into a dining seat diagonal from Matthew. He buttons the middle of his jacket and leans back, resting an arm along the back of the seat beside him.
“It’s not on my shopping list.”
“I imagine not.” Xavier indicates for me to take a seat opposite him, with my back to Hunter. Akin to turning from a predator, but I do as he asks. As far as I’m aware, Hunter isn’t armed right now, and he’s making enough noise to wake the dead; I’ll hear him coming.
“I own a number of lucrative businesses in Sydney.”
Hunter laughs. “Modesty, Xavier?”
Xavier’s lips twitch. “More than a number. The hotel restaurant you and Hunter were having dinner at is one of mine.”
Matthew’s lips part in surprise. “That—the whole hotel? Just that one or…?”
“All of them,” Xavier clarifies. He rests a hand on the table, and Matthew’s gaze zeroes in, lingering on the lines and the rings. Xavier, always open to appreciation, spreads his hand to give him a better view.
The hotel chain itself has a dozen or so locations around Sydney, each one extravagant and pulling in considerable profit. They aren’t my taste, personally, but the wealthy seem to like them.
“What does that have to do with being shot at? Do you have, like, a rival or something? I thought that was only in movies.”
“It depends on your definition of rival. He may consider me his, but I don’t consider him mine. He’s barely dirt on my shoes.”
Matthew’s knee bounces under the table. “Have you told him that? Because that would answer some of my questions.”
“Are you saying I’m unlikeable?”
The bouncing stops. “Well, no, but your communication skills could use some work.”
“He’s not wrong,” Hunter says dryly, placing a mug in front of Matthew and one in front of me. “That’s an inside thought.”
“We are inside,” Xavier says innocently, with an expression that says butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “How can one expect to improve if they don’t know they need to?”
“By telling them they’re barely dirt on your shoes? That doesn’t sound like constructive feedback,” Matthew says. He rotates his mug in his palms a few times before taking a sip. His lips part in surprise. “It’s sweet.”
“Caramel candies.”
Matthew glances at his mug. “Huh. It’s nice. What made you think of it?”
“Necessity, at first. They’re inexpensive, and ants don’t find them the way they do sugar and things that aren’t sealed properly,” Hunter says, sliding into his own seat. We’re each on a side of the table, facing each other like a comical kind of standoff.
“That’s…weirdly specific,” Matthew says, confused. I highly doubt he has any idea why Hunter would care about that, or why it was knowledge he needed in the first place.
Hunter doesn’t elaborate, stretching back in his chair and spreading his legs. “Roger is a problem that needs to be solved. Preferably sooner rather than later. My team is looking into it, and I’ve asked them to coordinate with Theo and Adam. What’s our next step?”
“Your team.” Matthew pauses. “I didn’t know you had a team. What do you do for work? I thought you were, like, a political advisor or something. Olivia talks about you meeting with the mayor and stuff.”
Hunter takes a long sip of his drink before answering. “I am, in a way. When Jericho was seventeen, he was approached by someone deep in the government, a department you won’t have heard of. One that deals with things below board and plays fast and loose with the law.”
“What does that mean?” Matthew says. He’s bouncing his knee again.
“Black ops,” I answer, getting to the point. “He and the rest of his team run a covert black ops group that does wetwork for the government.”
“Wetwork. That’s like… killing people, isn’t it?” Matthew asks, face losing some of its colour. He tightens his hold on his mug and swallows hard.
“I wouldn’t classify it as wetwork,” Hunter says dryly. “Perhaps at first, but we’re valuable enough now that we pick and choose what we want to do, and I turn down anything I consider morally disingenuous.”
“Notice how he uses the word ‘disingenuous’ and not ‘reprehensible’?” Xavier says, the corner of his mouth lifting in an amused smile. “There’s a fine line, but the difference is not as subtle as he’d like to think.”
“We mostly dabble in searching for certain missing persons,” Hunter continues, ignoring Xavier, “and deal with high-risk targets as well as investigations they want kept out of the public eye.”
“So what happened, the shooting thing, that was something to do with your job? Miles said it didn’t have anything to do with you.”
“In this case, Miles is correct. This isn’t linked to any cases that me or my team are dealing with. This has to do with Xavier’s inability to use tact and be friendly.”
“I can be friendly,” Xavier says amiably, “Wasn’t I friendly earlier, Matthew?”
Colour returns to his face in the form of a blush.
Hunter chuckles. “We need to talk about Roger and what we plan to do about him.”
“Unfortunately, Roger is only part idiot. Once he stirred the hornet’s nest, he would be smart enough to go to ground. Not impossible to root out, but it makes our job harder. Lester, however, is still out and about. We find him, we find our rat.”
“Then what?” Matthew asks. “Is this where the wetwork comes into play?”
“They tried to kill you.” Stretching out my leg, I rest it against his, calming the bouncing. “Should we play nice?”
“Is there an option in the middle of playing nice and murder?”
“We could hang him upside down somewhere quiet where he won’t be found,” Xavier suggests. “He’ll die in a day or two. Sometimes less than that; it’s not an exact science.”
“That still goes in the murder column, which I really think we should try to avoid because it’s…
I mean, that’s not normal. You can’t just go around killing people.
” Matthew taps his fingers on his mug and pushes harder against my leg as if taking strength from it.
“Couldn’t you just arrest him or something?
Let the law handle it. That’s what they’re there for. ”
“You don’t understand what men like him are capable of,” Xavier says. “He doesn’t play by the rules, and he wouldn’t stay locked up for very long. Men that think they’re powerful, even when they’re not, can be difficult to control.”
“You mean men like you,” Hunter says, smiling over the rim of his mug. “You’re in the same category as him. Not everything that you have your hands in is listed as part of your official businesses.”
“Don’t insult me, I’m above men like him. I’d never be so vulgar as to send a person a severed body part or attempt to use a loved one against them. I prefer to be straightforward and go directly for the source.”
Matthew chokes on his coffee, spraying over the table.
Hunter moves closer and pats him on the back as he coughs and attempts to suck in a breath.
The pats turn into rubbing circles, more of a caress than anything else.
Their eyes meet, and the temperature rises a few degrees.
Matthew’s cheeks get even redder, resembling a fresh tomato.
“Did you just say body part?” he asks weakly. “I could have sworn—that’s what you said, right?”
“Roger has been trying to get Xavier’s attention,” Hunter says. His hand slides from Matthew’s back up to his shoulder, thumb rubbing at his neck. “Since Xavier and I are still married, he seems to think that targeting me will accomplish something.”
“It’s certainly gotten my attention,” Xavier says quietly. “Involving you in this is why I won’t allow him to face anything but a one-way trip to Hell.”
Matthew doesn’t respond to that, staring down at his mug as if it could give him a different answer. “What does, um, how does this involve me?”
“We aren’t sure whether they were targeting you or following Hunter.” Xavier glances to where Hunter is still holding Matthew. “Either way, they now think you’re closely associated. Your date raised their suspicion; finding you together solidified it.”
“That isn’t—that’s not—” Matthew clams up. He shifts his leg, hooking his foot around my ankle. “I don’t understand any of this. How is any of this real?”
“You’re holding up surprisingly well, all things considered.
However, it’s best not to overthink it,” Xavier says.
He stands up to his full height. “We know who’s responsible, and we’ll take care of it.
” He rounds the table, standing directly beside Matthew.
He leans down, the tips of his fingers almost touching Matthew’s, and their faces hovering close together.
“Until then, you’re under our up-close personal protection. I’m sure you won’t mind that.”
“Xavier,” Hunter warns.
“Matthew has a tell, Hunter. Do you know what it is?”
“Of course, I know what it is.”
“I have a what?”
“It’s all over your face. From the red tinge in your cheeks, to the way your eyes linger on us.
” Xavier draws his nose over Matthew’s temple.
“You want to be close to us. You like the attention.” Up and over his hair, breathing deeply.
“The danger.” Tracing his ear and below it.
“Our touch.” He lifts his head and raises an eyebrow at Hunter.
“We have all night together; how should we make the most of it?”