Chapter 15
fifteen
Natalia
“One thing they don’t tell you about working in libraries is that you will see hole before noon on a weekday.” I snort on my water, coughing up an unladylike amount of water, snot, and phlegm.
“But which hole?”
My friend gags on the other end of the phone. “I saw taint, Natalia.” I launch into another round of rolling laughter, stopping mid-laugh to hack up a lung.
“Girl, you sound like death.”
I sniffle, my face hot as I muster what little strength I have to stand next to the microwave waiting for my instant soup. “I knew it was over when McKenzie coughed in my face.”
“Can you cough in mine next? I could use a few days off.”
I grin, popping the microwave open before it dings and stirring a cup of rubbery, tasteless noodles.
“I could. But then you’d be stuck at home with your entire family.” My voice cracks from lack of use and sickness, the ache only eased when I stuff down a bite of crappy soup.
“I need some privacy. Can you believe my mom had the audacity to go through my room while I was at work—and asked me about my sex toys? I told her she’d be more mad if I was out there getting the real thing.
We should get a place together.” She announces, and I make a noncommittal sound.
This is my first time ever living alone. No Papa, no Sylvia. And honestly?
I kind of love it.
“By the way, someone came into work looking for you today.” I pause, half a noodle sticking out of my mouth.
“Was it Dom?”
“No, it was some other guy.” She scoffs. “I still can’t believe you and Dom aren’t going on another date. You’d make such a cute couple.”
“I already told you. I just don’t feel the attraction. You know?”
“Yeah.” She sighs. “No, this other guy had a totally different vibe. Super…scary. Like scary but hot at the same time. Like he could kill me, but I wouldn’t be mad if he was the last face I saw.”
I freeze, my fork hovering midair. “Did he…did he look like one of the guys from the picture at my apartment?”
Alma hums. “Mm. Actually, now that I think about it…yeah. He had a bunch of tattoos. A spider on his neck.”
Shit.
Matias was looking for me today?
“D—did he say what he wanted?”
“No, I asked but he—” A steady knock from the door sends my phone clattering to the ground. I scramble, picking it off the ground to find Alma still jabbering.
“Alma, let me call you back.” I end the call before she protests, leaning back on the counter and watching the door. Do?a Lucero never knocks without calling—she hates climbing the stairs from her downstairs unit, if she can help it.
So when I spot a shadow moving by the window next to the door, and a gravelly voice calls out my name, I’m not surprised. Still, my heart races when I unlatch the deadbolt and swing the door open, all of my aches vanishing with the rush of adrenaline.
Matias stands on my doorstep, peering over my shoulder into my apartment before speaking.
“Can I come in?”
His voice is low, hitting me like a punch to the gut. I nod and step aside, ignoring the excitement skittering up my spine at his combination of stillness and lethality as he takes a turn around my living room.
He’s really here.
I fight the urge to run a self-conscious hand across my hair, wishing I had enough warning to tidy up the sickness den that is my apartment and change out of my oversized sweatsuit.
I settle for swiping the bits of crumpled tissues around the coffee table and tossing them in the garbage, coming to stand by the kitchen counter when he takes too long to speak.
The gold chain wrapped around his neck gleams in the soft light of my living room, his black tee hugging the lines of his biceps and broad shoulders.
I’m too distracted by my observations to notice when I nearly tip the instant soup over the counter.
Focus, Natalia.
The room feels deathly silent when I clear my throat. “Why are you here?”
Matias jerks at the sound of my voice. “You sick?”
“It’s just a head cold.” I tell him, motioning for him to sit on my second-hand sofa. “I’ll be fine.”
Matias takes another good look at my little apartment before sitting, dragging a hand across his face and goatee. He opens his mouth, and then closes it, like he’s got no idea where to start.
I’m still not over the fact that my old world is crashing into my new one.
“Santos found out about your…proposition. He—we have a job for you.” Oh. Oh! I stuff a bite of noodles in my mouth and sit on the far end of the sofa, watching as he pulls something up on his phone.
“Before I say anything else, though…I need to know how serious this is.” He puts his phone on the coffee table and slides it towards me, and the noodles in my mouth turn into sawdust.
It’s a picture of Dom and I, kissing outside of the LAPD precinct. I mean, I knew it was coming. But my face still burns as I grind out my answer, desperately trying not to stammer.
“W—We’ve been acquaintances for a while and started dating a few weeks ago,” I lie. “Things between us are pretty casual. We’re just having fun.”
Matias is as stiff as a statue beside me, and for a moment, I wonder if there’s anything I can say to get a reaction. Does he care? What can I say to him—to make him hurt the way I did when I saw him with that woman?
No. I’ll make him hurt where he cares.
I clear my throat and look up at him. “Is it…going to be a problem?”
“What if I said yes?” Matias sets those serious eyes of his on me. “That I need to know why I should trust you?” My heart thuds so hard it almost careens out of my chest, but by some miracle, my voice never betrays me.
“Then I would say, that if all these years of keeping your secrets doesn’t prove my loyalty…I don’t know what will.”
We stare at each other for a long beat, but my answer works.
He gives me a conceding nod. “Fine. I won’t tell you who to date.
But if you take this job, you’re going to have to cut him loose.
You running around town with cops is going to make me look bad.
Can’t have that.” It makes sense, but somehow, it almost feels too easy.
“Dom won’t be a problem. So…” I try not to sound too excited. “Do I have the job? Running numbers?”
He shifts in his seat. “Not quite. There’s something else we need help with.”
“Okay?” I try gnawing on the flavorless noodles in front of me one last time before giving up and abandoning the cup on the coffee table. “What is it?”
“We have a rat. There are too many coincidences going on, and I need someone that can see what I can’t.”
“I thought your bookie was the problem.”
He shrugs. “Could be. Could be someone else. We’ve taken on a lot of new people after your dad got arrested.
Then Reynaldo went down, too, and more new people entered the mix.
The problem is that they’re all on the straight and narrow when Santos and I are around.
I need someone I trust watching them when they think no one is looking. Including Westfall.”
I thought convincing Matias to be his bookie would be my best move, but dear God, this may be even better.
Thank you, Santos.
I nod once. “…What would this entail?”
“Santos thinks the easiest way to go about it is…if we pretend to get back together.”
I jump in place like I just got struck by lightning.
“I know.” Matias says immediately. “It’s not a great idea, and if you’re not comfortable?—”
“It’s a good idea. The handful of people that knew about us won’t be surprised if they see me coming around again.” I nod, even though my meager dinner threatens to come back up and my knees knock together.
I’m not sure if it’s from fear or excitement.
“I’ll have you start by checking Westfall’s numbers.”
“Okay. When?”
He shrugs. “How about this weekend, if you’re up for it?
There’s this club not far from here, Pandemonium.
It’s where he works the majority the of time.
Most of our money moves through there. No one will blink twice if they see us together at the club.
It’ll be a good place to get our cover going.
” I want to ask about that woman I saw at the club—but settle for looking at him out of the corner of my eye.
He sighs, voice deep and low. “When we find the rat, and your job is done, you go on your way. I don’t want you mixed up in this shit forever.”
I arch a brow. “That’s a little patronizing, don’t you think?”
“It’s what I have for you.” He says with finality, and I know it’s taking a lot for him to even be here, asking me for help. “Take or leave it.”
“Fine.” I raise my chin and hold out my hand. “We have a deal.”
Matias leans back, looking back at my hand like it’s a gun. Those fathomless eyes creep to my face, and then a moment later, his tattooed hand gingerly envelops mine.
Suddenly, I see why he was looking at my hand like a weapon. Heat licks up my arm, electrifying me from the inside out. Arms, fingertips, toes—heart and all. I fix my eyes on our hands, the contrast that I always loved reminding me of stolen moments between us.
Before.
His tattooed hands tucking strands of hair away from my face, moving down and wrapping around my throat. His worn, calloused fingers skimming around my thighs, mouth dropping kisses on its way to my?—
Matias clears his throat. “You didn’t ask about your payment.”
“Oh. Right.” The whole ‘reason’ I signed up to do this. I try not to cringe as I ask: “How…how much will you be paying me?” A smile almost flutters over that full mouth of his.
“How about fifty thousand?”
I pale. “F—fifty thousand…a year?”
He leans back on my sofa and stretches his arms. “A month.”
I choke. Jesus Christ. “That’s…that’s good.”
“This is a negotiation.” He tells me, arching a brow like he’s expecting me to ask for more. And even though part of me wants to rake him over the coals, I know what he’s doing. I won’t ease his conscience by letting him throw money at me.
“Seems a little high…” I mutter, struggling to remember when Papa paid any of his employees such an eye-watering amount.
“It’s not.” He assures me, coming to his feet. “You’ll see.”
“Fine.” I tamp down the wave of disappointment when he starts walking for the door, immediately berating myself.
We don’t want him to stay, idiota.
“I’ll be by with your money and a secure phone, later tonight. I’ll use that to coordinate our first outing.”
“Sounds good.” I fight off an impending sneeze, burying my face in my sleeve and praying I don’t make a snotty mess out of myself.
He cocks his head, giving me a look that borders on worried, and I hate the way it warms me inside. I wave him away, watching from the sofa as he hovers near the doorway.
“Bye, Matias.”
And then he’s gone.
The energy zapping through the room suddenly dwindles, leaving an empty, exhausted silence in its wake. I collapse onto the sofa, burying my face in the pillows, feeling like I’ve just gotten my finger out of an electrical socket.
We’re going to pretend to be a couple again?
I groan. This is very dangerous—in more ways than one, I realize, when I catch a whiff of his spicy, smoky scent on one of my pillows. I’m so screwed.
A point that becomes glaringly obvious when Matias leaves his drop on my doorstep with a firm knock.
One fancy brand new cell phone, with his number programmed into it. A bag with fifty thousand dollars in neatly stacked one-hundred dollar bills.
And a takeout bowl, filled to the brim with steaming chicken soup.