Chapter 18 #3
“I would find your death difficult to justify, but the loss of your shoulder—that would be a simple matter of twisting the truth.” Matthew stepped into the light, aiming a gun at Beckett.
The parking garage was deserted except for his towering presence. Beckett mentally accorded him three points for his dramatic entrance but deducted at least seven for his lack of planning ahead.
“Shoot me,” Beckett yawned, bored and unconcerned. “I’d love to see how pretty Hayes’ bullet would look as it bloomed in the middle of your forehead.”
If there was anything that Beckett was sure of in this life, it was that Hayes Monroe was extremely trigger happy at all times, and that his aim was true.
The added bonus here, of course, was that Hayes’ wrath and desire for vengeance if Beckett was harmed would be limitless.
Matthew would learn that the hard way if he followed through with his threat.
Beckett smiled with supreme satisfaction at the thought.
“Where were you? Why did you leave?” Matthew asked, ignoring his warning. His hands—good God, were they fucking shaking? Jeezzzz—
Beckett couldn’t quite help himself; he laughed. What was this? Amateur hour?
Matthew Rosario was a big name. The biggest boy on the playground.
With a rich daddy, a big truck, and lots of fancy clothing.
But Beckett took in the wavering gun in his hands, and saw him for what he truly was.
He took a couple of steps towards him, ignoring the Glock pointed right at him.
He watched, eyes narrowed with interest, as Matthew warned him to stay back—even as he held the gun inexpertly trained on them.
Beckett jumped Matthew before he knew what hit him. He shoved Matthew back against a cement column.
And Beckett got it then. He saw it. That need for control—born of intellect rather than blood.
The same kind that ruled his brother’s life.
It was a power grounded in games and strategic moves.
They’d built empires on the backs of their reputations, family names, and knowledge, whereas Beckett had worked his way up with just his fists and insanity.
That’s not to say that one was better than the other—he’d been brought down by far lesser men than Matthew and his brother, but when they were alone, one-on-one—fuck was it easy to overpower them.
He might pay for it later. Be undone by inside rumors and contacts, but now—here?
—there was nothing more powerful than the handgun Beckett was allowing Matthew to continue to press against his temple.
After all, they both knew Beckett could grab the gun and turn it on Matthew at any time.
“You have to choose,” Beckett stated coldly. “You can trust me, or you can end this partnership now—either way, I’ll get my brother free of this mess. You can be part of the casualties or you can be part of the solution.”
Matthew was forced to stop and think about exactly where his chess pieces were on the board right now. He wasn’t king, queen, and knight. Rather, he was a jester and a pawn—an accidental sacrifice, or the means to an end. Beckett simply hadn’t cared to share this with him before.
Matthew might have been smarter than Beckett initially thought he was because he gave a brisk nod and lowered his gun.
Hayes followed suit.
“Why did you sneak off in the middle of the night?” Matthew asked, still suspicious.
“Because we fucking wanted to!” Beckett bit back, annoyed to be questioned like a criminal.
“You should have—”
“Don’t even dare—” Hayes cut him off. His words, though phrased as a warning, were an obvious threat.
Beckett was stunned into silence. He even cast his boyfriend a surprised look. He’d never heard Hayes be so sharp with a client. Usually, Hayes was nothing but honey and bourbon at work. He was never the one to make waves. The fierce anger was hot, if Beckett was honest.
“You work for me. I expect—”
Hayes didn’t let him finish.
“Please don’t flatter yourself. We don’t owe anyone anything.
As a favour to Franklin, and because we fancied it, we chose to work alongside you, but we’ll gladly terminate that deal if we feel the leash is pulled too tightly—if you gather my meaning.
” Hayes’ voice was low and dangerous in all the ways Beckett liked best. “I’ve shot far better men than you,” Hayes confessed, because it needed to be said.
“I would sleep soundly knowing you were six feet underground—am I clear?” Hayes asked, his sincerity and honesty made the threat very real and very powerful.
Some people saw Hayes and thought him harmless—polite—hell, even understanding.
They couldn’t be more wrong. Beckett was far more likely to risk his own life for a low life than Hayes ever was to risk even a single strand of hair on his better half’s head.
Empathy was a distant cousin whenever those he loved were involved.
“I see I made a bed with a snake and a gun,” Matthew said, obviously swallowing the knot of fear in his throat and struggling to maintain an unaffected air.
“Pray the latter finds you last,” Hayes replied. He swung an arm around Beckett’s shoulders and turned them both around, walking towards the condo together.
They said nothing else as they made their way back to Matthew’s condo, but they heard his footsteps echo theirs all the way into the building.
When they were safely tucked in the elevator, leaving Matthew to take the stairs, or wait for it to return to the lobby, Beckett released a loud peal of laughter he’d been holding inside, and turned to press Hayes against the elevator wall.
“Cheez-its on a cross, that was super fucking hot,” he exclaimed, before he sealed their mouths together. He felt Hayes smile against his lips. When they finally separated so they could breathe again, Hayes couldn’t hide his amused delight.
“You have the oddest kinks,” he said, and Beckett didn’t buy his put-upon attitude at all.
Beckett played the video of the truck’s interior several times. Matthew kept stopping it to look at things in the low light of Beckett’s phone, questioning what they were all seeing, as if his doubts or opinions might change the facts.
There was an uneasy tension in the room. Their mutual distrust hovered in the air like storm clouds.
“Listen—” Beckett finally said after the fifth run through.
“I know a vampire fetish might not be all that fashionable right now, but I’ve heard of worse ones.
” He wasn’t trying to lighten the mood, not that it was even possible, but the sun was about to rise, and his yawns were wide enough to crack his jaw.
“I have no explanation for this,” Matthew acknowledged.
“You weren’t aware?” Hayes asked, playing it safe once more. Whatever aggression had driven him to threaten the mob boss with bodily harm earlier had been set aside.
“That my uncle is insane? Obviously not.” He paused the video on a blurry shot of the coffin locked inside the cage. “I’m just—this doesn’t help us. A vampire fetish is difficult to explain to the family, but it isn’t grounds for interference,” Matthew said with a discouraged sigh.
Beckett couldn’t blame him. Matthew had wagered a lot on the fact that his uncle was doing something explicitly illegal and morally reprehensible.
While weighing the merits of believing in the supernatural—specifically vampires—sounded weird, it wouldn’t give the FBI grounds to move against the family, nor did it tarnish the Rosario name.