12. An Answer, Of Sorts
12
An Answer, Of Sorts
Matt
When we got the call to report for a situation briefing, never in my wildest dreams would I have considered that I would end up face-to-face with Jessica.
I’ll admit it was only my lifetime experience of controlling my outward emotions that kept me from completely giving away our relationship.
And to say that would have been a disaster is a serious understatement.
I also realized that she likely said she was here for Matt and intended to find me rather than Matteo. And of course, Kaian would naturally assume she was for Matteo because no one is gonna send anyone for me.
What an absolute fucking clusterfuck.
My first instinct is to reach out to Darius and find out why Jessica is here. There’s not a chance in hell she would be here if she wasn’t somehow involved with those fucking assholes, and why any of them would think it was a good idea to send her into this hellhole is beyond me.
And I’m fucking pissed.
I barely manage to temper my anger as the men around me discuss the pertinent details of how we’re supposed to handle this new situation.
I’m still reeling as I finally manage to exit the room, and Kaian, being the observant person that he is, is right on my heels, and I know I only have a matter of moments before he’s all up in my ass, trying to figure out what the fuck my problem is.
No sooner are we through the doorway and the door is shut behind us than he asks, “What the fuck’s going on, Matt?”
I don’t bother looking at him as I reply, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t give me that shit, man,” he responds. “Maybe you can pull one over on those other assholes, but I’m not that stupid.”
I ignore him, hoping that he’ll drop it though also knowing that he won’t. So it’s no great surprise to me when he adds, “Seriously. If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I can’t help you.”
I turn to him then and say, “You can’t help me.”
He glares at me, his arms crossing over his chest as he says, “Like fuck I can’t.”
I don’t know what it is about this guy, but I’m not entirely sure I trust his mission to possibly help me. Typically, when people consistently go out of their way to help you, it’s because they have an agenda that would be detrimental to your overall well-being.
He stares at me, waiting for me to say something, so finally, I shrug, and shake my head. “I’m not saying that you’re not capable of helping me, Kai. But helping me would only put you at risk, and I’m not willing to do that.”
This time, his eye-roll is obnoxious, and he snorts and then replies, “Give me a fucking break. You don’t get to decide where and when I put my life at risk.”
“Well, that may be so, but right now, I don’t really see how you can help. That doesn’t mean there won’t be something that comes up in the near future, though, so consider your offer noted.”
“See that you do.”
He stares me down until I nod in agreement, and then he nods as well before turning and exiting the room.
I stand there in the middle of the room for a moment, unsure what the fuck I should do next. And then I curse, pushing down my urge to destroy something.
I honestly had no idea that Jessica has ties to a criminal organization. I’m more annoyed that we missed it, though I understand that unless we have good reason to suspect someone, we tend to only do a very basic background check.
Something we’ll be making some changes on going forward, given the fact this isn’t the first time that we’ve fucked ourselves over by not being thorough.
Of all the people she could possibly end up shackled to, Matteo is the worst of the worst. The man’s a fucking sadist, and he would think nothing of using her, abusing her, and then tossing her to the side, regardless of who her father is. It’s only dumb luck that he thought to bring her appearance to the attention of people that actually have a fucking brain.
I quickly change my clothes, pull on workout gear, and head toward the gym. I know they’ll have her housed in the guest quarters, which are on the same level as the gym, so hopefully, I’ll be able to find her without drawing any attention to myself.
The entire floor is quiet, which is typical for this time of day. The majority of people don’t bother working out, and the ones that do tend to do it in the morning. They reserve the evening and nighttime hours for fucking, fighting, or just generally partying.
I pretend to be doing a circuit around the gym, and after about thirty minutes or so, I head toward the locker rooms, quietly veering off in the direction of the guest quarters.
The empty rooms have the doors left open, so it doesn’t take me long to pinpoint where she’s being kept. She probably wasn’t very happy when she realized she was locked in, but hopefully, she’s smart enough not to raise too much of a ruckus about it.
I enter the room soundlessly, closing the door behind me and then scanning the dimly lit room, but coming up empty. A rustling comes from the bathroom, so I walk in that direction, and then she’s there in the doorway, a yelp of surprise echoing through the room.
“What the fuck, Matt?”
I can’t help but smirk, a small laugh escaping as I reply, “I think I’m the one that should be saying that, Jess.”
She glares at me, pushing past me and walking toward the bed as she says, “I think you gave up the right to ask questions when you ghosted me.”
“I didn’t ghost you. Ghosting you would have been not responding without giving you an explanation.”
She whirls on me, her hands resting on her hips as she says, “Explanation?” She pauses and then says quite sarcastically, “You need to forget about me.” She pauses again, glaring at me, and then laughs bitterly as she adds, “Quite the fucking explanation, you asshole.”
I grit my teeth, rushing toward her and stopping only a few inches from her as I snarl, “That was the only explanation I could give you without putting you in danger.”
She scoffs, her tone still mocking as she says, “Well, maybe if you’d been a little clearer, I wouldn’t be in the situation I’m currently in.”
“Explanation or no explanation, why in the fuck would you come here?”
“Because we were worried about you.”
“Who is we?” I ask incredulously.
“Your friends, you moron.”
My fucking friends. I’m completely appalled that my idiotic friends would do something so shortsighted as to send her here. “Why would they choose you?”
“Because I’m the only one no one would recognize,” she replies calmly. “Anyone else would be recognized too quickly to actually locate you.”
“And then you end up literally stuck with the biggest asshole here.”
“Well, I didn’t do it intentionally. And then, once I was there, what the fuck was I supposed to do?”
I take a deep breath, still shaking my head as I put a little space between us. “Why didn’t you tell me who your father is?”
She raises her brows at me and then replies, “Because it’s irrelevant.”
“How can it be irrelevant?”
“I haven’t seen the man in decades. I intended to never see the man again, so that seems irrelevant.”
“Well, it’s not fucking irrelevant now,” I spit out. “Is he going to corroborate your story, or is this going to be a bigger problem?”
She gives me a blank look for a moment and then grimaces. “I really don’t know. My mother’s dying wish was that I be released from the family duties to live my own life. I got a new name, background, and life, and I never looked back.”
My anger and frustration leave my body, and I back away, sitting in the chair against the wall. I lean forward and brace my forearms on the tops of my thighs as I stare over at her and say, “This is really fucking bad.”
“I kind of gathered that.”
I shake my head as I reply, “No, really. If he tells them that you’re full of shit, you’re a goner. And it won’t be an easy end, either.”
“And if his story matches mine?”
I groan, sitting back in the chair; my hands come up as I shrug with my entire body. “I honestly don’t know if you’re better off being dead or married to Matteo.”
She sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed as she says, “Well, it’s not really your problem, Matt.”
“Not my problem?”
“Yep,” she says shortly. “I came here to make sure you were all right, and clearly you are. So, I’ll just have to take whatever comes and hope for the best.”
My eyes practically bug out of my head as I parrot, “Hope for the best?”
She nods, and I can see she believes her bullshit lines as best as she can, given the circumstances. “The ship has sailed, and I’m doubtful I’ll be able to get off, so it is what it is.”
“It is what it is,” I parrot again.
She looks over at me, quirking a brow as she asks, “Are you all right?”
The fury that had left me only a few minutes ago suddenly rushes back, and I jump to my feet, crossing the room in a few long strides. I stop in front of her and grasp her by her upper arms as I lean in close and say forcefully, “No, I’m not fucking okay.”
She glares up at me, pushing against me and shaking me off. When I step back, she jumps to her feet and shouts, “Well, too fucking bad. If you think you can go gallivanting off without giving anyone any information until they worry about you, then you’re a moron. But now that we know you’re okay, I guess I’ll just have to pay my penance for giving a shit.”
I deflate a bit, wishing there was a way for me to explain without giving her information that will just put her more at risk. I’ve always been a straight shooter, and the last couple of years of having to toe the line at every turn has become exhausting. I’m sure the expression on my face is pained as I say softly, “I don’t know if I can save you from this.”
She gives me a bland look and says clearly, “It’s not your job to save me.”
My first instinct is to call bullshit on her statement, but I do know what she means. Sometimes, we have no choice but to save ourselves.
I nod, and she steps back and resumes her previous seat on the bed and then mutters, “So you can just go and get yourself hitched to somebody’s sister without fucking worrying about me.”
Shit. I forgot about that.
“Jessica,” I begin as I take a short step toward her. She puts her hand up, and I stop my forward momentum, but then I add, “It’s not what you think.”
She puts both her hands up. I snap my mouth shut, and then she says, “Just save it. It’s just something else that’s irrelevant, given our current circumstances. Though I do find it amusing that we’re technically both betrothed to other people.”
I wince at the word betrothed . I also can’t give her a proper explanation, and since I do my best not to blatantly lie, I just keep my mouth shut.
She’s quiet for a few moments, and I stand there rather awkwardly, and then she says, “So I guess we just wait?”
I nod. “It’s all we can do. I’ll try to get as much information as I can ahead of time in the hope it can be fixed, but I don’t have the control here that I have in the outside world.”
“What the fuck are you doing here, Matt?”
I just look at her, hoping she can see in my eyes all the things I want to say to her—that I’m just not allowed to. And maybe she can, but I’m sure that doesn’t take the sting out of my silence.
Finally, I say, “I assume Antoinette and Carolina gave you a full briefing before sending you in here?”
She nods. “Yes. Right down to the tiniest, most violent detail.”
“So, they’ve told you how to react and how not to in most situations?”
She nods again. “Yes. I think I have it under control now, though, for a few minutes in the beginning there, I almost fucked it up royally.”
“Maniacal laughter?” I ask.
She giggles and nods some more. “Yeah, Carolina was right. That playing daft worked like a charm, but it only works so far before you have to dial it in and actually act like you have one fucking brain cell in your head. It’s a fine line.”
I smile, wanting nothing more than to whisk her out of here, being entirely frustrated that I can’t.
We laugh together quietly for a few moments, and eventually, silence settles around us. She rises from where she was seated on the bed and walks over to me, stopping a few inches from me. She reaches up and strokes her fingertips along my cheek as she whispers, “You should go.”
I close my eyes, wanting to sink into her touch for as long as I possibly can, but knowing that our moment is over just as quickly as it had begun.
I swallow the lump in my throat, incapable of finding any words, even with everything that I want to say in the moment, and then her touch is gone. I open my eyes, and she says a little louder, “Get the fuck out of here before you get us both killed.”
I sigh heavily, moving to walk away, but then I pause, turning back to look at her. “If I get an opportunity to fix this, just remember that I’m going to have to say and do some things you’re not going to like.”
“I have a feeling I’m going to have to get used to a lot of things I’m not going to like, regardless of who they’re coming from.”
“Yes,” I reply seriously. “But these things will be more difficult for you to swallow, coming from me. It will seem completely out of character from the Matt that you know, and I won’t be able to sway, no matter what you say or do in response to my words and actions. I will have to stay the course. And if you fight me, I will have to hurt you.”
She frowns and steps back from me, almost unconsciously as she asks, “Hurt me how?”
“That I don’t know. But I need you to remember that when it comes down to it, I will literally do anything to save you.”
She shivers visibly, and I know that she understands exactly what I’m saying.
And I mean every word of it.
The hierarchy of the criminal underworld is quite literally kill or be killed. And in most cases, if you attempt to usurp the current order, bloodshed is imminent, and the kill or be killed mentally becomes imperative.
I stare at her intently, unblinking. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Jessica?”
She takes a deep breath, slowly exhales it, and then nods as she replies, “I understand. Don’t worry.”
I turn to leave the room, but her voice draws my attention back to her when she says, “Matt.”
I meet her eyes again, noting the yearning there, the desperation, and I take a step back toward her, extending my hand, which she takes. I stand there for a moment, stroking my thumb along the back of her hand. We watch each other silently, communicating wordlessly what we’re feeling.
I wait another moment and then slowly release her hand as I say, “I got you.”
And then I spin on my heel and walk away.