Chapter 14
Aron
I shouldn’t have called Matt. All I achieved was working myself up, getting angrier. Worse than that, though, is the pain.
He waited for Maria to be safely away from the penthouse. He didn’t strike when she was there.
Why didn’t I trust him?
While I lament my choices, Isaac, my newest guard—God, it feels so strange to have a guard rather than being one—knocks on my office door.
“Come in.”
“Don Aron, there’s movement at the mansion. You wanted to be notified if Don Matteo left, and he’s heading away from the mansion right now.”
“Alone?”
Isaac shakes his head. “No, sir. He’s got a guard with him.”
A guard? Where could Matt be going?
At first, I assumed he was heading for his hidden manor.
It would make sense for him to hole up somewhere isolated, away from the shitstorm that’s surely coming.
I can’t fathom him bringing anyone else there, though.
I was the only guard—the only Syndicate member at all—who he’s ever been close enough to, the only person he shared that location with.
Everyone else, he keeps at arm’s length, and for good reason. What could he be up to?
“Isaac, clear my schedule for the evening. I’m going out.”
Isaac rushes to catch up with me as I tear down the corridor. “Sir? Is that wise? The Syndicate is on the move, and—”
“Are my wife and daughter secure?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then I’m going out.”
I don’t give him a chance to protest further. Storming down the halls of our newest hideout, I head straight for the garage.
Matt is smart, too smart to go to the one place I’d easily find him. That means I’ll have to hunt him down and track him. Luckily for me, he hasn’t shut off his phone. He’s being reckless, which means something I said shook him.
Half an hour later, I sit idling outside the most disgusting motel I’ve ever seen.
A handful of bills to the night manager was all it took to learn what room Matt’s in, and a dime bag earned me the added info that Matt’s not alone.
From the description the manager gave, it sounds like Matt brought Rico here, though I can’t fathom why.
Well, I suppose I can guess the reason they’re here, though there are still unanswered questions.
Matt could just as easily have hooked up with Rico at the estate.
It would have saved him a few bucks, and it certainly would have been more sanitary.
Then again, there’s more risk of being caught at the mansion.
Someone could walk in on them, and with the amount of security in place, they could even be recorded.
They’ve been in there for hours. Matt must be working up quite the appetite. I hope Rico’s still fit to sit after this if need be.
I know this can’t be about love. Matt might be pissed, but he wouldn’t have moved on that quickly.
Rico was probably just willing and available.
In fact, what I recall from my brief stint as the Syndicate’s head of security suggests that Rico is one of the most likely candidates for a fling.
His college frat days were certainly wild enough; it wouldn’t take much convincing on Matt’s part.
While I wait for them to emerge, I plot my next move.
I could take incriminating photos of the two of them leaving the motel room together and leak them to the Syndicate, but that feels childish.
Another option is to confront Matt before he can drive away.
A place this deserted won’t carry much risk of harming an innocent in the crossfire if Rico decides to shoot at me.
Then it hits me: I can be the one to start shooting.
I don’t intend to hit Matt. If things go the way I plan, Rico will take the brunt of the gunfire. He’s expendable.
Matt, though … I’ll let him live.
I get out of my car and rest a hip on the warm hood.
To anyone looking from a distance, they’d think I’m just waiting for a friend or perhaps my drug dealer.
Up close, though, they’d see me affixing the silencer to my gun.
Not that gunshots are at all unusual in this neighborhood, but I’d rather not draw undue attention.
Finally, Matt and Rico emerge. Matt comes out first, which infuriates me. Rico should be leading the way, making sure the area is safe for Matt. Who the fuck taught this kid?
They chat a bit as Matt locks the motel room door behind him and pockets the key, still apparently oblivious to my presence.
It would be so easy … Just a couple pops, and the Syndicate would be in shambles.
It’s what my dad wanted. It’s what Emily wants. It’s what I should want, I suppose, but something stays my hand.
“Don Matteo!” I call out, still lounging against the hood of my car. My hand lies draped across my lap, my finger stroking the trigger.
Rico acts, but not fast enough. My muzzle flashes, and Matt’s guard goes down before he can even draw his weapon.
To his credit, Matt remains calm. He wipes splattered blood from his cheek with a handkerchief, sparing a quick glance to his dead associate.
“You never seemed like the jealous type, Aron.”
I push off the hood and stride towards Matt, keeping the gun trained on him. “Who says I’m jealous?”
He chuckles and puts the bloody kerchief back in his pocket. “Killing the first man I’ve been with since you? Sounds like jealousy to me.”
“Maybe I just wanted a private conversation with you. Don to Don.”
One dark brow rises, and Matt’s blue eyes almost twinkle. “You’ve done well for yourself since leaving the Syndicate. To think, if I hadn’t acted while you were in the manor, you’d still be playing second fiddle to your father.”
He’s trying to goad me. It’s almost like he wants me to shoot.
I gesture towards the room he just exited with the barrel of my gun. “Unlock it.”
Matt takes his time retrieving the key from his pocket. He keeps his movements slow, even, calculated. Though his face shows nothing more than idle curiosity, maybe a touch of sardonic humor, his actions, at least, give me the respect I deserve.
“Get inside.”
Matt nods and strides into the dank motel room, leaving the door open behind him.
Hot on his heels, I haul Rico’s body inside, slip through the door, and slam it shut, sliding the bolt home and locking the chain for good measure.
My nostrils are immediately assaulted with a sickening combination of scents.
There’s the usual musty motel room smell, but Matt and Rico added the musk of sex and a faint fruity odor to the mix.
“There were other ways to get me alone, Aron. You didn’t need to kill Rico.”
“Rico didn’t know his place.”
“His place was wherever I told him to be.” Matt removes his suit coat and folds it neatly, hanging it over the back of the rickety desk chair in the corner before calmly rolling up his sleeves.
“What are you doing?”
Matt shrugs. “The air conditioning in this room doesn’t work. You might want to take off your coat as well. It’s stifling in here.”
If he thinks I’m going to fall for that …
“Where do you want me?”
I blink, confused. “Huh?”
“You’ve got me at gunpoint; you make the rules. Do you want me to sit here? On the bed? I’m afraid there aren’t many options.”
So that’s his game. He’s giving me the reins, at least for now. Okay. I can play.
“There’s plenty of floor.” I point to the worn carpet at my feet. “Kneel.”
Step by deliberate step, Matt crosses the room. His eyes never leave mine as he gets on his knees, and he keeps his hands to the side, palms out, like he’s demonstrating the fact that he’s unarmed, or …
… Like he’s praying. Supplicating. Offering himself.
He looks like a proverbial sacrificial lamb.
Using the silencer of the gun, I tip his chin up, exposing his neck. “Tell me, Matt: What’s to stop me from shooting you right now?”
“Nothing.”
He should be terrified. Angry. Something. So why does he seem so calm? It’s like he’s relaxed even with the gun on him, like his trust in me supersedes any danger associated with the situation.
I try to hide the tremor in my hand as I remove the gun from his neck. Matt keeps his head tilted up, and his damn sapphire blue eyes follow me as I start to pace the room. I hadn’t expected this surrender. I’d been prepared to have to fight him, prepared for a struggle.
I’d been prepared for the man I love to give me a reason to kill him.
“Aron?”
Whipping around, I aim the gun at him again, but …
… But I can’t.
“Fuck!” My hands rake through my hair, and, after a brief war inside my head, I finally remove the silencer and holster the weapon. “Goddamnit, Matt. I can’t. I can’t kill you.”
“I would understand if you had to.”
My pacing brings me to the window. I peer through a crack between the curtains, resting my palms on the sill.
Outside, a hooker and her john gape at the blood on the sidewalk as they head to their own room for the night, sidestepping the red smear.
Given the area of town that we’re in, I’m not concerned with them calling the police. People here mind their own business.
When I turn back to Matt, he’s still on the floor. He hasn’t moved a muscle.
“I don’t have to kill you. God knows, there’s a part of me that wants to, but I can’t.”
“What now?”
What indeed? I have the head of the Royal Syndicate hostage. I could hold him for ransom, torture him, any number of things.
So why is kissing him the only thing on my mind?