“Do we have a problem here?” he asked Mickey. His tone was pleasant enough, but despite all the posturing, there was no mistaking the potential for violence as the three of us stood there.
We were so close. One more day, and I’d have had a shot of talking him into letting Matty fight his fight. There was no question now, as I looked into his eyes, that Matty had made an enemy for life by being with me. The odds of me being able to talk Mick out of it were slimmer than ever. Everything was fucked up now.
I opened my mouth to say something, anything, to try to diffuse the situation, but Mickey shook his head and stepped back toward the door, that terrifying smile still stretching his lips.
“It’s okay, you guys carry on. I don’t want to interrupt your celebration. I just wanted to make sure that, after that stellar performance, you were still prepared to do what needed to be done down the line like Kayla and I discussed.”
Matty’s hold on me went slack as my world turned upside down and my heart cracked in two.
“What the fuck are you talking about, old man?” Matty demanded.
“Wait, your girlfriend didn’t tell you?” Mick snicked his tongue softly and shook his head, pinning me with his icy stare. “Honey, that’s cold-hearted of you. When were you going to tell the boy?”
“Tell me what?”
“I can see I’ve said too much. I’m going to go and let the two of you discuss business. I just came by to congratulate you. So, congratulations.” He tipped his imaginary hat and spun on his heel, shutting the door behind him with an ominous click.
Matty let his arm fall from my shoulder and took a step back. The confusion on his face along with the rising awareness that something was horribly wrong sent the hot dog I’d eaten earlier halfway back up my gullet before I managed to swallow it back.
Jesus, if Mickey had wanted to hurt me for deceiving him he’d done a bang up job of it. Seeing Matty like this because of my actions after winning his first major fight hurt.
Bad.
And the job wasn’t even done. I still had to tell him the truth.
“He's going to make you throw the next big fight.”
“What?”
“He's going to make you throw a fight against Diego Ricon.”
Once the words started this time, I couldn't stop them and they rushed from my lips like a babbling brook after a storm.
“He wants to build Ricon as the hot new thing. He's setting you up to make a name for yourself and then lose to make Diego look better. He said he was sick of your attitude and he was really mad when you walked in on us having dinner in the ring.”
Matty’s face went bone white but I forced myself to finish it.
“He told me that if I don't convince you to take a dive, he's going to break your legs and then do everything in his power to ruin Bash's fighting career.”
Long seconds ticked by, and the silence was so oppressive, I felt like I was suffocating.
“When did he tell you?” His words were like tiny whips, each one inflicting a cut deeper than the last.
“Matty, listen to what I'm saying, we have to-”
“When?” His voice was ice cold now and it chilled me to the bone.
I wet my lips and shook my head miserably. “That night. The night you came to the warehouse on my birthday.”
“You knew when we slept together?”
“Yes.”
“You knew that night, the night I made you come for the first time in your life? And every time we fucked since?”
I swallowed past the lump wedged in my throat and forced myself to answer. “Yes.”
“You knew when you sat outside the ring, giving me tips and pointers and pretending to be my friend? When we decided to have a relationship for real? And you didn’t tell me?”
The hurt in those green eyes nearly laid me low and I wished I could go back and do it again. Go back and tell him the truth from the start. Why did I always have to fuck everything up this way?
“It wasn't like that. I never pretended,” I insisted.
If I couldn’t get him to believe anything else, I at least needed him to believe that.
“It was all real. At least, to me it was. The only thing that didn’t seem real was Mick's threat. I kept thinking he'd cool down. That he'd change his mind and take it back. What would be the point of telling you that when I knew it would make you do something you'd regret? I just wanted to protect you and I believed I could get him to change his mind before it was too late.”
“I didn’t need you to do that.” He took another step backward, like he couldn’t stand to be even that close to me, and I nearly flinched at the pain of it.
“We need each other, Matty. Let’s give it a few days. I'll still talk to him. Tell him I'll never forgive him if he doesn't treat you fairly from now on. I was just waiting for the right time.”
“The right time was six motherfucking weeks ago when you found out about this, Kayla. Now I'm going to take care of it myself, because that's what I do. I take care of myself. I know better than to count on anyone else to do it for me. “
The determined set of his sculpted jaw filled me with dread. This wasn't idle talk. He was going to do something stupid and rash and likely dangerous and he already knew what it was.
“Please,” I whispered, gripping his arm, hanging on for dear life as my teeth started to chatter. “Tell me what you're going to do.”
“I'm going to stop trying to be such a boy scout and play by Mickey's rules. He likes to lean on people. Well, I've got some shit on him now. I didn't want to use it. It's ugly.”
“He'll kill you.”
It wasn't a question.
Odd how, in that moment, after years of telling myself Mick was capable of a lot of things but he would never kill someone, I knew with total clarity that it wasn't true. He'd kill Matty in a heartbeat if it meant silencing him.
“Do you understand what I'm saying, Matthias? He will kill you if he gets the opportunity.”
“If he ruins my chances of fighting again with this stunt of his, he might as well. I got nothing else. I have no way of paying for college and no other skills that could support me.”
“Can you at least give me one chance to do this the right way? To convince him.”
“You've had six weeks. You made your choice and now I'm making mine.”
“I just wanted to protect you.” It seemed so weak now, but it was the truth. How could I get him to understand?
“Seems to me like you were more worried about protecting your beloved father than me, which is precious, considering.”
“Considering what?”
His throat worked and the look in his eyes made me wish I hadn’t asked. That I’d cut my losses and walked out, because whatever he told me now was going to be the worst part of my already devastating day.
“I didn’t want to tell you like this. Fuck, I don’t want to tell you at all.” He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out, collapsing back onto the stool against the wall. “Your mother didn’t die of cancer.”
“She did.” I shook my head, wishing he would shut up. He didn’t even know what he was talking about. His words made no sense. “In prison. I saw her. She was sick…”
“She was sick because your father had her systematically poisoned by another inmate. The DA had offered her a deal for a reduced sentence for information on some of his business dealings. He was afraid she was going to take them up on it and roll on him.” His eyes went soft for just an instant. “I’m sorry, but you needed to know. He’s dangerous, Kayla. Trying to reason with a person like that doesn’t work. The best thing you can do is get as far away from him as you can and let me handle my own shit with him.”
The rest of his words barely penetrated through the haze of shock. Everything I'd known and believed had been obliterated in less than sixty seconds. Grief welled inside me, so deep it was like an ache in my soul.
If Matty was right, it changed my entire life as I knew it. How could Mick
ey have done this to me? Lied for so long, straight to my face? Pretend that he loved me, and all the while…
And Matty. So angry that I had secrets, when he had secrets of his own.
I’d never felt more alone in my life.
Roxanne James was no saint. She was weak, and greedy and ignorant. She'd grown up poor herself and on the take all her life and had never learned another way. For all her faults, I knew she'd hoped I would have it better. Break the cycle that she couldn't.
Memories of those rare times when she'd quit using and tried to go straight flooded my mind unbidden. Times she'd brought me to the park and pushed me on the swings. Times she'd tried, unsuccessfully, to braid my hair like TV moms did. Whatever her crimes, whatever her failures as a parent, she didn't deserve to die in prison.
All the gratitude I felt toward Mickey for saving me all those years ago evaporated under the fiery heat of my rage.
If this was true. If he killed my mother, I would make him pay.
I stared at Matty now, trying to absorb the past few minutes and make some sense out of any of it. His face was a mask of pain and anger and confusion that probably mirrored mine.
Jesus, we were quite the pair. Me, with my mobster father and secretive ways. Matty with his crazy family and his trust issues. We were like the fox and the hound. The strangest of bed-fellows. There were no two people in the world more ill-suited, but I hadn’t been able to stay away from him.
Only now, I had no choice.
He cared about me. Hell, he might even love me, the way I loved him. But like the wise Tina Turner once said, love didn’t have shit to do with it.
My heart was too broken to feel anything but hurt right now, and all I wanted to do was run. Run from him, run from Mickey, run from fucking Boston until I couldn’t run anymore.
So I did.
The End
Stay tuned for the final installment of Matty and Kayla’s story, coming on September 15th!
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Professional matchmaker, Serena Elliott spends her workdays helping clients find love. It’s the perfect gig. She gets to see the good part of the relationships…before things inevitably turn to crap. She leads her own love life the same way. Get in, and get out before things get too complicated. One date with sexy army doctor, Bryan Metcalf, won’t be enough to make her change her mind, no matter how hot it gets…
Bryan has had his share of crazy women and isn’t in the market for another relationship that ends by way of restraining order. When Serena Elliott gets into a bidding war for him at a charity bachelor auction, he’s a little worried. Turns out she’s just as anti-relationship as he is, and could be the solution to all his problems. If he can convince her to be his fake girlfriend, he just might be able to spend the rest of his leave in peace. Now if only he can stop thinking about that night on the beach…
But there are other forces at work that believe these two belong together, and they just might find out that happily ever afters do exist.
Excerpt
“You've got to be fucking kidding me.” Bryan Metcalf nearly choked on the words as he searched for his discarded coat. He had to get the hell out of here before things got even more bizarre.
“Oh come on, bro, don't be a baby. Everyone else is wearing them.” His little sister looked up at him with a pleading expression she'd crafted in childhood and perfected as the years went by.
Quinn always did this to him. She'd call him up begging for help, like she was at her wit’s end and was desperate for his help, and by the time he got there, desperation was nowhere to be found. Instead, he'd find a carefully planned set of tasks lined up for him and his smiling sister, proverbial whip in hand.
Today was no different.
She'd phoned him that morning, next to tears, choking out something about the last bachelor in tonight's charity auction having the flu and would he mind stepping in? Her job was on the line and, truly, he wouldn’t have to do much. One date with a nice lady who wanted to help the hospital raise money, nothing embarrassing or stupid.
It was all very convincing. And so, like the big dumb idiot he was, he swooped in to save the day. What she didn't mention was the theme of tonight’s festivities.
Adam and Eve.
Even that wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't for the fact that all the bachelors in her little auction were practically naked, covered only by underwear made of ferns, which were apparently strung together by the last remnants of their dignity.
Getting him here might have been yet another notch on Q's belt of manipulation, but he'd be damned if he was about to prance around with his twig and berries covered by nothing exept a few more twigs and berries.
He was just sizing up the other guys to see whom he might recruit to help him stage a coup when his sister’s voice dragged him back to his bizarro reality.
“It's really not that bad,” Quinn was saying. “You’re going to look great. Green’s totally your color.” She smirked, brushing back the long braids hanging around her face. “What are you, a medium?” She held up a pair of briefs with a particularly small set of leaves glued onto them and then tossed them in his direction.
“Very funny. No chance in hell you're getting me to wear that.”
She surveyed him for a moment, her eyes going soft and watery and her rounded features pinching into a pathetic, sad-clown face. “Please, bro. It's my first big event. I need you.”
Damn it.
His sister had been in the party planning business for less than six months and already had landed a plum spot at an established company. This was her first time soloing a gig, and he knew how important it was to her that she succeed.
He snatched a pair of extra-large leaves from the rack behind her. “You owe me. Like, huge.”
And as if by magic, the pitiful pout was gone.
“I have a feeling you'll be the one thanking me by the end of this, actually.”
She straightened the golden pendant holding her white toga together and smirked at him, apparently satisfied that her pleading had paid off. And since he’d shielded himself behind a portable wardrobe and was shrugging off the rest of his clothes and putting on the wretched costume, her look of triumph was understandable.
Still, as her words sank in, his gut clenched. These schemes of hers were almost always two-parters. If she tricked him into picking up takeout for her, it wasn't just because she couldn't do it herself, it was because there was a nice waitress working the counter who'd already seen a picture of him and knew he’d be stopping in. If she suddenly needed him to meet her at the bank, it was because the teller had a cute granddaughter who was about his age.
She hadn't pulled him here just because she needed the help. This was her utopia. A veritable gold mine of potential wives. The ultimate chance to find him a “nice girl to settle down with.”
Fuck. That.
“Not again, Quinn.” His voice was ice cold, but she held her ground, shrugging her shoulders and wrinkling her brow in faux confusion.
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Did you set this whole thing up?”
She batted her eyelashes and nodded. “The event? Yeah, you know tha—”
“Not the event. Did you set me up? Did you plant someone in the audience to bid on me or something?”
He'd only been home for a month and already she'd hoodwinked him into three “accidental” dates. All with her friends, who had proved themselves to be on the husband hunt within ten minutes of meeting him.
It was too much—not to mention the fact that she'd signed him up for a bunch of dating websites while he'd been deployed, even going so far as to sucker him into sending video messages to her and then ed
iting them together so she could submit them on his behalf.
“You know, it wouldn't be so terrible for you to find a woman. You've got to find someone to take care of you. God knows you can hardly manage to take care of yourself.”
And so the familiar dance begins… But this time, he wasn’t going to let her quick-step her way out of the line of fire. “That wasn't a no.”
Quinn let out a long-suffering sigh and plopped onto the vanity chair, Trojan-style sandals in hand. “No, then. No I didn't set you up, okay. But I'm starting to think I should.”
“Starting to think you should?” Had everything up until now been a practice run? The thought chilled him to the core.
“You clearly have no intention of ever giving me a niece or nephew. And I worry about you. You keep heading out to save the world. Sometimes I think, without someone here waiting, you might never come back.” This time, when her face went serious, it was marred by a genuine sadness he hadn’t seen in a very long time. Maybe not since the first time he’d been deployed.
In the eight years he’d been away from home in medical school and then in the army as a trauma doctor, she'd changed. The kid sister he'd left behind was a flighty flower child, innocent and sweet. While the woman in front of him looked just as hippie-like as ever with her long brunette braids and her doe-like eyes, her spirit had matured. She understood the world better now and realized how hard life could be.
But that still didn’t mean she knew best for him when it came to women.
“Don't worry. I'm fine. It's better this way right now.”
And she should know that. They’d both seen firsthand what a career in the military could do to a family. Their father—whom they’d spent a lifetime calling “Sir” or “the Colonel”—had been gone more than he was home, swinging by long enough for some “tough love” and to cultivate an ego-boosting amount of hero worship from his young son before shipping off again, leaving them all heartsick and alone to spend the next few months picking up the pieces until he did it all over again.
Trust Me: Matty and Kayla, Book 2 of 3 (McDaniels Brothers 6) Page 7