36. Matthias

36

MATTHIAS

C iaran's optimism was wholesome and I wished there was a way I could borrow such a feeling. I'd been living with the knowledge that I was capable of snorting cocaine off an escort's erect cock and having no memory of it. Might as well throw me in a pornographic film. I suppose the silver lining was that I was trying to be better. It sounded strange to think this, but I'd probably still be a mess if the blackmail hadn't happened.

Having Ciaran in my life was already an improvement. When he squeezed my hand, I had no idea that I needed his reassurances so badly. If someone like Ciaran was in my corner, was life so bad?

The bad news was that my swimming was getting worse, so it wasn't like I was benefitting from Coach Anderson's so-called mentorship.

"We're here," Joan announced as she parked in an unlit back alley near one of the foreign embassy offices.

To Ciaran, I said, "Thanks for having my back. I'm sure hearing that about me was somewhat shocking."

"I grew up in a place called Sin City, Matty. It's called that for a reason. My mom was a showgirl. I spent my childhood backstage around performers. They weren't the issue. The patrons were. I've seen people do all sort of things that'd turn your hair white." He grinned. "Now, if you were my boyfriend and snorted cocaine off someone else's dick, we'd have words. I'm shocked and angry at Coach Anderson for manipulating the situation to his advantage, but I'm not mad at you."

"Have we mentioned how much we like you, Ciaran?" Joan said as she texted her contact inside the embassy.

"Kinda wish you'd come along sooner, my dude," Filipe added, "but then it might be weird if you two grew up like brothers. It'd make the kissing part harder to accept."

"Thanks for that mental image, Filipe," I mumbled. He wasn't wrong, though. There would be plenty of people who'd question my desire for Ciaran. Up until that point, I hadn't considered how my older brother, Dante, might react. I pushed that concern away. "So, what's the plan?" I asked to get us back on track. I'd been more focused on Ciaran the last several days so I wasn't exactly present when Joan discussed the situation with me and Filipe earlier.

"I just texted my contact who said they will open the garage." She pointed halfway down the alley and I saw the black gates. We'd never been to this consulate before, so I felt a little nervous. "They're supposed to disable the cameras. We'll go inside and have a small chat in the garage. If they like what they see, they'll take the statue off our hands."

"What will they give you?" Ciaran asked.

Joan's phone dinged and she started pulling forward just as the black gate lifted up with a metallic shriek.

"That remains to be seen," Filipe answered vaguely, which I appreciated. I trusted Ciaran—I think we all did by this point—but I didn't want him to know everything just in case things went to shit. I wanted him to have plausible deniability if we were detained by the police.

We drove under the rising black gate and two figures emerged on our left. The garage was dimly lit. I noticed vans in the back corner and a few sedans near the entrance, but otherwise the garage was empty. Most consulates were closed in the evenings.

"Oh shit, they have guns," Ciaran said and sure enough the two men, both very muscular in their black khaki uniforms, had rifles slung across their backs. Then two more guards appeared on our right.

"No sudden movements," Filipe advised. "We already let them know there'd be four of us in the car. I'm guessing that's why we see four armed men. But they'll only talk to Joan."

"She does have a way with people," Ciaran said. "She could probably charm a cobra from striking her."

"True that," Filipe said.

Joan rolled down her window. Her voice came through in low tones as she confirmed who she was and ascertained that she was speaking with her contact.

She turned to the backseat. "I'm about to get out, and slide the front seat forward. Pass over the bag when I tell you to."

"Careful, baby," Filipe called out. I saw her wink at him.

One of the armed men adjusted his firearm. Ciaran clutched my hand.

I suppose if we were going to have rifles aimed our way, at least Ciaran was nestled against my side to make it bearable. Our operation always had a risk of danger. We mostly worked to restore smuggled endangered animals, but we couldn't turn our back on smuggled artifacts when we had the connections and money to do something about it.

A minute later, Joan was reaching in to collect the duffel bag, which she then delivered to one of the guards. Backing away, they gently placed it on the ground and inspected it. Joan gave them ample room.

Three of the four armed men huddled together after looking at the statue while one stared us down. One of the three was looking at the sheet of paper our contact from the airport placed inside it. I could hear their voices but couldn't make out the words.

"You retrieved this from LAX?" one of them finally asked. His voice was low and smooth, with a foreign accent. Only the best of the best would be working at a foreign consulate, so these armed men were elite soldiers or guardsmen or maybe even higher. They could be senior military leaders.

"Yes," Joan said.

"And you give this to us with no obligations? Why?"

"It belongs with you in your home country or inside your consulate, not smuggled inside the country illegally," Joan answered calmly. She was absolutely the fiercest woman I knew. "All we ask is that you keep our involvement secret."

"And?"

Joan smiled sweetly. "And to take my call if we need assistance in placing other artifacts. My friends and I aren't experts."

The soldier nodded.

"Very good. You must go now. Cameras will come back online soon."

Joan gave them a little salute and jumped back into the car. They didn't have to tell us twice.

No one spoke for several moments as we left the garage, zipped down the alley, and found our way onto I-10 toward the coast. It was only then that the balloon in my chest deflated and it felt like I could breathe.

"Jesus, that was insane," Filipe yelled.

Then Joan joined in, as did I, and even though Ciaran was the least knowledgeable on the situation, he also started whooping and hollering.

"Holy shit!" he screamed gleefully, as if he was grateful to be alive.

We'd just been in a situation where four men could have gunned us down in a matter of seconds. Instead, we returned what we believed was a priceless artifact to its home nation.

It was a huge relief.

It made my lungs sing.

It was euphoric.

All I wanted to do was pull Ciaran into my lap and attack his mouth in celebration. Without the statue between us, the space, while tight, now had more room, and I certainly didn't give a shit what Joan or Filipe would say.

"Get over here," I growled to Ciaran as I grabbed for him. He gave me a long, heated gaze before he straddled me as best he could. The air was thick between us as his mouth crashed on mine.

Our kisses were frantic, like maybe we'd get pulled apart too soon to expend the energy between us. Our blue jeans were restrictive, but his growing budge equally matched mine.

"Fuck, it's going to be difficult to keep my hands off you," I told Ciaran as I slashed my tongue down his neck. His skin was salty and I was fully prepared to lose all sensation on my tongue to keep tasting him.

"I'll keep you honest," Ciaran said with a husky laugh. "I have a very strong willpower."

"Glad one of us does," I said, chuckling.

"Hey, back there," Joan called out. "You keep that up, lover boys, we'll start filming."

Ciaran froze and I thought he was about to snap at Joan. Instead, he climbed out of my lap. His face transformed into someone with a heavy thought on the mind.

"That's it," Ciaran said. "I know it wasn't your intention to throw my mind back to Coach Anderson, but I've been thinking about it. I think Filipe is right. It was a set-up, Matty." Ciaran seethed even though it was clear he was thinking straight. "That motherfucker did all of that on purpose. But there's a part none of you have realized yet."

"What?" I asked.

"He didn't tell Zoey everything."

"We don't know that," Filipe said.

"Actually, we do. She point-blank asked Matty if he was gay tonight," Ciaran added. "She was shocked to her toes to see him kissing me. If she knew about the contents of the video, then she'd clearly have known about his preferences."

"Damn, Ciaran's right," Joan said. Her eyes found mine in the rearview mirror. Her gaze spoke volumes.

I saw the deep admiration in her dark eyes. Joan, Filipe, and I were as thick as thieves. We did not just let anyone in our circle of trust.

"Why does that matter?" I asked. A sliver of hope pinched my insides but I still wasn't seeing how this was revolutionary information.

"It means," Ciaran said, "that she could be convinced to help us if we told her the full story. Coach Anderson has the video of you on his phone. Zoey is the only one with actual access to his electronics. We might be able to convince her to delete the video."

"Hell," I said, raking a hand through my hair. "That might work."

"Have we told you how much we love you, Ciaran?" Filipe asked.

A new feeling spread across my chest. It was warm and gooey and I had this fear of losing Ciaran just as soon as I'd found him.

I stared at him and smiled. How could I have ever disliked Ciaran Galbraith?