42. Matthias

42

MATTHIAS

A s Ciaran and I parted at the top of the stairs—he to his bedroom and me to the shower to clean up for tonight's dinner with Zoey—I didn't press him for details even though I was dying to know who'd hurt him.

Besides, Franky was humming away in the kitchen, baking cookies. She was always good about playing deaf and blind when it came to my antics, but she might overhear anything I asked. It wouldn't be fair to put Ciaran on the spot like that.

What I wanted was a name. Who made him feel bad about himself? If he gave me a name, I could start plotting their death two seconds later.

As the shower's cold water cascaded down my back, I thought about how I'd never wanted to hurt someone like that before, not since Dante and I were younger, when Andy, who was one year older than Dante and eight years my senior, dared us to steal money from our dad's wallet. Doing it one time wasn't the issue, but it escalated from there, and got to the point where we were stealing things from neighbors and friends' houses.

Dante and I would deliver our goods—jewelry, watches, small keepsakes—to Andy, who sold it to someone for cash. Dante thought it was fun, and so did I, to an extent. When Dante and Andy decided to start fencing high value items, like prized heirlooms or famous paintings, I watched from afar. I knew things had become serious when they developed contacts within LAX who offered to trade smuggled airport contraband for cash.

It wasn't uncommon to see them handling ancient artifacts, illegal ivory, and exotic animals. The fact that it was so easy made it seem like it wasn't that big of a deal.

Soon, Dante took over when Andy moved away for a master's degree program. Dante became weary once he realized it took an entire crew to make it work. He brought me, Joan, and Filipe into the operation, but within a year, Dante became serious about working for my dad's business in Singapore. When he moved away after graduating with a business degree, the three of us took over the scheme.

That's when we discovered Andy had, over the years, stolen my father's priceless artifacts one at a time and replaced them with fakes. In my anger, Joan and Filipe physically had to restrain me from confronting Andy in person. They made me realize I was the biggest hypocrite of all. How could I justify my anger when I was stealing from others myself? It made me take stock of my actions.

What we were doing was wrong, plain and simple.

But I also learned there was a huge underground business in creating fake artifacts so authentic looking that they could fool most professionals.

From that point forward, we went in a different direction with the operation.

Instead of fencing the contraband for our own gain, Joan, Filipe, and I tried to restore the goods back to their rightful owners while also conducting our own version of a sleight-of-hand swap. I had zero illusions that the authorities would see it that way, though. It didn't matter that I'd already invested hundreds of thousands of dollars in returning these items to their rightful owners, it would always be a dangerous venture.

We'd collect the artifact, do research, and then commission someone to create a fake version of it. While we restored the original back to the rightful owner, we'd put the fake version back on the black market. For instance, for the fertility statue, Joan was already talking to someone to create an authentic replica.

It wasn't perfect, of course. Dante applauded our efforts while Andy wasn't exactly pleased, and he'd let me know in several offhand comments that he'd get back at me at some point when I least expected it.

Dante dabbled in the operation from time to time, especially if we had a hot item on our hands we couldn't offload. Andy, however, liked to butt in whenever it suited him or if he was feeling the heat from his "customers." Andy had profited so handsomely over the years that he never needed to work again, but he liked danger almost as much as he hated being bored. He lived a few hours away and he sometimes liked to surprise me by appearing in the guesthouse, sitting comfortably on the couch, sipping from a whiskey tumbler.

Being the grandson of the Vaulteneau housekeeper ensured he had a key to every door on the estate.

Andy had enough dirt on me to keep me in line, but I had dirt on him, too. Our relationship was contentious but equal. He didn't like how I was running "his business." His contacts weren't happy, either, as they weren't getting the black market items they wanted. So far Andy hadn't revealed our names, but it was only a matter of time.

As long as we were one step ahead, it would be okay.

Movement at my door broke my thoughts.

I was standing in my boxers and plucking clothes from my closet when Ciaran poked his head my bedroom.

"I hope that's not your final outfit," he joked as he motioned at my lack of clothing.

"I realize I need to make a good impression," I started as I looked up at him, but stopped short. Ciaran was standing before me with a large towel wrapped around his waist. Clearly he was about to jump in the shower. Blood flowed south. Now's not the right time , I told myself. I swallowed hard before finishing, "But meeting her in just my boxers might give Zoey the wrong idea."

"Yeah, but it's giving me the right idea," he said with a playful grin.

"I swear you're the biggest tease I ever met, Ciaran Galbraith." I took a few steps toward him but refrained from touching him. We were too close to the bed and my head was full of ways of making Ciaran feel good. Also, Franky was downstairs. "How goes the adventures of Detective…?"

For the life of me, I couldn't remember if Ciaran had actually revealed the badger's name.

"Earl Shiremarch, Badger Detective Inspector First Class."

"Does he smoke a pipe?"

Ciaran's eyes danced. "Badgers don't smoke, but he isn't opposed to the occasional glass of bourbon if he's investigating a particularly difficult case."

From the doorway, Franky knocked. The sweet scent of chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven followed her upstairs. Franky's unruly curly red hair was piled a top her head and she grinned a toothy grin at both of us.

I couldn't detect anything amiss in her expression as she took us in. I mean, I was in my boxers and Ciaran, who was within arm's reach of me, was wearing a bath towel.

"Matty," Franky said in a singsong tone, "the big house just called. Your blackmailer's almost here. Davies is ten minutes out."

Ciaran did a double take at Franky. "You know about Zoey and the blackmail?"

Franky wrinkled her nose. "Unfortunately, yes. Fingers crossed the charade ends before someone gets killed. But does Matty listen to me? No, not at all, but what do I know?" She shrugged. "I just make coffee and smoothies and sometimes cookies while trying to make him stick to a nutrition plan. Maybe he'll listen to you."

"Actually," Ciaran said, "we're hoping to enlist Zoey's help in destroying the evidence."

"If that succeeds, then that's the best news I've heard in a while, Ciaran," Franky said approvingly, which made Ciaran beam at her. When Franky spotted the closet, she whistled. She wiped her hands on her flour-coated apron. "Not going ask what happened in there. But, if it helps tonight's objective, as you pluck through piles of clothing, Davies said that Zoey's dress is green." With that, Franky twirled away, but muttered over her shoulder, "I did gift you a green tie last Christmas."

A smile played on Ciaran's face. "Sounds like you got one piece of your wardrobe figured out," he said. "Good luck tonight. I'll be thinking about you."

He shifted to the door. I had hoped for some kissing, but with Zoey's imminent arrival, it wasn't a good idea. Besides, Ciaran's near nakedness was a dangerous factor for me. I liked that he wasn't acting shy. Even when Franky was in the room, he didn't shrink away or try to hide his bare chest from view.

Since he'd arrived Vaulteneau, Ciaran seemed to have grown more confident in his own skin.

"I'll see you after?" I asked, because I didn't want to be far from him. I knew I'd want to confide everything that transpired between me and Zoey tonight. And, frankly, just having him near me was comforting.

"When you're done with dinner, you know where to find me and Detective Inspector First Class Earl Shiremarch," Ciaran said with a wink before entering the bathroom.

When I stepped downstairs a few moments later, Franky rewarded me with an appreciative gleam. I performed a spur-of-the-moment catwalk in my black suit and her green tie.

"Delicioso." Franky kissed the tips of her fingers dramatically. "I could dip you in hummus and feast all night."

"You have strange proclivities, Franky."

"That's where you're wrong. Hummus goes with everything, darling. I've heard it has magical qualities that can assist in undoing the entanglements of blackmail."

"I'll keep that in mind tonight." Strangely, I was nervous about talking to Zoey about the video. It might have been my first brush with uncertainty where she was concerned. "Wish me luck, Franky."

She cocked an eyebrow to study me. "Do you need luck when you're one of the golden sons of Vaulteneau and the Prince of Malibu?"

Ouch. It was almost like a knife to the heart. At least Franky didn't pretend to bow.

Upon reflection, though, Franky wasn't wrong. I'd always been lucky. Even when things weren't going my way, I always came out on top. I had friends, wealth, stability, and through some source of magic, Ciaran was in my life.

But Coach Anderson's blackmail could undo all my happiness.

And for the first time since it all began, I realized there was a lot at stake.

"Luck can't buy me a spot on the US Swim Team, Franky," I said in a harsher tone than intended.

"Luck? No." Nonplussed, Franky studied me for a long second, her head tilted. "But I have a feeling you're meant to learn a few more lessons along the way, Matthias Vaulteneau."

That's what I was afraid of.