47. Ciaran

47

CIARAN

" I f we're going to run away," Matty started as he unlocked his Ferrari, "we might as well do it in style."

When Matty rushed into the garage a few moments ago, the concerned expression morphing his face gave me pause. I was worried he'd be pissed at me for interrupting his dinner with Zoey.

Matty didn't look mad. He looked anything but mad, but I didn't miss the determined shape of his mouth.

He had things on his mind and wasn't about to reveal them in front of Davies, who stood beside me like a Roman statue.

"I'm not running away," I insisted as I stared at him in a stupor. Decked out in his tailored suit, though sans green tie, Matty was the epitome of a handsome man in control of a situation. "I happen to have an important errand."

Matty slipped into the driver's seat and the car roared to life. He pressed a button, which retracted the hard-top roof into the back of the car. There was a lump in the backseat. Matty had managed to pack a bag and place it in the backseat.

All he had to do was take one look at my red eyes and splotchy face to know something was wrong. I knew he wouldn't cause a scene in front of Davies, but how did he know to come prepared with an overnight bag?

Even with those questions unasked, the main takeaway was that he and I were in this together, no matter what.

"An errand in Vegas?" He patted the passenger seat.

I hadn't moved.

"In Vegas," I confirmed. His kindhearted smile put me on edge. Did I expect him to change his mind? He was offering to take me to Vegas. If I thought hard about my reluctance, I knew it had everything to do with my entanglement with Drew. I didn't want Matty to discover all the facts. I didn't want him to know the source of my shame and guilt.

Matty looked at his watch. "This time of night, we'll get there shortly after midnight."

"Matty," Davies started, "I can't stop you, but may I suggest you depart in the morning instead?"

"Thanks for your concern, Davies," Matty said. "Ciaran has an important errand and, as it so happens, I have an important item to retrieve in Vegas. You're the one who taught me to drive, Davies, so you know I'm a good driver."

"Matty—" Davies rebutted.

"It's Andy." I didn't mistake the edge in Matty's voice, which matched the dark look that spread across Davies' face. "He's up to mischief that I need to address tonight. It can't wait."

Davies seemed to understand the implied message contained in Matty's words. She nodded. "What about your return? That's a lot of round-trip driving."

"We'll stay at The Towers to rest before driving back," Matty answered smoothly.

I knew The Towers was one of the premiere apartment buildings in Las Vegas, with units costing more than a half a million dollars. I wasn't surprised that the Vaulteneaus owned a unit, or maybe even the whole building. If I had to guess, I'd guess the family stayed in the penthouse unit.

Thankfully, The Towers was near the sky-rise building Drew lived in, so while Matty dealt with Andy, I'd walk to Drew's high-rise condo in The West Flamingo.

"Jump in, Ciaran," Matty said to me. "I'll explain on the way."

Something firm pressed into my shoulder. It was Davies. She was so much shorter than me that I had to look down at her.

"I don't know what's going on Ciaran, but please be careful," she advised. The warmth and tenderness in her voice surprised me. I barely knew her but I could tell she cared about me. "You're a welcome addition to the Vaulteneau family. I'd like to see you come back in one piece." She then peered at Matty, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. " Both of you back in one piece."

Matty saluted her. "Aye aye, Sergeant."

"Smart ass," Davies exhaled even though her lips quirked into a smile.

I slipped into the car, sinking into the deep custom seats, which hugged every part of my backside. Wordlessly, Matty navigated out of the garage.

When we were out in the main highway, Matty accelerated, and the ocean-scented wind attacked my hair. I huddled into my sweater. I didn't care that I was cold. At least I felt something .

Matty avoided Los Angeles and instead drove through the mountain up toward Santa Clarita and around the Angeles National Forest.

When I looked up into the dark sky, the winking stars and bright moon gave me the strength to take a full breath, which was something I hadn't done since talking to my mom.

Thankfully, Matty didn't demand answers. Instead, he put on the radio, and we drove in silence for a long stretch. I was on my way to Las Vegas to get answers. It was what I wanted. It was what I needed to move on. If I didn't confront Drew, I'd never feel resolution.

I knew that, as a teenager, a good portion of my life was manufactured . Kids obeyed their parents. School officials ordered us about day in and day out. It wasn't like I could construct my own reality without interacting with people who influenced everything, from what I wore, to what I ate, to what I did in my free time.

What Drew did, and to an extent, what my mom did, made me feel like I was living in some dream world where I was a ghost of a participant who was unaware that everyone else was pulling the strings.

That I was just a puppet.

I just wanted to feel like I was making decisions—or at least part of the decision-making process.

Was it so hard to not to be lied to?

The warmth of Matty's hand pressed against my left thigh as we exited Route 18 and drove northeast on Interstate 15.

The dark, dusty desert sped by us on both sides of the road. Matty slowed down enough to allow the Ferrari's roof to close. In a matter of minutes, the interior warmed up and I could feel my fingers again.

Finally, I asked, "Who is Andy? Or was that a cover story so Davies wouldn't pry too hard about the trip?"

The silver moon hanging in the sky on Matty's side of the car cast magical shadows on his handsome face. His eyebrows shot up at my question. I had no reason to believe he'd withhold the information from me. If anything, I could tell he stayed silent for my benefit.

"Not a cover story," Matty said. "I need to get a stolen artifact back from him." I shot him a quizzical look. "Let me start at the beginning. He's Miss Paulina's grandson. Andy grew up with me and Dante on the estate. He and Dante were closer in age, so they were pretty much best friends. They got into all sorts of trouble, but it wasn't something my dad couldn't get them out of. My dad considered Andy something of a third child. And before you ask, that fact didn't upset us in the least. My dad showed me and Dante lots of affection. His parental affection for Andy and other kids, like Filipe, who lived with us on the estate, was natural."

"Doesn't hurt when you have billions of dollars," I quipped, though there was no heat with it.

Matty smiled. "True, though, in my defense, everyone I knew growing up was rich. I thought everyone lived the way we did. Andy received the best education. He went to USC and even received his master's degree in psychology. My dad valued Andy's opinion and even brought him into the business as a minor partner in our international shipping equities."

I wondered if this had ties to their LAX operation and was the reason why Matty had so much access.

Matty continued, "Andy was a natural at building relationships. Everyone trusted him, even shady folks dealing in black market antiquities. I found out later that he was involved in illegal activities. It was something Andy and Dante were both doing."

"And they brought you into the business once they started attending college?" I guessed.

The stretch of road before us was empty and it felt like we were the only two people awake, that the inky sky, bright moon, stars, and distant mountains were for our benefit alone. Even though I didn't know what would happen once I confronted Drew, in this moment, right now, a sense of calm had washed over me as the car's headlights illuminated scrubby wildflowers and nighttime animals darting across the road.

"Exactly. What Joan, Filipe, and I do now is an extension of that operation. However, instead of flipping those artifacts, we attempt to return the pieces to their rightful owner…or as close as we can, if that group or partner can get it back to the owner."

"Seems like something the folks who smuggled it in the first place wouldn't be too happy about. How do you keep them off your back?"

"The first rule of illegal activities is that there are no rules."

"No honor amongst thieves?" I asked.

"That's just in the movies, Ciaran," Matty said with laugh as he took my hand in his, lacing our fingers together. Something gooey melted in my chest. "The second rule is that you shouldn't piss off someone who will kill you."

"Solid plan. You'd think that would be rule number one, but okay."

"The final rule is that if you piss off the wrong people, make sure they can't trace it back to you ."

Ideas formed in my head. "A heist with double misdirection?"

I started thinking about the plot of my novel and how Badger Detective Inspector Earl Shiremarch needed to unravel a Vegas heist…a heist I hadn't yet fully figured out. I now realized I was missing a twist with misdirection.

"Right again," Matty confirmed. "The part of our operation that you don't know about is that we attempt to make an exact replica and put the replica back into circulation. While that's happening, we've already restored the original. The smuggler gets a fake without realizing it."

"How does Andy fit in all of this now? You mentioned you needed to retrieve an artifact from him."

"In the past, he's been on the receiving end of getting one of our replicas. When he's the middleman, if the client realizes they've received a fake, he's blacklisted, even threatened. He can usually bluff his way through anything. He's got that quality about him. He's so good a manipulator that he can convince an alligator that they're not an alligator but a swan. He's astoundingly charming."

Matty gave me a curious look when he said the last part and I didn't know what to make of that.

Was he warning me, in the event I met Andy tonight?

"Thanks for the warning," I said. "I'll be on my guard."

He seemed relieved to hear that. "But to answer your question, someone nicked the fertility statue before I met with the customs agent. What we received was the replica."

Realization hit me. "Jesus, we gave the fake to the embassy, didn't we?" Terror replaced the gooey, warm feeling in my chest. "They had weapons, too. We are so dead."

Matty's words about not pissing off folks who could kill you became a more certain reality now that I had more information.

Suddenly, my own problems with Drew paled in comparison. On top of that, I hadn't even asked Matty how the dinner with Zoey went. I suppose blackmail and abusive teachers couldn't match the threat of actual death.

"Yes, we gave them the replica without realizing it. Joan thinks Andy commandeered the authentic statue in Vegas, made his own replica, and then put the replica into circulation. It's the same method we employ. Only he beat us at our own game this time. We've nicked several of his claims, and he likes fucking with me."

"And you think Andy has the statue in his possession?"

"See for yourself. I texted him after Joan called me." He handed me his phone. "You can see what he wrote back.

I kept thinking about the embassy guards' automatic weapons as I read the text string between Matty and the contact labeled as "Asshole Andy."

Matty's text read: Nice move, dumbass. When they find ten bullets lodged in my chest twenty-four hours from now, I hope you don't shed too many tears at my funeral.

"Asshole Andy" wrote back: If you want to sit at the adult dinner table, there's no use pouting like a child. Don't worry, while we lower your body in the ground, I'll be there to comfort Stefon. The new Mrs. Vaulteneau's a looker. She might need my comfort, too. Along with the text, he'd sent a photo of the statue standing on a white pedestal. If you want it, come get it. I dare you.

"That fucker," I groused out. My eyes heated like coal as I looked over his words about my mom. Over my dead body, asshole. "I understand the moniker now. Andy's a complete asshole." Placing Matty's phone back in the center console, I asked, "Was the bit about bullet wounds hyperbole?"

"I'm afraid not," Matty said gravely. I knew then that he was dead serious. "They're demanding the authentic artifact within twenty-four hours. The results won't be pretty if we fail."

Even if it was an idle threat, there was no way I was going to let that fucker touch my mom, and I sure as hell didn't want to get gunned down.

"Then let's make sure we don't fail."