48. Matthias

48

MATTHIAS

T hroughout the drive, I stole glances at Ciaran's profile. I was worried he'd connect the dots between Andy and Drew.

But maybe I was wrong. Hell, I hoped I was wrong.

Maybe they weren't the same person and I was imagining things. Maybe I wanted to take my anger out on someone to rectify Ciaran's pain. Not only that, I'd drawn Ciaran into a dangerous mission. If he got hurt, it would be my fault.

Additionally, if his Drew was the same Andrew Jones I knew, then Ciaran's "relationship"—if I could call it that—was with a twenty-eight-year-old man from his high school…an adult with power and control over him.

That wasn't a relationship.

That was abuse, plain and simple.

I wasn't lying to Ciaran when I told him that Andy was a master manipulator. I wouldn't be surprised if Drew convinced Ciaran they were in love. That might explain why Ciaran was so distraught when they moved to Malibu. He was downright upset with Drew's bland texts.

My fingers ached and I realized I was gripping the steering wheel to the point where my fingers had lost all color. Speculating until I was blue in the face was not going to help.

Until I knew for sure, I wouldn't pry, but I would be lying if I didn't admit that the not-knowing was killing me.

I wanted to protect Ciaran.

As we crossed into Nevada, we were about forty minutes away from reaching The Towers, which was next to Andy's luxury high-rise condo, The West Flamingo.

Vaulteneau Enterprises owned both buildings. The condo Andy lived in was a gift from my dad when he graduated from USC. The asshole lived in one of the most desirable addresses in Las Vegas, free and clear, which meant he could pursue a career as a mental health practitioner that paid peanuts. I didn't know where Andy worked, only that he worked with youth.

When we visited Las Vegas, we stayed in our two-story, four-thousand-square-foot penthouse in The Towers. We didn't keep a permanent staff on the premises; however, the property manager ensured it stayed immaculate at all times given the fact that my dad was notorious for flying to Vegas on a whim.

With Dad and Theresa on the East Coast, and Dante living in Singapore, Ciaran and I would have the place to ourselves without the threat of anyone intruding. I'd be lying if that fact alone didn't excite me. I wanted to be alone with Ciaran.

But it was clear Ciaran was going through something and the best thing I could do was be a solid presence tonight. In addition to that, the knowledge that we were under the wire to retrieve the fertility statue added a heightened layer of danger I wasn't thrilled about.

It seemed like everything was converging at the same time.

I wasn't sure we'd make it out unscathed.

As much as I didn't want to pry, I still needed to find out where Ciaran wanted to go. It wasn't like I was going to drop him off at some random place. Before I could open my mouth to voice my question, my phone rang.

It was Joan.

"Heya babes," Joan said. "How you doing, Ciaran?"

"Doing my best to keep Matty in line," Ciaran said with a grin. "He's doing an adequate job of chauffeuring me to Vegas. Three point five stars."

I heard Filipe's laughter in the background. "If the swimming thing doesn't work out, Matty, at least you have something to fall back on."

"I assume you have a reason for calling?" I grumbled. To Ciaran, I scoffed, "Three point five stars? Seriously? The Ferrari alone should automatically qualify for four stars."

"Priorities, boys," Joan cut in. "Filipe and I were able to do some digging about the replica. It was one of our usual producers. They thought the job was for us, which was why they created the replica quickly enough to get it back into Customs at LAX."

"That's what I figured," I said. "We're not too far from Andy's place. He texted a photo of the statue. I'm not convinced he thought we'd have our lives threatened by the embassy. I suspect he wanted to teach us a lesson, but at least we know where it is. Not sure if we'll be successful in our attempt to make him give it to us."

"Maybe he'll see reason," Filipe countered.

"I'm not that confident," I said. "But I'll let you know something as soon as it happens."

I was about to hang up when Joan asked, "Not so fast, buster. How'd the conversation go with Zoey?"

In all the melee, the thing with Zoey had moved to a back burner.

"Yeah," Ciaran added, a shade of guilt coating his words, "I've been meaning to ask as well."

Studying his face, I wondered why he'd feel bad about not asking me about it until now.

I recounted for them my dinner conversation with Zoey and finished it with, "While I've given her until tomorrow to tell me if she'll help us or not, the fact is, the blackmailing scheme is bigger than me. Coach Anderson has multiple videos, some of which may be from current members from the USC roster. Filipe, have you noticed anyone else on the team acting different?"

"If I had to guess, Jason maybe. He's been on edge this season and has even started fights with you and a few of the other guys. It could be the pressure of being captain and the upcoming Nationals, though."

That might explain why Jason's been nipping at me this season. Has Coach been squeezing his throat due to a video that exposes Jason in a negative light?

"Do me a favor, Filipe," I said. "Message the guys and see about arranging an emergency team meeting."

"Jason's going to squash that, my dude. As team captain, he calls the shots."

"He loves throwing that in my face every chance he gets, too," I said with a groan. Acting like I was better than him didn't do me any favors.

We passed a sign that said Las Vegas was twenty miles away. Traffic had picked up and I could see the lights in the distance. It was a city that never slept.

Ciaran said, "You're going to have to tell the team about the blackmailing video, Matty. You can't expect them to come forward with information without being vulnerable yourself. The best leaders charge from the front line, not the rear. It's the only way you'll earn their trust."

"That's my boy," Joan cheered. "Have we told you how much we adore you, Ciaran? I just want to tuck you in my heart and hug you all day long."

Ciaran's face went red before he mumbled out, "Um, thanks, I think."

He caught me smiling at him and I cleared my throat. "Ciaran's right. Filipe, tell the team I have an announcement. It will do two things. One, Jason and others who want me off the team will hope I'm quitting. And two, those who tolerate me will be curious enough to attend. Either way, we'll get everyone there."

Filipe found no fault with my logic, but he still asked, "What will you do if no one else comes forward, even after you tell them Coach has been blackmailing you?"

That was an excellent question. I couldn't go back to the way things were before that. I was coming forward and accusing the Coach of blackmail. That was serious enough that it might leave our circle and become wider known.

It risked the very thing I was trying to protect: my ability to compete in the upcoming swim trials.

If it got out that I'd partied, got drunk and high, I'd be disqualified. I might be even banned by USA Swimming for a certain amount of time.

But that was if the video evidence surfaced.

No video meant it was hearsay.

"I don't know, Filipe," I admitted. "I'll cross that bridge if we come to it."

After that, we hung up, with me promising to call them once we'd come to some sort of resolution with Asshole Andy.

We were quiet a moment when Ciaran unexpectedly asked, "Do you remember when I asked you what was missing in your life? It was the night you brought me with you to LAX to pick up the statue."

"I remember." Strangely, my heart was stuck in my throat just then. It was a simple question but it had felt momentous, like the rest of my life might be defined by this conversation alone.

"Have you given the question more thought since then?"

Had I?

Ever since I met Ciaran, everything felt topsy-turvy. He'd been within reach the entire time and for the most part, I found myself constantly thinking about him.

Or trying to not think about him, as was the case early on.

When I didn't answer, Ciaran continued, "I'll turn this into a dare, then. When we confront Asshole Andy tonight, I want you think about your relationship with him. Ask yourself why you're in the business of stolen antiquities. Ask yourself why you think you're somehow different from Asshole Andy. What are you trying to achieve, and could those objectives be obtained through more legitimate means? Just think about those things, all right? That's all I'm asking."

I nodded. It was a good reminder for me. I'd somehow thought of Andy as separate from me, but he grew up in my world. It didn't matter that he was our housekeeper's grandson. Andy was as good as family, as was Miss Paulina.

Andy had profited handsomely and mingled with Dad's associates as one of his minor partners. Andy had enough wealth that he never needed to work another day in his life. If he asked for the Vaulteneau jet, he'd get access provided my dad wasn't using it.

"You've got a deal, Ciaran," I said. "You're wise beyond your years, that's for sure. You have a way to cutting through the fog and getting to the heart of a situation. Does working in a deli do that to a person? Make them wise?"

Ciaran's eyes lit up with mirth. "It's the meat slicer. It makes you pay attention or you'll slice your fingertips clean off."

"Yikes," I said, wincing.

"I'm not, like, macabre or anything. I'm thinking about making the villain in my novel a person without fingerprints. As Badger Detective Inspector Shiremarch investigates the clues, he discovers the villain worked in a deli and sliced off the tips of his fingers so that he wouldn't leave behind fingerprints."

"Pretty gruesome, Ciaran. Is this the kind of stuff you'd think about while working at Tommy's Deli?"

"I was always scribbling ideas in my notebook while working in the deli." Ciaran faced me. "You know the name of the deli?"

It was my turn to turn red with embarrassment.

"I might have spent some time learning more about you. You and your mom used to own Tommy's Deli, which was your grandfather's shop. Your mom and dad, who used to work at Nellis Air Force Base, weren't married. I read that he died on a training mission. I'm sorry about that." Ciaran squeezed my hand and I squeezed back. "Your best friend is named Raj, and you are also friends with…" I paused briefly to think. "Kinzy, Rowen, and Brieana."

"Stalker much?" Ciaran asked with a chuckle, though I could tell he was getting more nervous now that we were getting closer to Vegas.

"You put everything on your Instagram profile," I said as we entered the city limits of Las Vegas. "And what you didn't put on there, your friends did. I knew all of that within ten minutes of knowing your name."

"Remind me to make my profile private."

"Once we're back home, I'll remind you." I navigated the city with ease. Even though we stopped at multiple red lights, we were making good time. We'd be at The Towers in a few minutes. I wanted to ask Ciaran more about his errand. I wanted to know who he was going to visit.

The torn piece of paper I found in Ciaran's bedroom was burning a hole in my chest.

"Now that you've dared me, can I issue a dare of my own?"

I wanted to know more about why he'd ripped up his college acceptance letter.

He studied me. I saw his chest expand as he took a deep breath.

"Seems fair at this point."

I let go of his hand to reach into my jacket pocket. I showed him the folded paper.

"I dare you to tell me more about this." Ciaran's eyes went wide once he realized what I held in my hand. "More specifically," I continued, "I'd like to know why you tore it and left it on the floor."

In something of a monotone, Ciaran said, "It's the reason my mom married Stefon, and I've come to confront the man who orchestrated everything."

Whatever I was expecting, it sure as hell wasn't that .