5. Matt

FIVE

MATT

"You ruined a perfectly good evening." Josh fumed as he sped along the road, ignoring the speed limit. "I would never have found out about the event if I hadn't been sitting beside someone in a coffee shop talking on the phone." He described the guy waxing on about it and giving the time and location.

There was so much I couldn't tell him, but even my brother who only saw the positive in every situation couldn't have ignored the tension so thick I could have tied it in a knot. The glances from the men scattered around the room had not been "we want to date you," but more "who the fuck are these people?"

"It's not what you think." I pressed my feet on the imaginary brakes as Josh avoided a collision with the car in front of us.

"I didn't just arrange this for you, Matt. I needed an outlet from my day-to-day life. I'd like someone to take me in their arms when I get home from work."

Shit! I'd been selfish thinking only of myself, assuming Josh could take the world's problems on his shoulders and never flounder. But with my undercover identity possibly… more like probably… exposed, I had to think of me right now, though it occurred to me Josh could be in danger if Dane and his crew came looking for me.

"I'm sorry, but don't you have an old school friend living on a farm outside the city?"

His nostrils flared and slammed his foot on the accelerator. "What is wrong with you?" he shouted. "Maybe you need a vacation."

I definitely did, but I ignored his anger. "Go stay with him. Take a few days off. Doing that will keep you safe." I hoped.

He could drive in for work each day, but it would be better if he kept away from town. Putting a hand on his arm, I added, "Do you trust me?"

Maybe it was my tone or expression. My cheeks were no doubt pale. But his anxious eyes sent me a quick glance before he looked straight ahead.

"Okay." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Drop me at this corner. Don't go home. Drive to your friend's."

The car's ancient brakes screeched, and I scrambled onto the sidewalk. It had started to drizzle, and raindrops dribbled over my cheeks."You're a good older brother, Josh. The best. Now go."

He lifted his hand as if to wave and changed his mind. I waited on the pavement, the rain soaking my sneakers as Josh's tail lights were swallowed up in a sea of glowing red streaks.

I pondered what to do as I trudged home in the rain. I was supposed to be at Dane's apartment early tomorrow morning, and as the drizzle soaked me, I tried to look at the situation logically.

No one at La Luna Noir knew my name, not my real one anyway. And me turning up at a mafia social event was in keeping with my undercover identity. I worked for a mob boss, so I was socializing and mingling with mobsters.

As I sloshed through a puddle, I paused, the water filling my shoes. My socks would be even more disgusting now. Ewww! I had it wrong. Me being at the event bolstered my fake identity.

Relief flooded through me until I recalled we'd run out. Hmmm, what was my explanation for that? I'd say Josh was sick. It was a little clunky, maybe a lot clumsy, but it'd have to do.

But when I crawled into bed, the fear having subsided, memories of Rudy's son rushed in. Closing my eyes, I conjured up his scent which I couldn't describe, but it was potent, just like his presence. Every nerve ending in my body tingled. I shivered as I recalled his gravelly voice, the hands with scars that streaked his hands in silvery white lines, and I pictured those same hands trailing over my naked body.

Lust was betraying me. I had to give it a talking-to. Rudy's son was a powerful mob boss, and I had infiltrated another mafia gang, one that was messing with La Luna Noir's business. He was no friend and would shove my head in a cement mixer if I blinked the wrong way.

Shame. I could have done with some naked time. I grabbed my cock and tugged it, while imagining he had me in his mouth.

When the alarm went off, it announced a gray and gloomy morning, with rain heavier than last night. I dressed in my usual jeans, T-shirt, and jacket because the clothes belonging to my undercover identity were at the other apartment, the one owned by Eric's brother who was working overseas.

The phone beeped, my private one, as I had a hand on the door. It was a message from Baxter saying he had to speak to me. I texted saying we'd talk tonight and left the phone where it was.

I checked the street before advancing to my car. It'd become a habit making sure no one had followed me.

There was a gray sports car, an expensive one, down the street, and it'd been there a while as the hood was covered in leaves. No one was in it, so I made a note of the license plate and drove off, but not before making sure there was no one lurking in my back seat.

Another habit was to check the rearview mirror and never drive directly from A to B. And that gray car was there, two cars behind me, when I swerved left down a narrow street and then right, back the way I'd come.

Fuck! It was either Dane's goons who'd discovered I didn't live in the other apartment or… or someone from La Luna Noir. Neither option was great. But I was expected at Dane's building in thirty minutes, and I wasn't dressed in my chauffeur suit and tie. I couldn't be late. Dane was a stickler for punctuality, and he'd fire my ass if I wasn't on time.

Getting the job was difficult enough. Baxter had spent hours creating a fake identity for me, an extensive one that included where I was born, went to school, and my employment history. I congratulated my past self on never being into social media, so my face wasn't splattered across the internet. It didn't escape me that in trying to get proof of illegal activity, I'd had Baxter perform tasks that were at best a little hinky.

Means to an end, I kept telling myself.

I pulled over a hundred yards from the apartment block where I'd get changed, the one where Dane thought I lived, and waited. The gray car slowed. Oh gods, my heart couldn't cope with the trauma. I had to go live on a deserted island, never to interact with another human. This was too much.

This scene had been depicted in movies hundreds of times where the unsuspecting fool was shot as a car sailed by. I could have slid down in my seat, but the assailant—because the person had to be up to no good—could kill me without looking into my eyes. Not that it would make a difference, but I wanted them to see me as they discharged their weapon.

With trembling hands, I rolled down the window, rain spotting my jacket. I blinked and shivered, from dread and the cold. The car crawled, almost to a stop, the windows and glossy paint job stained with raindrops.

Life slowed, almost as if it was in slow motion. I turned my head, one hand gripping the wheel, the other resting on the horn, hoping if I was shot, a wail from the horn would get someone's attention.

The passenger window lowered, each inch bringing me closer to my fate. My face was pelted with water as I squinted through what was now a heavy downpour. The face staring at me wasn't one I recognized from The Obsidian Circle. And it wasn't Hawk.

Him! The one that got my briefs in a bunch, my cock hard, and jumbled my emotions. His mouth was set in a grimace or was that a smirk? Despite my anxiety, I studied his intense gaze and his lips as they parted.

"You!" Why was he following me, and instead of a gun, he was holding a coffee. "You should keep both hands on the wheel," I gushed.

"Thanks for the tip." Okay, that was a smirk. He was making fun of me. Fucker! "I'll remember that." He took a sip.

Rain was splattering my face and time was ticking by, but I didn't—couldn't—move.

"You're wet."

What? How did he know? Did he have super-sneaky senses, and if so, what was his secret? My jeans were soaked with slick, and I hadn't planned on changing my underwear before picking up Dane. I couldn't go commando. Someone would notice.

"Nothing to do with you," I snapped, wishing I could wipe the condescending smile off his face. Shit, I didn't even know his name. I'd have to look up the head of La Luna Noir.

"Even I can't make it rain," he quipped and raised his coffee cup.

Was that a reference to making money? "What are you talking about?" He was making me late, and I had to get going, but I stayed put.

"It's raining, and you're getting wet."

My cheeks flamed, and I bit my bottom lip to stifle my frustration and embarrassment.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" I put the car in drive.

He got out, holding a big black umbrella and walking to my side of the car, and gave me a coffee. "Nope. I'm right where I want to be."

Shit. My problems were piling up. Not only was a La Luna Noir mobster stalking me, signaling a huge-ass amount of trouble, but my heart was also putting me in danger.