5. Matías

5

MATíAS

Present Day

" I 'll see you tomorrow," Jo?o called as he dipped his head. As a third generation owner, he stayed the longest, worked the hardest, and remained the humblest man I'd ever met.

"Yeah." I waved back, then wiped excess sand off my arm. Today had been a packed tour, and it had taken over an hour to carry all the tandem kayaks up from the beach.

I loved the cliffs. Strangely enough, they reminded me a bit of home. But today was one of those times I hated them. The climb up with kayaks was a bitch.

Henry popped up from the stairs and I doubled my speed.

I'd barely shaken him off in the caves, and I had already spooked myself enough. I didn't need him needling me or bringing up things better left in the past.

Chills attacked the back of my head, and my head shivered. Leaving everything behind was best.

Andre wanted the Institution, which I heard wasn't the Institution anymore. If I'd stayed, I'd only be in the way. The legitimate heir sticking around would make it more difficult for my brothers to rise to power.

There was nothing left for me there anyway.

I'd fucked up the one good thing I had, but in no reality did it make sense for me to live in the shadow of my past.

Selfishly, I wanted to break free of that black cloud. Start over. Live a fresh life where I made all the decisions. Where I was the only one responsible for my own fuck ups.

Instead of jumping in my car, I headed for the cliff where the seagull was caught.

It didn't take long to find where it was. I'd made it my priority to map out the cliffs from the water and on land. Especially after I'd had my own fucked up experiences.

The fishing lines were here, but the bird was gone.

Releasing a breath, I turned away. Either it had lived, or it had died. There was nothing I could do about it now.

Letting my mind wander on autopilot, I stopped at the grocery store to pick up fresh bread and some different meats. I could at least feed my neighbor before I went to bed.

The apartment I'd found was small. A one bedroom and a far cry away from what I'd grown up with. At times it felt comforting, and others it suffocated me. I kept waiting for my body and mind to acclimate to my new normal.

The law of human nature meant I'd eventually get attached to this type of living over what I came from.

I climbed the stairs, bags hanging from my fingers as I made my way up. Pedro lived on the top floor. I think he liked it like that so less people came to visit him. A very different mindset than most of the Portuguese people I'd met.

I knocked on the door and waited .

" Já abri !" he yelled, then his voice was followed by someone else's voice. A feminine one. One thing about the homes here, if they were built more than ten years ago, the walls were thin as paper and the insulation was non-existent.

Which meant I could hear the other voice very well.

The blood in my veins froze as my body locked up. That wasn't right. No one knew where I was. I made sure to cover my tracks and when I handed Grace the note, I didn't stick around for questions. I booked it away from her like my ass was on fire.

"Matt!" Pedro yelled louder and there was shuffling like he was trying to get up.

I jolted and used my hand to twist the doorknob. He had arthritis and it was hard for him to get around. That was what I told myself as I walked into his apartment. It had nothing to do with needing to know if I was right, if the other voice was from my past.

My eyes adjusted quickly to the darkened apartment as the door slammed shut behind me.

The physical feeling of blood draining from my face left me lightheaded and swaying as I faced Pedro sitting at his kitchen table with Rita.

Rita Aguilar. The love of my life and the woman I'd left behind.

Sitting at the table, she looked as if no time had passed at all. She had her legs crossed as her toned thighs peeked from under her tight dress. Her feet were in sharp, stiletto heels, just like she always wore.

I swallowed as I let my gaze work its way to her face. Her breasts were about to pop out of her top and she was so fucking sexy, she was every man’s fantasy .

When I got to her face, my head and chest felt like they were going to explode from the sudden pulse of heat.

She was as gorgeous as she ever was with perfectly done make-up, puffy, sexed-up lips, and bold smoky eyes that stared daggers at me. Even her curls were glossy and full.

This was what the devil looked like before he came to drag you to hell. Like a dangerous woman who'd cut your heart out and eat it because you couldn't be what she wanted.

One of her brows raised in a mocking gesture. She moved her head back and forth in a motion that screamed, well? What are you going to do now?

I was going to fucking pretend this wasn't a big deal to Pedro. Then get my ass out of here.

"Matt," Pedro chastised. He didn't say anything else, because my Portuguese was horrific and he didn't like wasting his breath.

" Desculpe ," I muttered and set the bags on the counter behind him. I pulled out the bread and meat. " Para jantar ," I said. Then wadded up the bags in my hand. I almost threw them away, but stopped. I'd save them for next time.

Pedro hummed.

When I turned, Rita still had her gaze locked on me. I couldn't hold her stare. I recognized every single emotion sliding through her eyes and each one gutted me more than the last.

Hurt. Anger. Outrage. And the last one. Hate.

What I didn't see was love.

That was what I wanted. What I had wanted for a long time. Then I’d thrown it away.

" Preciso ..." I mashed my lips together as I thought about the words. They were so similar to Spanish but so different. " De sair . "

Pedro motioned to Rita. " Seu amiga ?"

" N?o ," I barked. When he raised his brows, I shook my head. " Sim, mas n?o. Desculpe. "

I fled that place like dogs were biting my ass. I laughed, but there was no humor in it. It could be argued that was true. Rita was a Dirty Dog to her core. Something I'd always been jealous of.

The Dirty Dogs were like family. The Institution had been an adult version of The Hunger Games.

Hopefully, my brothers learned a thing or two and would do everything different.

I took the steps two at a time, ignoring how my heart beat harder with every step I got further away from her. Like the sorry muscle was angry with me for leaving a second time.

Yet, I couldn't do this, not today. Fuck, not ever.

The quick, rage-filled taps of Rita's heels started on the staircase before I had the key turned in my door. Fuck.

She followed me. Then again, I knew she would.

I would rather do this in my apartment than in front of Pedro. Even if he and all our other neighbors could hear us.

"Matías," she snapped.

"Rita," I returned as I pushed my door open. I barely stepped through when she knocked the door even wider, pulling the knob from my hand. It banged hard against the wall.

"You think this is funny?" She raised her voice as I turned around. I'd moved far enough into my apartment that she could shut the door. Rita didn't bother with the lock. Maybe that meant she wouldn't be staying long.

Dear God, I hoped she didn't stay long.

"Why would I think you showing up here is funny?" I raked a hand through my hair. It was a tell, but the only one she'd get.

"Because your sorry ass is smirking." Rita gestured to my face with red tinting hers.

I wiped my hand over my mouth. Damn it. My lips were formed into a slight smile. Not for the reasons she thought. She had always been angry. A quick trigger. A loose cannon. Her barging in and banging my door against the wall was exactly like her.

As comforting as it was painful. A reminder of what I'd once wanted for myself.

"What are you doing here?" I asked calmly.

She backed up, shaking her head as her mouth fell slack. The hurt pushed the hate out of her eyes, and I winced. I didn't want to hurt her. That wasn't what I'd ever wanted.

But what good would it do to say that? It would give her false hope and make me feel like shit.

"You don't care. You really don't give a shit about me? About us?" She stared at me a second longer before her top lip peeled up and her nose wrinkled. Even her hands balled up into tight fists. It was a quick transition from hurt to fury, yet the process happened so slowly, I clocked every change in her body language.

As much as I hated to admit it, I soaked it all up. Every single fucking detail. Once she was gone, it could be the last time I ever saw her. I had to make this time count for something.

"What do you want me to say?" I breathed through my nose to keep my voice calm. It was almost impossible when I wanted to scoop her up in my arms, drop her on the table, and fuck all her emotions right out of her until only a bundle of sated sweetness was left behind .

"I want to know how you fucking survived being shot and falling over a cliff!" she screeched.

Flinching, I turned away. Just like upstairs, I couldn't hold her gaze.

"How? How did you do it? Did you plan it? Was that what you wanted all these years? An opportunity to leave us all behind? Nevermind how much we did for you? The history between us? We still had your fucking back once you left! You know how hard that is to swallow knowing you left me on purpose. Twice!"

Her eyes were red and the pain rolling off of her was so palpable, all I could do was move away from her. I'd done this, and I didn't want to face the consequences of my actions. Why should I have to when it was better for everyone that I left?

"How?" She followed me. Then her palms crashed into my chest. "How, Matías!" She pushed me again.

I caught her wrists, and finally faced her. "I almost died!"

Our chests expanded and contracted at matching, brutal speeds.

Silence descended between us and time seemed to slow. It didn't matter if she knew this.

Softening my voice, I said, "I did almost die. I would have, but a fisherman saved me. He pulled me from the water when I was barely breathing. It took months after that to heal, to fight infection."

Somehow, I’d also had just enough brain cells to cut out the tracker Doc had placed under my skin once upon a time. Otherwise, all of my efforts to escape would have been in vain.

But now Rita was here…

I rubbed the spot on the right side of my chest where the bullet had passed through .

Rita closed her eyes, then sucked in micro-breaths. She didn't like hearing this.

"Why, Matías? Why did you not love me the way I loved you?" Her hands sifted in my hold and when she opened her eyes, they were glassy.

So many fuck-ups in my life were because of Vicente and his drive for power and entertainment.

This one? Hurting a good woman? This was all my own doing.

Maybe I could have handled our break up differently. Not been such a coward. I should have, but there was nothing to do about it now, except to tell her the truth and hope she left it alone.

"Vicente wanted you dead," I said, my voice strained.

Her head jerked back and some of her fire returned. This woman, she flipped between emotions like channels on the TV.

"You can't be serious," she whispered, her nails starting to dig into my chest where they rested.

"Every single decision in my life has been driven by that man. To keep the people I loved safe. I would die before I saw Vicente kill you."

"He's dead now, Matías. He has been for a long time." Disbelief colored her words.

"Then Valentina was a problem for everyone. I wasn't going to make her yours." She had to understand that I would make every choice all over again. For her.

"She's dead too! For a long time, Matías!" Each word was louder than the last. Her curls bounced as her temper soared.

"I know that!" I gripped her wrists, pressing them deeper against me .

"Then why didn't you come back for me?" She screamed, trying to jerk her hands away, but I tightened my hold.

It was fucked up, but I reveled in the touch of her skin. I needed the contact for just a little longer.

"Because I couldn't!" I shouted. Fuck. I didn't lose it like this. Rita did. I was the voice of reason, the mask. Collecting myself, I pulled her arms around me, forcing the hug. She let me, but not without a heavy dose of suspicion in her eyes. "Andre and the others were taking over the Institution. If I'd stayed, more people would have died. Loyalties would have been divided."

"They'd never let that happen. It wouldn't if you'd just stood together," she argued.

I shook my head. "The Institution isn't like the Dirty Dogs. Men would have fought just because they could, if they thought it would gain them more power. Or if they thought I was the ticket to the ways of the old Institution."

"You're delusional." She tried to step back, but I cupped her cheek and she froze. Her nostrils flared as she dropped her gaze to my throat.

"No, I'm not. They needed me gone to take the head of the Institution. I needed to stay gone to figure out who the hell I am. As much as I wish it wasn't true, everyone is better off without me there," I said softly.

Her gaze snapped up. "You wanted to leave," she accused.

"I had to."

"Because you didn't want to live the crime life anymore." A statement. An accusation.

"I couldn't keep watching the people I cared about die!"

"You cared about Amorette! You found her sister for her! You knew she'd make contact and tell them you were alive! You care so fucking much about Amorette and your brothers who, for years, never gave a shit about you. What about me?" She yanked herself out of my arms and slapped her chest. "What about the Dirty Dogs?" Her voice started to shake. "What about Javier? We were there for you! Always fucking there for you!"

I pressed my lips together. "So what? You think just because Vicente's dead, everything is magically fixed? People aren't territorial or money hungry anymore? If I came back to the Dirty Dogs, that would have started a different kind of war."

One I would never allow. I cared too fucking much about all of them. About Rita.

"It was better to make a clean break. To let you forget me!" Did she think that was easy for me? To constantly walk away from what I wanted? What I needed?

I was making this new life for myself because it was the best I could do for them .

Fuck, my entire life had been a black cloud. For a second, yes, I enjoyed what it felt like to breathe without looking over my shoulder. I fucking enjoyed it.

But I never would have come here if it wasn't for her. For Javier. For my brothers.

All I did was make decisions based on everyone else's safety.

"Javier had a heart attack, Matias." Rita threw her hands down toward the floor. "Who did he ask for when he woke up? You! He said you should be there. That you had to really be dead, otherwise you would have come back to see him. To see us." She spun as my world expanded and contracted to that moment.

Javier was more like a father to me than Vicente ever was. He was the reason I was alive.

If he'd had a heart attack.. .

He was going to go out in glory. In the heat of a battle, not because of some fucking heart attack.

My vision wavered and cotton filled my ears.

"He's okay?" I asked, but the words sounded far away.

Glancing over her shoulder, she nodded. I released the breath I'd been holding.

Then her phone buzzed.

We stared at each other for a few seconds. Then in slow motion, she pulled it from her bag.

She didn't have to tell me what happened. I didn't have the courage to ask what I already knew.

Her face crumpling said it all. Then her wail. I rushed to her, gathering her in my arms as hot tears fell on my arms.

"No, no, no. This isn't right. This isn't happening. We have to go back, Matías." She dropped her face against my shoulder. "We have to go back."

"I can't." I gulped.

"What do you mean, you can't?" The question was a cry all on its own. She didn't understand. I didn't know how to make her understand.

"It would undo everything I've done for you. For them. I can't." My own eyes misted over. I couldn't fall apart. I needed to be strong for Rita until I could get her on a plane.

"You're really doing this?" It was almost a plea. "Come back with me." A desperate order.

"I can't." My fingers flexed against her back.

Then she lost it. Tearing out of my hold, she was a tornado, destroying everything she could get her hands on.

The cheap paintings on the wall. The glass on the table. The wooden chairs.

"I wasted the last three days getting here! I wasted the last precious hours with my papá for you ? For nothing?" Her voice was so deep with grief, the boom of it echoed in the cramped space. Even the furniture crashing against the floor wasn't enough to overshadow it. "You're not worth it. You never fucking were. I–I can't stay here."

She raced for the door.

I had words stuck on the tip of my tongue. Don't leave. You can't be by yourself right now. I need to help you get to the airport.

Yet, I was glued to the floor, and my mouth sealed tight. She was better off without me.

Wasn't that the lie I'd been telling myself for years?