Page 95 of Oddly Fine

Hayes rolled his eyes and inserted his earpiece, making sure it was turned on. Attaching the clip to his shirt collar, he was able to hide it under the collar his suit.

“Hey, there, hot stuff—is that a gun in your pants—or are you just happy to see me?” Beckett said, testing their mics.

“I’m four inches from you.”

“Four inches? Give yourself a little credit, Hughes—you’re packing at least six!”

Matthew laughed appreciatively and shook his head at Beckett’s crude sense of humor.

“Are we ready?” Matthew asked. His own good humor now restored, he was smiling again. Beckett did seem to have that effect on people.

Beckett and Hayes looked at each other, communicating silently.

I love you.

I’ve got your back.

Shoot first, paperwork later.

Then Donovan got out of the car first, with Matthew right behind him, and Hughes brought up the rear.

The family meeting was being held in the headquarters of their real estate business, located near the Old Port, in a modern office building built with a lot of glass and steel beams. From a security standpoint, it was a logistical nightmare. Everywhere he looked, Hayes noted places where a shooter could hide as well as open areas that afforded little or no protection.

“Who picked this spot? I felt safer in Afghanistan,” Beckett muttered over the comms.

“Keep your eyes peeled for any reflections from rifle scopes,” Hayes advised while scanning in all directions as they walked across the lobby. The building had ten levels of open walkways above the ground floor that crisscrossed each other.

“We’re not expecting any actual threats, are we?” Beckett asked.

He’d quite naturally slipped into his assigned role, just like Hayes had. They’d been doing this for years, so the process had become automatic and seamless. This unique ability was one of the main reasons why Gill put up with them. Hayes remained silent as he continued to scan the area for any threats while keeping Matthew within line of sight.

Matthew led them across the empty lobby and through a series of doors that required a key card. Once they entered a long corridor with office doors on both sides, Beckett’s tension eased slightly now that they were in a relatively secure space.

“The meeting room is the last door on the left,” Matthew informed them, unnecessarily as it turned out, since four bodyguards stood in front of the door. Built like refrigerators, all of them had roughly-hewn faces, shaved heads, and cauliflower ears like those generally sported by professional boxers.

On Matthew’s approach, one of them spoke briefly into his comms device before opening the meeting room door for him. Hayes glanced inside and initially he didn’t see anyone, but no one in their right minds would sit too close to the door—not if they had any safety concerns.

“Thank you, Edouardo,” Matthew said, flashing a courteous smile at the bodyguard, who merely stared at him coldly. Matthew stepped out of Hayes’ way to stand next to Beckett who had put his back to the wall. Hayes stepped into the meeting room, keeping his hand close to his weapon. After conducting a quick threat assessment and deeming it safe, he gestured for Matthew to enter.

Matthew strode into the room as if he owned it. He’d been relatively unimposing and down-to-earth up to this point. But suddenly, he’d adopted the appearance of a full-on mob boss. Head held high, chin jutted out with natural arrogance, he looked stern, beautiful, and cold as ice all at once.

“Fear not—I have arrived!” he declared authoritatively, striding confidently towards the head of the table, where a surprisingly fit, older man was sitting.

Hayes immediately recognised Mario Rosario from the few pictures he’d seen of him. He had expensive taste in clothing and jewelry, and he’d obviously undergone a series of advanced cosmetic procedures. The skin over his cheekbones was unnaturally tight and his forehead was too smooth for his age, refusing to budge a single centimeter when he attempted to frown at his nephew. There wasn’t any grey hair, nor sign of wrinkles on his face or neck. This was a man who cared about his appearance—no—it was more than that. A man who was obsessed with looking decades younger.

Since was he was the last to arrive, Matthew took the only empty seat, to the immediate right of his uncle and across from a beautiful woman Hayes assumed was his sister.

Hayes glanced briefly out the door just as it closed, catching sight of Beckett standing off to the side. They were all in position now. Let the games begin.

“New security?” Mario asked, failing once again in his attempts to frown as he tracked Hayes who positioned himself in the far left corner of the room.

Hayes chose that vantage point so he’d have the first shot at anyone coming through the door, while also keeping an eye on those sitting at the table.

“Tyson’s on paternity leave,” Matthew replied, shrugging out of his coat and settling into his seat. He was lounging back, right foot propped up on his left thigh, looking debonair and relaxed, like a goddamned Maine coon cat sunbathing. Beautiful and arrogant to the core.

“Paternity leave? Since when—” Matthew’s uncle snapped. He appeared outraged at the very idea.

“Yes. It’s truly shocking—heaven forbid that a man should take care of his own,” Matthew commented mockingly. He raised his hands, gesturing towards those seated around the table. “Is there nothing more important to discuss? Don’t we have a goddamned business to run? I’d enjoy some mind-numbing reports, if you please—” he declared sarcastically.