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But the thought of leaving Hannah after what we’ve shared settles like a stone weight in my stomach. It’s going to suck, but Ididwarn her. If there’s a baby involved... Christ. I don’t know what I’ll do.
I go down to level three to see if Matt is home. Maybe talking to him will help me get out of my own head and back onto wrapping this job up as quickly as possible. The elevator pings and I step out in time to see Matt entering his apartment.
“Hey!” I call out and it looks like he’s trying to scurry away from me. Coward. “Wait.”
I rush him, jamming my foot between the door so he can’t close it. This bastard didn’t say a word while Hannah stood there, that ugly-faced brute grabbing her like she was a piece of meat. And he didn’t say a damn thing when I came barging in, having to pretend to be some dickhead husband happy to degrade his wife in order to get out of trouble.
“What do you want?” Matt growls. That’s when I get a good look at his face—he’s got a black eye and a split lip.
“What happened to you?” I plant my hand against his front door and invite myself in. The place smells like a dorm party—beer, pizza and BO covered up with cheap cologne. “You should get some ice on that.”
“No shit,” Matt grumbles. His good eye is bloodshot, like he’s been on something.
“Someone’s done my work for me.” I fold my arms and lean against his wall. Matt seems to take the hint that I’m not leaving, and lets the front door swing shut behind him. “It’s not much fun giving someone a black eye when they’ve already got one.”
Matt grabs an icepack from the freezer and wraps it in a tea towel. “This about what happened before?”
“You’re a regular fucking Sherlock, aren’t you?”
He eyes me warily, and I lean into my persona. Owen Essex is a spoilt rich boy who grew up without anybody crossing him.
Matt sighs. “I don’t want any trouble. Your wife interrupted my business. Trust me, I did her a favor pretending I had no idea who she was.”
“How do you figure that? Looked like one of your mates was feeling her up.”
“They’renotmy mates.” Matt winces as he presses the icepack to his eye. “Be pissed if you want, but the fact that they don’t know either of your names is a good thing.”
I watch Matt’s movements—he’s defeated. His shoulders hunch forward as he leans against the breakfast bar. He’s stocky in build, like he might have been muscular at one point but now he’s out of shape. I spy multiple empty Coke bottles dry and open around the couch. Two pizza boxes on the slick glass coffee table. It’s a jarring sight given that the apartment has very expensive things—a Bose sound system, giant TV...and one of Celina Yang’s sculptures.
“You playing with a rough crowd?” I ask, my eyes continuing to scan the room for any useful information.
“Why do you want to know?” Matt asks warily.
“I might be looking for some new friends.”
“These guys don’t make friends.” For a second I see real fear in his eyes, and my suspicions that he’s got anything to do with the jewellery theft ring are dwindling by the second. He doesn’t look like he’d have the stomach for it. So I switch tactics.
“I see you’ve got one of Celina’s pieces.” I walk over to it. It’s huge—almost comes up to my waist and stretches out at least three feet—and made of a white material that’s so smooth I can almost see my own face in it.
“Not for long. She’s going to pick it up.” He comes out of the kitchen area and walks over. “Never mind the fact that I helped get her started. I funded her first show, paid for a space back when no galleries would take her. I paid for the catering and a photographer. I helped launch her.”
His bitterness is toxic.
“Why did you break up?”
“Artistic differences. I wanted to settle down and have a family, and she didn’t.”
I think back to the conversation I overheard at the gallery, when Celina accused him of doing things that were “dangerous and wrong.” “And she had a problem with you stealing shit.”
Matt’s eyebrows shoot up. “What’sthatsupposed to mean?”
“I’m not stupid, Matt. I know you’re into something with those guys and Celina didn’t like it.”
“Did she say something to you?”
I lift one shoulder into a shrug. “Not to me.”
Matt takes the bait and shakes his head. “Fucking women. Always talking, talking, talking. Look, it’s not like that. I made some mistakes, got myself in trouble and now I’m getting myself out. But I’m not a criminal, no matter what she says.”
