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“You’re nothing if not predictable.”
Mathieu didn’t spare more than a glance for Jairo, who sat atop his desk with two guns pointed at him. Or the two men who flanked Jairo, also pointing their guns at Mathieu. No, his gaze dropped to the pool of blood congealing in the middle of the wood floor. That sight roused the beast in him and it took everything to keep it leashed. If Linc hadn’t been there, Win would’ve bled out. He would’ve died.
Still could.It was an agonizing thought.
“He told me about you and him,” Jairo said.
Mathieu didn’t look up at him. “Did he?” It was a task to keep his surprise hidden and out of his voice. Sothathad been the catalyst. What made Win confess? “I admit, it’s given me so much pleasure, watching you be made a cuckold this entire time.” He lifted his gaze, cocking his head at Jairo. “Tell me, how does that make you feel? Suicidal?”
“You tell me. How does it feel to bury the man you love because of me?”
Mathieu tsked. “Ah, Jairo. You don’t—nor could you ever—hold that much power.” He glanced at the men at Jairo’s side then back to Jairo. “Now, are you gonna die quietly or will you be putting up a fight? Just a question.”
Jairo chuckled, hopping off his desk. He took two steps and everything exploded. Jairo’s body went flying into a wall, landing with a sickening thud. Mathieu’s world spun, literally turning upside down. He found himself on his side, limbs useless. Across from him, Jairo’s two men lay still, their eyes sightless. One of the walls was just…gone, and he stared out into the night, unable to move. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was a shadow creeping away from the wreckage.
21
Mathieu came awaketo the hum of an engine and movement under his body. His head felt as if it was splintering and he tried to move, until someone grabbed him, holding him steady. He couldn’t open his eyes and his body hurt like it’d never hurt before. What the hell happened? Where was he? He parted his lips to speak but only managed a grunt.
“Easy.” Jason? That sounded like Jason.
Mathieu managed to crack one eye open, but bright lights swirled, making his head hurt even more. He flinched and lowered his lashes, aware of the darkness that encroached, intent on taking him back under. He fought but it was useless, and he was helpless. His limbs too heavy. Head and thought too jumbled.
He dropped back into oblivion.
The next time he swam up into awareness, an argument was happening around him. Low, harsh words.
“—don’t have to tell you what happens if you don’t do what the fuck I say.” Jason. That was Jason.
“I’m not afraid of you. Don’t threaten me again.” And the stubborn Samirah Mitri.
“Fix him.” Jason’s tone was tight and soft, but Mathieu made out the barely concealed rage. “And I’m staying right here until you do.”
“As I said before, I’ll need to put him under.”
Mathieu would’ve liked to tell both of them to shut the fuck up, but the pain in his head was immense, heavy, and he couldn’t keep focused long enough to do anything but twitch his fingers.
“Do what you gotta do. I’ll be watching.”
Mathieu barely felt the prick of the needle in his forearm or when Samirah inserted her IV. It didn’t take long before he was out. Again.
The next time he woke, it was to silence. He lifted his lashes. He was in the med unit he’d built for Samirah. It took a while for the memories to come rushing back in and he tried sitting up only to flop back down onto the bed with a grunt. Someone had tried to kill him? With a bomb? It couldn’t have been Jairo, because it didn’t look like that fucker made it. Instead of feeling happy at the thought, Mathieu ground his teeth together.
Jairo’s death should’ve been at his hand. After what he did to Win, it was Mathieu’s right to string that bastard up by his entrails and beat his ass like a piñata before putting two slugs between his eyes. Jairo got the easy way out and that would permanently eat away at Mathieu’s craw.
He stared up at the ceiling, taking stock of his body. His head throbbed, but it was nothing compared to how it had felt previously. He touched it and found it wrapped with a bandage. His left leg ached. He glanced down and found it also bandaged, from lower thigh to mid-calf. His entire body hurt too, as if he’d been in a crash. Well, he’d nearly been blown up.
He tried sitting up again and his abdominal muscles protested the movement, but he gritted his teeth and powered through. Just as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, Samirah came in, Jason on her heels.
“Get back in bed,” she barked. Her bedside manner needed some serious improvement, but Mathieu ignored her, turning to Jason.
“How is Win?”
Before Jason could answer, Samirah scowled. “That can wait. I need to check on you.”
Mathieu grabbed her wrist when she reached for his head. “If you can check, you can talk. Now, I won’t ask again: how is Win?”
Her mouth tightened. “I removed the bullet.”
