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Veins bulged in Linc’s neck. He was a small man, smaller than Win, more hair than anything else, but he wasn’t afraid of Mathieu. No, that was anger in his stance, in his eyes. Good. Mathieu could work with anger.
“Take Win wherever he wants to go. No one knows about his connection to me and it will stay that way, correct?” When Linc didn’t respond right away, Mathieu prodded with a raised eyebrow, “Correct?”
“Correct.” Linc issued the single word between gritted teeth, making Mathieu grin.
“Alright, you can go.” He actually meant the two of them, but Win stayed behind once Linc spun away and left quietly.
“What the fuck was that?” Win grabbed Mathieu’s arm.
Mathieu shrugged. “I told you I would handle it.”
“And that was you handling it?” Win released him, wiping a hand down his face. “Mathieu, that did not look like a man afraid of you.” He jerked a thumb toward the door.
“I don’t give a fuck about his fear. I just want to make sure he knows the score.” Win stared at him for a moment then sighed, shifting away, but Mathieu grabbed him. “What? What was that sigh about?” He shouldn’t care. But he did. Fucking idiot.
“Nothing. I have to go.” But Win didn’t budge.
Mathieu touched his face, stroking his chin. “I’m going to war with Jairo.”
Win blanched. “No.”
The agonized whisper roused something ugly in Mathieu. Jealousy. “You can’t stop it this time. Jairo made the first move and if I don’t answer, my men will question me, doubt me, and eventually think they can take what I have.” He pinched Win’s chin, losing himself in his eyes. “I won’t let that happen. Not even for you.” He said the last part roughly.
Win’s eyes shimmered. “You can do anything. If you wanted to, you could dead this whole issue in five minutes.”
Mathieu grinned. “If I wanted to.” He brushed his lips over Win’s, aching to linger. “Go.” He dropped his hands and stepped back.
“Mathieu.” Win grabbed both of his hands, his own cold and trembling. His eyes begged for things Mathieu wouldn’t even consider giving anyone else. “Please.”
“Let your bodyguard take you home.” Mathieu broke eye contact as everything in him ached to reach out to Win. “We’re done here.” He turned away, giving Win his back. Waiting. Waiting. When the door finally closed softly, he clung to the edge of his desk with one hand, head bowed.
He might have just lost Win for good.
17
The man Jairohad in his custody, one of Mathieu’s men, died.
Win found out about it on the news. His body washed up on the beach.
A week after the body was found, Mathieu struck. Silent at first, because he didn’t make waves unless he absolutely had to. One of Jairo’s secret warehouses was breached and emptied of all its contents. Guns. Drugs. All of it gone. Win only found out because he heard Jairo shouting on the phone.
Win walked around in a daze, guilt so heavy on his shoulders he didn’t understand how he managed to move about at all. His bodyguard, Linc, was at his side, silent, sullen, but there. His anger poured off him in waves and Win didn’t have anything to say that would make it better. An apology wouldn’t quite cut it. But he knew the only thing keeping Linc from spilling Win’s secrets to Jairo was the fact that Mathieu knew Linc’s weakness.
Whatever that was. Win didn’t know and he didn’t want to.
Instead, he tried focusing on doing the things he could do, controlling the shit he could control, like forging the documents Mathieu needed. That was still difficult to do, especially when his mind would wander. Mathieu didn’t contact him. Win tried calling him and when that didn’t work, he texted, begging Mathieu to please stop. A war with Jairo wasn’t the answer, but this feud between the two men had been going on long before Win entered the picture.
It picked up steam when Mathieu’s father, Moïse, was killed.
Win wished he could tell Mathieu what he knew about Jairo to prove to him that Jairo wasn’t behind his father’s death, but he couldn’t.
How had he found himself in this predicament? One wrong decision and he was forever caught in this web he couldn’t escape, not without causing even more damage.
Another one of Jairo’s secret warehouses burned to the ground. Then another.
One of Mathieu’s men got run over by a speeding truck. An anonymous tip had the Feds raiding one of Mathieu’s businesses.
The war was on and Win wasn’t about to sit by and watch the two men he cared about try to kill each other. It had to stop. He had enough on his conscience; he couldn’t handle anymore.
