AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Jairo’s hand shot out, wrapping around his throat. The force and grip lifted Win off his feet. Breath was gone. Balance too, as well as any hope—minuscule though it might have been—that Jairo would understand how innocently the whole thing started. Blood rushed in Win’s ears, competing with his thundering heart for which could be louder. He didn’t fight. Just accepted this would be his fate. He gasped and choked, body struggling against the lack of air.
“Did he send you to me?” Jairo roared so loudly, the entire state likely heard him. “Pascal planted you in my life?”
Win tried to talk, but the only thing that escaped were those choking sounds. He tried shaking his head, but it wasn’t easy, not with Jairo’s large gloved grip getting tighter and tighter. The pain of that hold radiated throughout his body. Felt as if his windpipe was nothing but breakable glass against the anger, the rage in Jairo’s grip, and Win couldn’t fault him for that. Still, he tried to make Jairo understand.
Jairo shook him so hard his teeth knocked. “Answer me!”
Win opened his mouth to do just that, but Jairo’s grip disappeared and Win crashed to the floor, coughing. His entire body shook and trembled, and he clawed at his throat, eyes watering. “No.” His lips moved, but there was no sound. He just kept trying despite the fiery pain ripping through him with every inhale. “No.” There. His voice was all shattered, but it was there. He got onto his knees, peering up at Jairo through the tears. “He didn’t know about us until you and I married.”
He’d never seen Jairo the way he was now—bloodthirsty. A switch had been flipped and everything about the man he’d married scared him now. Scared him in a way he hadn’t felt since that moment when Stavros Konstantinou yanked him out from under the bed in that seedy motel room so long ago. Terror chilled Win, but he still tried to speak.
“Ma-Mathieu thinks you killed his father.”
Jairo’s brow furrowed.
“We both know you didn’t.” He swallowed. Fuck, it hurt. “Y-you think Mathieu is the one threatening me, but he isn’t.” He straightened on his knees, clasping his hands together as he pleaded, “You don’t have to go to war, there’s nothing to fight over. Please, Jairo. Call it off.”
Jairo watched him, head cocked. “Call it off,” he repeated. “Is that why you decided to come clean now?”
Win ignored the disgust and distrust in the other man’s voice. They were warranted, after all. “There is someone else out there who is pulling the strings.” Win could clearly see that, why couldn’t Jairo? Or Mathieu for that matter? “They want you and Mathieu at each other’s necks.”
“And what did you think would happen once you made your little confession?” Jairo asked mockingly. “I’d just walk away?”
Win had hoped, but hadn’t he learned yet that hoping was for idiots? “Jairo, please.” He glanced away then back, braving the brunt of the clear hatred and disdain that sparked in Jairo’s eyes. “Mathieu knows nothing about the nature of things between you and me. Your secrets are safe.”
Jairo shifted and Win refused to blink when Jairo slowly unclipped his gun from the holster at his hip and pressed it to Win’s forehead. Calmness washed over him as he stared up into Jairo’s eyes. All the raw emotion from earlier had receded, only darkness remained, a clue as to the kind of man Jairo had been once upon a time, a man Win hadn’t been smart enough to fear.
Until now.
He didn’t doubt Jairo would shoot him where he knelt. But Jairo had to understand the nature of what he’d be unleashing if he did, and Win didn’t relish the words or any sentiment they might convey when he said, “If you kill me, Mathieu will kill you.” How his words managed to remain steady, he didn’t know. “I have been the only one standing between him and your destruction. Don’t let my attempts be in vain.” He’d wanted peace. He’d wanted to be in control of himself, to protect himself against more pain. More heartache. Jairo had seemed the better option; no chance of heartache there. But control was only an illusion that hid chaos and damage. “Jairo.”
Jairo’s lips twitched. “You think you’ve been keeping me alive? Protecting me?” His tone conveyed just how ridiculous he found that notion. Scorn twisted his features as he gazed down at Win.
The gun remained pressed to Win’s head and he inhaled, taking the scent of metal into his lungs. There weren’t a lot of things he was sure of, but it fucked his head up that as he balanced on his aching knees, begging the man he’d married not to kill him, that he could be sure of Mathieu. His ex might not have protected Win’s heart the way he should have, but he’d done everything else to ensure Win wasn’t the same scared whore he’d been once upon a time.
“I loved you,” he told Jairo. “You’ve been my friend for a long time and I’ve held all your secrets close to protect you. I don’t expect or deserve your forgiveness, not when I entered this thing with so much deception, but I’m giving you this piece of free advice, do with it what you will: You haven’t seen the worst of Mathieu Pascal, not yet. Hurting me will only speed up what I’ve been trying so fucking hard to avoid.” He swallowed a sob. “Don’t open that box.”
Jairo’s lips curled into a snarl and the gun shifted away, but Win didn’t get the chance to heave a sigh of relief before a bang knocked him off his knees. He found himself on his back, staring up at the ceiling as the hot bullet lanced through his flesh and blood pooled under him. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was Jairo’s boots as the other man stepped over his body.
19
“I said no.”Mathieu didn’t even lift his gaze from his phone and he didn’t allow his tone to relay the way he absolutely wanted to liberate Cesar’s head from his fucking body. The other man had shown up without warning or invitation, bitching about wanting to go after Jairo.
Again.
“Now is the perfect time.” Clearly, Cesar didn’t know when to quit. “You have him distracted. My group and I already have somebody on standby. Not anyone local, so they can’t be traced back to any of us. It can be done within a day. Two, tops.”
There was nothing Mathieu would love more than to stand over Jairo’s grave, but Jairo was his to kill. Not Cesar and his greedy group hiding behind their money and false sense of safety.
“Jairo Beltran dies when I say.” He brought his gaze up, meeting Cesar’s. The other man watched him without blinking, but Mathieu spotted the fear lurking. Men like Cesar were big and bad up until they had to actually take action and then they wrote a check and farmed it off to someone else. “Nobody does anything to Jairo. He’s mine. When he dies, it will be because I made it happen.” He put his phone down, continuing to hold Cesar’s gaze. “You can tell your group that. And please know, the next time you bring this shit up to me, it will be the last time you do anything.” Cesar had his uses, but Mathieu didn’t need him. On the other hand, Cesar couldn’t operate his business without Mathieu and Win. It was a move Mathieu had learned from his father from a very early age—never do business with someone you need. Make them need you.
Under his scrutiny, Cesar paled, lips thinning. His ego didn’t like being threatened, but he also couldn’t do shit but sit there and take it. He knew what time it was.
Mathieu held back a grin and glanced over to where Cesar’s bodyguard stood by the door, expression impassive, but he was definitely tuned in to their conversation. “Anything else you need, Cesar? Because I’m a busy man and you’re interrupting.” He had nothing on his agenda, but he wasn’t in the mood for Cesar and his bullshit.
“N-no, that’s it.” When Mathieu didn’t say anything else, Cesar got to his feet. “The, uh…the last batch of stuff was impeccable as always.”
Fuckingenbesil. Was he trying to flatter Mathieu now? “I know.” Mathieu dismissed him by picking up the phone on his desk and dialing up Jason, his second.
