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I shuddered as I imagined the worst-case scenario. “Sooner or later the authorities would have caught on, Matty. With Drew sabotaging your efforts, I’m shocked none of your contacts snitched on you.”
“Andy—Drew—was mainly playing with his food, though look at what that got him. He’ll be hobbling around for a while. As for our LAX informants, there was a reason I was paying them well over black market value for their services. Not ratting us out earned them a bigger fee.”
“That makes sense,” I said. “Would you be upset if I told you I’m relieved you’re considering giving up a life of crime, even if it was to return stolen artifacts to their rightful owner?”
He squeezed my hand. “No, it wouldn’t upset me.”
“Instead of enriching a middleperson, donate your time and money to organizations that work to restore stolen artifacts.”
“Solid idea.”
“However,” I added with a cheeky grin, “if you orchestrate a casino heist, maybe bring me into the fold so I can get firsthand knowledge for my novel.”
“So we’re changing the script on the fly now? Casino heists are in, illegal contraband is out. Got it.”
When I’d first met Matty, on the night he brought me out to LAX, I’d asked him what he was chasing. As we hugged the Pacific Ocean, it felt like Matty was on his way to finally figuring it out. Whatever he was chasing, it certainly wasn’t located at the end of an illegal contraband trade.
No, this was merely a symptom of whatever his bigger problem turned out to be. I just didn’t know what it was.
Part of me wanted to ask him about it, but it didn’t feel right. One problem at a time, Ciaran. Our next issue was Zoey. Would she help Matty or not?
And how would the swim team react when they heard Matty’s news?
I couldn’t help but be worried.
66
MATTHIAS
Franky met us as soon as we parked and entered the guesthouse at Vaulteneau.
As she looked between me and Ciaran, the concerned expression on her heart-shaped face told me something wasn’t right.
“What’s wrong?” I asked without even saying hello first. I threw our bags on the couch as we made our way to her. “But also…it smells really good in here.”
Standing in the kitchen like a mother hen, Franky put her hands on her ample hips. She was making smoothies and baking single-serve egg white and spinach breakfast quiches for the week.
On the counter behind her was a pan of brownies and protein-enriched banana bread.
At some point today she’d ground coffee beans. The rich aroma still lingered in the air. Literally, the guesthouse smelled like heaven.
Franky frowned. “You’ve got a lot of nerve asking me what’s wrong, Matthias Vaulteneau, when it looks like you took a beating!”
“Oh,” I said, cupping my palm to my jaw. “Got into a bit of a scuffle. That reminds me. Can you set up an appointment with my dentist? I think one of my caps is loose.”
Beside me, Ciaran snorted.
Franky’s gaze fell on him.
“And what do you have to say about the situation?” she asked Ciaran. Her eyes went wide when she detected the hickeys covering his neck. “Well now,” she breathed out, placing a hand over her mouth. “Seems like we might have a couple of situations on our hands.”
Franky glared at me with an unspoken question. Did you do that to Ciaran’s neck? I nodded affirmatively and she let out an unhappy sigh. “This is unbelievable.”
Missing the exchange entirely, Ciaran maneuvered around the counter to sniff the brownies, but Franky slapped his hand away. He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you tell us which situation you’re referring to.”
“How about the one,” Franky started, “where Davies was worried about you two this afternoon and notified your parents that you’d made an unexpected trip to Las Vegas?”
“Shit,” I groaned, and rubbed my face. “I meant to reply to Davies but got distracted.” My stomach dropped. “When did Davies tell them?”
