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Mathieu rubbed his jaw, gaze contemplative. “He’s wanted.”
Maybe. But by who?
Something didn’t sit right with Win, and he couldn’t articulate it enough to share with Mathieu. But there was a heaviness in his chest. One of Jairo’s disciples in the MC had thrown a bonfire one night and Jairo had taken Win, one of the very few outings they’d had as a couple. Win had stood off to the side and watched Jairo give the fire a wide berth. He’d watched Jairo stare at the flames with a tight jaw, tension in his shoulders and in his fingers that gripped a beer can until it dented. It’d been the fear in Jairo’s eyes that had prompted Win to make up an excuse for them to leave.
Jairo was afraid of fire and rightly so.Then why would he use it as a means of attacking Mathieu?
Shit didn’t make sense and—
The sound of screeching tires reached Win’s ears just as their vehicle lurched forward then stopped abruptly.
“What the hell?”
A shower of glass rained down on him and Mathieu in the back seat as the windshield shattered and their driver slumped forward, body draped over the steering wheel. Win didn’t have to check to know the driver was dead.
“Win, get down!” Mathieu pulled his weapon and grabbed Win by the shoulder, shoving him down between the seats none too gently. “Stay there.”
“Wait. Mathieu, wait!” Win grabbed at him, but Mathieu reached for the door handle just as both back doors were yanked open from the outside at the same time.
“Just the man I wanted to see.”
Win froze, not at what he knew for sure was a gun pressed to the back of his head, but at Jairo’s voice, soft and conversational. There were four men with their guns trained on Mathieu. Win didn’t look to see who else was with Jairo. His entire body trembled and he couldn’t look away from Mathieu, who faced the enemy head-on, shoulders squared, fingers on the trigger. He showed no fear, but Win wasn’t built like him.
He felt all the fear. All. Of. It.
He couldn’t lose Mathieu, not now when they were just getting the chance to rediscover each other again.Only because you waited so long to forgive him, a voice in his head chided. Win silenced it. “M-Mathieu.”
“Yes, Mathieu. Put your gun down; I’m just here for Win. Play your cards right and you won’t lose anyone else tonight.”
Mathieu stared down at Win, and Win held his gaze, pleading without words. They were outmanned and outgunned. He needed Mathieu alive so they could fight another day. Whatever he saw on Win’s face made Mathieu’s jaw clench. His nostrils flared. Determination burned in his eyes, bloodlust too, but that he seemed to tamp down, expression softening just the tiniest bit, and for the briefest moment, it was just the two of them: Win and Mathieu, in their own world, speaking their own language.
“Win and I need to have a little chat.” Jairo’s voice shattered their illusion. His hand settled on Win’s shoulder, heavy and hot through his glove.
“Don’t you fucking touch him!” Mathieu lurched forward, but Jairo’s men held him down. All four of them, as Jairo dragged Win out of the SUV. “Jairo, I’ll fucking kill you!”
Win didn’t struggle, though his heart was up in his throat and his fingers trembled. In Jairo’s grasp, he stumbled alongside Jairo, who led them across the street to a waiting SUV. Win glanced around. There were no other vehicles on the dark and empty road, just Jairo’s SUV and Mathieu’s. He frowned at that. Jairo in an SUV, when he’d shared with Win how he hated riding in vehicles. Confined spaces made him hyperventilate, he’d told Win. That was why he loved his HD Cruiser so much, it was his everyday mode of transportation.
But here he was, ambushing them in an SUV.
Didn’t add up.
Just like the fire.
When Jairo backed him up against the SUV, Win shrugged out of his hold and glared up at him. “Why did you set Mathieu’s house on fire?”
Jairo cocked his head. “No begging for your life?” He sounded almost disappointed as he lowered the gun and shoved it into his waistband.
“No. If you wanted me dead you would have done it when you put a bullet in me.” It felt as if that happened a million years ago, as if he was discussing somebody else’s life. And to an extent he was. He glanced past Jairo’s shoulders over to where the men were holding Mathieu. “Do not hurt Mathieu.” He would beg if he had to. “Tell your men not to hurt him.”
Jairo shrugged. “They have their orders.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Jairo’s lips quirked. “Do you know why I married you?”
“Uh…” Win blinked, the abrupt change of topic throwing him off. “No, I don’t know.”
“Because you were safe.” Jairo moved in closer, and Win tensed. “You were the safest motherfucker out there, in this town with its shark-infested waters. I think I imagined some of that—whatever it was—rubbing off on me. But little did I know, it was Pascal keeping you safe the entire time.”
