At least he didn’t laugh at me.
“I thought the grey sweatpants thing only worked on chicks,” I mutter, turning back to my plate and stuffing another bite of pasta in my mouth.
His charming grin only makes things worse. “Oh, the grey sweatpants work on everyone, if they’re so inclined.”
“If that’s the case,” I wave my fork in his direction, “why aren’t you sporting a boner?”
Laughter fills the kitchen as Matt nearly doubles over. “Aron, I’ve been hiding boners around you my whole life. I’m more practiced at this than you are.”
“Valid point.”
Silence drags on a bit as Matt sits back down, and we continue the meal. My mind races with a hodgepodge of conflicting and unrelated thoughts. In addition to exploring my newly admitted feelings for him, we’ve also got to figure out what to do about tonight’s attack on the Syndicate. From what Matt tells me, it seems like several homes and hideouts were hit tonight, which doesn’t bode well. The whole thing reeks of an inside job, but I can’t for the life of me think of who could pull it off. Tito keeps—kept—a tight leash on his empire.
Then a disturbing thought occurs to me, one that makes my blood run cold.
Besides Matt, only one man in the Syndicate would know enough and potentially have the resources for this kind of endeavor. One man at the heart of it all, closer to the don than anyone except Matt.
Dad.
Chapter 10
Matt
By the time we get back upstairs, I’ve lost my ability to hide my pain. Being thrown around by the explosion at Aron’s house, helping him get around until he got his footing back, cooking dinner … I’m spent.
I figure I’ll just sleep it off, but Aron’s got me pegged. As soon as we get to the bedroom, he slams the door shut and orders me to take off my shirt.
I’m not stupid enough to think this is about sex. He’s noticed that I’m hurt, and I know he wants to inspect the damage Dad did tonight. Last night? Fuck, I don’t even know what day it is anymore.
Try as I might, I can’t get the damp tee off by myself. I wince and groan, and finally Aron makes me sit down on the bed while he goes off on the hunt for a pair of scissors.
Funny how the tables keep turning. I’ve been Aron’s charge my whole life, but after just a few hours of taking care of him, he’s back to being my savior. Within minutes, he has my shirt off and is inspecting my injuries. His fingers trace the bruises and cuts on my chest, back, and sides, and he flinches in sympathywith every sharp intake of breath.
“Sorry.”
“No worries,” I say as he presses a rib that’s likely bruised, if not busted. “I’m just sorry I can’t hold still for you.”
“Tito really did a number on you, didn’t he?”
I let out a dry laugh. “How do you know this isn’t explosive damage?”
“Because I know Tito.”
“Well, I probably deserved it. I kind of pissed him off by refusing the wife and kids bit—again.”
Aron’s eyes snap shut, and I bite my lip. I’m a fucking idiot.
“Aron, I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re okay. I did ask, after all.”
Awkward silence drags on until I can’t stand it anymore. By now, Aron’s at my back again, gently probing at my bruised spine. “So … Will I live, doc? I mean, Dad beat me pretty bad, but I also survived, so there’s that.”
“You ran into a burning building with all this …” His voice is low, almost inaudible.
Guilt racks me as he finds a new spot to poke. Does he think this is why I didn’t bring Emily’s body out? “Aron—”
“Shh.” He pats my shoulder and stands up. “Where’s the antiseptic? I should put something on all these cuts before they get infected.”
