“What a vote of confidence,” I tease, rubbing his jaw with my thumb.
“You’re not leaving me behind.” The fear can’t be hidden; it’s there in his light-blue eyes and in his stubborn features. Scared, and yet willing to push. I contemplate him carefully. Iunderstand where he’s coming from. I would never cower and hide when there’s business to be finished. The difference is that I’ve killed before, and I have no issue with doing it again.
I raise an inquisitive brow at Hunter.
“No,” he says instantly. “This is a terrible idea.”
“If you want a future here, with him, then you need to let him see.” There’s no way Hunter, or I, could ever fully keep him away from this part of us. If Hunter is in this and wants Matthew in it, too, then we can’t hide him from it. It’s doing a disservice to him and to us.
“This is not his fight, and it will only cause damage that can’t be undone.”
“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.” Matthew pushes back his chair and stands. “I’m not a child, I don’t need coddling, andI’m going. So just deal with it. Now where are these weapons?” He trips a little over the last word. None of us mention it.
Miles clears his throat, gaining his attention. “This way.” He holds out a—now-gloved—hand. Matthew doesn’t hesitate, slipping his own inside. Miles looks my way for a split second, one that holds a thousand words passing between us, and then leads Matthew down the hallway.
“I don’t want to know how he knows where to go, do I?” Hunter asks dryly.
“Probably not.” I’m not even sure how he knows. I never asked him to come inside. How did he get inside undetected? This place looks like a regular, too-high-priced house in a wealthy neighbourhood, but it’s a fortress in disguise.
Matthew stays near the doorway as we equip ourselves with handguns, knives, and sufficient ammo. “Are—are you—these are just in case, right? A protection thing.” He nervously palms his pants. “Like, better to have it and not use it kind of deal.”
“Perhaps.” We’re more likely to need them than not. The chances of getting in and out undetected aren’t in our favour. I don’t mind if we need to leave bodies behind.
In fact, it’s the point.
It’s not until we get into one of the black-tinted SUVs that Hunter and his team all use—an identical fleet that are untraceable but won’t flag on a police search—that Matthew speaks again.
“So where are we going?” he asks from the back passenger seat. He’s sitting behind Hunter, who’s driving, with Miles behind me.
“Port Botany,” Hunter answers. “Jericho will meet us there.”
“Isn’t that place huge? It’s where transport ships dock, isn’t it?”
“Most of them.” Hunter flicks on his indicator and slows at a set of lights, behind a white SUV with a dog hanging its head out the window. Cute.
“But itishuge, right?”
“According to the Port Authority, over sixteen hundred ships and two point five million containers come through this port every year.” Hunter frowns when the SUV changes its mind and goes forward instead of left. He growls something under his breath before turning himself. “It has the capacity to hold seven million at any given time,” he continues.
“Seven—seven million?” Matthew’s mouth opens in shock. “How are we supposed to find anyone in that?”
“There aren’t seven million there right now. We also know where they’re going to be. Or close enough to. They’ve picked the furthest point from the main roads.”
“And where is that?”
“Bulk liquids berth. They’ll use the shipping containers to hide themselves while they transport their load to an unmarkedcontainer that won’t show up on any incoming or outgoing records. Security does physical sweeps, but it’s sporadic.”
“Wouldn’t they have, like, cameras and stuff?”
“Sure.” Hunter switches gears and speeds up as he hits more open road. This time of night it’s quieter. Not quiet, but quieter. The Sydney streets darken and become a different city. “They’ll have taken care of those, and don’t forget that they have workers on their payroll. You can put all the security you want in places like this, and it will never be enough. Trouble still gets through. Technology isn’t ironclad, and everyone has a price.”
“I don’t,” Matthew says confidently. “Money isn’t some magical key that opens everyone’s morals.”
“You do,” I tell him. “Not every price is monetary. If they came for your family, your loved ones, threatened you with things that matter? That’s your price.” People like him are easier to manipulate, for those willing to do anything to achieve their goals. Murder is easy, for those with no conscience.
Matthew visibly swallows, startled and unnerved. “I—you’re right. I didn’t think of that. But you got Terry, didn’t you? The one that helps them at the docks?”
There’s a special beauty in how Matthew sees the world. Not just naivety. It’s not so much that he sees the world in black-and-white—even though he does—but that he looks for the good, not even registering that the world isn’t all rainbows and sunshine. It never occurs to him to look for what’s hidden underneath.
