Sex, Lies, and Joysticks

by Lynn Chantale

  “It’s just a week, Randa.” He nuzzled her ear, and she leaned into him.

  “I know.”

  He turned her to face him. The sadness he read in her eyes shattered the last of his resolve. “Why not call up, what’s his name, Gremlin? He was nice.”

  She shook her head, dislodging one of the dark curls from the knot gathered on the top of her head. “We just play video games together, and besides, he’s got someone else.”

  “You said the same thing about Destin. Both men seemed to adore you.” He cradled her cheek as he gazed into her eyes. “You know I don’t like you being alone when I’m not here, even with the bodyguards around.”

  That was another thing he’d had to contend with, hiring two experienced guards to look after his wife. One stayed in the house and the other outside. Knowing they were there helped alleviate some of his worry but not all.

  “I’d rather be alone than spend time with someone I don’t really like. And I don’t like having a babysitter.”

  Damn, she really knew how to drive that blade deeper into his body, and she didn’t even know what he’d done.

  “We’ve talked about this, Randa. It’s for your safety,” he reminded her.

  “I wouldn’t need them if—”

  “Please don’t finish that statement. He’s gone. End of story. That’s something we both have to deal with.” He gentled his tone. “For me, would you at least go to the movies or the spa? Something so you’re not moping around the house.”

  She pulled from his embrace. “I’m not moping. I just don’t understand why he left. With nothing more than a stupid note. And after what he told me.”

  “What did he tell you?” Anxiety pitched his voice a little higher. Had Matteo told Randa about Melodee or something else?

  She shook her head; a flash of temper swept through her irises. Was it possible she knew the truth about Matteo and the man left anyway?

  “Do you think it has to do with the fight he and I had?”

  “I don’t know what to think anymore.” She dropped her head. “What did I do wrong?”

  He ran his palms up and down her arms. She stepped from his reach completely and held his gaze. A mixture of sadness and distrust shimmered in her dove-gray eyes.

  “You did nothing wrong. He probably just got tired of being here. We knew he was somewhat of a drifter when we met him. He didn’t hide that.”

  His wife shook her head again. “I don’t understand. He really liked it here. Liked us.” She studied him a moment. “You know why he left.”

  Keeping his features schooled in a blank mask was nearly as hard as lying. “If I knew the reason he left, I’d tell you.”

  “Somehow I don’t think you would if you knew it would hurt my feelings.”

  If only she knew the truth.

  “Maybe if I knew why he ended the relationship so abruptly, I could move on.” She lowered her head. “I really loved him, Linc. I can’t just turn that off.” She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth before inhaling a breath. “You’ll be gone a week?”

  The air hung heavy with her admission. The spiraling guilt in his belly twisted and throbbed. Once Randa learned the truth, he very well might have to move out himself. Lincoln nodded. Hopefully the week would be enough time for him to do what he needed. “Yes.”

  “All right. That will give me time to get your Christmas gift.”

  “I didn’t think we were exchanging gifts this year.”

  “The shopping will keep me busy and out of the house.” She moved down the hall toward the wide staircase at the end. “Tell Jacqui I said hello.”

  Linc had half a mind to call Randa back to his side. Even opened his mouth to do so. Instead he folded his lips against the words tumbling over his tongue. Somehow he managed to keep silent.

  He returned to the bedroom and his suitcase. For a moment he surveyed the four-poster bed. The cream-and-blue print comforter was pristine except for his open suitcase marring the surface. Royal-blue throw pillows accented the spread and added a homey feel to the bed.

  His wife had managed to soften the heavy, dark dresser with its ornate mirror and chest of drawers into a romantic getaway with flowers and candles. He ran a hand through his hair. His gaze landed on his shaving kit and the small batch of letters inside he’d intercepted in the past several weeks.

  This was another reason he kicked himself for being a jealous bastard. If Matteo were here now, Lincoln wouldn’t have to worry about Randa’s safety. His sweet wife had no idea of the danger she was really in or the threats that seemed to come on a daily basis now. The dead rodent in the flowers he set out for her a few weeks ago was just a warning.

  Again he wondered if he’d escalated this threat by investigating Matteo. He shook his head. No, that couldn’t be right.

  Lincoln blew out a breath. While he would be away with his second, Jacqui, his wife, Randa, would be alone and miserable without hers.

  Linc sank heavily onto the bed and dropped his head in his hands. He had to make this right for his wife. Which meant he had to find Matteo. She deserved that and so much more. She deserved the truth, and somehow he had to tell her what he had done.

  * * * *

  Matteo stood beneath the snow-covered gazebo and watched the voluptuous woman sipping something from a mug. From his vantage point, he had a clear view to the back of the house, and Randa never closed the vertical blinds, preferring the view rather than being cloistered within the glass walls.

  He shuffled forward, wincing when his backpack slipped off his shoulder and slammed into his side. He readjusted the bag. Finding the picture of Randa and Lincoln was the main reason he was here. If he hadn’t gone through their pockets and found that information, if Randa weren’t in danger, if he weren’t in danger, he would continue to heed Lincoln’s threat still hovering in his mind. “Leave, or I’ll expose the truth to Randa.”

  What he told her that night was just a tiny portion of the truth, but what Lincoln had uncovered was deadly. Matteo loved Randa, and as much as he loved her, he didn’t want her to look at him with disdain—or worse, lack of love. She was the reason he was able to trust and know that there was still good in the human race. The way she and her husband opened their home and their lives to him still overwhelmed him. Yet it was that same openness and love that Lincoln twisted to get him to leave.

  All Matteo needed was a chance to fully explain the situation, but Linc was unreasonable, ruled by jealousy and a misguided sense of protection. Matteo sneered and then wished he hadn’t as healing skin ripped across his lower lip. The coppery taste of blood exploded over his tongue when he probed to test the damage.

  He could blame Lincoln for his role in this current mess, but this was all Matteo’s doing. Had he been up-front with the Arnolds from the beginning, he could’ve saved them all a load of heartbreak. He stared down at his hands. The stem of a single white flower was clutched in one while the other sported various cuts and bruises from his earlier confrontation.

  He did have to give Lincoln some credit. The man had hired a couple of guards to keep an eye on Randa. At least slipping past them hadn’t been difficult. Again, he glanced at the house. Randa was still seated, but she’d set down her mug. Time to move. With one last look around the perimeter, he hurried as fast as his injuries would allow to the back door.

  Hopefully the hide-a-key was still above the door in the little crevice. He rose on tiptoes, his fingers seeking the small, cold prize in the otherwise empty space. His fingernail scratched something hard, and he used his pinkie to wiggle it free. The difficult part would be not setting off the alarm, but he was betting Lincoln hadn’t replaced the sensor on the back door.

  Sucking in a deep breath, Matteo inserted the key and twisted the lock. The click was audible in the silent night. He eased open the door the barest amount and squeezed through the narrow opening. The thing never beeped to indicate it was being opened, but the light on the keypad next to the door flashed a warning.


  He tapped in his code. An error message scrolled across the screen.

  Damn. He had ten seconds before all hell broke loose. The code had to be something easy for Randa to remember. A smile tipped his lips. He tapped in the month and date of his birthday, the real one.

  The lights stopped blinking, he breathed a sigh, and his shoulders sagged. One hurdle down. He toed off his heavy boots and shoved them in a nearby closet along with his backpack and jacket. With his socked toes, he shoved the small throw rug to catch the stray snow he tracked in and then carried the flower into the kitchen.

  A lump lodged in his throat, and he leaned against the quartz to catch his breath. So many memories. Randa had often sat at the eat-in counter and watched him prepare meals. Or when Linc was out of town, Matteo would make love to her on the kitchen counter.

  Even now the satiny smoothness of her skin, the heat of her flesh, and the oh-so-soft way she sighed each and every time he entered her body stoked the already heated embers of his desire. He adjusted his now throbbing cock and placed the flower on the counter.

  RANDA FOLDED HER legs beneath her and cradled the mug of steaming broth in her hands. The heat warmed her chilled palms and eased some of the cold from her body, but it did nothing for the ice coating her heart.

  For months she’d asked the same question over and over: why did Matteo leave? He left nothing except the too-short note she found next to her pillow. When she tried to call him, he’d changed his number and shut down all his social-media accounts. Any way that she could’ve contacted him, she no longer had access.

  A single tear rolled down her cheek. She dashed it away with a shrug of her shoulder. That was probably what hurt the most. He cut all ties with her. Even worse, she got the sneaking suspicion her husband knew the reason behind Matteo’s sudden disappearance.

  She raised the mug to her lips and sipped the fragrant brew. For two years things had been great between them. They’d met Matteo at a local polyamory social and really hit things off. She and Matteo dated for six months before Linc suggested that the man move in. Especially since his new position now required him to travel more often.

  This wasn’t the first time they’d had another living with them. After the disaster that was Lucy, they tried a live-in. The first had been Selena, a real sweetheart, but something about the woman had never really sat right with Randa. She was nice enough, educated and fun to be around, but there was always something a little off about her. The woman had a regular job, but she seldom spoke of what she did or mentioned any of her other clients.

  When she learned Linc felt the same way and ended the relationship, it was a relief. That hadn’t been pretty. The woman changed from sweet to a killer harpy in a matter of seconds. The situation called for police intervention and a restraining order.

  Randa shuddered. Three months of pure hell before that whole fiasco calmed down and another reason why Linc wanted Matteo to move in. If for some reason Selena did come around, having him there would throw off her game. Well, that and the odd occasion when a groupie happened upon Randa’s home address.

  She bit back a grin. That was just an unexpected downfall of being a major-league gamer. Never in her wildest dreams would she ever have believed a simple hobby could be so financially rewarding. She glanced toward the dark television and the headset she’d abandoned earlier for soup and recriminations.

  Firing up the PS4 for another round of Call of Duty: Ghost would be fun, but she’d already spent the past four hours kicking anyone’s butt who had the balls to play with her. A smirk spread her lips. Forty-three to three, a personal best for her, which only upped the harassment from FazFazol. The sooner she distanced herself from him, the better.

  Sadly there were no tournaments until the following year, but she could test out a new game the company sent her or try to best her score at Halo again. Reapersboy was always good for a game or two when he was on. After she got something else to eat, though.

  Unfolding her legs, Randa leaned forward and set her now empty mug on a nearby end table. This was her personal space, a small sunroom they converted to accommodate all four seasons of Michigan. In the far corner, a gas heater in the shape of an old wood-burning stove provided the heat, while she could stare out the floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides of the space.

  Everything she needed was in the room—her desk, leather massage chair, futon, and of course her game system and television. There was even a tiny fridge and microwave tucked beneath the built-in shelves. This was where she spent the majority of her time when Linc was out of town or she needed solitude. Her attention landed on a photo Linc had taken of her and Matteo. It appeared to be one of the few Lincoln missed in his effort to erase him from their home. Matteo’s face was obscured by her hair, but there was happiness there. She reached out and picked up the photo.

  His admission to her that night had seemed to ease the burden he carried, and knitted them closer together. And in all this time she hadn’t breathed a word of his secret.

  From what he shared with her that night and the bits and pieces of his past she gathered along the way, she already knew. It was better not knowing his entire past. What mattered most to her then and now was the person he had become, the lover she trusted to satisfy her physical needs, and the man she’d trusted with her well-being. There had to be a way to find him again and tell him she didn’t care what he’d done before he met her. All that mattered was how he treated her then.

  She stood, replaced the frame, picked up her mug, and climbed the three short steps that led into the main house. A slight chill ran down her spine, and she paused, looking around.

  Maybe she left a window cracked from breakfast. After all, she’d fried the bacon a little fast, and smoke had filled the kitchen. She traversed the gleaming, dark wood floors, the white lights from the white seven-foot evergreen sitting in the corner. She hadn’t been able to put the homemade decorations she and Matteo made last year on the branches, so Linc had done it for her.

  A sigh escaped her lips. She crossed to the tree and fingered one of the Popsicle picture frames they’d made. The lump lodged in her throat threatened to choke her. It wasn’t so much the ornament, but the picture of the three of them laughing. Those were happier times. She moved on from the tree, through the dining room, and into the kitchen. This room was much colder than before. She rinsed her mug out in the sink before setting it in the drain board. Randa leaned against the counter and surveyed the room.

  They’d remodeled the kitchen this past spring so all the appliances were smart appliances, whatever that meant. Matteo and Linc were better at making great meals that rivaled anything she’d had in restaurants, and the kitchen was designed for them—the stainless-steel refrigerator and stove.

  She had to admit, she liked the fridge. One didn’t even have to open the door to see what was inside. All she had to do was scroll through the little menu on the door.

  One more glance around the kitchen and she stopped. A single lily sat on the otherwise pristine counter. How had she missed that before? The vibrant white flower was a beacon atop the black quartz. She scanned the room. No open windows or doors.

  How had someone entered without her knowledge? Wouldn’t the bodyguards have alerted her? She rushed to the alarm control panel. All the lights to the right of the keypad were green, indicating the system was still active and armed.

  This was one of those times when having Matteo around would calm her anxiety, but she’d have to settle on a phone call to the alarm company to make sure things were working properly. Then she would let her husband know what happened.

  She reached for the phone on the wall, punched in the numbers, turned around, and screamed.

  WHEN RANDA CROSSED the room and reached for the phone, Matteo moved. The high-pitched scream she emitted momentarily stunned him. He recovered and surged forward. His head snapped to the side, and for a second, all he saw were stars. Pain jangled from his cheek to his split lip and all down the left side of his bod
y.

  The next blow he blocked and hauled her wiggling body into his arms. He buried his face in the softness of her hair, inhaling her sweet feminine scent deep into his lungs. She stilled against him, her arms wrapping around his. Kissing her was the most natural thing in the world.

  Her lips were as soft as cotton candy and as pliant as caramel. The tips of her fingers dug into his back, and he dragged her closer. He drank in her sigh and deepened the kiss. She tasted of salt and chicken and a unique spice all her own. Just as he remembered. How had he ever walked away from her? From the passion that still existed between them? Every cell in his body settled, and he knew he was home.

  Tears burned behind his lids, and he squeezed her a little tighter. Randa was his heart whether she knew it or not, and he’d do anything to keep her safe.

  “I’m so sorry, my little vixen. I’ve missed you so much,” he murmured in her hair.

  She shoved away; he tightened his arms briefly. He didn’t want to let her go, but he relented.

  Randa glared at him with a mixture of love and distrust. “You left me.”

  Matteo ran a hand through his hair, dislodging several curls to flop over on his forehead. “I did.”

  “Why? I thought you loved me.”

  He couldn’t stand the accusation in her eyes and looked away. How could he explain that leaving her had been the hardest thing he’d ever done? “You and Lincoln are the only home I’ve ever known.” He met her gaze. “I never stopped loving you, Randa.”

  “Then why did you leave and cut all ties with me?”

  “Because that’s what Lincoln wanted me to do.”

  Chapter Nine

  Lincoln lifted the short rocks glass to his lips and sipped the twelve-year-old Scotch inside. Voices rose in laughter, and conversation surrounded him. Every now and then, a yell drew his attention to the televisions at one end of the room. A basketball game played on one while a hockey game showed on another.

  He was three days into his seven-day trip, and the only good thing he could say was that the conference was going well. All the leads he had for Matteo didn’t pan out. It was as if the man dropped off the face of the earth.