“Coffee?” I ask, breaking my gaze and heading for the kitchen.
I hear him sigh. “Sure, thank you.”
Immediately I busy myself at the coffee pot, my mind a whirlwind of activity as I take two mugs from the cabinet, measure out grounds, fill the water... I don’t want to turn around. I don’t want to have this conversation, whatever it might be. I want to go back to my dull as dishwater life where I was able to predict every second of my day.
Matthew is watching my every move. It’s something I haven’t experienced in five years and in that time, I’ve forgotten what it feels like. I know he’s not missing a thing about me and suddenly I’m self-conscious. Unlike the day he met me, I’ve gone through “mom changes.” I’m not as skinny as I was the day I met him. I’ve got a few more curves, my breasts are a little bigger, my hair is shorter, and I know damn well I couldn’t pull off half the positions in bed I did when I was nineteen. Not that Tom would actually consider anything aside from missionary.
But unlike my ex-husband, who seems to have only gotten better looking with age, I’ve let my appearance fall to the wayside. I never really put much effort into it to begin with, but at least there had been some effort. Now I just roll out of bed, shower, throw my hair up, use the very minimal amount of makeup I can get away with, and go about my day. I can’t remember the last time I had a haircut that cost more than $15 and a mani/pedi is not a phrase used around here.
Suddenly I wish I’d ignored the ringing doorbell...
Once the coffee is brewed, I pour in my creamer, stirring a little too intently, then turn towards the table with both mugs. Matthew is standing just feet behind me and I swallow the flood of emotion at the look of longing and regret in his eyes as I hand him one. “I assume you still drink it black?” I ask, cursing myself for the wavering in my voice.
“Yes,” he says, his own voice uneven. “Thank you.”
I nod and gesture for him to have a seat. Though instinct wants me to sit as close to him as possible, I walk around the table, pretending I don’t see the disappointment that flickers through his eyes. For a few minutes, we merely stare at one another and I properly take in his appearance. The changes are so subtle I nearly miss them. Physically, he hasn’t changed a bit. He still takes care of his body religiously. His skin a little tanner than I remember. The real difference is in his eyes. When I first met him and in the years following, his eyes were always sparkling with excitement and life. Now the spark is gone, replaced with a dullness only brought on by sadness and loneliness. Without fear of playing up my importance in his life, I know I’m the cause of that and it’s just another reason why I don’t deserve him and never will.
“How are you, Sam?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
Sighing, I lean back in my chair, mechanically bringing my mug to my lips just to give me something to do. “I’m okay,” I tell him firmly, knowing any other answer would only rile him. Of course, we both know I’m lying, but at least he has the good grace not to call me out on it. “Why are you here?”
His jaw tightens and I know he’s biting back some annoyed retort. I don’t want chitchat. I want to know why, after five years of silence, he suddenly appears out of the woodwork, shattering our agreement. “There’s some trouble,” he finally says, his voice cold and hard. “Threats. I ignored them for as long as I could, thinking they would just go away, but that, unfortunately for all of us, is not the case.”
All the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up at the implications of his words. “What sorts of threats?” I ask, trying to mask my uneasiness. His eyes narrow on me and I know he’s not fooled.
“We’ve been working on acquiring a new license that will expand us across the world,” he explains briskly. “The details are top secret, but we’ve got competition. It’s a lab operating out of Italy and they’re known for getting what they want, any means necessary. I’ve been receiving subtle hints that their ‘any means necessary’ may involve going after family or those most important to us, specifically you and Ty.”
The blood has drained from my body. I left Matthew to live a quiet life and up until now, I’ve achieved it. Now he’s here to tell me I’ve been dragged right back into the line of fire even though I made it a point to sever all ties. “You’re sure it’s real?” I ask in a hopeful whisper. There were dozens of threats in the time I was married to Matthew, and the vast majority of them were nothing but hot air. Every so often a real one got through the cracks and Matthew’s security team was usually able to take care of it quietly. I never asked how they took care of it and the one time I showed curiosity, I was told I didn’t want to know. “Maybe it’s nothing...” My hopefulness slowly drains as he shakes his head just as slowly.
“Sam, I’ve spent months digging into this one and I’ve had all my best guys trying to diffuse it, but nothing we do can find the source and if we can’t find the source...” He trails off, shrugging apologetically.
I know what’s happening. Part of me hates the man sitting across from me. If not for him, I’d be happily married to my best friend in the world, we’d be living on my parents’ farm with three or four kids of our own, and I’d never have to worry about anything. There wouldn’t be any concerns about unknown threats due to bad business dealings.
Not that my life with Matthew was all bad. In fact, about ninety-nine percent of it was pretty damn incredible. Without Matthew, I’d never have Tyler. And there is nothing in this world I would trade for my baby boy. He’s my life. He’s my reason for everything. He’s the reason I have to face whatever this threat is head-on in ensure it doesn’t come anywhere near him. If anything happened to my son, I wouldn’t rest until those responsible suffered at my hand.
I know that’s why Matthew is here. Tyler is the reason he broke our agreement. He might have promised to keep out of our lives, but only on the stipulation that should something happen, if our safety was compromised for any reason, he would be right there to get us out of trouble. Of course, he’s usually the cause of the trouble, but that’s beside the point.
Feeling all the fight leave my body, I look at the man sitting across the table from me. In the time that I’ve known him, I’ve seen every side of him—happy, sad, angry, depressed, loving, romantic, challenging, determined... He could be the most amazing, sweet, frustrating man on the planet and there were times I just wanted to beat some sense into him, but he was also the only man in the world I could ever love unconditionally. He was also the only man who could incense me to the point that I couldn’t see straight, who could calm me when I’m upset with seemingly little to no effort, who could make me laugh so hard my sides hurt for hours.
But one side of him I never see, one side he never lets me see is the desperate vulnerable one that I know he fights to hide from everybody. Seeing it now makes me realize this isn’t some ploy to get back into our lives, like a very small part of me believed, however briefly it might have been. Matthew Young is positively terrified. And I think for the first time in our relationship I’ll have to be the one to push, to be the strong one.
“Tell me everything,” I say, unable to help my defeated tone.
His dulled green eyes shoot up to meet mine and he sighs deeply, opening his mouth to speak. “Sam, please believe me—”
I’m leaned forward on the table, debating the merits of reaching across to hold his hand. My decision is made for me when I hear the front door slam open. Shit...
“Samantha!”
Matthew rolls his eyes at Tom’s panicked call. I purse my lips and glare at him, which only makes him smirk. “In here, Tom,” I call resignedly, not taking my eyes off Matthew. I know exactly what is going to happen once these two are in the same room. If this doesn’t end with somebody bleeding—probably Tom—I’ll be surprised.
Tom stomps into the kitchen and even though I can’t see him from where I’m sitting, I know exactly what happens: he stops dead in his tracks, his face grows red in anger, and his hands are flexing i
nto fists. “What the fuck is he doing here?” he growls.
Sighing, I turn around, poised to speak, but as always, Matthew takes the opportunity to rile Tom up a bit. “Is that really any way to greet your guests?” he asks lightly. “At least Sam offered me coffee.”
I can almost hear Tom’s teeth gnashing together as he glares at Matthew. “You’re not a guest,” he spits quietly. “You’re a fucking disaster.”
“Tom, calm down,” I say quietly. “Please sit.”
“Are you kidding me, Samantha? Five years and not a word, and all of a sudden, here he is. What’s going to happen this time, Young? Gonna break her heart again?”
I close my eyes, knowing any amusement Matthew might have gotten from his favorite game has dissipated completely. “I don’t have to explain a fucking thing to you, Saunders,” Matthew says coldly. “This is between Sam and me. Go milk a few cows.”
“Matthew!” I yell. “Both of you, knock it off! Tom, sit down!” Both men look at me in surprise. It’s not often I raise my voice, but when I do, I mean exactly what I say. Tom takes a seat beside me and when I glance at him, Matthew’s amusement has begun to seep back into his expression. I want to slap both of them. “Now. We’re all adults.” They each snort derisively, looking anywhere but at each other. “Tom.” I’m trying my best to keep my voice even in an attempt to calm tempers all around the table. “The reason Matthew is here is because he believes there is a threat that affects us.”
Tom’s blue eyes narrow. “What do you mean, threat?” he asks, his tone no less hostile.
“Exactly that, Saunders,” Matthew says, sipping at his coffee. “Unfortunately, my professional life has a slight tendency to slip into my personal one and though I’m usually able to stop this from happening most of the time, this time I’m not.”
Surprise is visible on Tom’s face as he looks between me and Matthew. “I thought you were in computers,” he says disbelievingly.
After a second of staring at Tom, Matthew lets out a short laugh, sending me a questioning yet knowing glance. “Not exactly,” he says evasively. “I’m a defense contractor.”
“A what?”
Looking as though he’d believed this to be the very last thing he planned on discussing today—which it probably was—he sighed. “Defense contractor. That’s what my company does. We provide new technology or improve technology for the government and military, US and foreign. It’s a very competitive field, one which I’ve learned to navigate quite well since I got into it, but I seem to have this... habit of pissing people off.”
“Imagine that,” Tom mutters sarcastically.
I shoot him a glare; Matthew pretends not to hear. “Anyway,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “With such a competitive field comes danger. Some people will go to any lengths to get a contract with certain agencies. A lot of it doesn’t go any further than professional threats, which comes with the territory. Every so often, though, a group will get involved in the bidding wars and knock everyone out of the way until they reach the top. Not to toot my own horn, but I’m usually at the top and as a result, get the brunt of the attack. If it’s only me, I can handle it with my eyes closed. But this time its worse.”
Though I know it will be the last thing he ever admits aloud, I know Tom is hanging onto Matthew’s every word. “How bad is it?” he asks quietly.
Matthew sighs and looks over at me. “Pretty bad,” he says regretfully. “They’ve done enough digging that they’ve found out about Sam and Tyler. We’ve been keeping an eye on things, hoping it didn’t get past the digging, but we’re currently at a point where you need to be aware.” He’s speaking directly at me and I know as far as he’s concerned, Tom isn’t in the same state, let alone the same room.
“What’s the danger?” I whisper, thinking through everything I know of the possibilities of danger that goes along with being associated with Matthew Young. It’s enough to give me nightmares, which is has over the years, and considering my last involvement with the danger and trouble, I know this isn’t something to take lightly.
The look Matthew gives me tells me I don’t want to know and I sink a little in my chair, wanting nothing more than to go up and crawl into my bed. I sit up suddenly, panic filling my veins as a thought flits into my mind, taking over everything. “Tyler!” I jump to my feet, nearly knocking over my chair in my haste to get a move on and to find my son.
Matthew jumps up just as quickly as though he expected this reaction from me; in contrast, Tom is looking at me as though I’m crazy. “Sam, calm down,” he says firmly, walking around the table and putting his hands on my shoulders to stop me from running out of the house. Just his touch through my shirt is enough to relax me, to calm my breathing, and to rejuvenate a multitude of other feelings I’ve managed to bury. He folds his tall, lanky frame enough to look me in the eyes. “Do you really think I would come here without considering Tyler? I’ve got people watching him. He’s perfectly safe.”
This seems to snap Tom out of whatever daze he’s been lost in. “Watching him?” he repeats. “You’re spying on us now?”
There is no more amusement in Matthew’s eyes as he turns them from me to Tom, not releasing me from his hold. “Yes, I am,” he says bluntly. “Fucking good thing I am too; do you realize you were followed home from work a couple nights ago, Saunders? Black BMW that trailed you all the way to this neighborhood. Oh yeah...” He nods as Tom’s face pales. “For all I know, it was nothing, but it could have very easily been something.”
“The cars following me...” I say with growing dread.
“Mine,” Matthew tells me forcefully, laying my concerns to rest. “My guys, Sam. On my orders.”
I nod in relief and allow myself to be guided back to my chair. “What do you think we should do?”
Matthew retakes his own seat, running his hands through his messy hair. “Well, considering the intel we’ve gathered over the last few days, I strongly suggest the three of you take an extended vacation somewhere very far away using aliases. Of course I’ll pay for everything—this is my mess—”
“Damn right it’s your mess!” snaps Tom. “You led this shit right to our door and now you’re telling me you’re going to throw money at the problem that’s threatening my family?”
I see Matthew’s gaze darken at Tom’s last two words and I know his normally long temper is nearly at its breaking point. I’m about to intervene when the front door opens again. Three heads swivel around when we hear, “Mom, I’m home!”
A quick glance at Matthew shows me his heart is breaking a little. Tom’s anger is dissipating at the sound of my son’s arrival. And I’m just eager to intercept him before he wanders into the kitchen. “Behave,” I hiss at the two men at the table before heading out into the living room, knowing it might be too tall an order for them.
Tyler is shedding his shoes, jacket, and backpack when I find him in the front hall. Now more than ever I’m aware of just how much he looks like his father and even more aware that his father is just in the next room from him for the first time in five years. Forcing a smile on my face as he looks up at me, I know immediately I can’t hide from him. Unfortunately, no matter how much I’ve tried to hide it, my son has been witness to my sadness and depression and loneliness over the years. He’s very sensitive to my emotions, even though I know he doesn’t understand any of them, and his light brown eyes that match mine exactly zero in on my face immediately. “What’s wrong, Mommy?” he asks quietly as I approach him.
I kneel down in front of him. “Nothing, baby,” I tell him, smoothing down his dark hair, though I know it’ll only return to the way it was the moment I move my hand. “Mommy is just a little tired.” God, I hate lying to my son. “Why don’t you get cleaned up and start on your schoolwork, and we’ll have pizza for dinner.”
It doesn’t matter how attuned Tyler is to my emotions; he’s still a six-year-old and as such, he’s easily distracted. Especially when there is pizza involved. He beams at me, gra
bs his backpack, and bolts up the stairs to his bedroom, leaving me kneeling in the middle of the living room. I don’t want to stand up. If I stand up, I have return to the kitchen. There hasn’t been any noise to signify a fight has broken out, but Matthew has been trained in several martial arts as personal defense and there is no doubt in my mind that if it came to it, he could kill somebody without either of them uttering a sound.
Sighing heavily and resolving to drink just as heavily after Tyler is safely tucked into bed, I return to the kitchen, relieved to find no blood has been shed. Matthew and Tom are glaring daggers at one another and the tension is almost painfully thick. “Can we resume this conversation civilly?” I ask as calmly as I can manage as I sit down again beside Tom. Matthew’s jaw twitches in annoyance as his eyes dart between us. I ignore him.
“I want you out of my house,” Tom says just as calmly even though he’s radiating anger and hostility. “I don’t fucking care about your problems. Stay away from my family and I swear to God, if I see you here again, I’m calling the cops and having a restraining order put into place.”
“Tom!” I say loudly.
“Your family?” Matthew repeats calmly and quietly. He snorts in disgust and shakes his head. “Your family is in danger, you stupid fuck.” He pronounces each word slowly as though addressing a small child. If this is how he addresses small children, though... I really hope this treatment is reserved specifically for Tom. “I came here to provide protection to all of you from some very bad, very dangerous people. I just told you somebody followed you from your work to your home and clearly that means nothing to you.”
“I told you,” Tom says stubbornly, standing. “I want you out of my house, Young. Now.”
Glaring, Matthew finishes off his coffee and stands as well. “Fine. But don’t come whining to me when you’ve got a gun pointed between your eyes.”
Young Lies (Young Series) Page 2
