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To say Matt was acting weird was an understatement. After a little burst of ‘I hate you’ he had gone silent, at first, it was only because he was stuffing his face with the fries and cheeseburger but that was over thirty minutes ago. One thing I knew, he didn’t keep quiet unless something had upset him or he’s pissed.
In this case, I had no idea which one it was considering I tend to either piss him off or upset him.
I didn’t want to ask because he’s an emotional guy—and I find that weird as well as cute. My honey brown eyes drifted off the road to Matt, the leather collar accenting his fair skin and black hair. His head was turned, gazing out the window; I looked away flickering my attention to the rear mirror out of habit.
“A man came asking questions about us,” He spoke after a long period of silence and I let him continue before I decided to get angry and yell at the idiot. “He didn’t recognize me or anything. Apparently, they know you kidnapped me—he also said my family is worried sick.” He sounded distracted, sad.
That’s when I understood what was running through his head; I tried not to turn away from the road. “Was he a cop?”
“I don’t know, I think so? He asked me questions like he was a cop, but I didn’t see a badge.”
A red flag rose from the back of my head quickly pulling over catching the black-headed male’s attention. I turned to him, “You’re telling me you talked to a total stranger, asked you questions about us, and he didn’t have a badge? Doesn’t that sound weird to you?” Matt looked bemused, furrowing his eyebrow as he pondered over my questions.
He opened his mouth, “Well…yeah, I guess. He could’ve been a random guy.”
I gave him a sharp look, “There’s no such thing as ‘random guy’. The police are looking for us and ‘some guy’ who isn’t a cop appears in Chicago? How the hell did he know to look here? The police might not even know I was heading to Chicago. When did the media mention anything about it?” I ran a hand through my hair in frustration and I swear it was like I’m dragging a target.
He talked to a total stranger who I am assuming could be an assassin imposing as a cop and Matt had no fucking idea. Of course, he didn’t. He had no experience at this kind of thing and at this very second, I’m thinking about who that man was and where he was. He must have contacted his Boss that we’re here or maybe Matt was convincing which I doubt it.
“What did you tell him?” I inquired. Matt’s cheeks held a pink hue making me wonder what was running through his head. “I didn’t tell him anything. I acted like I didn’t know anything then…he…saw the handcuffs.”
I rose an eyebrow waiting for him to continue but he grew reluctant, “And? What did you say?”
He cleared his throat squirming on the seat looking away in embarrassment, “I…I said…I liked being handcuffed…and stuff.” His voice dropped a volume in the end.
I stared at him long and hard as I gathered my thoughts and bit my lower lip at his declaration. I knew it wasn’t true but a part of me would have found it very pleasing to have him tied up and ready for me.
That explains his sudden ‘I hate you’.
“Well, I hope that was convincing because if it wasn’t, we’re going to get killed.” I didn’t bother sugarcoating it, not when our lives were on the line constantly after Matt did something he shouldn’t do. I didn’t tell him anything because I know he wouldn’t listen. I tell him not to run, he runs; I tell him not to come in contact with anyone, he calls his mother; I tell him to run if things got dangerous, he stays in place. Even if I did tell him not to talk to anyone, he would have done it anyway because that’s Matt.
The only time he actually listened to me was when I told him to shoot. “I would have liked you if you weren’t such an asshole.” He mumbles, and I snorted resuming to driving back on the road, “Don’t kid yourself, you still like me for being an asshole and I’m not trying to sound like I have a huge ego but I know I’m hot and you want some.”
“For fuck sakes, Neil. I don’t like you and yeah, you’re hot but you’re not my type.”
I snickered, “Oh, please, pretty boy. I’m everyone’s type.” I advocated rather cockily causing him to flush in anguish and glare at the side of my face. “Not mine.” Matt denied.
I shrugged, adjusting the spectacles; there was still a ways to go to get to my safe house but I might not be able to go there as of yet. Maybe I was being paranoid or maybe I was right and should go elsewhere just in case. I recalled there being a hotel in West Town and an abandoned building called St. Boniface Church a few hours from here. It should be near the evening by the time I get there; Matt would probably be tired by then.
“Why do you do this kind of job? You’re nineteen, you could’ve studied, gone to college, and I don’t know become CIA or work in Interpol.” Matt was far too nice. Sure he could be a pain in my ass but he had too much good to understand the bad things I did. I mean, killing was bad but the people I killed were worse. “I was an orphan for as long as I could remember and escape from the orphanage when I was eleven. I started pickpocketing—kind of—but I got caught by this one guy,”
“He turned out to be a Hitman, I didn’t know it at the time—all he did was take me to his home, feed me, and clothed me. He lived pretty well so he basically adopted me and put me into school. Two years later I find his weapons in a secret compartment of his basement. When I asked him about it, he told me the truth about what he did, and I wanted to know more. In a few months, I started learning how to use a gun, how to fight, how to be smart about things. We moved from place to place every time he finished a job and I didn’t mind, it wasn’t like I had any friends, to begin with.”
“What happened?” Matt asked intrigued.
I glanced at Matt who gazed at me in curiosity, “I was sixteen. I brought some girl to the house because you know, I was sixteen. Men barged in before anything could happen and held me hostage after killing the girl I brought with me. My dad came home—prepared and he looked at me, the look he gave me. I don’t know, it was like a switch, I knew exactly what he wanted me to do. Before I knew it, I had one of their guns in my hands, shot two, my dad shot three but one hit his chest. I killed the man obviously and I tried to help him, I tried to stop the bleeding.”
I shifted paying attention more to the road as I made a turn, “He told me one last thing, ‘I don’t regret picking you up from the street. I care about you like the son I never had, and I want you to do good in this world even if you have to get your hands dirty. You have to be a demon.’ That’s what he said. I realized then that everything he had done, the people he had killed wasn’t just some random job to be done. He was careful, he chose which job he felt would change something, anything. A lot of people were saved because of him. When he died, I cleaned the gun I used and put it in his hand to make it look like he shot them all. The police came, took my statement, and I disappeared.”
I never told anyone this, I don’t think I’ve ever had an actual conversation about what happened to me. The moment I disappeared, I went to one of my foster father’s friend he told me about. That was Frank; he heard about it, helped me because my father told him if anything happened to him—Frank should lend me a hand. Or in other words, raise me. “So you never finished school? You never started over to a new life?”
I shook my head, “How could I? If you enjoy something—if you find something that you enjoy would you really let it go? But I did finish, I went to a different high school, did my remaining two years and got my high school diploma. I never entered college.” I answered, frowning.
Even if I had plans to go in the future, I wouldn’t be able to now that my face was all over the news. I was always careful, no one was aware I was a Hitman because I was a ghost. No government database would find me because I was never charged nor arrested for murder. Frank was great in computers which was why it helped when I had to infiltrate a place with too many cameras.
Unfortunately, everything went to hell the moment I failed to kill that Don. And he saw my face. Now the police were looking for me because I kidnapped Matt; this was all so complicated and at the same time added to the usual danger. “I can’t imagine being raised to kill people. I’ve never shot a gun in my life…I think.”
I rose an eyebrow at the pretty boy, “You think? What does that mean?” A humorous smile came across my lips until I saw Matt shrug, uncertain. “I don’t know. I don’t remember much when I was a kid other than my brother and my little sister.”
“How old were you when she was born?”
“I was nine and my older brother was ten.”
“Oh,” I drawled, “So your mom had you right after she had your brother?” I furrowed my eyebrows, wondering if that was the case. His brother was probably a few months old before she was pregnant with Matt—that’s too soon. What would I know? I never got anyone pregnant.
The route to West Town held a lot fewer cars than I had anticipated and at the moment the only one going through this route was me and the car behind me. I’m not sure if there was a car behind it or one far ahead of mine. “Yeah, he was five months before I came along. Is it that weird?”
“Since you asked, ye-” Before I could say something that would piss off Matt again for my own merriment the car jerked at the subtle impact from behind. I knew it, it’s that bastard. “What the hell?” Matt peered over his shoulder, blanching the next moment. “H-He…He has a gun!”
Shots were heard behind us, hitting the side mirror to my left; Matt yelped, ducked down and covered his ears. I nearly lost control of the stirring wheel but I kept a firm grip. Several cars could be seen ahead on an intersection with the lights on red. I had to think of something quick, I couldn’t stop or else he’ll end up shooting us dead. The shooting stops only for the car to jerk again by the impact.
I was growing annoyed for picking a car that didn’t run all that fast; I stepped onto the gas pedal causing Matt to place his hands on the dashboard. “N-Neil! Too fast!” I scoffed at him, this wasn’t remotely fast; my eyes flickered to the rear mirror catching a glimpse of a godforsaken Zenvo. I wish I had my Bugatti Veyron. “Hold onto something.” I made a sharp turn to the right cutting through the intersection.
Horns were blown at us, shouts followed afterward from angry drivers nearly hitting us. I ignored it, driving pass cars and switched lanes when the opportunity presented itself. Unfortunately, it didn’t do much of anything when the bastard was catching up quick. “Didn’t your parents teach you not to talk to strangers?”
“They did,” Matt exclaimed, “But they never told me what the fuck to do while I’m kidnapped and being shot at.”
I rolled my eyes, “Here’s lesson number one, listen to every command the kidnapper gives you because it might save your fucking life.” I retorted sarcastically, lacing with thick annoyance when I made another turn. Matt kept his head down, too afraid to look up—or be told to shoot a gun again.
Sadly, I didn’t have enough space nor time to shoot when my shoulder was still aching; an idea came to mind and the abandoned church was starting to sound much more convenient. “What do you want me to do?!” He yelled in exasperation.
“Stay there and don’t get hurt.” I ordered since it was the most obvious thing I wanted him to do. I didn’t want the pretty boy to get hurt only for me to stitch him up while he complained about the pain. “Oh, so now you care?”
I gave him a look like he was crazy, “I always care,” It didn’t seem to convince him in the slightest. Having a conversation with Matt was the only thing I can do to prevent another asthma attack. It also helped me think further into my plans especially since I have to keep a certain troublemaker unscathed. “After I get rid of him, what do you want to do?”
He frowned in confusion, “Why do you ask?”
I shrugged, “Just asking.” I mumbled; shots rippled through the air startling him and he curled against the door keeping away from the window. Seeing him so afraid vexed me because it made me feel like shit. I hated feeling like shit and so out of spite I turned the stirring wheel to the left making a subtle turn. I pulled out my gun from the hems of my pants using my left hand to shoot.
The kick of the gun stiffened my shoulder feeling one of the stitches pop; the window shattered by the bullet and latched itself to the front window of the car. I clicked my tongue pulling the trigger again for a few more rounds of bullets. It still didn’t hit where I wanted with the pain on my shoulder distracting me.
“You can shoot with your left?”
I ignored Matt as I turned my head to the road, gun in hand, making another turn before a car could go first. I heard a small thud catching my attention to see him rub the side of his head, “You okay, Matt? Are you bleeding?” My voice thick with concern. His hand left his head and I was relieved to see there was no blood, “I’m fine.” He muttered.
I dodged cars and people at the same time frequently having to hunk the horn of the car to gain attention. The street I’ve been looking for came into view and went right for it leading the man into a more secluded street. The neighborhood was silent, not many cars and as I grew closer to the abandoned church it became more and more lifeless without a soul in sight.
In a few minutes, I saw the large church resembling a cathedral; there were fences covering the entrance and the vacant space beside it with a green cover behind the fence to remain unseen. There was wood boarded up on the broken windows and where doors were supposed to be. I made a sharp right turn then a left, breaking into the fence to force it to haul back and breakdown from the vigor.
Slamming on the brakes, I shifted the gear to parking and the moment the car stopped I threw myself out of the door. “Matt! Get out and go into the church!” I barked, lifting the gun with my left hand and started shooting at the bright, shiny white Zenvo making its entrance. I heard the door to the car slam shut as I managed to hit the tires on the front causing him to skid across the gravel.
I bolted to the direction I assumed Matt went into, finding an entrance sealed by a wooden plank. It was opened somehow but I paid it no mind as I went inside seeing Matt running from a distance. He rushed to the left, hiding on a hallway and I went to the opposite side of the church lifting a hand and placed a finger over my lips. Matt’s blue eyes squinted before he nodded covering his mouth as he breathed heavily.
Eyes observed him, hesitant to go to him. This guy—after all the shit he pulled—I still couldn’t stop getting worried over him. I shook my head peeking over the wall; paint was falling off the walls sprayed over with dozens of graffiti, there were discarded trash and molded sheets on the floors. The only light coming through this place was above the altar, what used to be colored glass of painted angels and saints were gone.
My vision caught a glimpse of the bastard stalking us; he was a tall man, scruffy looking by the oversized shirt and stubble running over his lips to his jaw and chin. He appeared older, around his thirties but I wasn’t able to see much through the oversized shirt and the jeans. It made me question if this was the man Matt saw in the parking lot of Burger King.
“Neil Madden and Matt Solavin. I know you’re both here, it’s best you both come with me,” I moved my head before he could see me; there was a silver gun on his right arm and the sleeve pulled up revealing tattoos that stretched upwards disappearing into the sleeve. My gaze snapped to Matt, his eyes wide in shock and fear at the realization that they already knew who he was.
The question was, why do they want Matt? Is there something Matt wasn’t telling me? I bit my lower lip, the color on his face drained with quivering lips. I could see it—it was happening, “Don Roman wants to see you, I promise to make it less painful if you don’t run.” A small strangled cry left Matt’s lips; my hand gripped onto my gun clenching my jaw angrily.
He shook like a leaf, his hand clasped over his mouth but his nose was flaring from the heavy breathing. Chest rose and fell; the footsteps continued, drawing further from me and closer to Matt. It made the black haired male press himself against the wall and slowly but surely in a crouched position drifting away from the corner.
He’s having an asthma attack.
The worry was eating me up, raising my gun as the man was a few feet away from the corner of the hall. I aimed, breathing steadily then pulled the trigger; it hit the side of his neck, his body crumpled to the ground absolutely lifeless. I scurried myself towards Matt, relief washed over my body from being able to dispose of him so quickly.
I dropped my gun to the side kneeling in front of Matt, “Matt, breathe. Take it easy and breathe.” My hands pressed on either side of his face, eyes locked on each other. His eyes were beautiful, stealing the breath out of my lungs, his black hair made his face rounder bringing out the fair tone of his skin. Black hair brightened the color of his eyes more and the perfectly straight nose along with those thin lips.
Like before, I had the strongest urge to kiss him and this time I did. My lips slammed onto his, hearing a surprised gasp from the back of his throat. His hand slipped onto my own, holding them tightly as I moved my lips. He seemed frozen for the first few minutes—melted and responded back with need.
Our lips moved heatedly and fit perfectly like a missing puzzle. Heart pounded against my ribcage muffling my ears—it felt great. Warm, soft, and my head was as blank as a paper. When our lips parted, we were breathing heavily, his cheeks flushed red with dazed blue eyes.
I admired at him, lost as we breathed in; my heart fluttered. “Do you feel better?” I spoke softly, wetting my lips with my tongue capturing his attention. “Uh…yeah…I feel…much better.” He murmured—distracted—and a smile came across my lips.
Helping him up after picking up my gun, I placed it on my lower waist; my arm dropped around his shoulders, bringing his head to my shoulder. We moved, going back to where we came from while masking him from the view of the body bleeding out onto the floor. His fingers curled at my shirt tightly, my hand over the back of his head to make sure he didn’t look up yet.
It wasn’t until we were outside did I let him look up except my arm didn’t leave his shoulders until he was in the passenger seat of the car. I jumped into the driver’s seat without bothering to put on the seatbelt. I moved the gear shift to reverse pulling us away from the church and then drove our way out through the broken fence.
I made a turn seeing no one coming through; this time I wasn’t going to stop, I was going directly to the safe house for Matt’s sake. “I’m tired.” He stated with exhaustion clear in his voice, I sighed lightly glancing at him. “I know. I am too.” I responded with the same amount of exhaustion as him.
He had closed his eyes, head resting onto the head seat. He didn’t say much of anything or anything at all through the rest of the drive. My hands were gripped tightly, annoyed and frustrated; I didn’t understand why the Mafia was after Matt. I felt like I’m missing something, I doubt Matt knew either, so it’d be useless to ask.
The only thing I could do was keep him as safe as possible, prevent the asthma attacks from triggering. This could have been a lot worse and thankfully it wasn’t; I couldn’t seem to get it out of my head though. The kiss. It was the first time a kiss had left me dumbfounded, made my heart flutter in warmth, or even have me yearning for more.
Matt was dangerous. I thought so before and I was definitely certain now; the pretty black haired boy was going to get me killed and that’s because I was a reckless dumbass who wanted to protect him. What the hell am I going to do?
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