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“Matt! Breakfast is ready!”
I held back a yawn, drying my wet hands onto the burgundy cloth and tossing it on the counter. The plates were on the kitchen island, omelette with slices of fried potatoes. I haven’t cooked since I took a job—which I failed miserably; it’s been a huge pain in my ass trying to come in contact with my client or even find him.
Instead I focused on the cameras set around the premises as well as the road leading to my cottage. Matt has been himself again, trying to convince me to take his collar off after I had reprogrammed it like he wanted. The only reason why I’m not taking it off is that if anything happens I’d be able to find Matt.
It does look good on him.
I slept pretty late last night having to gather materials after I had disposed of the car we came with. It was aggravating how I knew exactly where he was going to be, I had my god forsaken sniper rifle aimed at his head. Right when I was about to shoot someone barged into the damn rooftop with guns. I wasn’t supposed to be found considering how I was two thousand meters away. Two thousand and somehow they found me.
Did my client rat me out? If so, I’m going to be seriously pissed and will relish in filling his face with holes. If not, someone found out, someone knew and set out a trap for me. I didn’t have time to completely think about how it happened since my head was too concerned over Matt’s well-being over everything else.
Granted, Matt is a distraction.
Maybe he was followed; that’s the only possibility as to why I was so easily found out. My client was followed or tracked which resulted in me being tailed to the building and they waited until I was focused on my target to notice my surroundings. The guy is dangerous as hell, no doubt my client went into hiding to avoid the tirade.
I mean sure, why not save your own ass, not give me the heads up, and assume I’m dead?
I was snapped out of my stupor at the sound of heavy footsteps hitting the wooden floors and down the stairs. I glanced to my left where Matt appeared from the foyer; his black hair was a complete mess as if he didn’t bother fixing it after waking up. His blue eyes a little tired and at the same time there was a smile on his lips that made him look like a content cat.
He padded to the stools and sat down in front of the plate; damn he was cute. He only took one bite and he’s already moaning in delight, “I haven’t had this in a long time. This is so good.” I shook my head at him walking around the kitchen island and sat next to him digging into my plate. “I got a call from Frank earlier, I’m going to go see him and I’ll be out for several hours.”
Matt looks up swallowing the food in his mouth, his eyes expressing his relief, “He’s alive. I thought he died.” I tilted my head slightly wondering how someone can be so kind in this world. He barely knows Frank and he’s glad he isn’t dead, “I thought so too but he’s a smart guy, he can get himself out of anything. He’s sort of injured right now but he says there’s something important he wants to tell me and to come alone.” I stuffed my mouth with the omelette as Matt nodded with a bit of concern on his face.
It’s cute to see how he tries to not look so worried and when he does that he gets frustrated biting his inner cheek. “It was the Mafia, I find it hard to believe he was able to get away. Do you think it might be a trap?” His eyes were casted on his plate, fork splitting the egg and shoved the slices of potatoes around. I’d considered it many times but Frank and I have a safe word to use if it ever came to such a situation.
It isn’t a trap; Frank seems to know something I can use and I have to know what it is that has the Mafia so determined to catch us. Hell, Frank couldn’t escape unscathed and the fact he was left alive to come after us made it pretty clear there’s something going on. Especially when they sent an assassin after us, fortunately the assassin was too focused on Matt and didn’t pay attention to me.
Matt.
“It’ll be fine, it isn’t a trap. Believe me I’d know.” I used a confident tone but it didn’t do much to convince him; he jabs the potato and his lips wrapped around the fork before it slipped out and he started to chew. I didn’t realise I was staring at his mouth until spoke, “What if it ends up being a trap?”
I sighed at his stubbornness, “I won’t leave here without making sure you’re safe. There are alarms on every door and window, there are hidden cameras to send an alert on my phone or computer in my bedroom if someone were to find the hidden road to my cottage. I’ll make sure you have a gun with you too; if anything happens I have my phone to let me know where you are at all times. The house phone has my phone number on speed dial too since it’s the only number you can call.” I shoved a large piece of omelette into my mouth to avoid answering any more of his questions.
He glances at me appearing conflicted, “What if you don’t come back? What will I do?” The food in my mouth nearly stuck at my throat hearing those words leaving his mouth and the meek tone of his voice didn’t help. I didn’t spare him a glance too afraid I might do something like I did in the abandoned church. “Matt, I’m a Hitman. I’ve done this dozens of times and I’ll come back—I’m a hard guy to kill.” I forced myself to swallow, my eyes drifting towards the black haired troublemaker without intending to.
He puts down the fork seemingly losing his appetite and slipped off the stool; my gaze flickered on his collar around his throat. It was the only thing assuring me he will be fine, the only thing that lets me know where he is at all times no matter what happens. “You keep saying that but does it really mean anything if you end up dead?” His voice clipped; brushing pass me and around the kitchen island throwing his breakfast onto the trash then dropping it on the sink.
My eyes observed his lean built back wearing a loose white shirt and blue shorts reaching his knees. His hair barely reaching the nape of his neck exposing the clip of the collar. I knew there was nothing I say that can have him stop worrying so I just opted in the next best option. Be cocky. “You sure you don’t like me? Worried about me and making a face like that tells me otherwise.” I smirked.
Matt turns around sharply glaring at me, “Don’t even fucking joke about it asshole. You’re not even letting yourself heal and you want to go to Frank which could be a trap but your head is so far up your ass you don’t want to see it.” He snaps quickly wiping the smirk off my face as I pushed myself off the stool and walked to him.
Instead he moves towards the couch of the living room in a angry haze, “Matt, it’s not a trap,” I spoke in exasperation following after him, “I know Frank. I trust him, he wouldn’t betray me.”
“Whatever just go. Get yourself killed—see if I care, I’ll just stay here until food runs out then I’ll be out of here.” He brushed it off in a nonchalant tone.
I grit my jaw in agitation, I wanted to punch this stubborn idiot but it won’t solve anything. Doesn’t matter how many times I tell him something he won’t listen—not unless push comes to shove. “I’ll be back by afternoon.” I answered in agitation turning to the plate on the kitchen island throwing it in the trash and dropped the plate onto the sink.
I opened one of the cabinet taking out a simple snack and walked to the front door yanking my jacket from the hanger then picked up the keys. I checked my pockets making sure I had my phone and wallet—which I did. I left out the door without so much of another word locking it in place. I frowned in anguished, walking down the steps of the porch holding onto my jacket draped over my shoulder.
I was never good at comforting people at all, the emotional stuff was never really my thing. Having to deal with Matt is like riding on a fucking roller coaster; one moment he’s fine, then his worried, or he’s angry. I like it when he’s spiteful and feisty but when he’s stubborn it tries my patience. It’s not like I can do anything to stop him from worrying; the moment something happens to me, Matt will be in danger.
That’s what Matt doesn’t understand. I wouldn’t let myself be in that sort of situation when I know his life would be in danger. I was basically stumping my way around the house onto the back where I kept one of my runaway cars. It was a metallic silver Chevrolet Corvette; a beautiful, luxurious vehicle I couldn’t help but obtain.
When I started driving—it was strange. There was too much silence and I’d find myself glancing over the passenger seat expecting Matt to be there only to be disappointed. I’d rake a hand through my hair glancing at the rear mirror and apparently I’ve forgotten my glasses. I brushed it off frowning when my thoughts drifted to Matt again.
I can’t leave the guy alone for an hour and already I’m imagining the worst case scenario. It’s pathetic for a Hitman to be like this but it isn’t like I’m the stereotypical kind of Hitman either. I was tempted more than half the time to call him only to change my mind and try to focus on something else.
He’s trouble and like an idiot I keep sticking to him.
It took me three torturous hours to reach the safe house Frank kept incase something happened. The man is consistently paranoid about things and because I tend bring death at my heels—it’s no wonder. I parked in front of the building throwing myself out of the car after turning off the engine. Shutting the door and locking it I walked towards the large slide doors.
I curled my fingers into a fist and made a rhythmic knock with my knuckles; soon afterwards follows the sounds of locks being undone. When the door was pulled apart Frank came into view; I cringed at the blood stained shirt coming from his shoulder. “You look like shit.” I deadpanned from the ring around his eyes and the paleness on his face.
His brown eyes glared at me as he stepped aside allowing me entry, “I wouldn’t be if I wasn’t shot because of your carelessness.” He retorted sharply closing and locking the doors behind me. My gaze surveyed through the large building with a few office desk left behind and an old chair. Numeral amounts of laptops were set up with phones and a gun. There was another desk with a medical kit and blood stained rags.
“Yeah, yeah. What was so important that couldn’t be said over the phone?” I turned to face the older man with short brown hair and days of stubble across his face. He looked exhausted, “You never should have taken this job. I told you I had a bad feeling about this,” I rolled my eyes at Frank; he walked pass me towards the row of laptops on the desk.
“I know you don’t want to listen me telling you ‘I told you so’ but we have something else to worry about. Your client was found dead and apparently he’s been dead since the moment you failed to kill Alec Roman.”
I frowned at his declaration following after him with my hands stuffed into the pockets of my jacket. He sat onto the old chair fingers flying over the keyboard, “So they somehow found out he hired me.” I advocated.
He nods, “There’s something else going on though. Ever since it was announced that the kid you’re so fond of has been kidnapped, the Mafia has been gunning for you—hard. When they came into the warehouse, they heard you two arguing and I heard them talk about not only capturing you but the kid as well.”
I knew all of that already except I wasn’t sure the reason for why the Mafia would want Matt in the first place. “I sort of figured that when an assassin came after us.” I confirmed blatantly; this was growing more complicated and staying in my cottage for a few days already won’t give me answers.
Matt doesn’t seem to know anything either.
The short brown haired man froze snapping his eyes at my direction, “What?”
“The assassin pretended to be some kind of cop looking for us and since Matt changed his appearance, he wasn’t recognised. But I had him handcuffed so it sort of gave it away. He said he needed to bring both of us to his boss—alive.” I told him the short version considering I wasn’t in the mood to remember how utterly frightened Matt was.
Now I’m getting angry thinking about it, “How the fuck did they know you’d be in Chicago?” I shrugged at his inquiry; only Frank knew where I’d go when shit goes south and considering this isn’t a trap I’m guessing he has no idea either. It makes no sense how they’re tracking us or why they want Matt for that matter when he has nothing to do with this.
He purses his lips, “Neil, something is going on and my guts tells me that it has something to do with that kid. If I were you I wouldn’t let him out of my sight.” A shiver ran down my spine sensing something off or maybe that’s just me. I hate it when he does that. Great, I’m even more worried with Matt alone, in the middle of the woods, in my cottage.
“I should be going then.” I turned to head back outside, “Neil, wait,” Frank calls out to me and I glanced over my shoulder. His expression oddly solemn with narrow eyes, “Be careful. Getting attached to that kid won’t bring you any good, if anything he’ll get you killed. You saw where it got-“
“Yeah, I know that already. I only have him around until I can get out of this mess.” I faked a smile as I made my way out but it soon faded; I don’t know anymore. Would I be able to let him go? Would I really bring him back to his family and keep away from his life?
A pang of agony stabbed through my heart and I knew then that I was in very big trouble. I raked a hand through my hair throwing myself in the car; I breathed in stiffly, “Fuck.” I cursed as my head collided with the head seat.
You’ve really done it, Neil.
Driving back to the cottage didn’t help me in the slightest, not when my head is trying to wrap around the fact I’ve really hit it. I guess I’ve known it for a while but I didn’t want it to get in the way of Matt’s life. I was already stupid enough to drag him into this mess, I’m not going to drag him down any further. I didn’t realise it except I couldn’t bring myself to do it, I couldn’t ruin his future like this.
Yet I can’t let him slip from my fingers, instead I want to hold him even tighter. When I first met him, he was a huge pain in my ass and there was something about him that didn’t look right to me. Slowly I started to see it, he was breaking out of his shell and he flourished into something so undeniably beautiful.
I got used to his pissy mood, his foul language, his embarrassed side, his shy side, and his sarcasm. He’s always cute when he’s angry, including with his weird little habits he isn’t aware he does. He’s an open book to me, especially when he gazes at me and gives me a look—I know what it means.
I knew what the look he was giving me is and I couldn’t bring myself to act on it.
I was already parking behind the cottage moving the gearshift to park and turned off the engine. The sun blazing above the sky basking the leaves with golden radiance that augmented the bright colors of the green leaves. It’d hit the metallic silver sports vehicle passing through the windshield hitting my face. I fished through my phone instantly unlocking it with my thumb and tapped onto the application.
The little red dot glowed somewhere around the woods away from the urban areas of Chicago. I knew that’s exactly where my cottage is and where Matt is. I exited the vehicle locking it as I made my way around my place and up the steps of the front porch. I raked a hand through my dyed ginger brown hair trying to make it seem like everything is fine.
I unlocked the door and stepped inside; everything was exactly how I left it except Matt was sitting on the couch watching a movie. There was a beer in hand which quickly brought a frown on my face; it wasn’t only one beer. There’s seven other empty beer bottles resting on top of the coffee table.
I quickly closed the door and shrugged off my jacket hanging it on the hanger making my way to him. “How long have you been drinking?” I demanded but as I got closer there were several other bottles spread throughout the floor. Concern bubbling within my chest as my stomach churned, “Er…..I…don’t know.” He slurs tilting his head back with a flushed face.
His blue eyes subtly shimmered from the lights of the living room, his nose cringing slightly as if he was having trouble looking up at me. I nearly stepped on a bottle as I threw myself on the couch beside him glaring slightly. “I’ve been gone for six hours, Matt. There’s no way you’ve been drinking for six hours.”
He gave a droll stare, “Y-You’d be surprised, Mr. Hitman.” He smelled heavily of booze which didn’t help the fact he was wearing the same loose white shirt with shorts as well as the way he dragged his words to the point it was hard to make out what the hell he was saying. He’s completely smashed. I run a hand down my face in exasperation, “Come, let’s get you to bed. No more drinking.” I spoke in a much gentler voice standing up again and just when I went to take the beer from his hand, he stubbornly resisted.
“N-No!” He exclaimed obnoxiously making me glare down at him, “Leave me alone you jerk! I hate you.” A pout formed on his lips catching me off guard for a moment before I collected myself and grabbed his arm yanking him off the couch.
He hits my chest roughly forcing a gasp from his throat; I knew he was drunk. He always told me he hates me when he was pissed or upset about something I did. What did I do again? How come all he only ever gets is mad or upset? Can’t he smile the way he did since we got here? Obviously, I didn’t voice out my thoughts but simply glared at him very sternly.
“I’m not in the mood for your shit, Matt. I’m taking you to bed and you’re going to sleep this off whether you want to or not.” I started dragging him towards the stairs careful not to hit any of the glass bottles. Matt started struggling against my hold hitting some of the bottles that toppled over onto the wooden floors. “Let me go! I don’t want to!” His voice was much more clearer with a sharp edge to it.
My hand tightened on him arm as the frustration kept on building, “Stop being such a fucking kid. Always throwing a fucking fit when you’re upset, just stop and let me help you.” I growled as we walked to the foyer; the sound of glass breaking caught my attention. The beer bottle that was on Matt’s hand was now shattered into pieces on the ground with beer staining and spreading.
I twitched releasing the hold I had on his arm as I glared at the idiot; he didn’t seem fazed at all but instead started to cry. Way to go, Neil, you made him cry again. “Can’t you stop being such an asshole? You don’t understand how I feel—like fuck, I wish I was home. I wish I wasn’t here with you making me feel like complete shit. I hate you, I fucking hate you for making me have these feelings for you. You’re always making me worry and scared and….and…” His lips quivered, hot tears trailing paths down his flushed cheeks causing him to sniffle and wipe at his tears.
My chest ached, instantly softening at the sight of him; I knew I was being selfish and inconsiderate. I knew I was being an ass but it isn’t like life came with an instruction manual. I carefully stepped around the shattered beer guiding him back to the couch without him hitting any of the bottles. “I’m sorry, Matt. I’m just trying to figure things out, I’m doing the best I can so you can go back to your family.”
“What if I didn’t want to go?” I was surprised at his question gazing at his blue eyes that shone from his tears. He was serious. How long has he been thinking of this? I felt like shit. I felt like I did something horrible to him. “What are you saying? You have to go back to your family, you can’t stay with me.”
He shook his head grabbing a hold of my shirt and tripped over his own feet causing me to fall back onto the couch with him on top of me. He grunts slightly lifting his head and blinked, “I want to stay with you, Neil. When I’m with you I can be myself, I can breathe, I don’t have to pretend anymore and I like being with you. I like being stuck in a car with you while you drive me to places I’ve never been before. I like arguing and annoying you—I like you, Neil.” Our faces were inches apart, his breath smelling strongly of beer and somehow it was intoxicating for me.
I let it sink in as I stared into his stunning eyes, my heart thrashing against my chest—growing dizzy. “Matt…” My lips were only able to form his name; then I felt it. A warm softness pressed onto my lips and my eyes fluttered, dominating his mouth in an instant. My arm snaked around his torsos holding him tightly in place as if he’d be ripped away from me.
I know this is bad, I know I should tell him he can’t stay with me. I should tell him he has to go home—except I couldn’t.
I have to bring him back home.
Except, the more I tell myself that the more reason I am given to keep him here—to keep him in my arms melting by the feel of his kiss.
This is a lot worse than I had thought. What did I do to him?
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