Page 120 of Seeking Vengeance

We lie there for long moments, his arm sliding around my shoulders to keep me close, my fingers drawing invisible pictures on the muscles of his chest.

My mind drifts to our earlier conversation, the revelations slowly creeping back in. “Why don’t you carry a gun?”

He stiffens. It’s only slight—the mere tweak of corded sinew. “I’ve got my reasons.”

Matty boy wants to earn his very own martyrdom status.

“Tell me one,” I urge.

Just one. Any one. Even the briefest glimpse of the unknown will tide me over until we’re both comfortable enough to discuss this further.

“Normal people don’t carry guns,” he mutters.

“But normal people don’t have a past they need to be protected from.”

He doesn’t respond. There’s only thickening silence between us.

“Didn’t people come after you?” I pull back and raise onto my elbow, needing to see his face. “I assume you would’ve been a target for anyone wanting intel on the Cappellettis.”

“Nobody came after me.” He rolls onto his back to stare at the ceiling, shutting me out.

“Nobody? Not even one person? Not an enemy or a competitor? Not even someone who felt you abandoned your position?”

His eyes harden, his nose wrinkling at my heartlessness.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to say—”

“No, you’re right.” He sits, my hand falling from his chest, his back turning so I can no longer read his face. “I did abandon Lorenzo. But just like Emmanuel, I’m off-limits. Nobody would dare to touch me unless they wanted a fast-track ticket to death’s door.”

I grab at the bed coverings, dragging them to my chest in a makeshift shield against his sterility. “People always dare. Aren’t you worried about the one in a million who’s willing to cross the line?”

“No. I don’t like guns and I don’t need one. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

I cling to the covers.

The floodgates on information are going to be harder to open than I’d thought. “What about the suicide comment from Bishop? What did he mean?”

He huffs a sigh. “He was being a dick.”

“I don’t think so. He said it for a reason.”

“He’s jealous.” He pushes from the bed, gloriously naked, his ass perfectly defined. “We worked hard to build a new life. One without violence. And then you came along.”

“And I brought violence?” I follow him to my feet, standing tall at the edge of the bed. “I thought we weren’t lying to each other anymore?”

His nostrils flare. Fingers twitch.

“Matthew?”

“Jesus Christ.” He shoves a hand through his hair. “He’s pissed, okay? Pissed at me. Not you.”

“Why?”

Muscles flicker under his stubbled jaw.

“Why?” I demand.

“Because he knows I’d give my life to make sure you don’t end up like Grace.”

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