Page 5 of The Chameleon

Relief set in as the last of the words disappeared.

Thankfully, the idiot who wrote the journal hadn’t realized what he had accidentally stumbled upon.

Ares dropped the remainder of the pages to the ground and let the lies burn by his feet. Nothing in those pages could harm him. They were all lies and misdirection, tools used by a masterful criminal to help build a lucrative empire and seize control over the weapons trade across large parts of Europe, Mexico, the Americas, the United Kingdom, and the Middle East. Ares was a chameleon of deception and prided himself on the illusions he had created. He was not called thegod of warfor nothing.

“What are you planning on doing with the remainder of that journal?” Ares asked, nodding toward the ratty-looking book. “I could take that off your hands and make you a very rich man.”

It wasn’t lost on Ares how valuable the information contained in those pages could be in the right person’s hands. Seamus, the low-level punk with sights set way above his IQ level, had wasted the opportunity by only focusing on the potential that was right in front of him.

Typical Neanderthal. No imagination or foresight.

But Ares, having control of all that information and potential, could think of so many possibilities.

Not that he needed more power and money, but hey, wealth was an addiction. The more you have, the more you want.

Cillian looked down at the journal he held in his hand. “I think Mickey is giving it to some guys to investigate. This info in the wrong hands can do a lot of damage.”

So the Irish hunk had a brain inside that muscle-filled body of his after all. Ares smirked.

“Or a lot of good if you know how to use it,” Ares quipped. Good for himself, but not so good for the people listed on those pages.

The young man shifted on his feet uncomfortably.

Ares had had his fun. The poor boy was trying to honor his boss’s wishes and didn’t want to offend Ares in the process.

This was why Ares loved working with Mickey and the O’Brien crew. His crew were decent and loyal and would never dream of fucking over their boss.

Smiling, Ares stepped over the dead body of one of Seamus’s men. Ares’s crew would dispose of the bodies, but for now, he wanted to spend some time with his new friends.

“Come. Let’s get out of this shithole. I’ll take you all out for dinner at this fantastic little restaurant that I know along the river. The owner is a friend of mine,” Ares suggested, putting his arm around Cillian and guiding him to a hidden staircase that led back up into the bar.

Ares glanced over his shoulder at the pile of ash that had once contained his greatest weakness.

Perhaps one day.

Forcing that thought from his mind, he turned his attention back to the row of bloody men waiting for him at the top of the stairs. Perhaps they needed to shower and change first before heading out to dinner.

Tonight had been a massacre; tomorrow would be a new beginning.

1

MATTEO

Nodding his thanks to the bartender, Matteo reached across the bar and picked up his cognac. He held the glass in the palm of his hand and gave it a gentle swirl. After a few swirls, he brought the bouquet glass to his nose and gave it a gentle sniff.

Ahh, that was the stuff.

Memories of the first time he had a sip of the expensive brown liquid came flooding back.

He was sixteen at the time. His father had summoned him to his study and then sat him down by the fireplace. Matteo knew that something was different that day. His father had been acting extra secretive the previous two weeks, and Matteo feared that perhaps his father was going to divorce his mother. He had heard the two arguing on occasion, mostly about his father’s work and deals that had gone sour. Nothing too crazy, but still, every teen worried when they heard their parents arguing.

“It’s time you and I had an honest conversation, son,” his father began, pouring them both a glass of cognac before joining his son on the couch by the fireplace.

“It’s every son’s rite of passage to have his first drink with his father,” his dad said, passing Matteo his first glass of alcohol.

Matteo took the glass and watched as his father swirled the liquid, then lifted the glass to his nose and breathed in the aroma.

“Cognac needs to be savored and enjoyed. You need to take in everything about it—the look, the smell, the smooth taste. It’s the drink of gentlemen.” His father raised his glass to his son before bringing it to his lips and taking a small sip.

---