Page 63 of The Chameleon

“Hey, boss. Sorry to bother you, but I just received some photos that I think you should see.”

“What? What photos? From whom?” Ares waited impatiently for the idiot to respond.

Okay, the guy wasn’t an idiot. He just moved at a glacial pace sometimes.

Dimitri had been working for Ares for the past six months and had been doing an adequate job, but Ares wanted to hire someone a little more… creative. If he was going to take over the world of gun trafficking, he needed someone by his side who could think on their feet, find creative ways of moving his products, and he needed someone who knew how to get out of tight situations if the need ever arose. Dimitri was not that man.

“Got them from an anonymous email. I’ll send you the email now.”

Ares didn’t believe in email. If he had to be contacted, people could call him or text him. They didn’t need to send him an email or a Myspacebook or whatever the fuck else new social platform they had out these days.

His phone beeped in his hand, letting him know that Dimitri’s message had been received. Impatiently, Ares clicked on the text message. Contained within the text was the message from the email. One word—“Faggot?”

His stomach dropped.

What the fuck?

Ares quickly clicked on the images attached to the text. Photo after photo of him and Matteo flashed across his screen.

Ares couldn’t breathe. He was angry and terrified both at the same time.

Someone knew.

Someone knew about him and Matteo.

All of the photos were innocent enough. The two of them walking through Mexico, chatting in Rome, eating dinner in Greece. Thankfully, there were no photos of them fucking,so whoever it was, had not been able to catch them in a compromising position.

Ares could still spin this if someone questioned his sexuality.

Ares read the message again. They weren’t making any demands or asking for money. They were just letting Ares know that someone knew about them. And judging by the various locations of the photos, someone had been watching them for quite some time.

Fuck.

If word got out that he was a cocksucking homo, he would lose his crew. No one would fear him, and other crews would be gunning for his territory. The criminal underworld didn’t take too kindly to faggots who swallowed dick or fucked a dude outside of prison.

And they had been so careful. For two years! Two fuckin’ years! Just to be safe, they never met in Paris, even though they both lived there. They always traveled on different planes just in case someone saw them together, and they always made sure never to show any displays of affection in public.

Two years!

How did this fuckin’ asshole know?

“Boss? Do you know what this means? Who’s the other guy in the photo?”

Ares had almost forgotten about Dimitri.

“I need you to find out who sent these photos. Be discreet, and when you do find them, bring them to my warehouse. I want to have a little face-to-face chat with this mystery person.”

“Sure thing, boss.” The line went dead.

Ares sat staring at the photos on his phone. If someone knew about them, then someone knew his weakness—the one way to control him and make him do whatever they wanted.

He had worked too hard to become someone else’s bitch.

Holding his phone, Ares wondered how safe Matteo would really be. Would his enemies target Matteo to get back at Ares? Was being in a relationship with Ares putting a target on Matteo’s back?

Hands beginning to tremble, Ares stared at Matteo’s smiling face in the photos. He really loved that crazy Italian. There was no way that he could put this man’s life in danger just so that they could be together. Matteo deserved a better life. One free of potential murder or dismemberment. One free of having to live his life in the closet just because Ares had to hide his sexuality.

Their relationship was doomed.

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