Page 91 of The Chameleon

Considering Ares didn’t hear any police sirens yet, he wasn’t concerned about rushing to flee the scene.

“I’m going to enjoy hearing you scream,” Ares growled, crouching down on one knee.

The look of pure rage staring back at him made Ares’s inner devil smile.You lost the war, old man.

“Throw this piece of shit in the trunk,” Ares ordered, watching as Patrick tugged the hobbling, tired man to his feet.

“My pleasure,” Patrick noted, holding the growly man by his arm and doing a final scan of the area—no doubt looking for any possible threats or dangers lurking in the shadows.

Ares stood next to Patrick, watching as an angry-looking Matteo approached them.

“We got the bastard,” Ares noted, nodding over his shoulder at the angry old man nursing his wounds like a whiny bitch. He was hoping he would receive some sort of praise from Matteo for doing a job well done.

“Good. The bastard’s going to pay for what he did to my parents.”

The coldness in Matteo’s voice sent chills down Ares’s spine. He fucking loved the guy.

“Let’s get out of this fucking shithole,” Matteo mumbled, barely glancing up at Ares.

Pain exploded from Ares’s foot.

“Ow! You, mother… fu—” Ares stopped himself, grinding his teeth and glaring at Matteo, who was lowering the gun he held in his hand.

“You know what you did,” Matteo muttered before calmly turning and walking toward the rest of thestrippers guildas they jumped around and congratulated each other on not dying.

“Marry that man,” Patrick blurted from over Ares’s shoulder. “I don’t know what that was all about, but marry that beautiful man.”

Fighting against the throbbing pain in his foot, Ares couldn’t help but feel his heart double in size.

He fucking loved that crazy Italian.

31

MATTEO

Sitting in the large VIP section, Matteo nodded to the shirtless young man wearing only a pair of tight black shorts and a matching bowtie. The server acknowledged his boss’s request, then picked up the bottle of expensive champagne and began masterfully filling each of the crystal glasses set out on the tray.

Bubbles floated to the top of each glass as the gorgeous muscle boy poured each with perfection. All of Matteo’s employees, whether they were dancers, bartenders, servers, or hostesses, were the human embodiment of sex and fantasy. In this server’s case, it was his disarming smile and perfectly chiseled chest that often made men weak in the knees.

“Thank you, Stefan,” Matteo praised, giving the boy a subtle nod as he reached for two of the filled glasses. He began passing them around to his new group of friends, beginning with Ares’sdeath squad, as he’d come to refer to them. These were one set of badass guys that one did not want on their bad side.

“Here you go, gentlemen,” Matteo said, beginning with Ares’s second in command, then moving along to the rest of his squad.

Most men nodded as they took their glasses, bodies sitting stiff, eyes focused solely on the glass in their hand. Perhaps it was a macho thing not to smile or show human emotions when expressing happiness or gratitude.

Then again, these guys were testosterone-fueled straight dudes suddenly finding themselves surrounded by half-naked men, playing with their erections and not a tittie in sight. How else were they supposed to react?

Matteo tried not to laugh.

Poor guys. At least they were being good sports about all this. Deep down, he knew that these men were not homophobic. Ares would never stand for that sort of behavior on his squad. The guys just didn’t know what to do with themselves, this probably being their first time setting foot inside a male sex club.

Next, Matteo turned to Ares’s friends from New Jersey—the O’Brien crew—who, Matteo had learned, was an Irish criminal organization that dealt mostly in drugs and gun trafficking. They also owned a few strip clubs, pubs, and other establishments that Matteo was pretty sure were being used to launder their money. It turned out that the O’Brien crew and Ares had a long-standing friendship that spanned decades. It was great to see that there was still loyalty amongst criminals.

Next, Matteo passed drinks to Marc and Alex—Chase’s bosses and the guys who had originally been given theBook of Sin.

“Thanks,” Alex chirped, giving Matteo that golden retriever smile that always put the room at ease and made everyone want to pet him on the head.

Finally, Matteo turned to his own gang of mismatched orphan boys. Some sat on their partner’s laps, some sat on the arms of the couches, while others sat cross-legged on the floor chatting amongst themselves.

---