Page 19 of Third Crime's A Charm
“Fine.” Matteo said, turning and pulling Truman’s arm around him. He didn’t want to face Truman anymore, afraid he would see through him again. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” The words were whispered against Matteo’s shoulder and it was kissed as a hand spread across his chest. He felt cherished and protected, but didn’t know for how long. Was this part of the game for Truman too? How would Matteo ever know what was real if they couldn’t even trust each other?
Matteo resented that too as he drifted off to sleep, and was resolved to get out of the game as soon as the job was done.
Eight
No run this morning.
Truman was just conscious enough to send Neville a text, then dove back under the duvet with Matteo. He had yet to regain consciousness or push him away so Truman was glad to be hungover, for once. He was riddled with aches but they had nothing to do with his age or alcohol. Matteo had taken his frustrations out on Truman’s body and it had been glorious.
The sex was incredible but Truman had a feeling he’d taken another step back with Matteo. Truman recalled the things he’d said and wanted to slap himself. He’d meant them, essentially, but his wine-soaked brain had bungled the delivery. It would be a miracle if Matteo didn’t wake up angry and push Truman away again.
How many ways had Truman messed up?
He played back the evening from the time Donna went to bed and Truman flinched and cringed as each moment came back to him. Why didn’t he tell Matteo that he didn’t want to play games and wanted a second chance? Why did he call Matteo a brat anda freeloader? And for the love of God, why had Trumanbeggedto be his Daddy?
What was I thinking?
Not that Truman would have minded an arrangement like that with Matteo, but to beg the way he had? Pathetic. It went without saying that Matteo would never agree to that. Why would he? Matteo was a thief but he wasn’t a grifter and he was too headstrong to be anyone’s pet. That was part of the reason Truman found him so remarkable.
Despite his meager accounts, Matteo was still rich in all the ways that mattered and had plenty of love and support. He had all the independence he desired and didn’t need anyone’s protection. But what had Truman offered him?
Nothing original or worthy of a man like Matteo von Hessen, that’s for certain.
He might have overcome all of that but Truman wrecked his chances by refusing to tell Matteo about Peter Lonsdale. Truman had thought about telling Matteo and wanted to. He almost had, in the heat of the moment. Then, Truman remembered how his ego had tripped him up the first night. He’d assumed he could seduce Matteo out of stealing from him but Truman didn’t have a backup plan if he refused to help Peter.
He was barely anything to Truman, how could he make Matteo understand why Peter deserved to be saved? Peter was a decent man and a better than average attorney but he was quiet and rather unremarkable. Honestly, he didn’t really like Peter all that much but it ate at Truman, watching Marty grind the poor guy down, year after year. And in some ways, Truman felt responsible because he hadn’t done more to help him.
The star was the last straw for Truman as far as Marty was concerned. Truman had put up with the miserable, old prick because he had his uses. Marty paid well and certain people were pleased with Truman for keeping him out of jail and fromcooperating with the feds for as long as he had. Truman had also kept detailed notes about everything Marty had done and for whom. That information had been invaluable and Truman had leveraged it wisely, cementing his position as one of the most untouchable attorneys in the country.
Truman had gathered enough intel from his clients over the years to bring down the major crime families and the FBI, but no one had been more useful than Martin Lonsdale. That’s why Truman had bided his time and bit his tongue when it came to Marty’s nephew. He vowed that karma would catch up with Marty and that Peter would be the last one laughing.
Then, Marty exceeded his usefulness by “losing” too much of his clients’ money. He had gotten sloppy and skimmed too much, and now, there were several contracts out for his life. Sensing that he was running out of time, Marty told Truman he wanted to make a deal and go into hiding.
Instead of flipping on anyone that might come after him, Marty was going to pin as much as he could on Peter. Truman warned that someone like Peter wouldn’t be enough, even if the feds believed he’d been running the show for the last decade. That’s when Marty said he had something special that would get him full immunity.
Truman wasn’t worried until Marty insisted they take a trip down to his basement. Good things rarely happened in a basement in Truman’s line of work. To his relief, they were there for something in the old bank safe. Truman had seen the safe a handful of times while putting things away but couldn’t recall anything valuable or dangerous enough to concern him.
He was told to turn around while Marty struggled with the dial but eventually, he got the combination right and Truman helped him push the heavy handle and open it.
“Look the other way!” Marty hissed when Truman leaned and tried to check the shelves. “I hid it in here and only oneother person knows I have it! I bought it fifteen years ago and killed the guy who set it up for me,” he boasted, making Truman glower at the wall.
“Don’t tell me shit like that, Marty. You want me to help you get a deal or not?”
“You can turn around,” Marty said, waving for Truman to follow him toward the hanging bulb in the center of the room. “Open your hands,” he said and gestured for Truman to hurry. “I’ll kill you and everyone you care about if you tell,” Marty whispered but Truman snorted and headed for the stairs.
“Fuck you, Marty. I’ll tell your security team to take the day off and you’ll be dead by dinner time. I don’t care if you get life or accidentally fall down the stairs five times. But I’ll kill your sisters and their shitty little dogs if you ever threaten me again.”
Truman was bluffing because he never touched anyone’s family and he liked just about all dogs. He had also been ordered to oversee Marty’s deal and make sure he didn’t flip on the wrong people.
“Just get over here!” Marty barked, and laughed hoarsely as he fumbled with the strings on a red velvet bag. “You’re the only one Icantrust but you’ll understand why I’m not fucking around about this in a moment. Open your hands.” he said and resumed his battle with the bag.
“Give it to me.” Truman snatched it from Marty and picked the knot free. “Open your hands,” he told Marty, feeling sorry for his swollen, gnarled fingers and their steady trembling.
“You got it?”
Truman nodded. “I got it.” He tipped the bag sideways and a single jewel fell onto Marty’s palms.
