Page 14 of Sinister Intentions

CHAPTER FIVE

“We need to find an emergency vet around here,” I said to Matt, who still looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.

If the pup belonged to someone—even though it looked very much like it had spent quite some time out in the elements by its shaggy look and the feel of its fur—it should have a microchip that made it identifiable.

Matt pulled away from the curb and snorted. “Of course, you do. Because the big, bad Vince Salvini can’t just leave a helpless little creature on the side of the road. If word gets out, your image is toast, bro.”

A lopsided grin crept across Matt’s face. “You remember that time when we were kids, and you and Dante tried to save that stray cat? You were, what, thirteen?”

The memory flickered in my mind—a scrawny, mangey thing cowering under a dumpster, eyes wide with fear. I’d smuggled it scraps from the kitchen for weeks, slowly gaining its trust until Icould pet its coarse fur and take it home. Then, one day, Father caught me with it tucked inside my shirt.

I clenched my jaw at the recollection of his cold, berating words as he wrenched the cat from my arms and snapped its neck right in front of me. That day, he taught me a harsh lesson about what showing any weakness gets you.

He’d shown me how I wasn’t even strong enough to protect a measly cat.

“Shut it,” I said to Matt, hugging the puppy closer to drown out the echoes of my father’s cruel laugh when I couldn’t hold back the tears. “Let’s just find a vet around here.”

He fell silent, that stupid grin never fading as he checked the GPS for directions to the closest vet.

I stroked the pup’s head, feeling its shallow breaths against my palm.

It was so small and fragile—just like that scrawny cat way back.

I shook my head to dislodge the thought.

Somehow, animals still got to me in a way no human ever could. Killing a rival—no problem; torturing someone to get vital information or to send a message—not my favorite thing in the world, but sure—count me in.

But animals? Different beast entirely.

“Let’s just head back to the helicopter and get it checked out in the city; we can always bring it back when we visit your future wife the next time.”

Matt groaned, then glanced at me again. “Are you really going to take this mutt on the heli? Overprotective much?”

I glared at him. “Look at the pot calling the kettle black. Didn’t you just take a bullet for a random woman?”

Now, it was his turn to glare. “As if this is even comparable. And Fee is not some random woman. She’s Alex’s.”

Yes, she was, and it still left me wondering about Matt’s role in Alex and Fee’s relationship. “And yet it was you and not him who took a bullet for her.”

I glanced at the side mirror. There was a black Mercedes limousine behind us. The same black Mercedes I’d noticed a while ago.

Matt shrugged. “It was just a coincidence. Right person, wrong place.”

I nodded while still focusing on the car following us. “More like wrong place, wrong person. Did you notice the car behind us?” I asked Matt.

He immediately straightened in his seat and tightened his grip on the wheel. “I didn’t really pay attention,” he said while casting a glance through the rearview mirror.

“Let’s loop around. Don’t go to the helipad immediately,” I said.

I didn’t think anyone would actually follow us. Checking the traffic and making mental notes of the cars was more of a habit.

Of course, there was one possibility.

If those were Donnelly’s men, why would he send them after us?

Our conversation had actually been really civilized, especially after he met Matt. Somehow, Matt had the opposite impact on people I had.

He was a charmer…which I was…not.

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