Page 134 of Worth Every Penny

“You couldn’t,” Curtis whimpers.

Elliot, a good three inches taller than Matt at six foot six, and much wider, steps forward, hands the size of dinner plates raised. His lips part in a menacing smile. “I could. And if that doesn’t work”—Elliot flips back his leather jacket, revealing the Glock in a holster at his hip. He pulls it out and presses it to Curtis’ temple—“this will.”

Curtis’ eyes widen, then he slumps, his body giving in.

And that’s when I know we’ve got him. This whole charade is about to come crashing down. First, we’ll nail Curtis, then we’ll get Martin.

I focus on Elliot. “I need you to get every scrap of evidence that connects Martin and this scumbag.” I point at Curtis.

Elliot releases an exhausted-looking Curtis, who promptly flops face-down on the floor, allowing Elliot to rest one huge booted foot on his lower back as he gives me a salute. “Yes, sir.”

“And Curtis?” I say. “Or Daniel or whatever the fuck your name is?”

He groans in response.

“If you don’t want to end up in jail, you’re going to do exactly what I want.”

Curtis peels his face off the ground and gives me a begrudging, but convincing, nod.

Forty-five minutes later, Elliot’s taken Curtis off to I-don’t-want-to-know-where for questioning, and I’m back in the car with Matt. His laboured breathing fills the small space as he stares out the window. We haven’t moved from outside his house.

He strikes the passenger door with a clenched fist. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him not to destroy my car, but I know the comment would sink like a tank in the ocean. He’s wound so tight I don’t know what to do with him.

He hisses out a long sigh and leans back in the seat, his head on the headrest, eyes closed and face tilted to the roof. “I only came back for the kids,” he says. “I don’t care if I never see that woman again. I fucking hate her—” He strikes the door again.

I grab his shoulder. “I’m sorry. Truly.”

He shakes me off. “I tried to make it work. That’s why we had another child. Lucie was supposed to save us.” The muscles up his neck and along his jaw are hard ropes and his eyelids, though closed, flicker rapidly as though he barely has control over the thoughts running through his mind. “Didn’t fucking work, did it?”

He forces the words out, choking on the sorrow spilling from under the bitter veneer. Never in my life have I seen Matt like this—on the cusp of breaking. He’s normally angry, and that I can handle. I’m used to it. But seeing him like this feels like aninvasion of his privacy. If we weren’t sitting in my car, I’d give him a moment alone, but instead I offer what little support I can.

“You want to stay with me?” I offer.

He shakes his head.

“Seb, then? Charlie’s there. You can see him. Talk to him.”

“No.” Matt opens his eyes. “Mandarin Oriental. Take me there.”

“You don’t want me to drop you at one of our hotels?”

“No. I need to be alone. Somewhere no one knows me.”

I start the engine, relieved to be able to do something.

When we arrive, I park off Knightsbridge in a quiet residential square and get out. Matt does the same, getting his bag from the boot.

He looks completely wrecked. We stand opposite one another on the pavement and the moment swells. I don’t know what to say to him.

He closes the gap and draws me into a massive hug. He holds me for a moment, squeezing tight. I don’t want to leave him alone, but I know he doesn’t want to be with me. He’s keeping his shit together by a thread.

He slaps a hand on my back and pulls away. “Thanks. I mean it. For everything.”

“Anytime.”

He nods, but just before he turns away, he says, “We’ll get the fuckers. You know that, right?”

I give him a half-smile becauseI fucking know it.

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