Chapter 5 - Tea and Bloodstains
The estate looked more like a modern fortress than a house. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows offered views of the ocean, but the glass was three inches thick and reinforced with steel mesh. Dark hardwood floors ran through an massive living area equipped with a stone fireplace, minimalist leather furniture, and state-of-the-art security monitors humming quietly near the kitchen.
Liam immediately disappeared into a side office, pulling out a encrypted sat-phone, his voice low and furious as he began making calls.
Matthew led Penny directly into a massive, stainless-steel kitchen.
"Sit," he instructed, pointing to a plush barstool at the marble island.
Penny sank onto the stool, her body aching in places she didn't know existed. The oversized suit jacket pooled around her hips.
Matthew shed his ruined shirt, tossing the expensive, scotch-soaked silk directly into the trash can near the sink.
Penny’s eyes widened slightly before she could stop herself.
Matthew Cole was covered in scars. A jagged white line ran along his ribs, another crossed his left shoulder, and his broad chest was a masterpiece of lean, dense muscle honed by years of violence and survival. He grabbed a clean black t-shirt from a laundry basket near the pantry and pulled it over his head.
"Better?" he asked, turning back to her.
"You... you have a lot of scars," Penny blurted out, instantly reddening. "Sorry. That was rude."
Matthew let out a short, low chuckle—the first real sound of amusement she had heard from him all night. He walked over to the stove, filled a stainless-steel kettle with water, and set it on the gas burner.
"Occupational hazards," he said, leaning against the counter, folding his arms across his chest. "You get used to it."
"I don't think I ever want to get used to people shooting at me," Penny said, resting her chin in her hands.
Matthew reached into a cabinet, pulled out a box of chamomile tea, and dropped a bag into a ceramic mug. "You handled yourself well. Most people scream. Most people freeze. You complained about your shift."
"I was drunk," she reminded him. "The alcohol gave me terrible judgment."
"The alcohol gave you honesty," Matthew corrected, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "Nobody pokes me in the chest, Penny. The last man who raised his hand to me is currently buried under a parking lot in Revere."
Penny swallowed hard. "Are you trying to scare me?"
"No," Matthew said, stepping around the island until he was standing directly in front of her stool. He reached out, his long fingers gently tucking a stray brown curl behind her ear. "If I wanted to scare you, you'd know it. I'm telling you why you're still sitting here."
"Why?" she whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs, but not from fear this time.
"Because you didn't look at me like I was a monster," Matthew said softly. "You looked at me like I was an annoying guy standing in your way. It was... refreshing."
The kettle began to whistle softly on the stove.
Matthew didn't move for a long moment. He remained close enough that Penny could feel the heat radiating off his broad chest, catching the deep, magnetic intensity of his gaze.
Then, he turned, grabbed the kettle, and poured the steaming water into the mug. He slid it across the marble island toward her.
"Drink," he commanded softly. "You need to warm up."
Penny wrapped her hands around the warm mug, letting the steam rise against her face. "What happens now, Matthew?"
Before he could answer, Liam stepped into the kitchen, his expression grim, holding his phone in his hand.
"Boss," Liam said, his voice cold. "We got a hit on the shooter's phone. It wasn't the Moretti crew out of New York."
Matthew's eyes narrowed into slits of pure ice. "Who was it?"
Liam looked at Penny for a fraction of a second, then back at his boss. "It was Marcus Vance. He's claiming you've gone soft. He's moving on your harbor terminals right now."
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Matthew didn't shout. He didn't smash anything. He simply straightened his posture, his entire aura shifting from quiet host to lethal predator in less than a second.
"Get the cars ready," Matthew said softly. "We're going back to the city."
