Chapter 3 - The Safehouse
Penny stared at Matthew as the SUV tore onto the highway, rain lashing against the tinted windows.
"I didn't see anybody's face!" Penny insisted, her voice rising an octave. "I was staring at your chest because I was yelling at you!"
"You saw him," Matthew countered smoothly. "The man in the gray suit who bumped into you. He wasn't nervous because he was clumsy, Penny. He was nervous because he was dropping a location beacon into your serving tray so his shooters could track my table."
Penny’s mouth fell open. "The gray suit... he pushed me on purpose?!"
"Correct," Matthew said. "And when my men eliminate him, we need to know if he was one of O'Leary's lieutenants or an inside job from my own organization. Which means you are coming with me until I clear this up."
"I have a job! I have a mother in care!" Penny protested, sitting up straight, her curves pressing against the seat. "I can't just vanish into the Boston underworld because some mobsters have bad manners!"
Matthew looked at her, his eyes lingering on the soft curve of her waist, the defiant tilt of her chin, and the fierce intelligence shining beneath her tequila-induced haze. Most people trembled when he spoke. This woman had poked him in the sternum and was now lecturing him about her schedule.
"Liam," Matthew spoke to the front seat. "Have our team secure her mother’s facility. Put two guards outside Evelyn Hayes’ room immediately. Pay off her balance for the next six months while you're at it."
Penny blinked, stunned. "You know my mother's name?"
"I know everything about everyone who comes within ten feet of me," Matthew said flatly. "It keeps me alive."
Twenty minutes later, the SUV pulled into the subterranean garage of a sprawling brick estate tucked away behind iron gates in Brookline.
The house was a fortress—reinforced steel doors, high-tech security monitors, and armed guards stationed discreetly along the perimeter.
Matthew led her into a massive library furnished with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, deep leather sofas, and a roaring stone fireplace.
"Liam, clear the perimeter. Bring us ice, water, and whatever food is in the kitchen," Matthew ordered.
As Liam left, Matthew unbuttoned his soaked suit jacket and tossed it onto a chair. He unbuttoned his top two shirt buttons, revealing a broad, muscular chest covered in dark hair.
Penny quickly looked toward the fireplace, her face burning.
"Drink this," Matthew said, handing her a glass of cold water.
Penny took it, her hands shaking slightly as the adrenaline began to fade, leaving her exhausted and suddenly very conscious of the fact that she was locked in a crime boss's mansion in her serving uniform.
"Why are you being nice to me?" she asked softly.
Matthew walked over, standing just a foot away from her. Up close, he was overwhelming. He smelled of rain, cedarwood, and expensive leather.
"Because you didn't run," Matthew said softly. "When those guns went off, most people turned into animals. You stayed focused. And frankly..." A faint, rare smile touched the corner of his lips. "...no one has poked me in the chest in fifteen years."
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Penny let out a shaky, breathy laugh. "Well, you were standing in the middle of the aisle."
"I was," Matthew agreed, his dark eyes dropping to her mouth. "And for that, Ms. Hayes, I owe you an apology—and a proper birthday."
