Young Lies (Young Series Book 1) (9 page)

Tom’s brow is furrowed as he processes this new information and I wonder vaguely whether he’s starting to understand Matthew better. I doubt it; I don’t think there is anything in the world that could make him understand the depth of Matthew’s actions or how much he cares about the people around him. All Tom is aware of is that Matthew is the man who ripped me away from my simple life in Iowa and how he made no contact with me or his son for five years. It doesn’t matter how much I try to explain to him what happened; Tom’s mind is programmed to believe the very worst of my ex-husband and nothing will ever change. I can only hope the two of them will be able to tolerate the other’s existence for Tyler’s sake.

We reach the kitchen where Tyler and Leo are eating, and I immediately notice Leo refusing to meet my eyes, though I do see a small disapproving frown on his face. He’s always been very protective of Matthew, and vice versa, and regardless of the friendliness he extends towards me, I know there are some bitter feelings on his part towards me for a number of reasons. I smile when I see Leo’s obvious enthrallment with my son. He’s always been incredible with children and I can’t deny it’s a relief to see. The Leo I remember from the early days, while carefree and easygoing on the outside, obviously had some pretty dark feelings that he tried to keep hidden after his time in the military. Matthew would never tell me exactly what Leo went through, but if some of the nightmares I overheard from him are any indication, it’s a wonder he hasn’t landed himself in a mental hospital, if for no other reason than to keep himself safe from himself.

After dinner, Leo leads us down to the basement where all the entertainment is held. Tyler makes a beeline for the videogames while Leo pours Tom and me a drink at the bar. An hour or so later, Leo excuses himself to check in on Matthew, and Tom and I settle in to watch a movie with Tyler.

-------------o-------------

In the middle of the night, I wake up suddenly and completely with no idea as to why. Tom is sleeping peacefully, curled up facing away from me, and I find myself gazing out the bedroom window. When I begin feeling restless, I slip out of bed without waking Tom, and head out into the hallway. I hear a faint murmuring of voices downstairs, and though instinct tells me to go in the opposite direction, my feet have a different thought and carry me to the stairs.

“...sure this is a good idea?” I hear Leo say quietly.

“What?” Matthew responds.

Leo sighs heavily. “Look, man, I know you miss her and everything, but obviously she’s moved on. Wouldn’t it be better to just set them up somewhere else with security until this blows by?”

Though I can’t see them, I know Matthew is glaring at his friend. “First of all, fuck you,” he snaps. “Second of all, no, it wouldn’t be better. I’m not going to be able to rest knowing she and Ty might be in danger when I can’t see it for myself. This has nothing to do with the two of us. Once this shit is done, they’ll go back to Omaha and live their lives without my interference if that’s what she wants. I’m not reneging on our deal. She wanted distance, I’m giving it to her.”

“Bullshit it has nothing to do with the two of you!” Leo whispers loudly. “I’ve seen the way you look at her, Matt. You’re worse than ever and having her back in your life isn’t doing anybody any favors.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not interested in doing anybody favors,” Matthew responds. “Besides, Saunders isn’t going to let me within ten feet of her after what happened on the plane.” I close my eyes against the bitterness in his voice as though that will shut it out completely. “Yeah, I miss her. A whole fucking lot. That’s not going to change. But if this is going to be my last time seeing her or my son, I’m damn well going to make it count.”

Another sigh from Leo. “Fine,” he says wearily. “What have you heard from the Italians?”

I slide a little further down the stairs to better hear.

“I’ve got Williams on it. The bastard that was staking out their street caught a flight out of the country a couple hours later and we don’t know a damn thing about him. All we really know right now is they’re getting desperate. They actually made contact our head of development, trying to bribe him into giving away the plans.”

“Ballsy,” Leo says with a tinge of being impressed. “I still don’t understand why they’re so fucking determined to see you brought down. I mean, I know you’ve pissed them off enough...”

Matthew sighs this time. “I’m really starting to believe this is more than just wanting to get a hold of new technology,” he says exhaustedly. “It’s getting personal, especially with them brining Sam and Tyler into it. I don’t have a lot of weaknesses, but if something happened to one of them...” I imagine him shivering in horror at the very thought and I just want to go into the kitchen and hold him. “This whole situation is getting out of hand, Leo.”

“Well, we’ll sort it out. We always do. Nothing will happen to either of them.”

“Hope you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right!” Leo says with his trademark cheery tone. “When am I not right?”

I hear the sound of someone slapping someone’s shoulder and after that, the two men talk about inconsequential things—sports, weather, anything other than the apparent danger that surrounded all of us. I force myself to return to bed with Tom and try to sleep, even though it was the last thing on my mind.

Matthew is
worried, beyond worried. Apparently this entire thing is personal and I have to wonder what sparked it. He probably wouldn’t ever admit it, especially to me, but he’s scared. Not for himself, but for Tyler and me. I know it’s worse than he’s letting on and though my curiosity is trying to get the best of me, wanting to ask just how bad it is, I know I won’t want the answer.

-------------o-------------

Over the next couple days, we settle into Matthew’s home. We don’t see him often as he’s busying himself with both his work and this threat that looms over us. After the first twelve hours, I saw Tom starting to get restless. After six more, he started pacing. He tossed and turned beside me in bed, muttered under his breath, and glared at Matthew and Leo whenever one of them made an appearance. I’m getting to the point that, much as I love him and understand his frustration, I want to wrap my fingers around his neck and squeeze with all my strength.

On day three of our stay with Matthew, a distraction arrives over breakfast. Leo hands Tom the keys to Matthew’s boat and fishing gear, and tells him to go to town. For the first time in weeks, Tom’s eyes light up and I think he’s actually smiling. Of course Tyler wants to go along, which only leaves me in the house. Leo and Matthew have to head into the office for a couple hours, which Leo told me. I don’t know why, but I’m getting the impression that Matthew is avoiding me at all costs. And I have to admit: it hurts. A lot. Since our conversation on the plane, I haven’t had even a moment alone with him. Knowing him, it’s all calculated and planned. Maybe he doesn’t want to rock the boat with Tom. Maybe he’s just not interested anymore.

I block out all of this as I wander around the place I used to call home. Whatever room I’m in, memories fly back. I loved this place. Matthew let me leave my impression wherever I wanted. I can’t say there was really all that much I left behind, though I do spend quite a while standing in front of the fireplace where our enlarged wedding photo hangs in pride of place above it. Honestly, I can’t believe he kept it up after so long.

At some point after reading, wandering the immediate grounds, and checking if I can see whether I can find Tom and Tyler out on the boat—turns out I can’t—I end up in front of Matthew’s closed office door. I know damn well this is the last place I have any right to be and even opening the door would be an invasion of privacy. Behind this door is where Matthew Young does his brainstorming, comes up with prototypes, hashes out
deals. His office is his happy place. It’s where he goes when he’s upset or angry and throws himself into his work until he’s calm again.

The memory of the night
I left surfaces and I remember how I hadn’t seen him for nearly two days after telling him my decision. He locked himself in here and refused to surface, even as his wife and son walked out his front door. This is the thought that has me turning the doorknob and pushing open the door. I let it swing open slowly and stand on the threshold. Like the rest of the house, nothing in here has changed. His huge dark desk sits in front of a large window that overlooks the front of the house, the chair facing the door. On the left wall is a long couch below built-in bookshelves that are stuffed to capacity. On the right is a 500-gallon saltwater fish tank, again, built into the wall. I smile at it, recalling when he had this installed and how excited he’d been about it. He even let me pick out most of the fish and we spent hours that first night sitting across from it, naming the ones we could tell apart from the others. Even from here I can pick out Mr. Grey the black-and-white-striped Angelfish. He was always my favorite. Always had a way of dominating the others.

Feeling braver, I walk in further and let my eyes wander around some of the prototypes Matthew and his company have come up with over the years. There’s a remote control car that runs silently on solar power, has a tiny built-in camera, and can make itself smaller on its own to squeeze beneath doors and into tight corners. Theoretically it’s something to be used in hostage situations or something similar, though Matthew tended to use it to harass me. The number of times I saw that damn thing hiding behind the toilet while I was showering...

There is a pair of eyeglasses sitting innocently behind a glass case that I know are used as night vision goggles, infrared, GPS, and probably a hundred other things. This is the genius of Matthew’s imagination. The fact that he was able to put all that into a very regular pair of glasses amazes me.

Beside the glasses is an ink pen, a salt shaker, and a G.I. Joe action figure. I can only imagine what those things do. Last in line is what looks like a very tiny microchip resting on a small black, silk pillow. I can just make out a couple letters surrounding the edge when I feel a presence behind me. Immediately my body tenses and flushes. I’ve been caught.

Shit...

Turning around, I look tentatively at Matthew’s expression, uncertain whether he’ll be angry at my trespassing; instead, he looks amused. “Sorry,” I say quietly. “I just wandered in...”

“No worries,” he says softly, smiling. We stare at each other for several moments and before I’m aware of what’s happening, I feel my breathing catch and my body warm. His eyes close and when they open, they’re dark and full of something I really don’t want to identify. He catches my train of thought and juts out his chin behind me at the glass case. “That little chip has the power to control the world.” I look up at him skeptically, seeing him staring with pride at the tiny thing. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but in the right computer, it can launch every nuclear weapon in the world, power 1,000 home computer systems, shut down the power across half the US, and still have enough power to play several computer videogames without lag.”

“Very nice,” I say, truly impressed. “What about that one?” I point up at what looks to be a Zippo lighter.

He smirks. “Went through a James Bond/Austin Powers phase a couple years back.” He opens the case and reaches up to remove the lighter from its tiny stand, then turns around to hand it to me. “Walkie-talkie. Flip open the lid, hold it up to your mouth like you’re lighting a cigarette, flick the wheel, and it connects to its mate. Granted, you’ve got to have the foresight to keep a couple cigarettes on hand to maintain appearance, but they work pretty well.”

We spend the next half hour looking at his different inventions and listening to him explain each and every one with such pride and enthusiasm that I can’t stop smiling.

“What’s that one?” I ask him some time later. We’re sitting in armchairs in front of the aquarium watching Mr. Grey shove a clown fish away from his rock cave.

He follows my finger to remote control above the glass case. I know better than to assume it simply controls the television or stereo. The look on Matthew’s face confirms it’s something more complicated. “Nothing,” he says shortly, his eyes narrowed on the remote.

I raise my eyebrow. He hasn’t used that tone with me before and it’s a little disconcerting that he’s using it now. I drop my line of questioning and he relaxes significantly. It leaves me wondering what else he’s been working on and what it is that is attracting such a negative response. His company, Young Technologies, always has a few projects that are top secret, usually something to do with the military, and there have been several instances that he couldn’t discuss it with me. Still, I wouldn’t mind knowing what it is that Tom, Tyler, and I were forced out of our home.

“What’s the deal with you and Saunders?”

The question comes so suddenly, hesitantly, and quietly that I’m not even sure I hear him right. I glance at him, finding him watching me intently without any of his normal amusement or teasing. “What?” I ask, needing clarification.

He turns to me fully, sitting sideways in his chair. “You and Saunders,” he repeats. “I know you’re not married. How come? You can’
t tell me he’s not interested.”

I sigh heavily, turning back to the aquarium, fully aware of the pair of green eyes boring into my head as though he’s trying to read my mind. “He’s asked,” I respond, my voice barely louder than a whisper. “Last year, on my birthday. But I didn’t answer; I told him I needed to think about it.”
“It’s been a year,” he points out. “Have you sorted out your thoughts?”