Vincent's Betrayal

Chapter~25

Matteo

W H E N  I  R E F L E C T on my life, I always expected to end up here. Some kind of criminal, working under someone dark and mysterious. I love working for her she is my best friend, but damn she's a fucked up girl.

Gone through too much too young. She acts like she's forgotten all the hurt and trauma but I know better, she's far from emotionally okay. A little unhinged if you ask me. When she's angry she's like a hurricane.

She does little things that I find strange, like disappearing and taking little trips away alone. Comes back to base with at least ten slaughtered animals, sometimes deer, bears and even once a jaguar.

Loves her own space she does. Her independence is 'key to her sanity' as she puts it. From what I have observed about her she's tormented and lonely, but she'd never admit that because she would never want to let them win. The demons, the people who did her wrong.

I shift the car's gear stick and leave one hand on the wheel while driving back through auburn creek. It's a small town, with not too much chaos around, except when we come through.

Any blood I shed is necessary, I'm a criminal but I only do things for the greater good. That guy back there, Mr Pinky... he's something else. Not just a gang leader and corrupt businessman with a fancy three-piece suit. He is a sick individual, more bizarre than my boss.

The guy I called back there Benson, nicknamed Benny, deals with the clean-up of our crime scenes. He leaves no loose threads and that's what we like. It's what she likes. He's the best of the best.

Not before long, I'm back at the cabin we were renting out for the night. I say cabin it's more like a chalet. The biggest and best is her style. Go big or go fucking home she always says.

I park the car under the sheltered open garage area, hopping out it and shutting the door firmly behind me. I take the side door next to where I parked to enter the house.

I walk up a set of red carpet-covered stairs and step into the hallway. The room at the end of the hall is where she stays and does her business. Paperwork and phone calls. No matter where we go she has to have her paperwork from home.

The house is so quiet I can only hear my footsteps which are heavy with my combat boots. I make it to the door and place my ear against it to sus out any kind of noise. Nothing.

I put my hand on the golden sphere knob and swing open the door, taking a step inside. Before I know it chaos has broken loose.

A thick phone book has just come flying across the room and whacked me right in the face, making me fall back in shock and pain "Maldito Infierno!"

"YOU. WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING?" a voice screams from across the room.

"Ah, Jesus what did I do?" I look up to see a very angry woman.

"You took my fucking car, I did not say you could take my mustang. What are you playing at Matteo?!"

I pick myself up off the floor and chuckle slightly while dabbing at my bloody lip. I wipe it away with the back of my hand, no doubt smearing it across my cheek "Sorry bossy boots I didn't think you would mind"

I look up at her as she stands behind the desk looking as pissed as ever. Her grey eyes are wide, her jaw clenched. She isn't grinding her teeth however so I always take that as a good sign.

"Why would I not mind? It's my fucking car don't you have your own?" She asks me.

"Si, the same one actually. In green" I give a toothy grin. I love winding her up.

She sighs and bows her head. I notice her shoulders shaking and a little snort sound comes from her. She raises her head and laughs while holding her hand to her belly.

"You should have seen your face after I hit you with that phone book. Priceless"

"You mean you weren't actually mad?"

"Well I was at first, but I then calmed down and thought it would be funny to scare you" She stops laughing but smirks and makes weird faces trying to hold the laughter in.

I chuckle "Cheeky"

Her eyes meet mine and for a second everything is on pause. Until we both burst out laughing and go into a fit of giggles.

I love seeing her laugh, or smile or pretend not to smile. It's a rare sight to see, Hadley's happiness. She can be her own worst enemy and lets her demons follow her. A troubled soul.

But moments like this when I see my best friend have that look of brightness and wholesomeness, I too feel happy and at ease.

"How did it go with the little pink midget?" She asks still smiling.

"He's dead, I got our weapons and the cocaine. There's a lot of it" I tell her.

She coughs a little and wipes her nose with her index finger "Did you bring some?"

Her grey eyes look up at me with a mischievous tone. Her playful side was out tonight, and I was not about to change or ruin that.

"Of course godfather"

Her eyes roll "god I hate when you guys call me that. Who even came up with that?"

"Arlo" I chuckle.

Hadley walks over to a wooden chest of drawers who's height was level to her own. I whisky tumbler and a bottle of Macallan Lalique.

"I reckon we have a little party. To celebrate eliminating that scum" her teeth grit together and her jaw clenches.

She pours a single whisky and takes a swig after rolling the glass in her hand, stirring the drink.
She slowly walks over to me and puts the glass to my lips.

I take the glass gently from her and swig back a fair mouthful of the stuff. It was strong but not strong enough to make my cheeks sink into my face and my eyes to squint in an uncomfortable manor. I'd had the stuff too often for that.

She takes the tumbler back and knocks back the rest of the glass while moving back to her original position behind the desk.

I pull out the seat in front of her desk and harshly slump myself into it. Letting my arms rest on my legs lazily.

Hadley also sits down in her seat, clutching the glass and bottle of whisky.

"How are you doing today?"

Her head snaps in my direction "I'm fine" she shrugs her shoulders.

I don't believe that but I like the mood she's in right now, Hadley is never okay she just about manages to keep her head above water, that's how she survives.

"Good, I'm glad to hear that" my regular American accent peaks through.

My accent switches up a lot. Having a Colombian mother and American father, and growing up in America means my pronunciation dramatically changes.

Hadley begins to pour another drink and takes a drink while staring off into space. I wonder what she thinks about when she does this.

Does she think about them? Him?

I know her story, but I don't know much about her so called mate. If there was one person who was a bigger tender spot than her family, it was Vincent Ford.

His name gives her shivers. Is it the good kind? Is it the bad kind? The disgusted kind? The loving kind?

I just don't know...

~🌙~