Undercover Badge; Next Generation

Chapter twenty

CHAPTER TWENTY

Gabbe got home ten minutes later, still in scrubs and looking haggard.

“She always looks like what when they’re training the interns. They get on her last nerves.” Alex quietly explained to me as she vanished into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of water and a damp cloth she held to the back of her neck under the tail of the French braid she wore. She collapsed into the couch across from me. Alex went to sit next to her.

“So, why am I here?” I snapped the words at Matthew, still angry at him. But I was also trying to keep my voice quiet- I didn’t want his parents hearing me speak to him that way. They did anyway.

“We need to discuss how we’re going to move forward.” Alex sat up, pushing his fingers through his gingery red hair, frustration evident. It made me shrink into myself. I caused that stress in his expression. “We need to get into the auction.”

Matthew began to pace. “I’ve got a team up in Chicago.” he said. Though for some strange reason, he sounded reluctant to say it. And even more strangely, both his parents looked up and looked pretty aggravated themselves.

“Matthew Dyllan Michael Alexandre Cavalier!” Gabbe yelled, stomping a foot and slamming her bottle down onto the coffee table. “...Dyllan Michael Alexandre?” I mimicked, my tone flush with... well an awed surprize and admittedly some shock. The rediculousness played its part in my reaction.

“Gabbe’s family’s got some Portuguese blood. They play a bit fast and loose with the word “acceptable” when it comes to the amount of names their kids have.” Alex explained to me.

Gabbe backhanded him in the gut.

“A team, Matthew?” she paused, eyes narrowing. “You’ve been working, haven’t you!? You told us you were out of it. You promised us you were staying safe.” She yelled.

“Mom.” he sounded exasperated and rubbed his eyes with one hand not unlike his father. “Firefighting puts me in the same amount of danger-”

“But my main concern with it doesn’t have to be jail time, Matthew!” she snapped.

He snorted. “Is jail time worse than death in a building going down like a funeral pyre? Besides, that’s only if I get caught. I’m too good for that.”

“Don’t be arrogant.” both his mother and I snapped at the same time. She met my eyes and a small, weary smile tilted at the corner of her mouth. It reminded me of Matthew- when he wasn’t being an ass-hat.

He scowled deeply, forehead scrunching, folding his arms so those admittedly gloriously muscular arms flexed, his eyes darting suspiciously between his mother and I. Her eyes lit with amusement and Alex out-right guffawed.

“What does he mean by a team?” I asked a few seconds later. Matthew answered for himself.
“A small group of like-minded people with high-quality skills working toward a common goal.” the words sounded rehearsed, coming out in a way that made it sound like a practiced pitch in his dark voice. “We work in the private security sector.”

I’d heard something like that before- watched enough movies to recognize it. “So, like a mer… uh... canary?”
Matthew snorted at the way I said the word. “What’s that, a little yellow bird with an A.K?” He chuckled at his own joke. I didn’t get it.

“What would you know about mercenaries, anyway? You're nothing like her.” His voice was so condescending it made the back of my brain begin to throb and my left eye twitch, and it seemed this time it was an insult again to not be Her.

“That’s what it sounds like. A bunch of big men with big egos and big guns and little sense running around shooting things and calling themselves a team like little boys playing war.” I hissed.