“What about the other stuff? You’re not still looking into Los Deminos, are you? There’s not a threat, is there?”
“There’s no threat from Los Deminos. Not anymore. I’m taking care of that.” He hadn’t meant for the words to come out but couldn’t take them back now.
“What do you mean by ‘not anymore’? Was there a threat? How do you know it’s gone?”
“Don’t ask me that, Ben. Don’t ask me anything else.” To protect not just Tristan, but Ben as well.
“Tristan—”
“What the fuck are you talkin’ about, Tristan? What the fuck did you do?” Mateo’s voice cut off Ben’s.
Tristan sat up straight, turned his chair around and eyed Mateo as he stood in the doorway. “I’ll speak to you later,” he said before hanging up the phone, knowing that no matter what, he had to keep what he knew from the men he loved. Especially the one standing in front of him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Mateo
Mateo’s blood rushed so heavily in his ears, he could hardly hear anything else. His fingers hurt from squeezing his fists so tightly together. The familiar burn he always got in his gut incinerated him, but he ignored it. None of that mattered right now. “What the fuck do you know about Los Deminos? If there’s shit going down, I should know it. I can’t fucking protect you both if I don’t know!”
With that, Tristan shoved out of his chair. “I don’t need you to protect me! Christ, it’s already fucking killing you. It is not your job to do all the protecting anymore. I can do it. I can handle it.”
“Tell me you’re fuckin’ kidding me.” It wasn’t that he doubted Tristan in any way, but he didn’t know Javier the way Mateo did. He hadn’t had to do the things Mateo had, and he didn’t want Tristan to ever have to. “Don’t fuck around with him. That is my job. My responsibility.” It was because of Mateo’s past if Javier was in their lives at all. It would always be because of the mistakes Mateo made all those years ago.
Tristan flinched, though Mateo didn’t know why. “Don’t do this, Mateo. Don’t push it. There is no threat. That’s all you need to know. I have everything under control.”
Control? Him and that stupid fucking word. Didn’t Tristan understand that Mateo didn’t want that for him? He didn’t want Tristan to live with the things he did. He had enough darkness, enough pain, and any more would take him away from them. It would overtake Tristan, and that would fucking kill Josiah. It would kill Mateo. It would break them all.
“We’re not your madre. Don’t try and save us because you feel like you failed her. You didn’t. This is my shit, and I deserve to know what the fuck is goin’ on. You said there’s no threat anymore, that you’re takin’ care of it. What the fuck does that mean, Tristan? You don’t know shit about Javier. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”
He could have sworn Tristan’s eyes flared red at that. “And you do? If so you never would have stayed with him. You would have taken Josiah and left!”
Mateo closed his eyes, tried to get his breathing under control as pain rocked through him. Mateo had hurt Josiah. He’d left him. He’d stayed with Javier. He’d fucked up over and over with Josiah, and right now he was probably doing it with Tristan as well.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” Tristan stepped closer to him, reached out his hand and wrapped it around the back of Mateo’s neck to pull him closer, but Mateo stepped out of his hold.
“You’re right. I know I fucked up. I’ve always known that shit, but that doesn’t mean you have to do the same thing! It’s already on me, let it stay on me. Dios, you fuckin’ lost your shit over a goddamned book you stole as a kid, and you want to get involved with Javier without tellin’ me what the fuck is goin’ on?”
He knew he’d screwed up again when Tristan’s face went pale. When his fingers went to his wrist, because of Mateo. He was counting because of what Teo said. The same way he’d hurt Josiah, he was now hurting Tristan.
He hadn’t meant to bring it up. That moment had been between Josiah and Tristan. He hadn’t even meant to hear it, but he’d woken up, and didn’t want to interrupt them. Throwing it in Tristan’s face was definitely the wrong thing to do. “Fuck! I don’t know what the hell I’m doin’ here. I don’t wanna hurt you. This is my past. It’s my shit. Let me handle it. It’s not a game, Tristan. I need to know what the fuck is going on.”