Page 24

I sat beside Matty, close enough that our shoulders brushed. He leaned into me slightly, as if drawing strength from my presence. The gesture was subtle but unmistakable, and I felt that strange protective instinct flare again.
"Sleep okay?" Cruise asked, his eyes moving between us with barely concealed curiosity.
"Fine," I answered shortly, not wanting to discuss our sleeping arrangements in front of everyone.
Daisy set a steaming mug in front of Matty. "Drink this first. All of it."
Matty eyed the murky liquid suspiciously. "What is it?"
"Better not to ask," Ellie advised with a grin. "But it works."
With a grimace, Matty lifted the mug to his lips and took a cautious sip. His face contorted in disgust, but he continued drinking under Daisy's watchful eye.
"Good boy," Daisy praised when he finished, taking the empty mug and replacing it with a glass of water. "Now hydrate while I finish cooking."
The phrase "good boy" made Matty's cheeks flush, but he obediently sipped the water. I found myself watching him, noting how his hands had steadied somewhat, how the tension in his shoulders had eased.
"So," Cruise said, sliding into the chair across from us. "Jono's calling church at noon."
I nodded, understanding what he wasn't saying. We needed to figure out how to protect Matty and deal with Coombes. "I'll be there."
Matty looked at me in confusion. "You're going to church?"
I smiled. "A meeting of our main members. In biker circles it's referred to as "church."
"In the meantime," Cruise continued, "We've got something for you to look at." He glanced at Matty, then back to me. I pressed a kiss on Matty's head.
"Be right back." I shot a look at Daisy, and she nodded. Then I followed Cruise into the office. Digger was already in there.
Digger's laptop was open, displaying a series of documents and photographs. He nodded in greeting, his usually jovial expression serious.
"What've you got?" I asked, closing the door behind me.
"Financial records," Digger said, turning the laptop so I could see better. "And they're not pretty."
I leaned over his shoulder, scanning the spreadsheets and bank statements. "Talk to me."
"Harold Coombes has been systematically draining Matty's trust fund for the last three years after he made some particularly bad investments and needed Matty's to shore his own up," Digger explained, pointing to various transactions. "Technically legal, because he's the trustee, but ethically? Sketchy as hell. He's been moving money into dummy corporations, all kinds of shit."
"How much?" I asked, my jaw tightening.
"Based on what I can piece together, he's siphoned off at least four million in the past three years," Digger said grimly. "And that's just what I can track."
Cruise let out a low whistle. "No wonder he's desperate to keep Matty from getting married."
"There's more," Digger continued, clicking on another document. "Remember that James Degrassi guy Matty mentioned? I found him."
A photograph appeared on the screen—a handsome man in his forties with cold eyes and an arrogant smile. My stomach turned as I remembered Matty's panic attack at the mere mention of his name.
"He's got a reputation in certain circles," Digger said carefully. "And not a good one. Been banned from three BDSM clubs in Atlanta for crossing lines. There are rumors about him—nothing that's stuck legally, but enough smoke to suggest a serious fire."
"Coombes hired him, didn't he?" I said, the pieces falling into place. "To marry Matty, and then what? Control him? Abuse him?"
Digger nodded grimly. "Found emails between them. Coombes promised Degrassi a cut of the trust if he married Matty and kept him 'in line.' Whatever that means."
"Jesus Christ," Cruise muttered.
My hands clenched into fists, rage building in my chest. "And Carrington? The first guy?"