Mason

by Delores Fossen

  That thought stopped him cold.

  Since when did he react based on someone else’s feelings, someone who wasn’t a sibling?

  Apparently now.

  Because Mason maneuvered himself in front of her. In front of Boone, too, and he glared at his younger brothers—Dade included—who had already joined the battle march with the others toward the reception counter.

  “I want you to leave now!” Gage punctuated that by jabbing his index finger at Boone.

  “He’ll leave when this investigation is over,” Mason let them all know. Grayson gave a hesitant but concurring nod. “Abbie’s in danger. Hell, we all are. And Boone stays put until I throw at least one dirtbag in jail for taking shots at us.”

  That took a little of the fighting fire out of Gage’s eyes. Unlike Nate, this brother was not the calm and sensible one.

  “Lynette said we could all be in danger,” Gage tossed out there.

  “We are,” Mason verified. “Ford might have left orders to have us all killed, and Abbie might have gotten caught in the cross fire.” Or she could be the reason for the cross fire, but Mason kept that to himself. This little family reunion was already complicated enough.

  “I left Darcy and the kids with two of my detectives,” Nate explained. “And I sent two more to stay with Lynette at the newspaper office where she’s working today.”

  Darcy was Nate’s wife and the assistant district attorney, and yeah, it didn’t surprise Mason that Nate would think of them at a time like this. The Rylands were often a fiery lot, but they put their families first.

  Unlike Boone.

  The afterthought was still automatic, but Mason knew he was going to have to give it some thinking time. Maybe he could combine it with a cold beer and another kissing session with Abbie. Kissing her confused the heck out of things, but heaven help him, it felt good.

  “Why did you come back?” Nate asked, his attention fastened on Boone. There was cool anger in his voice, but there was no mistaking the fact that it was anger.

  Boone tipped his head to the bullet-damaged safety glass in the door. “Because of that. Because you’re right about all of you being in danger.” He shook his head, dipped his gaze. “I tried to stop this from happening.”

  His words did nothing to soothe Gage. He came closer, with Kade right on his heels. No surprise that the two were presenting a united front. Gage and Kade were the youngest of the pack and were just as much friends as they were brothers.

  “Grayson called,” Gage said. No coolness in his voice. “He explained what’s happening.”

  “Ford could be behind the attack,” Mason verified. He didn’t owe Boone anything, but he wanted to clarify to his hotheaded brother that the person responsible for this mess wasn’t in the room but rather in the grave.

  “Ford,” Gage repeated with even more venom. Yeah, his late father-in-law wasn’t exactly a do-gooder. “That doesn’t mean he should be here.” Another finger jab at Boone. “He could have told us this over the phone.”

  Boone nodded. “I could have, but I wanted to see my sons.”

  Oh, man. That was not the right thing to say, and it started an explosion of profanity and old-wound accusations from Dade, Gage and Kade. Mason wasn’t much for a verbal brawl, especially when he looked at Abbie. She had her hands up, already posturing herself to protect Boone. But Mason noticed something else.

  She was blinking back tears.

  This was ripping her apart as much as it was his brothers.

  “Stop,” Mason said. He didn’t shout. Didn’t have to. For years he’d worked on his ice-man, badass facade, and times like this, it came in handy.

  Everybody stopped. They stared at him. Waiting, no doubt, for some words of wisdom to make this all better. Or maybe waiting for him to toss Boone out on his ear. But wise words were Grayson’s department. The tossing? Best left for Gage or Dade. Mason did what he did best. He was putting an end to this now.

  “You can settle your differences with Boone later. Right now, we focus on keeping us all alive. Got that?”

  They weren’t pleased about it, but no brother objected. Grayson even made a sound of agreement and turned to Kade. “What about Bree and the twins? Where are they?”

  Mason cursed himself for not already thinking of Kade’s wife and babies. Bree was a deputy sheriff, but that didn’t mean he wanted her trying to fend off an assassin by herself.

  “They’re okay,” Kade assured him. “Bree took the twins and drove to Kayla’s estate in San Antonio. Kayla has a bodyguard with them.”

  Good. That meant Kayla, Dade’s wife, was safe, as well. Plus, the estate was more like a fortress, and they’d used it before when family members needed protection.

  So that left Abbie.

  Not family, exactly, but she was still in danger and standing in front of a glass door and window where a hired gun could spot her and take aim. Ace might be out of commission, but that didn’t mean Ford and/or Ferguson hadn’t arranged for backup.

  “I’m taking Abbie upstairs to the apartment,” Mason let the others know. “She can stay there while I make some calls, check on Ace’s condition, and then I’ll take her back to the ranch.”

  As expected, that earned him a few raised eyebrows, and in return Mason’s scowl deepened. He didn’t bother to remind them about bullets going through glass or the tenacity of the men they were dealing with. He just took Abbie’s arm and got moving.

  “The apartment?” Abbie questioned, looking back at the others.

  “A glorified flop room,” Mason clarified. He got her past his brothers and down the hall to the back stairs. “You can get some rest there, and I’ll have food brought up.”

  She didn’t argue, which told him just how exhausted she was. He needed to make those calls fast and make sure the ranch was as secure as it could be before he drove her back out there.

  They went up the stairs, and Mason threw open the door. Yeah, definitely a flop room, but once it had been the jail and storage area. Now, it was just one big room with a bed, sitting area, kitchenette and bathroom.

  “Get some rest.” He glanced at the bed and turned to get out of there fast. Having Abbie with him and in the vicinity of a bed wasn’t a good idea.

  But Abbie didn’t let him leave. She stepped in front of him. “Thank you.”

  Mason didn’t ask for any clarification because it would keep him there longer, but Abbie still didn’t let him leave. She touched the seam on the sleeve of his black T-shirt and then started to run her fingers over it. Not touching him but still touching.

  “Will you always hate me because of Boone?” she asked.

  The question took him aback, not because he hadn’t thought about it, but because Mason hadn’t expected Abbie to come right out and ask.

  “No, but I’ll always want to hate you.” He cursed, shook his head. “That’s a lie. I don’t want to hate you at all. I want to kiss you hard and long. And more than that, I want you in my bed.”

  She didn’t back away, didn’t stop touching his shirt. But she did dodge his gaze.

  “This is the point where you want to run in the opposite direction,” he suggested.

  “I don’t want to run.” Now she looked up at him. “I want to be in your bed.”

  Mason cursed some more, but the profanity didn’t stop the heat from just sliding hot and deep into him. Just the way he wanted to slide right into her.

  “And then what?” he asked.

  She gave a quick, awkward shrug. Then fought a smile. “We have sex?”

  “Smart-ass,” he mumbled.

  But there was no anger in it. Just frustration that the bed thing couldn’t happen right now. Or that it would happen despite the bad consequences. Disgusted with her, himself and this body heat, he slipped his arm around her waist and eased her to him.

  That didn’t help with the heat either.

  “I don’t usually talk this much about having sex,” he snarled. “I just more or less do it.”

&nb
sp; She smiled again and, man, it was incredible. Abbie was a knockout, and no part of him was going to let him forget it.

  “I’ve thrown you off your game,” she said, her breath making the words a whisper.

  “No game,” he admitted. “And that’s part of the problem. It’d be easier if this could be just a one-night stand. I’m good at those.”

  “I’ll bet you are.” Her breath went even thinner, and she slipped her gaze down his chest and to the front of his Wranglers.

  Mason couldn’t help it. He laughed. Okay, not a laugh exactly, but it was as close as he got.

  He stared at her, lifted his hand to her mouth and brushed the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. She made a shivery sound, and her eyelids fluttered closed.

  His body clenched.

  Begged.

  Then started to ache.

  “You’re overthinking this,” Abbie said, melting against him until her face was cushioned right in the crook of his neck.

  “Maybe you’re right.” He wanted her to be right. “You come to my bed tonight, and we can overthink it later.” When he’d taken her hard, fast and deep.

  The thought kept repeating in his head, and that was probably why he didn’t hear the footsteps until they were practically right on Abbie and him. Mason swung in the direction of the doorway, automatically reaching for his gun. But it wasn’t the threat that his body had prepared him for. It was just Gage. With a funny look on his face.

  Mason huffed. Gage had no doubt noticed the close contact between Abbie and him, and Mason was sure he’d get an earful about it later. Heck, an earful might actually do him some good.

  Might.

  “What?” Mason snarled because Gage wouldn’t have expected any other tone from him.

  Gage hitched his thumb to the stairs. “Lynette’s on the phone. And I think you’ll want to hear what she has to say.” Gage paused, his gaze shifting to Abbie. “She found something about you in her father’s files.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Abbie hated being the topic of conversation, especially when it was six lawmen doing the conversing about the memo that Lynette had found.

  The memo was actually a handwritten request from Ford to the P.I. agency he used to find the identity of the “kid” living with Boone Ryland in Mesa, Texas.

  That kid was Abbie.

  The timing and place left no doubt about it, and it coincided with Ford’s visit to tell Boone about his wife’s suicide.

  Now the trick would be to find something else that would prove that Ford had not only learned her identity but that he’d reported it and her location to Ferguson.

  All six Ryland brothers were at the massive wood table in the family-style kitchen at the ranch with stacks of files, papers, laptops and the remainder of brisket dinner that had been served by Bessie, the cook.

  “You didn’t eat enough,” Bessie whispered to Abbie.

  No, she hadn’t, but her stomach was still churning and had been since Lynette’s call earlier that day. It also didn’t help that Mason and the others had devoted the entire afternoon to figuring out what Lynette had found in her father’s files.

  “It’s okay,” Lynette whispered to Abbie, and gave her a sympathetic look. “They’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  Because Lynette had said that for the past couple of hours, Abbie had her doubts. Still, the lawmen were digging through the stacks of files that Lynette had brought over.

  While she and Lynette helped Bessie with the dishes, Abbie glanced at Mason, something she’d been doing a lot. Each time his attention had been fastened to the files, but for this latest round, her glance met his. Mason didn’t say a word, just made a slight shift in his expression, seemingly asking if she was all right.

  Abbie settled for a nod.

  Lynette made a hmm-ing sound that snagged Abbie’s attention. Mason’s sister-in-law hadn’t missed the exchange, and judging from her slight smile, she hadn’t missed the heat between her and Mason.

  “Is it serious?” Lynette whispered.

  “No, it’s just this crazy attraction.” But why had she admitted that to a woman she hardly knew? And why did it feel like a lie? Yes, the attraction was there. No doubt about it. However, Abbie was afraid this was going to lead to a massive broken heart for her.

  “Gage and the others won’t like it,” Lynette said, still keeping her voice low. “Not at first anyway. But they’ll get over it.”

  “Will they?” Again, she didn’t think before she spoke, but Abbie wasn’t surprised to realize that she really wanted to know the answer.

  Lynette patted her arm, smiled softly. “They will.”

  Abbie had known the woman for only a few hours, but she already liked her. And hoped Lynette was right. Of course, the minute that the danger was over, Mason might insist that she leave before he and his brothers had a chance to get over it.

  Grayson’s phone rang, the sound shooting through the rumble of conversation, and he put the call on speaker after glancing at the screen.

  “Dr. Mickelson?” Grayson said.

  Abbie automatically held her breath because this was no doubt an update about Ace Chapman.

  “No change in Chapman’s condition,” the doctor said. “He hasn’t regained consciousness since the surgery.”

  Mason groaned. Abbie mentally did the same. They needed him to wake up so he could tell them who had hired him.

  “It’s not good,” Dr. Mickelson continued. “And neither are the rest of his vital signs. I think you have to brace yourself for the likelihood that he’s not going to wake up.”

  They’d already braced themselves for that, but Abbie couldn’t give up hope.

  Grayson thanked the doctor, ended the call and looked around the table. “So what do we have?” he tossed out there.

  “The memo Lynette found, of course,” Gage volunteered. “And confirmation that Ford paid the P.I. agency for eleven hours of work to identify the minor child.”

  “The eleven hours is proof they did just that,” Mason stated. He looked at her. “Because if they hadn’t, the P.I.s would have been on the assignment a lot longer.”

  Yes, she hadn’t considered that. So Ford had learned who she was.

  “Two days after the P.I.s were paid, there was another attempt to kill Abbie,” Mason continued. “There’s no proof that Ferguson was behind that, but…”

  “There’s proof,” Abbie interrupted. “Ferguson left some kind of message on our answering machine.”

  “Message?” Gage and Mason questioned in unison.

  Abbie shook her head. “Boone erased it. I heard him listening to it and I recognized Ferguson’s voice. That afternoon as Boone and I were trying to leave, someone tried to kill me.”

  The brothers exchanged uneasy glances. “Why would Boone erase it?” Mason asked.

  But Abbie had to shake her head again. “Boone must have realized there was a threat because he was trying to get me out of there fast.” Then she paused. “But why would Ferguson leave a threat that would implicate him in another attempt to kill me?”

  The question didn’t earn her any nods or answers, but it did create some scowls and under-the-breath mumbles. Probably because this meant one of them was going to have to have a conversation with Boone. He was still in town at the hotel near the sheriff’s office, but they no doubt wanted to avoid him.

  “I can call him now and ask him about the message,” Abbie let them know.

  “No,” Grayson insisted. But he didn’t say anything else and that uncomfortable silence returned.

  “The question should be asked during an interview,” Mason finally said. “If you alert him that we know about the erased message, then it might give him time to come up with an answer.”

  Abbie blinked. “An answer that isn’t the truth,” she concluded. Now she was the one to groan.

  Mason stood, sliding the papers he’d held back onto the table. “It wouldn’t be the first time Boone has lied. And I know you think highly of him�
��”

  “And I know you don’t,” Abbie interrupted. It took her a moment to get control of her voice. “Boone wouldn’t lie about something like this, about something that could affect our safety.”

  None of them agreed with her. The best she got was a so-so shrug from Bessie. The coldest response was from Mason, and that’s when it hit her. Lynette had been wrong. The Rylands were never going to get past this.

  Never.

  That little fantasy she’d been weaving in her head about Mason turned to dust. It felt as if her legs had, too.

  “I think I’ll turn in for the night,” Abbie managed to say around the lump in her throat.

  It was way too early for bed, but she figured none of them would mention that. They didn’t. So Abbie got out of there as fast as she could. She mumbled a thanks to Bessie for the dinner and hurried up the stairs to the guest room where she’d slept the night before.

  Abbie made a beeline for the bathroom and the shower, and she stripped off her shoes, shirt and pants. Tossed them on the floor. Just as Mason threw open the door.

  He froze.

  So did Abbie.

  And she followed his gaze as it slid down her body. First to the silver concho pendant that must have riled every bone in his body. Then to her bra and panties.

  No riled look for those.

  Heat sizzled in those cool gray eyes.

  “I stormed out of the kitchen,” she reminded him. Abbie picked up the shirt and held it in front of her like a shield. “I figured you’d let me stew awhile.”

  He flexed his eyebrows, eased the door shut and leaned back against it. “If I’d let you stew much longer, I would have found you naked.”

  True. And the possibilities of that left her a little embarrassed—and aroused.

  “Boone won’t lie about the message he erased,” she restated, just to get that out of the way.

  He nodded, made a sound of agreement that came from deep within his throat. A husky male rumbling that shook her body and blood.

  Abbie tried to hang on to the anger, she really tried, but it was hard to do while standing there in her borrowed ill-fitting underwear. And with Mason in the room. Especially with Mason. Every riled bone in her own body was attracted to him.