by T. M. Cromer
“Once I have Jacob, we’ll run for the car and phone the police. So you’ll only have about seven minutes to get to her from the time you rescue Jacob. Mason should have the gun.”
“You think he is the clearer headed one of the two of us?” Zack asked, apparently shocked she would think so.
“In this case he is. Otherwise, I would say you most definitely are.”
“Thanks for the show of support,” Mason snarked. Sheesh, you’d think he walked around beating his fists on his chest the way everyone spoke about him.
“Hey, you’re the firm believer in people telling it like it is,” she said with a hint of spite in her tone and expression.
“Where did you learn tactical planning?” Zack promptly changed the subject.
Probably afraid Mason would fall back on his baser impulses and do something dastardly.
“I’ve helped Erica plot a few novels.”
Her cheeky grin made Zack laugh. He dropped a quick kiss on her lips.
“Hey!” Mason didn’t care for how quick his brothers were to touch his girlfriend. Girlfriend? Shit. He was in trouble. First breaking Dane’s nose, then getting his feathers ruffled because Zack gave her a friendly kiss, and now mentally claiming her for his own? What the hell was wrong with him?
“Snooze you lose, pal,” Zack quipped.
“Whatever. Let’s get going. We only have a half hour before she calls again. It might take us that long to get there. If she leaves in the meantime, we’re screwed.”
Mason led the way to the SUV, trying to regroup and shrug off his revelations.
By the time they arrived on the road behind the house in Wisteria Estates, Zack still had ten minutes left before Christie was due to ring him. The two men carefully walked the wooded lot they’d discussed earlier.
The lot was wider than it was deep. Zack decided that could work in their favor. Mason went back for Shonda.
As they were heading back, he heard his brother yell, “No!” Zack gave them the universal “wait” signal. “What I mean to say is, I don’t want anyone to die. She’d planned to go to Florida today. She was leaving me. Wasn’t that what you wanted? Can’t you just let her go? What do I have to do to get you to let them both go unharmed?”
Christie said something, triggering the terrified expression that crossed Zack’s face. Fear clutched Mason’s gut in a tight fist. That crazy bitch was putting his brother through hell. He intended to help end her reign of terror. End her if need be.
“What are you talking about?” Zack asked.
Mason, unable to hear the conversation playing out, stayed focused on him, frozen in place next to Shonda. Their fingers interwoven, locking them together. He liked to think they drew comfort from one another. In his mind, the “what if” of how would he feel in Zack’s position replayed. What would he do if Shonda was in Erica’s place? Go insane most likely.
Christie disconnected.
“She knows we’re here.” Zack was helpless and frustrated because, once again, she’d managed to best them.
“How could she…” Mason trailed off and studied the tops of the trees. Granted, even though the lot was heavily wooded, it was winter and didn’t allow the best concealment if one was studying the tree line. But he doubted Christie could have spotted them at this distance. They had to have missed something. He dropped Shonda’s hand and retraced his steps, checking each tree carefully for a camouflaged lens.
“There.”
“What is it?” Zack asked.
“A camera,” he replied in disgusted. “How the hell did we not allow for her to have set up security measures?”
“She wants us to step into the backyard. There’s no guarantee she won’t pull something or shoot us where we stand,” Zack sighed heavily as they hiked closer to the property border. “I can’t ask you to take the risk.”
In that moment, an explosion rocked the ground and debris landed mere feet from where they gathered, dumbfounded.
“No!” Zack screamed as he dashed toward the house.
Mason grabbed his brother when he would have flung himself into the flames. The two of them crashed to the ground. Years as a protective older brother made him instinctively secure his arms around Zack’s head and shoulders. His brother was like a wild man, clawing and fighting to be free. But Mason was unwilling to let him endanger himself on a lost cause.
“Jacob!” Zack sobbed.
Silent tears streamed down Mason’s face as he rocked his brother in their mutual grief.
As he answered the lead detective’s questions, Mason watched Zack from the corner of his eye. There he sat, in the back of the rescue vehicle, being treated for the minor cuts and burns he’d received. Shell-shocked, Zack was unable to answer any of the questions the police put to him.
When Zack headed toward the body bags, Mason noted Bucky try to dissuade him from unzipping the closest one.
“Excuse me.” He left Shonda and the officer they were talking to so he could help redirect Zack away from his target. “Zack, let Dane take you home. I’ll see to everything here.”
He breathed a sigh of relief as Zack climbed into Dane’s black Enclave. Once his sibling was out of ear shot, he turned the full force of his rage on Bucky.
“You find her. I don’t care what you have to do, or who you have to do it to, but you find her.” They all knew he referred to Christie.
“Don’t you think we’ve been trying?” Bucky fired back.
“Not hard enough!” he shouted with a gesture toward the bags. “Not fucking hard enough! My n-nephew…” He strove not to break down a second time. “My nephew lies there. Proof of the incompetence of your department. She’ll come after Zack next. She isn’t done messing with his head. If anything happens to him…”
The threat was implied. Even Mason wasn’t reckless enough to verbalize how he wanted to tear them apart for allowing things to go this far. He feared he would lose his ever-loving mind if Christie hurt or killed Zack.
Hours passed before Mason was able to take Shonda home. He admired the way she’d stood beside him, uncomplaining, trying to provide details and insight to the officers. Finally, when she was practically swaying on her feet, he’d called a halt to the fourth round of questioning. Enough was enough. Had the PD really expected their answers to change?
He pulled up into the parking lot of her apartment complex and cut the engine. They both sat and stared at the walkway to her building, empty of all emotion. Minutes ticked by before either found the energy to move.
“Come on, I’ll see you inside.”
“You don’t have to,” she said softly.
“I do,” he argued equally as soft, shifting to gaze into her devastated green eyes. “For my own peace of mind, I do.”
A slight nod was her acceptance. Once they were out of the SUV, Mason reached for her hand, gripping it tightly in his own. They held hands up the three flights of stairs until they stood before her door.
“I’ll go in and check everything out. You wait here at the entrance. Keep your phone in hand.”
“Do you really think Christie would be in my apartment?” Shonda asked. A skeptical note crept into her words.
“I don’t know what to think. Added to your mugging last week and your car being blown up prior to that, along with your mother’s house being set ablaze, and I have to confess to being a little paranoid about your safety.”
“Good point. I’ll wait.”
Before too long he was back to announce the all clear.
“Be sure to reset your alarm,” he reminded her, voice stern.
“I’m not a child, Mason,” she snapped, tired and distraught from the loss of her friend.
Stopping the grin was impossible. She was beautiful, even in her anger. “I, more than anyone, know that, love.” He hauled her close and inhaled her sent. “I’m sorry about Erica, Shonda. I know she was like a sister to you.”
“I can’t believe she’s gone,” she choked out. “We never went a day with
out talking. To think that she… And poor Jacob. I don’t know how you are handling this right now.”
She bent double, and sobs wracked her body. They ended up on the floor, Shonda cradled in his arms. It seemed as if hours had passed. Every few minutes, between her tears and sniffles she would tell another story of their girlhood exploits. She recapped their lives, recounting many humorous and poignant moments. Mason felt the dampness on his own cheeks. Two people he cared about had lost the person they loved most. He remembered what that felt like. When he was eighteen and learned of his girlfriend’s death, he’d been wrecked.
He and Melanie had only dated for six months prior to the car accident that took her life. Looking back, it seemed as if it were another lifetime—as if the tragedy had happened to someone else. So why did he continue to allow the past to dictate his future? No answers would come. Yet gambling with his heart again wasn’t an option. Look how it had turned out for his brother.
As he held the drowsy woman in his arms, Mason decided to make some changes. To make a clean break. To let her know, without a doubt, she was right to end it. There would be no more coming back for one more round of hot, steamy sex. It didn’t matter sex with Shonda was the best he’d ever experienced. The time to walk away was now. Too much longer and his ability to end things would be compromised.
Having determined that, Mason hefted her in his arms and strode to her bedroom. His guilty pleasure was undressing her and looking his fill. If he caressed her face and neck softly, no one was to know because she was sleeping, and he wasn’t going to admit to being sentimental.
Her murmur of protest when he pulled away tugged at his heart. A quick kiss on the forehead, and he shifted to leave.
“Mason?”
Her sleepy inquiry almost had him turning back. Almost had him saying to hell with the past. He couldn’t stand to look at her. To do so would destroy his resolve.
“Yeah?”
“Will you stay the night?” Her soft voice and hopeful question nearly unmanned him.
“No. I need to see how Zack is holding up.” Only a half lie, he told himself.
“Oh, okay.”
Her instant understanding was another wound to his soul. How could one woman be so forgiving? Didn’t he humiliate her enough at the coffee kiosk today? God, was that only today? It seemed like a million years ago.
“Shonda—”
She sighed wearily. “Don’t say it. Not tonight. Please.”
“How do you know what I was going to say?” he asked, curious despite himself.
“It doesn’t take a genius. The goodbye is in your tone.” A hiccup in her last word indicated she was fighting to be strong.
Still, he didn’t turn. He was almost afraid to witness her pain.
“Goodbye, Mason.”
The finality in her voice was the one thing that had him spinning around. Too late. She’d already presented her back to him, closing off.
“Shonda—”
“If you’ll lock the door on your way out, I’d appreciate it.”
“I can stay,” he found himself offering.
“No, thank you. I’m not a fan of pity sex. Isn’t it past time you left? I’m sure you’re practically crawling out of your skin to be free. So please, just get the hell out already.”
He reeled back in shock. While he’d only known her for a little over a month, he’d never heard her say something so cold or ugly.
* * *
Shonda was forced to wonder why he was lingering. If he didn’t leave asap, she’d lose it in front of him—worse than she already had. That breakdown she could justify. Who wouldn’t cry for a dead friend? But soon she would be a mess because she loved him, Mason, the King of the Casual Affair. A man who didn’t, and could never, return her feelings.
Holding her breath, she counted the seconds until she heard him head out of the room. She heaved a broken sigh mixed full of disappointment and heartache. She’d survive this. There was no other choice.
Unable not to, she gave in to her pain a second time. The biggest sobs were for Erica with a few self-pitying ones thrown in for herself. Her best friend in the world, the woman who knew her best and maybe the one person who truly loved Shonda for herself, was gone. How was she expected to deal with the loss? Minus the St. Thomas trip, there wasn’t a day the two of them hadn’t spoken or messaged each other.
Abruptly, she sat up. Erica’s parents! She had to call and give them the bad news. God, she didn’t know how to break it to them. The Sutton’s had doted on Erica. Explaining to them their daughter had been murdered by some psychotic bitch would kill her.
Shonda made her way to the bathroom to wash her face. She refused to meet her own gaze in the mirror. Good thing Mason had left. It would be embarrassing for him to see her in this state. She always looked like a misshapen gargoyle when she’d been bawling. Her eyes swelled, her eyebrows took on a red tinge at the hairline, her nose rivaled Rudolph’s, and she ended up breathing through her mouth, a sound reminiscent of Darth Vader.
She should plunge her face in a bowl of ice to reduce the swelling. But what did it matter now? The thought of ice brought to mind her freezer, which in turn brought to mind the pint of Häagen Dazs Sea Salt Caramel gelato she had in there. Possibly the only way she knew to drown her sorrows. Of course, then she’d need to go to the gym to work off the calories. That would mean taking the risk of seeing Mason. No gelato. She’d go for vodka instead. Vodka didn’t have many calories, did it?
Erica could have told her. She’d been the queen of googling things. Moisture blurred her vision as she blindly made her way to the kitchen. A dark figure by the island made her scream and go all ninja, swinging and kicking.
“Jesus, Shonda! It’s me!” Mason said, hands held out to show no intent to harm.
“What the hell, dude? I thought you’d left,” she panted, grabbing her side and bending over to catch her breath.
“I couldn’t leave you. Not like that.”
Great, now he felt sorry for her. Exactly what every girl wanted. Not.
“I absolve you of all guilt. I’m fine, and I want to be left alone right now.”
She was uncomfortable under his watchful gaze. It seared where it touched her in his search to see if she was being truthful. Unable to stand his regard another second, she moved past him to get to her liquor stash. A few shots were imperative before making the dreaded phone call to the Suttons.
“Shonda—”
Furious, she turned on him like the wounded, angry animal she was. Two hands came up to shove him backward of their own volition. “What do I have to say to get you to go? Get. The. Hell. Out.”
“No.”
He’d stated it so calmly, so matter of fact, she wasn’t sure she heard properly. “Excuse me?”
“I said, no. I’m not leaving.”
“The fuck you aren’t!” she raged.
“You can get as mad as you’d like. It won’t change the fact that I’m not leaving you at a time like this.”
“You are the most contrary sonofabitch I’ve ever met. You know that?” she snapped. With jerky movements she yanked open the cabinet, removed the vodka and a shot glass, and proceeded to start on a bender.
Chapter Twenty
Mason propped his feet on the coffee table and watched Shonda get sloshed. He nursed a beer, because at some point, about four or five shots in if he could recall correctly, she’d decided she didn’t want to drink alone. Getting drunk with her wouldn’t be smart. Before morning, she would need assistance—most likely to empty the contents of her stomach and get into bed.
She’d been so enraged at him earlier that he wondered if she realized she was clad in only her lacy bra and panties. He thought it was kinder not to point it out and embarrass her—or so he told himself as he enjoyed the view.
She’d raised a glass to Erica, Jacob, Zack, the imminent death of Christie if Shonda got ahold of her, and anything else she could think to toast. Even sloppy drunk, she was gorgeous.
“Oh! I froggot to crawl the Shuttonsh!” she exclaimed, standing and weaving for the counter.
Mason was up and heading her off before she got three steps. “Uh, love, I think it can wait until morning.” He had absolutely no idea what she said.
“They’re gonna be sho shad,” she cried pitifully.
Ah, Erica’s parents. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you give me their number, and I’ll call them?”
“Shrood be me.”
“I get that, but I think things might be hard for you to explain right now, love,” he said while attempting to steer her back toward the sofa. If she twisted around and he got a handful of boob, was that his fault? The extra-long feel he copped might be. He mentally chanted “I will practice constraint” over and over again, hoping he could withstand temptation. He might wish to bury his grief in sex, but it didn’t mean others coped the same way.
“Shrur. Now you wanna be all nice and shrit.”
“What’s the code to unlock your phone?”
She gave a double shoulder shrug with palms raised in the air. If she wasn’t so adorable, he’d strangle her. Okay, plan B. He’d use her thumb print to access the keypad of her phone.
By the time he’d wrangled her, convinced her he didn’t secretly work for the FBI or CIA and getting her thumbprint wasn’t part of some major conspiracy, he was irritated beyond measure. He sent out a silent apology to anyone who’d ever dealt with his drunk ass in the past.
As he listened to the ringing on the other side of the line, he worked out what he would say. Perhaps he should have left this for Shonda in the morning.
Erica’s parents accepted his condolences and promised to contact him when they had a flight booked to come to Stonebrooke. He provided his number for them in the event Shonda was unavailable. They hadn’t blamed Zack for the terrible thing Christie had done, and Mason was relieved. With a last promise to take care of Shonda and any details on this end in regard to Erica until they could arrive, he hung up.
