by T. M. Cromer
Then he placed a call to Dane to check on their brother a second time and to catch him up to date on the Suttons’ plans.
A scraping noise woke Mason from sleep. Since he discovered he had a serious inability to keep his hands to himself where Shonda was concerned, he’d taken the couch. While trying to keep an ear out for her in case she needed him, he must have dozed off. He struggled to get his bearings and determine where the sound originated from.
The front door.
It sounded as if someone was attempting to pick the lock. Or at least that’s what he thought it would sound like.
Cautiously he rose and padded barefoot across the wooden floor. He’d just made it to the foyer of Shonda’s apartment when the door eased open. It made it no further than the security stick Shonda had purchased. Last night, she’d drunkenly insisted it would keep out anyone bent on taking her out. To put her mind at ease and stop the ensuing argument, he’d shoved the damn thing under the handle.
The valiant little stick did its job, and for that, Mason was grateful. However, he was determined to put an end to whomever was trying to harm her. Heart pounding, he yanked the stick and dove for the intruder, spinning him around and shoving his face against the wall, one arm up behind his back.
“What the hell?” The intruder yelled the question.
“Shut up!” Mason growled. “Who the hell are you, and what are you doing breaking into Shonda’s apartment?”
“She’s my cousin, dude! I have a key for when I’m in town.”
“Cousin? What’s your name?”
“Billy. Can you chill, man? You’re ripping my arm from the socket.”
Mason took stock of Billy. Golden hair to his shoulders, about five-ten in height, and surfer speak. He scoured his memory and tried to remember if they’d ever spoken of him. Nothing came to mind, and he wasn’t taking any chances.
A quick frisk of his body came up empty. The driver’s license in his wallet stated he was Billy Grant from Miami Beach, Florida.
Mason shoved him in a side chair and ordered him to stay put. “Don’t move. If I have to chase you down, I’ll beat the hell out of you. Got it?”
“Yeah, man. I got it,” the younger man said sullenly.
Keeping an eye on Billy, Mason poked his head in Shonda’s bedroom and called her name. When she didn’t answer, he shouted again.
A bleary green eye popped open and struggled to focus on him.
“Do you have a cousin, Billy?”
“Billy?”
“Yes. Surfer type from Florida.”
“Um…”
“It’s a yes or no answer, love.”
“Then I’d have to shay…maybe?”
It was too much to hope she had sobered up with a few hours of sleep. Mason wanted to bang his head against the wall in frustration. Right now the guy sitting in her living room, trying to look so damn innocent, could very well be the same guy who’d mugged her at the end of the previous week. His timing was suspect.
“Shonda, I need you to come out here for a minute.”
When she stood to comply, he noticed her bra was askew. One breast was on full display, along with her left ass cheek.
“Love, you might want to grab a robe.”
Her owl-eyed blinking was laughable, but he held himself in check. He shook his head and rubbed the spot between his brows. He was never letting her consume more than a drink or two at most in future. He didn’t possess the patience for this aspect of her over imbibing.
“Dude, I could come back,” Billy offered. He stood and inched toward the door.
“Park it!” Mason barked.
The younger guy took another step.
“One more step before she confirms your identity, and I’ll break both your legs,” he growled.
Mason’s last threat rang true, and Billy Boy dropped into the chair, fear in the wild eyes he cast around as he looked for an escape.
When Shonda had a robe on, albeit a slinky one, she ambled toward him. About two feet away, still out of sight of Billy, he stopped her. “Fix your bra and belt your robe, love,” he ordered in a low tone.
After she straightened her clothing, in as much as she was able, he marched her out to take a look at their intruder.
“Billy!” she cried and threw her arms wide for a hug.
Mason had anticipated her move and closed the gap in her robe before it was even part way open. “So you know him?”
She squinted with one eye closed. “I think sho.”
She didn’t sound too sure. Mason gently drew her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Shonda. I need you to focus. Is this your cousin or not?”
“Yessh. Itsh Billy.”
“I told you, man.”
Mason decided he really disliked the other guy. “Whatever, I need a beer.”
“Could you get me one if y—”
The death stare he cut the younger guy stopped him mid-sentence.
“Yeah, on second thought, I’m n-not all that thirsty,” Billy stuttered.
Keeping him pinned in place with a look felt like pulling the wings off a butterfly, but Mason was determined young Billy Boy wasn’t going to take advantage of Shonda in her fragile state. In any state, for that matter. He’d recognized the type. The kid was probably running from trouble and had brought it here to her door. Well, that would end now.
After grabbing a beer for himself and a water for Shonda, Mason returned to the living room only to find her sprawled out on the couch. Discomfort radiated off of Billy like UV rays from the sun. Good. Maybe if the guy realized Mason wasn’t going to put up with his weaselly ways, he’d be quick to hightail it out of town.
He placed his beer on the coffee table and adjusted Shonda so her head rested on his thigh. No reason for her to be in pain in the morning. Well, other than the massive hangover she would be suffering. He smoothed the hair away from her cheek and marveled again at the softness of her skin. God, he loved touching her. Mason shut down that line of thinking. Not the place, nor the time.
“Okay, kid, spill. Why are you here? And why now?”
“What do you mean? I’m just here to visit.”
“Yes, and I was born yesterday,” Mason said dryly. “What kind of trouble are you in?”
“No, really. I—”
“Enough!” he snapped. After the trauma of the last twenty-four hours, Mason was on an extremely short, frayed leash. If it broke, Billy was in for a world of hurt. “Do you really think the wide-eyed, innocent routine actually works? You can’t possibly be that stupid.”
Billy remained quiet. Smart move. Right now, Mason was tired to his very soul. With that came a cranky attitude and an intolerance for games.
“I’ll ask one more time. If I don’t get a straight answer, you’re out on your ass. What kind of trouble are you in?”
An emotion filtered through Billy’s moss-green eyes as he cast a glance at his cousin, something akin to fear mingled with regret, and then it was gone. His expression now carefully blank.
“Okay. Let me put this another way. What have you gotten her mixed up in?”
“Could be corporate espionage.”
Mason sucked in a breath, almost choking. Not what he expected. He would have been less surprised had it been a drug cartel. “Excuse me?” Perhaps he’d heard wrong.
“Corporate espionage,” Billy reiterated seemingly blasé. The surfer persona disappeared as if it had never been. “I work for an international firm that has a home base in Miami. In the marketing department, we create advertisements with hidden codes. It allows one or two particular competitors to get insider information. What exactly those codes contain, or what they can be deciphered into, I don’t know. But the idea is ingenious and keeps those involved from having to meet in person. Lessens the risk of getting caught.”
“Let me guess, you’ve used Shonda’s design talent to create these ads.”
“Not really. There are a few of us who are skilled with ad sets. Someti
mes, I’d sweet-talk another co-worker. Unfortunately, she was killed last week in a hit and run.”
“Jesusfuckingchrist! It had to do with this, didn’t it?”
Billy went silent, refusing to answer. Mason figured he’d circle back to that line of questioning. “Does Shonda know what you’re into?”
“No. Are you kidding? She’d kill me!”
“And I won’t?”
The threat wasn’t subtle, nor was it meant to be. Mason had no idea how much jail time Shonda would serve if she was caught and convicted of a crime she had no knowledge of. Ever so slowly, he replaced his thigh with a pillow for her to sleep on. He inched forward in his seat.
“Did you know she was mugged last week? Did you have anything to do with that?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, you knew? And yes, you were behind it?”
“Yes to both counts.”
“Why?”
“I was looking for a hard drive or a notebook with passwords. Early last week, after Megan was killed, the company revamped security measures. As a marketing department head, she would have access to the database I need.”
“Who exactly was Megan?”
“She was VP of Marketing and Sales”.
“Is this the same company Shonda currently works for? She mentioned to me they were based out of Miami.”
“Yes.”
“I thought they only owned TV and radio stations.”
“Dude, they’re owned by GenCon Industries. GenCon owns half the damn world. They’re heavy into the development of new cyber technologies.”
Mason swore enough to make a hardened criminal blush. Even he had heard of GenCon Industries, Inc. They dominated the global market in all things tech. If Billy, who Shonda had secured a job for, was caught, it would reflect poorly on her. They might even think she was in league with him.
Mason wasted no time whipping out his cell and calling John Moore, their corporate attorney for Workout World.
“John, I’m sorry to wake you…” He checked his watch. “… so early in the morning. I need some legal advice, STAT.”
“Shoot.”
He laid out all the information he had on hand, peppering Billy with questions where he needed things filled in. John’s advice was for Shonda to hire a damned good attorney, turn her cousin in, and throw herself on the mercy of the company heads. That she had no priors, nor knowledge of the criminal activity going on around her, helped. They had the police reports from the break-ins, the car explosion, and the mugging to back her story.
“Consider yourself hired on her behalf, John.”
“That’s all well and good, Mason, but she needs a criminal attorney. I’d be happy to take a back seat to him to see her through this. I have someone I can recommend. I’ll give him a call to see what we can do to make sure she isn’t affected by this mess.”
“Thanks, John.”
After he hung up the phone, Mason stalked to where Billy sat, self-satisfied and gloating. He hauled the smaller man from the chair and planted a fist in the center of his smirking face.
“Let’s talk about that car explosion.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Pain shot through Shonda’s skull when she opened her eyes. She slammed her lids shut against the discomfort. Why was it so damn bright in her bedroom? She never went to bed without closing the blinds. She squinted in the direction of her window and groaned. They were closed.
A quick swipe of her tongue across her teeth let her know the cotton mouth wasn’t the sole reason for the horrid taste in her mouth. At some point she’d vomited. There was no mistaking that rancid flavor. She moaned and rolled on her side.
“Too fast, too fast,” her brain warned.
The smell of coffee permeated the air. The nectar of the Gods. Right now she’d give her left arm for a sip. She whimpered at the thought of standing and walking to the kitchen. How was it her body ached so? She’d only had a few shots of vodka. Granted she wasn’t much of a drinker, but it had never affected her to this degree before.
Pushing up from the bed, she paused her movements until the world stopped spinning.
“Death, just take me now,” she whispered, wincing as the sound reverberated around her head. When she sensed a presence in front of her, she jumped. Death worked fast.
“How about we keep death at bay for a little longer, love? Have some coffee.”
Ah, Mason. It was almost the same thing. He’d brought death to her heart in the nonliteral sense of the word.
“Not so loud,” she begged.
His chuckle had her contemplating murder.
“Why are you still here? I thought you left,” she croaked.
He tugged at his slacks and squatted in front of her. His appearance, so fresh and gorgeous, pissed her off. She could almost guarantee she was going to look like a crack whore after a night of partying. Hair in all directions, makeup half worn off, and mascara smeared. She followed the line of his gaze to where her bra was askew. Hastily she straightened it, and closed her robe. How had she come to be in her unmentionables? She eyed him with suspicion.
“I didn’t take advantage… much.” His wicked grin was in place. As soon as his dimples flashed, she had to do a double take to make sure her panties hadn’t dissolved into thin air. In preservation of her modesty, she tightened the robe sash a little more and knotted it. Not quite a chastity belt, but that ship had sailed a long time ago.
“I thought we agreed you were supposed to dial back all your sexiness.” Oh, jeez. Had she really just said that? Based on the amused smile he was sporting, she had.
When he sobered, continuing to stare, she started to remember yesterday’s events. Erica and Jacob were gone. Sadness, swift and fierce, punched her in the chest, making it difficult to catch her breath. Nausea hit, not only from the alcohol consumption but from the idea of her friend charred and in a body bag, along with that sweet little boy.
“Oh, God!” She shoved Mason on his ass and stepped over him to rush for the toilet. As she shifted to her knees to hurl, he moved in behind her to hold her hair. This is taking it above and beyond casual friendship, a little voice whispered. Shut the fuck up, little voice! You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Shonda scolded.
When the contents of her stomach were purged, she shifted her legs sideways to partially rest on her hip and lean against the vanity. Mason’s large, tanned hand presented her with a cup of water. As she sipped it, he ran a cool, wet rag around her neck and across her forehead.
“Better?”
His concerned voice, deep, yet gentle, wrapped around her and provided comfort on a basic level. The fingers stroking her hair, the arm holding her back against his chest, and the legs sprawled on either side of her made her want to weep. How could one man, with so much love to offer, refuse to give it other than in reserved, minuscule increments that reeled a woman in and made her long for something greater?
He was the one who had wanted to be put in the friend zone. Maybe for the time she needed him, the time it took to get through the funeral services for his nephew and her best friend, she could accept his scraps, could lean on him. But once the horror of all this was over, once the dirt had been shoveled on top of the coffins, once life forced her to return to normal, she’d send him on his way again.
Having thought all that, having come to a conclusion about how to move forward, Shonda nodded. “Thank you.”
“I’m going to assume you want a shower. Do you want your coffee now, or do you want me to wait and reheat it?”
“Now, please.”
He left and returned not only with the hot beverage, but also with over-the-counter pain relievers to help ease the throbbing in her skull.
“When you’re done here, we need to discuss a problem,” he said regretfully. It was the type of regretful tone that said he would spare her if he could.
She gave a single nod and allowed him to pull her to her feet. Her reflection in the mirror made her wince. “I was rig
ht. Crack whore,” she mumbled.
Mason looked delightfully confused. She ushered him out after he started the shower and turned it to her favorite setting—scorching. That he didn’t make a suggestive remark and offer to scrub her back confirmed how dreadful she must look.
Twenty minutes later, feeling a step above the undead, she ambled into the kitchen. Mason, spatula in hand and apron tied around his lean hips, stood in front of her range, scrambling eggs.
“I wasn’t sure what you could tolerate by way of food, but sometimes greasy helps.” Shonda’s face must have reflected how green she felt because he picked up a plate and offered option two. “Dry toast?”
She took the proffered food and walked around the island to take a seat. A muffled sound from her living room caught her attention. She leaned back on the stool and surveyed the other room. There, tied to a chair, gag in his mouth, was a very bruised and bloody Billy. She gasped in shock. His moss-green eyes, so like her own, pleaded with her to help.
Shonda straightened up and looked to Mason for an explanation.
“That’s what we need to talk about,” he stated gravely.
The situation struck her funny bone, and she started to laugh. Both men looked at her as if she’d gone off the deep end, but she continued on until she could scarcely breathe. Tears of mirth escaped. She must look like a crackpot, but she didn’t care. Her life couldn’t be any more insane at the moment. Time to go with the flow. With any luck, they’d commit her and provide her with the good drugs.
“Let me guess. You think Billy has been trying to off me?” she said when she’d finally regained a semblance of sanity.
The shock on Mason’s face almost set her off again. She used the coffee to hide her smile.
“Well, yes, but I’m afraid it’s a bit more serious than that,” he informed her.
“Of course it is. Because my life isn’t shitty enough.” She sighed. All trace of humor vanished, and she ate her dry toast in silence, chasing it with the remainder of her coffee. For the longest while, she became lost in the possibilities swirling around her head.
