by T. M. Cromer
If she’d had it in her to care, she might have been swayed into forgiving him. But she didn’t. Something was lost. Broken beyond repair. “People don’t change, Mason. I thought you were someone I could love. You weren’t.”
He swallowed hard. The pain in his eyes nearly floored her. “Give me a second chance.”
“Second? Don’t you mean third? Fourth?” she asked, looking away from his tortured, hypnotic gaze. She searched the horizon and focused all her attention on a mountain peak in the distance. She worked to find the strength to stand firm. “I’m not doing this. Not here. Not now. I owe myself much better than that.”
“I need to make this right. What can I do?” he whispered the question.
“Nothing. But even if there was, what difference could it possibly make now? You made yourself perfectly clear. You don’t do love or long-term relationships. I don’t know how you could have been any plainer,” she said. “And quite honestly, I’m exhausted. I don’t have it in me to worry about how bad your family made you feel with their relentless badgering. That’s why you’re here, right? To once again apologize? Give it a rest already.”
He shook his head, emotions keeping his words locked inside. She recognized what was happening to him because she’d gone through the same exact thing in his hospital room. The disbelief she was no longer wanted, that she had never really been more than a plaything to him regardless of how caring he’d seemed, had been a fist to her gut. She’d been forced to turn off the caring center in her head and heart to survive the last few weeks. To let him back in would be foolish on every level.
“Please, go away. I have a lot to do today. This wasn’t on the schedule,” she said coldly, once again turning her back on him.
This time he didn’t try to stop her. If her heart pinged, she ignored it. She’d danced too close to the fire and gotten burned. There wasn’t a chance in hell that she’d do it again.
When next Mason approached her, the moving men were finished and preparing to leave. This time he held two dozen long stemmed red roses.
“You can’t avoid me forever, love.”
“I can, and I will,” she retorted, storming toward her front door. She would have slammed it in his face, but Mason caught it in time to avoid any minor injury.
“Get out!”
“Shonda, I’m just asking for five minutes. Please.” He watched as her eyes shifted to the flowers in his arms. Satisfaction curled in his chest. He was confident he’d scored brownie points with that one. “These are for you, love.”
A soft smile curved her lips, and he imagined she was remembering their night of lovemaking the last time he’d given her flowers. She took the arrangement, careful to avoid touching him. His confidence ebbed a bit.
“Start talking. You have five minutes,” she said. She rooted around in a few boxes until she found what she was looking for—a pair of scissors and a vase. With great precision, she unwrapped the bouquet and separated the roses.
While he didn’t like she hadn’t spared him a glance, Mason was happy to have the time to apologize for his past actions. He opened his mouth to do just that, then snapped it shut again, shocked at what he was witnessing.
There she stood, happily decapitating the head from each rose and shoving the stems in the vase.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Do you know how much I paid for those damned flowers?” he yelled and rushed to save the remaining buds. He skidded to a halt as she waved the scissors in his direction, eyes flashing.
“They’re my flowers. I’ll damn well do what I want with them. Right now, it makes me happy to mutilate them. You have three minutes left,” she told him coldly.
He pointed a finger in her direction. “You’re crazy, you know that? Certifiable.”
“Then you should be ecstatic to be on your way,” she reasoned with a careless shrug.
“I should,” he agreed. He took a fortifying breath before he continued, “But I’m not.”
She paused a long moment before snipping another head off the rose in her hand.
“I love you.” The rawness in his soul was laid bare in his voice. “You might think me speaking those words isn’t worth much, but the last time I said them was the night Melanie died in that car accident.”
Shonda’s head snapped up. Her gaze bore into his. Pity flashed in her gaze, and he swallowed down bile that tried to make its way past the barrier of his throat. As quickly as her sympathy appeared, it was gone and replaced by doubt.
“You’ve not told your mother, brothers or nephew you love them in all these years?”
Her words dripped with skepticism. Definitely understandable.
“No. It’s always been understood…” And right then he wondered how a cheating skank had emotionally crippled him on such a level as Melanie had.
“I’m glad you’ve made some self-discoveries. Truly. But—”
“Don’t,” he croaked in the face of her coldness. “Don’t say it doesn’t matter to you. Don’t say it’s too late.”
“What should I say? That the way you’ve treated me all this time is perfectly acceptable behavior? Should I accept that is how you express love? Because if it’s an example of what I can expect if we start an actual relationship, I’ll have to decline.”
Mason felt chilled to his core. The realization she wouldn’t offer another chance and fully intended to reject him made him ill. He took an involuntary step in her direction, which caused her to move back to avoid his touch.
That step saved her life.
The crack of the gunshot was unmistakable. Both were familiar with the sound, having been at the center of the chaos Zack’s ex had caused weeks before. The vase she’d been shoving stems into ten seconds before was shattered.
“Get down!” Mason yelled as he lunged toward Shonda and threw his body over hers. A hail of bullets pinged around the kitchen, and he felt the burn of one particular bullet which had ricocheted off the granite counter.
He grunted and swore, “Fuck me. Not again.”
“Mason?” Hysteria crept into her voice. What did he mean by not again?
“Please tell me your purse is close, and you have your gun in there.” At the negative shake of her head, he swore under his breath. “Okay, plan B. You need to get out of here. I’m assuming you are pretty familiar with the layout of this place?”
“Familiar enough. Come on.” She half stood, half crouched and attempted to drag him in the direction she intended to run. Shonda hadn’t expected to meet with resistance.
“You go. I’ll be right behind you, love.”
“You’re lying.” She studied him for a brief second before her eyes dropped to search for his wound. “Where were you hit?”
Mason caught the hands tugging at his clothes. “You need to get out of here.”
“I’m not leaving you. Not without a weapon to protect yourself.”
She was so damned fierce. So damned beautiful. Had he not realized how much he adored her before that point in time, he would have been forced to acknowledge it then. He brushed back the hair falling down over her eyes.
“It’s not up for debate, love. You need to go. Now, before it’s too late. I don’t trust this lull in gunfire.” He gave her a pained smile and a gentle shove. “Go.”
“Mason—” Her voice caught, and she swallowed hard.
He offered up a soft smile to show his understanding. “Go.”
* * *
Shonda dashed for the dining room and hoped like hell she’d calculated properly. Hoped she had time to get to her gun safe before their assailant got to Mason. She knew he’d intended for her to leave the house and go for help. There was just no way she’d leave him helpless and at the mercy of some crazed shooter.
Why had she expected her life to resume some semblance of normalcy here in Colorado? It had been nearly three solid months of insane. From the moment she met Mason on that plane on New Year’s Day until now, her world had gone spinning out of control.
> With little to no sound, Shonda crept into her bedroom. She paused to listen for any tell-tale signs an intruder could be in the room with her. Hearing nothing, she ventured forth to her closet. The safe was located in the floor, so it was a simple matter of pulling back the faux rug and punching in the code.
A snap of the safety to the off position of her gun and she crept back toward where she’d left Mason in the kitchen. The voices made her pause. She ducked back into the dining room to listen.
“Well, you aren’t such a badass now, huh?”
A crack and a thud followed the question—Mason being struck.
Mason did nothing more than grunt.
“You know, Billy Boy, I’d make haste if I were you. Your cousin’s already contacted the police. You have a few minutes tops to make good your escape.”
Shonda felt her heart drop somewhere down around her toes. Billy? He’d been shooting at her? It didn’t make any sense that he would trail her here. He could have disappeared and started over somewhere.
“Shut the fuck up and tell me where she went. If you do, I’ll make your death as painless as possible.”
Terror settled inside Shonda’s chest and made itself comfortable. She could scarcely draw a breath. Sweat beaded her forehead, and she was forced to shift the gun from one hand to the other to wipe the dampness from her clammy hands. Breathe. She had to remember to breathe at a slow and steady pace. Too fast and she’d hyperventilate.
“You’ve obviously watched one too many movies.”
That Mason could taunt Billy at a time like this made Shonda near mental. He appeared to be asking to be shot. Not smart.
“Have it your way, asshole.”
Billy’s intent was crystal clear. Shonda didn’t think. She acted on pure instinct alone as she swung into the room, aimed where he towered over Mason, and pulled the trigger. Two shots through the back, straight to the heart. As his body crumpled to the floor, Shonda surveyed the area and stepped up to check for a pulse. Not that she expected one. Her aim was nothing, if not true.
“Tell me you called the cops and didn’t just go all Natasha Romanoff on this guy without backup on the way,” Mason demanded, referring to the badass assassin chick from the Marvel movies.
“That’s a fine thank you,” she huffed and squatted in front of him. “But you did just compare me favorably with Scarlett Johansson, so I forgive you.”
“Shonda, when I’m up and walking again, I’m going to spank you,” he growled as he cupped her face. “What is wrong with you that you can’t do what you’re told?”
“Seriously? I just saved your ungrateful ass, and this is what I get for it?” she asked, hysteria setting in.
“Love, I’m going to need you to stay calm,” he said in a more soothing tone, and stroked her nape.
“Calm? I’m perfectly calm.” The shrill tone almost had her wincing. Okay, she wasn’t very calm. “I’m not calm at all. I just killed my cousin!”
The tears started.
“Shonda, you can’t break down right now. I need your help.” Their eyes locked. “We’re going to need an ambulance. Like STAT. All this blood isn’t his.”
“Fuck me!”
“I’d like nothing more after I get some strength back,” he murmured right before passing out.
She scrambled up, the blood on the tile making the floor slick, and tore through the house frantically trying to recall where she’d last had her purse. Mason’s arrival, coupled with the shooting, had her discombobulated. She stumbled across the bag where it sat on the living room floor.
Because she couldn’t immediately find the cell phone, she dumped the contents on the floor and rifled through her belongings until she found it. With no time to spare, she dialed 911 and directed them to her home. Dispatch stayed on the line while she reported back with Mason’s condition. They talked her through finding the wound and applying pressure. Since it was standard knowledge, she imagined it was in an effort to keep her from becoming hysterical.
As the paramedics loaded him in their truck, Shonda shook her head in disbelief that they were going through this a second time in less than a month. This craziness had become her life. Because she’d killed a man, the police refused to let her accompany Mason to the hospital. Instead they’d taken her into custody, brought her to the station, and forced her to recount the circumstances surrounding the shooting multiple times until she thought she’d go mad.
When they were finally satisfied with her story, a kindly officer offered to drive her to the trauma center where they’d taken Mason. From the back seat, she dialed Dane to give him a rundown of the situation. She gave him the details regarding the name and address of the hospital.
“I don’t know anything else yet. I’ll call you when I do,” she said.
“Don’t cry, babe. My brother’s too mean to die,” he said gruffly.
“That’s what I’m hoping.”
“Never doubt it. I’ll be there as soon as I can get a flight.” With that, he hung up, leaving her alone in her worry.
The officer pulled to the front of the emergency entrance and let her out of the back of the vehicle. “Ma’am? We’re here.”
Shonda sat in the waiting room in her own personal hell. Calls came in from Erica, Zack, Connie, and even Charlie. From Dane she heard nothing else. She hoped his silence meant he’d been able to catch a plane to Denver.
Somewhere in all the chaos, she was able to reach Veronica and cancel her plans to join Roni’s family for dinner. Everything seemed surreal. Her friend offered to come sit with her, and Shonda would’ve welcomed the company, anything to keep her mind off of potential negative outcomes, but she knew Roni had three kids at home who needed her attention. She declined and waited by herself, slowly going out of her mind.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Hours passed and finally the surgeon arrived with the news that Mason had come through surgery with flying colors. The bullet, while lodged in the abdomen, hadn’t hit any vital organs. Presently, he was in recovery, the worst was over. It remained a wait and see game, she was told. The biggest threat now was the potential for infection. The staff promised to inform her when he could see visitors.
Erica called to confirm Dane caught a flight out and was currently en route. Shonda felt marginally better that he was on his way. She did worry about the dynamics of her relationship with Mason changing. She didn’t know if the brothers had patched things up since Mason had taken exception to Dane kissing her.
She thought back on the day’s events and wondered why Billy had taken it in his head to open fire on them. The truth was now gone by way of his death. She might never find out exactly why he’d set out to destroy her career and take her life. The thought that he might’ve hated her so much disturbed her. She’d only ever been kind to him. Hell, she’d even gone so far as to get him the job in Miami.
Shonda shook her head and shed a tear for the charming boy he used to be. She supposed she should inform her mother of the situation. Although, if she were to be honest with herself, she doubted her mother even remembered her brother’s son. Eva Grant could hardly be bothered to remember her own daughter’s existence half the time.
“Ms. Grant? Mr. Sharp is out of recovery and has been asking for you.”
Glancing up, she saw a pretty blonde nurse with a bright smile. Her heart thudded with dread. The nurse was exactly Mason’s type. She couldn’t face a repeat of his previous stay. To see him flirt with the staff would drive her over the edge.
“They didn’t tell me which room…” Shonda trailed off and smoothed her hair. She had to look a wreck after the day she’d had.
The other woman eyeballed her from top to bottom. “How about we get you a scrub top to replace that blood-splattered shirt?”
The kindness brought unexpected tears. The events of the evening settled in, and Shonda swiped at her eyes. She failed to notice the woman’s approach, so the arm that encircled her shoulders startled her. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up
so you can go see that hot guy of yours.”
“Thank you,” Shonda whispered around the lump in her throat.
By the time she’d changed and arrived on the third floor where his room was located, Mason had already dozed off. She sat on the edge of the reclining chair and watched him. Every little bit, she’d study the monitor readouts to be sure his vitals looked normal. Not that she necessarily knew what the norm should be, but still, she needed to feel like he wouldn’t fall into a rapid decline anytime soon.
Throughout the night, the staff would come in to rouse him as much as they were able. She should have told them he slept like the dead. At that thought, she shuddered. Gazing out the windows of the hospital over the lights of the city, Shonda became emotional. She’d killed a man. Not just any man, her cousin. She wondered if the police had contacted his mother yet. Since her uncle died years ago, neither she nor her mother had spoken to Allison Grant. There had been a falling out after the funeral that made any contact awkward. Perhaps a better person would have been the one to break the news to her aunt, but she wasn’t prepared for the shitstorm it would cause when it finally came out she’d put a bullet through Billy’s heart.
“Shonda.”
Dane’s soft voice propelled her out of the chair and into his arms. He held her while she broke down and relayed the story between hiccuping sobs.
“Always hitting on my girl,” Mason’s hoarse voice said from behind them.
They turned as one and rushed to his side.
“Well, if you didn’t always leave her alone…” Dane countered, his voice hoarse also, but due to his overwhelming emotion. “My suggestion would be to stop hanging out in hospitals. That never ends well for you two.”
Mason’s laugh turned into a cough. Shonda reached and felt his head for warmth. Fevers were a thing to watch out for, she told herself. When he caught her hand and brought it to his lips, she almost broke down again.
“Thanks for saving my life,” he whispered huskily.
