by Ann Lister
“You’re a killing machine?” Tessler asked.
“Only when I had to be in order to survive in the Middle East,” Mason admitted.
Tessler seemed to think about that for a long moment. “There’s a huge part of your life I’ll never know about, isn’t there?” he asked.
“There are parts of my life I wish I didn’t have to know about,” Mason answered.
Tessler nodded and more silence followed. “You really think you can get my journal back?”
Mason slowly nodded. “I’m sure gonna give it my best effort, but I’ll have to do this completely under the radar, and I’ll work alone,” he explained. “No one can know about this—ever, not even your lawyer.”
“You’re not going to tell me what your plan is, are you?” Tessler finally asked.
“No, for your safety, I’ll keep this to myself,” Mason said. “After tonight, we’re not going to discuss this again. I’ll do the job and we’ll move forward from there—and before you ask, no harm will come to Barry, at least by my hands.”
“When will you do this?”
“As soon as possible,” Mason answered. “What I want you to do is pack a bag for that trip to Key West we talked about the other day, and you need to leave tomorrow. You can tell your lawyer you’re going away for a while to clear your head and escape the insanity that will come after Barry does his press conference. I’ll do the job here and then meet you in Key West after it’s done.”
“You make it sound so fucking simple,” Tessler said.
“Definitely not simple,” Mason said and then laughed.
“Will you stay here tonight?” Tessler asked.
“Yeah, I don’t want to leave you alone,” Mason said, “but I want you to get your trip planned now before we call it a night. Charter a flight, do whatever you need to do to get ready to leave tomorrow, and I’ll drop you off at the airport, okay?”
“I really have to leave town without you?”
Mason nodded. “It’s the safest way to do this,” he explained. “The farther away you are from the LA area, the better.”
“You promise to join me in Key West?”
Mason leaned in and brushed his lips over Tessler’s. “I would love to join you on the beach when this is over.”
Mason felt Tessler smiling under the press of his lips. Would he ever get tired of tasting this man? His mouth is as addictive as the rest of him, he thought, as he wrapped his arms around Tessler’s shoulders and sank into another hard kiss.
They eventually found their way upstairs to Tessler’s bedroom. While Mason showered before bed, he left instructions with Tessler to make his flight arrangements to fly to Key West the next morning. He also urged him to call his lawyer and current agent and to use the story he’d suggested for his sudden need to disappear. With those three things done, Mason could breathe a little easier. The first part of his plan was starting to click into place, whether Tessler was ready or not.
By the time Mason joined Tessler in bed they were both too tired to do much of anything else, and Tessler was still fighting off a hangover, too. Instead of sex, Tessler snuggled in as close as he could get; Mason loved his warmth and how perfectly he fit against his side like he was always meant to be there.
“How was work today?” Tessler asked. “I bet it felt good, didn’t it?”
Mason smiled at the memory. “It was fucking incredible,” he said. “Never thought I’d be excited to stand on my feet and guard a door for hours on end, but being back with the guys and part of the team again made me feel like a million bucks. Best medicine on the market.”
“They’re lucky to have you,” Tessler said.
“I need to be productive and have a purpose,” he said quietly. “It’s important for my recovery, and it feels good to be needed like that. It’s why I got into this line of work in the first place.”
“I can totally understand that,” Tessler added. “I wanted to write books to entertain people. To be able to take them out of their own lives for a while and put them into a fictional world, one in which I created for them to enjoy is the best feeling of all.”
“I’m sure you do more for the readers with your stories than you think, Tess.”
“Well, whatever it is, I’m thrilled to have the ability to do it every day,” Tessler admitted. “I love having the power to transport a reader to new places and make them feel all sorts of emotions. It’s escapism for them and for me. They get to disappear inside the story, and I get to act out my fantasies through my characters.”
“God, the way your brain works fascinates the hell out of me,” Mason said.
“Are you making fun of me?”
“Fuck no, I’m being totally serious right now,” Mason admitted. “My brain doesn’t work that way at all, so I can truly appreciate that yours does. I think it’s beautiful.”
“That’s because your brain is busy coming up with new ways to save the day and be the hero.”
“Are you making fun of me now?” Mason questioned.
Tessler shook his head. “You’re certainly my hero, and I don’t mind sharing that with others, as long as they don’t touch.”
“No touching?”
“Only by me,” Tessler stated firmly. “Remember that when you’re out playing hero, and I’m stuck in my office writing.”
Mason chuckled and kissed Tessler’s forehead. “I don’t want anyone else to touch me, Tess.”
“Then, this thing between us should work just fine.”
Mason tugged Tessler closer and yawned. “Another thing we need to talk about is your lack of security here.”
“What’d you mean?” Tessler questioned.
“Don’t pretend you’re unaware,” Mason said. “I was able to gain entrance to your apartment by using the roof access and a spare key you keep hidden in a very obvious place. That’s unacceptable, and it’s completely unsafe. Once you get back from Key West, you and I are going to go over the best solution for your security needs, okay?” Tessler smiled brightly, and it almost annoyed Mason that he was so calm. “You need to take this seriously,” Mason added.
“I am, but I also love the way you want to take care of me,” Tessler said. “I always told myself I didn’t need anyone to do that, but now that I have you, I have to admit it feels pretty damn good. It’s a relief to know you’re watching over me.”
Mason made a growling sound as if he was bothered by the compliment, but truthfully, he loved being able to help Tessler in this way. In the process of all that, Mason was able to give himself a new purpose and feel productive while Tessler was able to feel safe and protected. The pieces of themselves they had to offer the other filled their emptiness; they made each other whole and that was pretty fucking amazing.
“So, you’re agreeing to allow me to have better security installed here?” Mason asked.
“As long as you’ll be the one doing the job, I’m fine with it,” Tessler answered. “I trust you with my life.”
“Okay, then I’m going to design a plan for you, and as soon as you get home, we’re doing this,” Mason stated.
“You make me seriously horny when you go all ‘bodyguard’ on me,” Tessler said.
Mason rolled over quickly and put Tessler under him, then he pinned his arms above his head. Tessler’s breath hitched at the sudden restraints of Mason’s hands clamped around his wrists, and Mason also noted the spike in his heartbeat and the flush in Tessler’s cheeks.
“You like this kind of play, don’t you?” Mason hissed.
“I fucking love being manhandled by a strong man,” Tessler admitted.
“You and I are going to have a lot of fun together, Tess.”
Leaving Tessler at the airport was more difficult than Mason had anticipated. It felt like he was never going to see him again, and even though Mason knew there was always a small chance of failure, he didn’t expect this job to be problematic. He’d had to plan and execute several jobs while in the Middle East that were far more sophi
sticated security breaches with extreme levels of danger, than getting inside Barry’s house to retrieve Tessler’s journal. Compared to his missions in Afghanistan, this would be a stroll through a park on a summer afternoon, but Mason was skilled enough at what he did to never underestimate the threat in every job. The element of failure was always there, and if you became complacent in the job, the chance of failure increased as did the danger. Failure was not an option with this job and that meant Mason had to be on point, focused, and clear on his mission.
Mason went home and studied the intel he’d already printed off the internet when he was at work the other day about Barry Edelman. He already knew his address and his place of work. He was even able to pull up the floor plan of the house from the city assessor’s office using his own computer. He studied the room layout and knew where he’d have security laid out, but that didn’t mean that’s how Barry’s house would be wired.
Mason made himself something to eat and then took a ride through Barry’s neighborhood to get a feel for the area. He’d wait until it became dark before he got a closer look at the house itself, so, for now, he went home to rest.
Around ten o’clock, Mason drove back into the hills above Los Angeles to Barry’s neighborhood and passed houses he could never imagine having the money to own. Then he remembered even Barry didn’t have the money to live in his area, since he was close to foreclosing on this house, exactly like the other residence he was in danger of losing in Aspen. It just went to prove that things on the outside weren’t always the reality of what was going on inside. Barry was playing a dangerous game by trying to keep up a façade—a game that Mason was far more skilled in winning than Barry ever was or would be.
Mason parked down the street from Barry’s address but with a clear view of the front of the house. He wasn’t there long before he saw the garage door lift and a sports car pull out and drive away. Mason waited a few seconds and then climbed out of his truck to walk cross the street. He kept his feet moving and his eyes scanning every corner, ridge, and outside wall of the house, looking for cameras or motion activated lights. Once he got to a row of tall hedges that ran the short length of the driveway beside the house, Mason pulled down his balaclava to cover his face just in case there were any cameras inside. He was twenty feet from the house, when a light flashed on with the beam coming from the northeast corner. Twenty more feet, and a second beam of light appeared on from the northwest corner.
Old school. Figures, Mason thought. He tucked himself into the shrubs and studied the electrical service mounted to the side of the house. None of the hard wires he’d expect to see had any kind of sophisticated security system, but that didn’t mean there weren’t cameras installed inside.
Mason’s heart was pounding as he climbed the stone steps at the back corner of the house to see if there was a good access point somewhere around the back. He checked the lock on a set of double glass doors that led to the patio area; it was secure but showed no wires for security. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small case with all sorts of tiny specialty tools inside. These were the instruments of his trade, and he never left them at home when he was on a mission—no matter the level of skill required to do the job. He could do this blindfolded, and on more than one occasion, he’d done jobs in total darkness. He’d been trained to carry out this exercise in all types of situations, and this job would be one of the easiest.
The real task would come with making it look like no one had been inside the house. That was Mason’s goal: Get in and get out with the journal, and make it look like nothing was out of place. With any luck, it might take Barry a few days to even notice the journal was missing. The adrenaline rush from the mission would come from wondering when Barry might return home and whether or not Mason might still be inside the house when he did.
He had the door opened in record time and clicked on the small flashlight he carried with him on all his jobs, then began to move through the house with the floor plan etched into his memory. He came around the corner into the hall to head towards what he knew to be the living room when suddenly, he felt something brush against his legs.
A goddamned cat? Mason jumped, but he was careful not to disturb anything hanging on the walls or sitting on the narrow table at the opening of the hallway when he did. The cat meowed but went along its way and left Mason alone. On the other side of the living room was another hallway. That was where Mason hoped to find the master bedroom and another spare bedroom likely being used as Barry’s office. He moved slowly but efficiently as he flashed the light around to look for the typical locations where hidden cameras might be.
So far so good, but the clock was ticking. He needed to complete this mission in the next few minutes and get his ass back outside in case Barry decided to come home. Mason found the room that was used as an office first and slowly stepped inside. He checked the corners of the ceiling for cameras and scanned the bookcases to the left and saw nothing obvious. Even though he expected there to be one, and the reason why he had his face covered, he simply didn’t have time to check every single inch of each room to look for camera devices. His eyes settled on a large metal desk that sat at the back wall and was littered with files, a half-empty bottle of scotch and a glass, a day-planner, and a laptop, which sat in the center of the desk in front of a swivel chair. There was still no sign of Tessler’s journal. He checked each drawer of the desk, careful to shut each one exactly as he’d found it, and moved on to the next, then scanned the books displayed on the shelves. There was nothing even remotely close to the journal Tessler had described to him, but he wasn’t giving up yet.
Failure is not an option. Mason kept repeating that mantra as he moved out of the office and down the short hall. He poked his head into another room that had a bed in it but not much else, and it didn’t look to be a room which was being used. He kept moving and found another room which appeared to be the master bedroom. Again, he used his mini-flashlight to check for cameras as he shifted around the large room.
The bedroom was fairly basic, and thankfully, there wasn’t a lot of clutter to pick through. Nothing on the dresser or on top of the tables beside the bed looked like a journal. He opened the top drawer of one table and saw a variety of magazines, lotions, and even a vibrating dildo. Mason’s gloved hand brushed against it before he knew what it was, then retracted with a jolt as if he’d been electrocuted. His quick movement shifted the magazines in the drawer just slightly, and the corner of something black appeared. Mason pointed the beam of light onto it and his heart thumped faster. His hand reached in and pulled it out. There was nothing on the cover, but the spine said all he needed to know.
Black Key Journal.
Boom, baby, and we’re out of here!
Mason tucked the book into a zippered enclosure inside the lining of his coat and made sure it was secure, then he hurried down the hall and back through the living room. There was no way in hell he could ever tell Tessler he’d found his journal stashed away in a drawer along with Barry’s dildo. A loud rumble beneath his feet had him moving faster. He didn’t need confirmation to know that the sound was from the garage door opening, which meant Barry was home.
Fucking douche. You couldn’t stay out any longer?
Mason was out the back door and around the side of the house before he saw the inside lights begin to pop on. He stood in the shadows by the house and gave himself a minute to let his heart rate slow, then he quickly ran back to his truck, hopped up into the driver’s seat, and looked back at Barry’s house. Several lights were now on, and Mason was grateful to be sitting where he was. Then, from out of nowhere, he saw movement in front of the house.
The fucking cat!
“Well, I hope you’re not an ‘inside only’ cat, my friend,” Mason said to himself, then he started up his truck and drove home. Mission accomplished—and this was one of his easier jobs, too. Certainly not one he’d be boasting about to his grandkids, that was for sure. He touched his chest to feel for t
he journal and felt the hard rectangular shape beneath his coat. Safe and sound, he couldn’t wait to deliver this back to its rightful owner.
Chapter Thirty-Three
He was out of breath by the time he got to the terminal gate at the LAX airport. If he missed this flight to Miami he’d never make his connecting flight to Key West in time and that meant he’d miss watching the sunset with Tessler. It was a promise he really wanted to keep and a visual he’d held on to in his mind’s eye for the last several days. It was the only thing that kept him focused and on task. Sure, they’d see other sunsets together and possibly even a couple of sunrises, but this first sunset was important for so many reasons. Metaphorically, it was a symbol for the two of them to witness the close of one chapter of their lives and to be together as they started the next. Sort of like riding off into the sunset just as they did at the end of an old-fashioned cowboy western movie.
Mason settled into his seat on the plane and buckled up the seatbelt in his lap. He was beyond exhausted from working his ass off over the last several days, but the one thing that kept him pushing forward was the reward of seeing Tessler in Key West. They’d had minimal contact during that time by choice. It may have killed them both to do it that way, but fully completing the execution of the job meant they had to follow Mason’s plan right to the bitter end, not by taking the risk of details emerging during a phone call or a text. Everything needed to be done clean and concise. No bullshit, and no evidence left behind.
They were in the final stretch of putting this nightmare behind them and starting new. When they fell asleep tonight in each other’s arms, Tessler’s secrets would be safe—at least for the time being. Mason wasn’t sure how receptive Tessler would be to the suggestions he was planning to make to finalize this chapter of his life, but they could enjoy the next few days at the beach before they had to think too hard about that. For now, Tessler wasn’t in danger, and it filled Mason’s heart to the brim to know he helped make that happen. To use his training for good like this was such a boost to Mason’s ego and self-worth. The rush he felt driving away with the prize in hand that night would forever be a part of him, even if it was a moment he couldn’t ever share with anyone. It was still his victory, his accomplishment—both physically and mentally, and he was damned proud of himself.
