“Better him than you,” Mason said, rushing over to the wall next to the window. He threw back the blinds, but he was too late. The walkway was clear, the metal gate in front still swinging. The guy must have bolted the moment he’d realized what he’d done. Something told Mason that shooting his partner wasn’t part of the original game plan.
Normally, Mason would have been upset that he’d let a target slip away, but right now the only thing that mattered was that Sara was unhurt. It didn’t matter how the threat was neutralized as long as she was fine.
And it wasn’t like it had been a total loss. He still had a breathing subject—one that he could get information from.
At least, he hoped he could.
Mason turned around and found the man trying to clutch at his wounded left shoulder with an equally mangled right arm.
“Throw me one of your sheets, Sara,” Mason said.
“What?” she asked, her voice shaky.
“Your sheet.”
She nodded but didn’t move right away. Her eyes were glued to the thick puddle of blood spreading across her floor.
“Sara,” Mason called out. His voice was hard, more commanding than he would have liked, but it was effective.
Sara shook her head, before scooting to the side of her bed and yanking the sheet free. She balled it up in her hands and tossed it his way.
Mason snatched it out of the air and started winding it into a long thick band. He stepped closer to the man’s legs, meeting his trembling gaze.
“Listen, the way I see it, neither one of us has much time,” he said. “You’re losing a lot of blood, and thanks to your friend’s quick trigger finger, I don’t have much time before the police arrive. So, here’s my deal—I’ll bind your arm and shoulder, well enough to keep you from bleeding out, and you’ll tell me what I want to know. Sound good?”
The man tried to glare up at him. Mason could see that he was really trying to build up a good head of righteous anger, but he just couldn’t manage it. The simple truth was the guy was scared.
Mason could see it in his eyes. He didn’t want to die on a stranger’s floor. He just needed a little nudge to realize that bitter truth.
“I’d hurry if I were you,” Mason prompted him. “I already hear sirens.”
The man bit his bottom lip and arched his neck in agony.
“Fine,” he growled in a heavy accent—South African by the sound of it.
“What do you want?”
“Like you don’t know,” the man snarled.
Mason snapped the end of the sheet between his hands. “Humor me.”
The intruder narrowed his eyes. “Same thing that everyone else does.”
“You think we have the Evening Star?” Mason asked.
“Who else would?” The man gave a grim laugh. “News travels fast. Word is Baumgartner’s the only one ballsy enough to double-cross Malcolm.” He craned his head her way. “Ballsy but stupid.”
“We’ll see about that,” Sara shot back.
Mason kicked the man’s leg. “Hey. Eyes on me.”
The intruder ignored his words. A twisted smile curled his lips. “I found you without breaking a sweat.”
“And that turned out great for you,” Mason said, crouching down on his haunches. The distant sirens weren’t a lie anymore.
He made quick work of wrapping the man’s wounds. It wasn’t his best work, but true to his word, it would hold until the paramedics arrived.
“Get your stuff,” Mason said. “We’ve got to move.”
Sara gave a distracted nod as she jumped from the mattress, careful not to land in the puddle of blood soaking her carpet.
She didn’t waste any time. She grabbed only what she needed—shoes, jacket and purse—and met him at the door.
Fear shone bright in her eyes as she looked at him, but somehow she managed to keep it under control. Probably because this wasn’t the first time she had run, he realized.
“Let’s go,” she said, swinging open her front door.
They’d hardly taken a step into the hallway when a familiar voice rang out.
“Miss Hope, is that you?”
Sara let out a loud sigh, but kept walking. “Go back inside, Mrs. Dorsky.”
Her gray-haired neighbor didn’t listen. If anything, she leaned further into the hallway.
“What’s going on? I thought I heard gunshots,” she said. “Did you hear them?”
Sara stopped in her tracks, piercing the old woman with an earnest look. “You need to go inside, Mrs. Dorsky.”
Mason grabbed her hand. They didn’t have time for this. “We have to go now.”
“Lock your door.” Sara dug in her heels as he tried to pull her down the hall. “And don’t open it for anyone without a badge. Understand?”
Mason glanced behind him just in time to see Mrs. Dorsky’s face go pale, her head bobbing up and down in a hurried nod. A second later, he heard the click of her latch and the slide of her deadbolt.
“Now can we go?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said.
She didn’t fight him as he led her to his car. In fact, she didn’t say a single word as they jumped inside, and he gunned the car down the hill and toward the lake.
Just in time, too. Mason spotted the red and blue flash of lights a few blocks behind him as he rounded the curve onto Lakeshore Avenue. Sara let out a long breath when the cops didn’t follow his car, but instead took the turn toward her apartment.
He reached over and cupped his hand around her knee. “It’s okay.”
“The hell it is,” she said, but she didn’t try to brush him away. “What do we do now?”
“First thing, we need to get someplace safe,” he said.
“And where’s that?” she asked. “Let me guess—your place.”
“Actually, I had somewhere else in mind.”
“Somewhere else?” The corners of her mouth pulled down. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“No,” he answered honestly, slowly shaking his head. “I don’t think you are.”
***
Sara pressed her lips together as she stared at the massive glass double doors in front of her. She balled her hands into fists and propped them on her hips.
The man had to be crazy. There was no other answer for it.
“Macmillan Security,” she said, her voice tight. “You haven’t listened to a single word I’ve said, have you?”
She turned toward Mason and pierced him with her most cutting stare. It must have needed some sharpening though, because he seemed totally unaffected.
“I have. You don’t want to pull anyone else into this,” he said, fishing a key card out of his wallet and passing it over the lock. The light flashed green and the doors instantly unlocked. He pulled one open and held it for her.
“So, why the hell did you bring me here?”
“Because this office has everything we need—untraceable phone lines, secure internet, and a fully stocked kitchen, all protected by one and a half inch-thick Aluminum Oxynitride bulletproof glass doors.”
As hideouts went, it sounded impressive. There was only one problem.
“How are you planning on explaining who I am to your co-workers?”
“I’m not,” he said, laying the charming smile on thick. “It’s six thirty-seven in the morning, Sara. I’m pretty sure we have the place to ourselves right now.”
Right now. Yeah, Sara didn’t miss that part.
“And when nine o’clock rolls around?”
“Then we’ll come up with something.”
Sara cursed under her breath. What other choice did she have? It wasn’t like she was drowning in other options. Her apartment was soaked in blood and crawling with cops. She had to assume there were eyes on everyone she was associated with. Hell, she couldn’t even go out into the streets because, apparently, they were swarming with people gunning for her.
She shot him one last glare as she walked past him and into the lobby of Ma
cmillan Security. Mason quickly led her past the slick, modern reception area.
At first glance, the office looked like any other, a cavernous space dotted with cubicles and a line of offices that ran along the far wall, but on closer inspection, Sara could tell the amount of care that had gone into the design. The carpet beneath their feet was nicer than the usual industrial supply. The overhead lighting was LED instead of flickering fluorescent. The art on the walls were originals, not prints.
Macmillan Security was high-end. There was no doubt of that. Everything here was the best.
Too bad, the one thing it didn’t have was the only thing she was looking for—someplace to hide. The space was too open, too spacious. If anyone walked through that front door, whether friend or foe, the first thing that they’d see was her.
Exactly what she was trying to avoid.
Sara slowed as Mason led her toward the back of the building. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the corner office.
Finally. There might be hope for this place yet.
“We should go in here,” she said, as they neared the door.
“Can’t,” Mason said. “My office is right next door.”
Sara stopped short. She might not know how to filet an intruder with a kitchen knife, but that didn’t mean she had no idea how to take care of herself.
“But your office isn’t going to work for me. This one will,” she said.
Mason’s shoulders tightened as he turned around to face her. Maybe he didn’t like her tone.
Too bad.
She didn’t like having every word she said blithely swept aside.
“It’s always worked for me.” His tone might have been light, but the look in his eyes was anything but.
Sara crossed her arms over her chest. If he was throwing down a challenge, she was more than happy to pick it up.
“I’m sure it’s great, but this one is better to hide in,” she said.
“Is that right?”
“It is,” she said. “Your office has interior windows and a sheet metal door. This one has reinforced steel, bolt locks and no way to see inside.”
“It also has a state of the art biometric entry system,” he shot back.
“You say that like it’s a problem.”
Mason’s brows shot up. “You think that you can break into Carter Macmillan’s private office?”
Sara shrugged her shoulders. “I know I can.”
“That I want to see.” He gave a little laugh and took a couple of steps toward her. “You’ve got yourself a deal. If you can get past those doors then that’s where we’ll work. But I have to warn you that if you manage this, Carter is not going to be happy.”
Sara looked him straight in the eye. “So unhappy that he shoots both of us?”
“Both?” He cocked his head to the side. “Probably not.”
“Then he’s already a step up from the people we’re hiding from.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “Would you like me to time you?”
“How did you know?” A smile curled Sara’s lips.
“You’re an easy mark, remember?” Mason gave her a wink as he stepped back from the access panel by the door.
Sara had seen the model before—a basic keypad entry system with a thumbprint scanner that also checked for pulse and electrical resistance. Mason was right. The system was almost impossible to fool, but if there was one thing that her mother had taught her, it was that only an idiot wasted precious time figuring out a way to bust through a front door when there was always a back window to shimmy through.
So, the path of least resistance it was.
Sara dug into her bag and pulled out her Swiss army knife. She flicked out the blade and used the tip to unscrew the scanner face. A few seconds later, it fell away, revealing the tangle of wires beneath.
From there it was a lot like hot wiring a car. Twist the right leads together, and—click—the bolts slid free.
Sara pushed the door open and held it with her foot as she put the correct wires back together and reattached the panel.
“How long?” she asked, craning her head around.
“Forty-two seconds.”
Sara’s face fell. “I’m out of practice. I was hoping to do it in under thirty.”
“Can’t imagine why you have trouble convincing people you’re not a thief,” he said, taking over holding the door.
She shot him a smirk. “You don’t see me stealing anything, do you?”
A devilish sparkle lit up his sapphire eyes, and Sara instantly regretted her playful tone.
“That’s because you haven’t gone inside yet,” he said. “Who knows? You might find something in there you can’t resist getting your hands on.”
She knew she shouldn’t engage. They needed to get down to some serious work. The clock was ticking, and this sort of silliness only wasted time. But she couldn’t seem to hold back a giggle.
Besides, she couldn’t let Mason have the last word, could she?
“Well, if I haven’t been tempted by now…” She let her words trail off as she walked past him into the office.
“Oh, you’ve been tempted,” he said, letting the door close behind him. “Everyone gets tempted by quality from time to time.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Sara walked over and leaned against the edge of the desk in the center of the room. “Besides, I’ve found that people have a tendency to vastly overestimate the value of their goods.”
Mason remained by the door. He leaned against the wall and casually crossed his arms, but his gaze stayed steady on her.
“Yes, but it’s not just the value of the goods,” he said, his expression turning comically serious. “It’s the quality of the services.”
Sara laughed in earnest. “That’s terrible,” she said.
“They can’t all be golden,” he said, a wide smile spreading across his face. He pushed off the wall and started toward her.
“Really?” Sara asked, straightening up. “I thought for certain you’d have a line for everything.”
Mason stopped in front of her. So close that she had to crane her head back to keep her eyes on his.
“Most times,” he admitted. “But you’re special. You’re the only one that’s ever left me speechless.”
Damn. He was good.
Sara’s lips parted. Her tongue darted out to wet them. Her rational mind might know they were only teasing, but it seemed that her body hadn’t gotten the message. Even now, heat pooled deep in her belly. Tingles traced a path down her neck.
“Now that’s a much better line,” she said, giving her head a shake. “I’m sure the ladies all go crazy for it.”
He pushed a stray strand of hair away from her cheek. He didn’t pull his hand away once he was done. It lingered on the side of her face, his warm skin barely brushing against her sensitive nape. “It’s not a line, Sara.”
Her mouth opened to tell him off but all that came out was a soft whisper. “Like hell it isn’t.”
He inched closer, his legs pressing her deeper against the desk. She didn’t push him away. She could lie to herself, rationalize that she was caught in his magnetic blue gaze, that she was overwhelmed by a master at work, but Sara knew that would be a lie.
The truth was that right now she wanted him to kiss her. She had from the moment she’d first seen him in the museum. Who the hell wouldn’t?
He combed his fingers through her hair, cradling the back of her head, and time slowed down. His gaze didn’t leave hers.
Her heart began to pound, hammering against her breastbone. Her speeding pulse filled her ears.
Maybe that’s why she didn’t hear the click of the opening door behind them until it was too late.
Sara barely had enough time to blink before a voice boomed.
“What the hell is going on?”
Chapter Six
“Carter.”
Mason’s shoulders fell as his friend’s name crossed his lips. He closed his eyes as
he drew in a long breath.
Shit.
Carter Macmillan always did have the worst timing in the world. Mason should be deep into kissing Sara. Her arms should be wrapped around his neck. Her knees parting, allowing him to nestle in closer to her body. Her sweet mouth opening and letting him in.
Instead, he was doing his best to keep her from falling off the edge of his boss’ desk in panic.
“You’re here early,” Mason continued, as he helped Sara get her feet steady on the ground. Only then did he turn around. “I wasn’t expecting you until later.”
“I can see that.” Carter arched a single brow. Just as he expected, his friend didn’t sound any kind of happy to see them. “How did you get in here?”
Mason pressed his lips together as he cocked his head to the side. This was going to take some skill to smooth out. The Captain wasn’t the kind to forgive invasions of his privacy easily.
“We broke in,” Sara said before Mason could open his mouth.
“You what?” Carter said, his voice dropping dangerously low. His glare glistened with a lethal edge.
Mason turned his head her way as she stepped around him to stand at his side. To give her credit, she met Carter’s gaze without blinking. Mason had seen the look in her eyes before, the mix of trepidation and resolve. She might be afraid, but she was doing her best to hide it.
“Well, technically, I was the one who broke in,” she said. “Mason just timed me while I did it.”
“That’s impossible,” Carter said. “My security system is unbreakable.”
“Obviously, it wasn’t,” she said. “Though if it makes you feel any better, I rewired it and fixed the flaw I found. Now this room truly is the most secure in the building.”
Carter crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You must be the infamous Sara Baumgartner.”
An embarrassed smile curled her lips. She dipped her head down far enough for her hair to partially cover her face. “I think that infamous might be overselling it a little.”
“It’s not,” Carter said. “Why the hell do you think that I’m up and at the office before seven o’clock in the morning? You’re the prime suspect in the theft of the Evening Star. Practically every law enforcement agency in the world is looking for you right now, Miss Baumgartner.”
Mason: The Sinner Saints #4 Page 7
