He felt closer to her. Not just because of the sex, though she’d been insatiable last night. Just when he thought he was completely spent, she’d attack him again. And he’d risen to the occasion every single time. Hell, he thought he was an old man at thirty-two, but get Blake naked in front of him and he reverted to an eighteen-year-old kid rarin’ to go.
Yeah, the sex was fantastic. But it was the other stuff that made him feel closer to Blake. The talking, the sharing of such intimate, personal details, how much she trusted him and how protective he felt about her, it went beyond work.
Well beyond.
Glancing at himself in the mirror, he sobered, scrubbed a hand down his face, along his jaw. He looked like hell. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, he needed a serious haircut and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn a suit.
A few weeks ago, he’d kept himself groomed impeccably. As a Secret Service agent, he had an image to maintain. Secretly, he’d always wanted to look good for Blake.
Ridiculous, but true.
Now he had her and he’d let himself go. He hadn’t worked out in a week beyond the sex, though Lord knew, he got a rather aggressive workout in that department. He was surprised she hadn’t told him to shape up.
But she hadn’t. He’d always assumed image was of the utmost importance to her. Back home, she never went out in public without looking less than perfect.
Though she’d been looking pretty casual lately, her hair in a haphazard ponytail most of the time, clad in jeans or sweats and T-shirts usually covered with streaks of paint by the end of the day.
Something had definitely shifted. They were comfortable with each other. Happy. Like a normal couple.
He braced his hands on the cold tile counter and took a deep breath. What they had between them, he didn’t want it to end, not if he had any say in it. He couldn’t let her go when they got back to DC, not like this, not when they still had so much potential. He needed to tell her how he felt.
Now.
Tearing out of the bathroom, he went in search of her. Surprisingly, the studio was empty. As was the living room and kitchen. He searched every room in the house, closets, the backyard even though it was pouring rain. Even ran out to the small cabin he stayed in, thinking she might’ve gone looking for him. But she wasn’t there.
She wasn’t anywhere.
Mason ran back into the house, through the kitchen and into the garage. The car the Hewitt family kept on island was gone.
“Shit.” He ran back into the house and grabbed his cell phone, muttering a string of curses when he couldn’t find a good enough connection.
Without a doubt, he knew where she was. Or at least, knew who she was with. Suzanne Arnold or whatever the hell the woman’s name was. Something had happened, he could feel it. He didn’t like the unease that slithered down his spine.
A dark sense of foreboding washed over him, leaving his skin chilled. And it scared the ever living shit out of him.
He walked back out onto the back porch, where he got the best reception, and typed in a url, waiting impatiently for it to load. It was cold and drizzling, rain falling heavily from the sky and he was standing outside in his underwear, nothing else.
But he didn’t feel the cold. He was too concerned for Blake’s safety to think of anything else. Entering his username and password after the website loaded, he typed in the information it asked for and then waited for a reply.
Thank god for modern technology. He’d rigged the Hewitt family car with a GPS tracker. The thing had a thirty day battery life, not a problem considering they were here only for three weeks. He’d be able to locate Blake’s car in minutes.
And there it was. The map flashed onto the screen, a little red light blinking her exact location. The address appeared and he pressed a button, locking in the location. He didn’t recognize it but it couldn’t be hard to find since the island wasn’t that big.
He sent her a quick text then dialed her number but it went straight to voicemail. No text reply either and she was always quick on that thing.
Fuck.
Panic racing through him, he went into Blake’s bedroom and grabbed the crumpled pair of jeans that lay on the floor. Pulling them on, he then tugged on a shirt, shoved his phone in his front pocket and ran a hand over his hair.
Why had she left without telling him? She knew how he felt about Suzanne. He’d expressed himself pretty strongly on the matter last night. So strongly they’d even argued about it.
Had she kept it from him because she thought he would’ve tried to convince her not to go? She always told him where she went, and she’d rarely left his side, especially the last few days. She seemed to prefer to always have him by her side.
The crappy weather didn’t ease his fears, either. The storm was relentless, the pounding rain that sounded on the roof would’ve made him reluctant to go out anywhere, let alone want Blake out in it. Alone.
Letting loose a low growl, he grabbed his wallet and shoved it in his back pocket. He’d rented his own car when they’d arrived on island, though they’d hardly used it.
Walking into the garage, he hit the door opener, wincing when he saw the downpour before him. Worry clawed at his gut and he tried to push it off.
Should he call this in? Let everyone know he’d temporarily lost track of Blake? Byron would kill him on sight. And he didn’t even want to think about James Hewitt’s reaction. When they questioned him about how he lost track of his subject–and he knew they would—how would he answer?
Sorry, I was sound asleep after I fucked your daughter all night long and she snuck out on me. I’m not quite sure what happened, sir.
Hell, no. He’d be fired for sure. Shit, he deserved to be fired, sleeping with his subject, letting his defenses down. Letting her get away without his knowledge.
He’d find her first, then call it in. And he would find her. This stupid little island wasn’t that big. It would take him fifteen minutes, tops.
It had to.
* * * *
“Blake, please listen to me,” Suzanne pleaded but Blake turned away from her.
She didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to hear the lies that would spill from her supposed friend’s mouth. Rich had shoved them into a tiny bedroom and locked the door, threatening to tie them up, though the fumbling drunk couldn’t find a piece of rope in the house to save his life.
Blake was pissed. Angry she got pulled into this situation because she wanted to help a friend in need. Had been so duped she’d even neglected to tell Mason she’d gone which was the thing she regretted most of all.
How freaking stupid could she be? She could almost believe she deserved what happened to her, considering how foolish her earlier actions were.
Had Mason figured out she was gone yet? She had no clue how much time had passed since she arrived and Rich had taken her purse. He’d been disappointed to find a measly eighty dollars in her wallet and shoved the twenties in his front pocket, a grim look on his face as he’d continued his futile search.
Like he could take her credit cards, which she’d watched him contemplate. As if. He’d be caught immediately. The guy was a complete and total idiot. And she was a complete and total idiot for trusting Suzanne.
“Listen, will you let me explain? How it happened? I only told him about you because I knew everywhere you went, your secret agent man followed. How was I supposed to know you’d come out here and for once, you wouldn’t bring him with you?” Suzanne cried.
No kidding. Blake was silently berating herself for the same exact thing. “So you were in cahoots with this guy—your husband to bring me over here so you could get money?”
“I tried to escape from him once already. He’s crazy. Abusive, a drug user, a loser, I couldn’t stay with him anymore. I was afraid he was going to kill me.” A sob escaped her and she shook her head. “So I faked my own death, reinvented myself and came out here.”
It sounded like a damn movie. Talk about surreal.
“So he found you.” Blake turned to find Suzanne crying, tears streaking down her face. She couldn’t believe Suzanne went to such lengths as to fake her own death just to leave the guy.
It must’ve been really bad. Terrible.
“He found me.” Suzanne sniffed and wiped at her nose. “I didn’t think he would bother looking for me. I mean, he thought I was dead. But I guess something came up with an insurance policy he had on me I didn’t even know about. They never found my body and when they became suspicious, he got suspicious, too. I guess he’s smarter than I gave him credit for.”
That was saying something, since Blake thought he was the stupidest man she’d ever met. “So why bring me into this? I thought we were friends.” Despite the hardened shell she was trying to display to protect herself, it still hurt, Suzanne’s betrayal.
It hurt a lot.
“I know. And I’m so sorry.” She did look sorry. Though Blake figured she could also be a really great actress.
“He started raving how I owed him because he didn’t get to cash in on the insurance. How I deceived him and broke his heart and he wanted payback. I panicked. It was bad enough I had him in front of me after I thought I’d gotten rid of him forever.” Suzanne paused, taking a deep breath before she further explained.
“I didn’t know what else to do, so I talked about you. And I only mentioned you because I knew you always had a tail. Rich was stupid enough to call you, saying all those weird things to you but I told him that was a huge mistake.”
Blake remained silent. So it had been Rich who called her, not Suzanne. Or whatever her name was. Close enough…
“I figured I’d ask you to come here, the agent would follow and he’d come right in and take over. I’d have Rich arrested and then everything would be fine. Back to normal.”
“It didn’t quite work out that way.” Blake stared at the closed door, wishing she could just barrel through it and tell the asshole to go screw himself.
But Suzanne had warned her when he shoved them into the bedroom he was armed and not afraid to use whatever means necessary to get what he wanted. She’d caught the glinting flash of silver in the waistband of his jeans when he left the bedroom and she knew Suzanne wasn’t kidding.
No way would she confront a lunatic with a gun. He’d shoot her for sure.
“He’s coming to find me. Mason.” She knew this, had faith in it, in him. Not only because he kept watch over her but because he cared about her. He’d be worried.
And mad for letting her slip from his watch. It was entirely her fault but he’d feel guilty.
Sadness rose within her and she tried to tamp it down. She hated that she did this to him. That she did this to herself. She should’ve never left the house, should’ve begged off visiting Suzanne and blame the weather.
If she’d done that, she’d still be at home, with Mason. Just the thought of him made her skin warm, her heart rate kick up a notch.
She missed him. She needed him. She loved him. Oh, how she wished she’d told him that last night.
“I hope you’re right,” Suzanne said.
“Absolutely, I’m right.” Blake nodded. “He’ll be here soon. Trust me. It’s his job to follow me.”
“He didn’t do a very good job today,” Suzanne muttered.
Blake shot her a dirty look. “It’s my fault. I didn’t tell him where I went.”
“Where was he that he didn’t realize you’d left?”
She didn’t want to tell. Did she?
No. Suzanne wasn’t a confidant any longer. She couldn’t trust her. Instead of answering, Blake ignored the question completely. She stared out the window and watched the rain fall, flooding out the small backyard.
This little house was awful, downright depressing. And so was the jerk Suzanne had married. Made Blake realize her life wasn’t so bad. She had parents who might not always support her, but at least they loved her. And she could do whatever she chose to with her life, her future. Like her paintings. And making Mason hers.
Yes, she definitely wanted to make Mason hers. She was madly in love with him.
The door suddenly slammed open and Rich stood in the doorway, a frantic look on his face. “Someone’s at the door.”
Hope rose within Blake but she kept her expression impassive. “Expecting company, Suzanne?”
“It’s Amber. Get it right,” Rich snapped, glaring at his wife. “And yeah, expecting company, honey?”
“No.” She looked at Blake. “Who could it be?”
Blake knew exactly who it could be. “I have no clue. Why don’t you answer the door?”
“Hell, no. The guy beat on it like he wanted to break it down.” Rich ran a hand through his hair and she noticed his shaking fingers. Reaching behind him, he pulled the large handgun from beneath his waistband and held it in front of him.
Blake drew in a harsh breath. Did he plan on using it on Mason? God, she hoped not. She knew he wore his protection vest when they were in DC and he’d worn it when they first arrived on island. But he’d become lazy, hadn’t donned it in weeks. There’d been no need to.
Or so he thought.
“Where is he now?” Suzanne asked.
“I don’t know. He knocked, I didn’t answer, and he stopped. I checked outside the window, hoping to get a look at him, but I saw no one. Not even a car. And it’s raining like a bitch outside.” Rich started toward the window, staring out at the flooding backyard. “There’s nowhere for him to hide. I need to find the son of a bitch.”
“Maybe he left.” Suzanne smiled, trying to encourage him, Blake could tell. “I’m sure it was nothing. Just someone at the wrong house or something. Don’t worry about it.”
“I should go and check.” He looked like the last thing he wanted was to go outside. The rain would soak him in two seconds flat. “Make sure everything is in the clear.”
“You’re being dramatic,” Suzanne started but he silenced her with a quick slap of his fingers against her cheek. The loud smack sounded in the room, followed by her startled gasp and she fell back on the bed, grasping her cheek.
Blake sat on the edge of the bed, wide-eyed with shock. He pointed the gun at her, waving it haphazardly and she swallowed hard. She’d been so worried about Mason getting shot she didn’t think this bozo would turn the gun on her.
“You backtalk me, you’re next. Got it?”
Blake nodded. “Got it,” she whispered.
“Good. I’m going outside. If either of you try to sneak out, I’m shooting first and asking questions later.” He exited the room, slamming the door behind him and Blake bent forward, released a shuddering breath. She covered her face with her hands but refused to cry.
She felt utterly helpless, worried where Mason was, praying he wouldn’t get shot. Hoping he was safe.
“We should try and leave,” Suzanne said, startling Blake.
Blake stared at her, her gaze lingering on the red mark across Suzanne’s face and she shook her head in disbelief. “Are you crazy? Did you hear what he said?”
Suzanne shrugged and stood, going to the small closet. “I have nothing to lose. I’ve already died once. If I die again, at least I tried to get away. I can’t imagine what my life will be like if I’m forced to spend it with him.”
“Why can’t you get away? Does he have that much of a hold on you?”
“It’s hard to explain to someone who doesn’t understand.” She grabbed a jacket from the closet and shrugged it on, flipping her long, dark hair over the collar. “I have to try and get out of here. If you want to stay, have at it. But I’m leaving.”
Blake stood and went to block the door. “What you’re suggesting is insane. You can’t go out there. He has a gun. And he seems more than ready to use it. You don’t want to get shot, do you?”
Suzanne’s lips thinned and she nodded toward the door. “Get out of the way, Blake. I want out.”
“He’ll hurt you.” Blake scrambled, desperate to say more and keep Suzanne there. She wonde
red why the threat of a gun wasn’t enough of a deterrent.
“He’s hurt me for years. I can’t take it anymore.” She shoved Blake out of the way and went for the handle, throwing the door open. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into this mess. I hope you can forgive me.”
Suzanne exited the room and started down the hall, didn’t even bother looking back but kept her head held high, her strides careful. Blake peeked around the edge of the bedroom door, watched as Suzanne entered the living room, her steps cautious, her head constantly flicking this way and that.
Blake swallowed hard. Where was Rich? Had he gone outside? Out back or out front? And where the hell would Suzanne go?
A soft rapping sounded at the bedroom window and Blake whirled around to see Mason peering at her through the glass, only his face visible. His eyes glittered with fierce intensity, his hair a wet mop atop his head as the rain streamed down his face, dripped onto his wide shoulders.
He was the best thing she’d ever seen in her life.
Running to the window, she fumbled with the old locks until finally she was able to flip the lever. She tugged at the stuck window, panicked adrenaline coursing through her and finally, it rose. With a grunt, Mason tore out the raggedy screen and tossed the black netting over his shoulder. With her help, he leapt over the ledge and into the house, overwhelming the tiny room with his dripping wet presence.
He pulled her into his arms and held her close, almost crushing her with his strength and the rapid beating of his heart against her ear soothed her. Abruptly, he pushed her away and held her at arm’s length, glaring at her. His expression read both relief and anger.
“What the hell is going on?” His voice was low and measured, though she heard the ferocity just beneath the surface. “Who’s the jackass prowling around outside?”
Blake shook her head and took his hand, clutching it tight. “He’s with Suzanne. I’ll give you the details later, but we need to get out of here before he comes back inside. He’s crazy.”
Under His Protection Page 16
