Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Mason (Kindle Worlds Novella) (The 13)

by Anne L. Parks

  “Why don’t you start at the beginning,” Holt said. “In your statement, you say you went to a bar, Triad, with friends last night.”

  “I went after work. My friends were already there. We usually meet on Wednesday nights for happy hour.”

  “And that would be Ms. Meda and Ms. Townsend?”

  She nodded.

  “Anyone else?”

  “Not with us. The bar was pretty slow, which is typical, and why we like to go on Wednesdays instead of Thursdays. There was a table with guys not far from us—that was where he was sitting.”

  “The man you shot?”

  “Yes—with three other guys.”

  “Did you know them?”

  “No, had never seen them before…that I can remember.”

  “And so you were just enjoying a drink with your friends?”

  “Yes—and I happened to glance at the other table, and he was smiling at me. I smiled back, but tried to ignore him.”

  Holt leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes. “Why is that?”

  “I wasn’t interested in meeting anyone. I just wanted to have a drink, talk to my friends, and then go home. I know it makes me sound bitchy, but I just really wasn’t interested in him, and didn’t want to have to deal with turning him down.”

  “What makes you so sure you were going to have to turn him down?”

  Mason was curious, as well. She seemed nice, and he could see why men would want to smile and flirt with her. Get to know her. Ask her out. Shit, if he had been in that bar, he would’ve made a play for her. She was hot—even in prison orange.

  She scowled and rolled her eyes. “Not the first time a guy has smiled at me like that in a bar. Even if I had been interested—I can tell you for certain that as soon as he sat down without an invitation, he lost me. He was so…arrogant. Totally dismissive of my friends. And seemed to think I should be honored that he had chosen me as his target for the night.” She wrapped her arms across her chest, her lips a thin line across her mouth. “Prick.”

  Mason smiled. The girl has spirit. Holt glanced at Mason over his shoulder wearing the same grin. Ms. Baylor had impressed him, as well.

  “Do you recall what he said to you?” Holt asked.

  “He said his name was Daniel Forrester, gave me some ridiculous pick-up line, and then propositioned me.”

  Holt’s eyebrows lifted.

  “I turned him down, and left. I’m not that desperate.”

  “So, you left the bar. Did your friends leave with you?”

  She shook her head. “No, they stayed behind to finish their drinks. But they were going to follow me out. I just needed to escape the leech. Turns out, it didn’t matter. He followed me outside.”

  She took a deep inhale, sunk into her seat, her shoulders wrapped around her. “He grabbed my arm and wouldn’t let go.” Her eyes had a vacant look.

  Mason’s hands fisted, a vision of her being followed and manhandled sent a flood of heat into his chest. Men who used intimidation to scare women pissed him off. No one had the right to place hands on a woman without her permission.

  “He wouldn’t let me go—I tried to get away, but he was so strong. He had a death grip on my arms. So, I knee’d him in the nuts and tried to get my door open. When I looked back, he…he had a gun and was coming toward me.”

  “Take your time,” Holt said, his voice soft.

  “He…hit me across the face, and I fell down. I got my foot in the door and kicked it open, which knocked the gun out of his hand. And then…I just grabbed it…and…”

  Her hand covered her mouth and she closed her eyes.

  “I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted him to stop—to leave me alone. He looked like he wanted me dead.”

  “Do you remember how times you fired the weapon?”

  “Just once. And I tried to save him. I really did. The police don’t believe me, but trust me I did not want him to die.” Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, and slid down her face.

  Mason wanted to tell her not to waste her tears or her remorse on a piece of shit like Forrester. She had likely done the world a favor—probably saved countless other women from the same fate. He couldn’t—that wasn’t his place.

  But damn—this woman impressed the hell out of him.

  Holt closed the file and stood. “Sit tight, Ms. Baylor. We’ll be back for you in a few minutes.”

  She nodded, but Mason didn’t think she was really listening. From the look on her face, she was still thinking about how she had failed to save the fucker who had not only assaulted her, but threatened her with a gun.

  Mason followed Holt into the hallway. Gordon and Rinehart came from the observation room.

  “We’ll be taking Ms. Baylor with us,” Holt told them.

  “Like hell you will,” Rinehart said. “She’s being charged with first degree murder.”

  “For what? Protecting herself?” Mason asked. “She deserves a medal for what she did.”

  Holt shot him a look. Mason clamped his mouth shut.

  “This is a matter of national security, and she’s coming with us. I see the press has gathered, so we’ll need to use your back door to get Ms. Baylor out. Now, we can do this easily, or I can make a phone call and have everyone including the Governor, the Director of Homeland Security, and the Joint Chiefs’ meet to discuss having both of you replaced by the morning.”

  Rinehart bristled. “Fine.”

  “Thank you. Now, could you also provide something for Ms. Baylor to wear.”

  “Sorry,” the Chief piped up, a smirk on his face. “She’s wearing the only extra clothes we have.”

  Holt’s expression went flat. “Thanks for your help.”

  He started to make his way out, and turned to Mason. “I’ll get the car and bring it around to the back. You escort Ms. Baylor out. I doubt they’ll even try to mess with you.”

  “Sorry for the outburst, sir.”

  “Nothing to apologize for.” Holt shook his head. “Ms. Baylor is…surprising,” he chuckled. “She hit Forrester center mass. Helluva shot for someone not used to firing a weapon under pressure.”

  “Probably best to keep firearms out of her reach.”

  “And stay on her good side.”

  Note to self: do not hit on Jess Baylor.

  Mason stepped back inside the interrogation room. Jess looked up at him, her eyes the color of milk chocolate. Warm, but still unsure. Scared.

  “You’ll be coming with us,” Mason said. He unbuttoned the NWU fatigue blouse he wore over his t-shirt and handed it to her.

  “Going with you where?” She stood, and wrapped her arms tightly across her chest. “I thought I was being charged with murder.”

  “We’ll explain on the way, but you don’t need to worry about the murder charge anymore.” He shook his top at her. “Here. Put this on. Once we get where we’re going, you can change out of those.”

  “That guy—” she gestured toward the door, “—the Colonel—he said he would answer my questions, if I answered his.”

  “He did,” Mason agreed.

  Hands on hips, she glared at him. “Well, I want my questions answered.”

  “In the car.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me what’s going on.”

  Frustration flared in every one of Mason’s nerve endings. Is she seriously going to challenge me when I’m offering her a way out? “You want to know what’s going on? You can either come with us and not go to prison—or you can stay here and be charged, tried, and most likely convicted of murder.” He mocked her, placing his hands on his hips. “Which will it be, Ms. Baylor?”

  Her nostrils flared, and Mason was sure daggers were about to come from her eyes and sink into his chest. She stood for a moment, contemplating which of the sets of men were the lesser evils. She snagged the top from his hand and swung it around her shoulders. It was way too big, and even though she was on the taller side, it still managed to resemble a dress on he
r.

  He stepped out of the way, and let her walk out of the room ahead of him. Grasping her elbow, he ushered her down the hallway, and out the back door. If the Colonel hadn’t been there, Mason may have tossed the woman into the back seat of the SUV. No amount of hotness was worth her attitude…

  He climbed into the passenger seat, closed the door and exhaled. She was already a pain in his ass—and he doubted that was going to change any time soon.

  Chapter 3

  Jess looked at the men in the front of the SUV. The Colonel seemed somewhat stiff. All business. But, at least he was nice. The other guy? He could use a refresher course in good manners.

  She had thought he was good looking—she still did, if she was going to be honest with herself. She was a sucker for a man in uniform, and Mason Hunt filled his out in all the right places. The man was massive. Everywhere—that she could see, anyway—from his broad shoulders and chest, hard muscles in his back, and what had to be a fairly impressive eight-pack of abs. His t-shirt was tight on him, not surprisingly it was probably tough to find a shirt that would even fit him.

  “Ms. Baylor,” the Colonel said, glancing at her from the rearview mirror.

  “Jess,” she said.

  “Jess, I’m know you’ve been through a lot and you’re confused about what is going on, along with having questions about our involvement in your…predicament. And I promise to answer all your questions, but I really think tonight is not the best time to get into them. For now, let me just tell you that you will not be charged with murder in the death of Daniel Forrester. Clearly, it was self-defense.”

  She sighed, and a huge ball of stress lifted off her chest and floated away like a wispy cloud. “Well, thanks for that, I’m glad someone believes me. But I’m still not sure why the military is involved? Or where you are taking me?”

  “I won’t go into all the details tonight—you’ll want a clearer head for that discussion—but I can tell you that Daniel Forrester was more than just a persistent jerk who wouldn’t take no for an answer. He comes from a dangerous family, and they’re not happy that their son is dead. Some threats have been made against you. We’re here to ensure your safety while we ascertain the threat level against you.”

  “So, what was he--part of a mob family?”

  The Colonel and Mason exchanged a glance. “We can get into that tomorrow when you are rested, but, yes, something like that.”

  They were keeping something from her. She hated not knowing what was going on, but so far, the Colonel had kept his part of the bargain. He was answering her questions. On top of that, he was keeping her safe.

  “Okay, so that’s part one. What about part two? Where are we going?”

  “Master Chief Hunt will be your personal protection while you’re with us. You will be staying with him at his apartment.”

  “No,” Jess said, a little louder than she should have.

  “Sir,” Mason said, his voice even louder than hers.

  “Sorry, Tink,” Colonel Holt said, “there’s really no other choice. You need to be with her damn near twenty-four-seven. There is really no need to put you both up in a hotel when you have a two bedroom apartment close to the base. The apartment is safer than a hotel, also, which means you can keep up appearances by maintaining your usual daily schedule.”

  Mason rolled his neck and let out a long, deep sigh. “Yes, sir.”

  Jess sunk deeper into her seat.

  Well, that’s just great. I’m released from jail and sent to prison. Or hell. Which was yet to be determined. What she did know—her life was no longer her own. All because she protected herself from a man who wanted to harm her.

  Of course, as punishments went—Daniel Forrester had gotten the worst of it.

  * * *

  The sun wasn’t even on the horizon when Jess woke up the next morning. Where the hell am I?

  She was laying on a leather couch wearing a huge t-shirt with Navy blazoned across it in dark blue. Memories of the previous twenty-four hours filtered through her mind. She had been out for drinks. Shot a man. And was now being protected by a man who looked more like a walking, talking, breathing building come to life than a man.

  By the time Colonel Holt had dropped her and Mason at his apartments, Jess was so tired she could barely make it up the stairs to the second floor of the building. Mason had shown her to the guest bedroom, which consisted of a queen sized bed and a dresser, handed her a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants, and then went to his own room.

  She would’ve like to take a shower and wash the jail cell sink off of her, but decided to hold off until she could get a few hours of sleep. Sleep had been rough for most of the night. Every time she drifted off, nightmares woke her. Reliving taking a man’s life, and the knowledge that his mobster family was out for revenge, made it difficult to get any rest. The nightmares forced her to stay awake which meant she heard every creak and other unknown noises that convinced her the mafia enforcers were there to kill her.

  After wandering into the family room, she had hoped to be able to watch TV for a while and get her mind off her troubles. But Mason’s door was open and she was nervous about closing it, and didn’t want to wake him with the light and sound of the TV. Curling into a corner of the couch, she covered herself with a blanket and listened to the low, rumbling snores from Mason’s room. They were soothing, but also gave her some peace of mind knowing he was so close, and there to protect her.

  Waking after a few hours of uninterrupted sleep had surprised her. She folded the blanket and went to the bathroom. Since Mason was still asleep, this was probably a good time to take a shower. Less chance of interfering with his schedule. Not since college had she had a roommate. She was a bit rusty on the protocols.

  Chapter 4

  Mason walked out into the family room and stretched. A blanket and pillow sat on the couch, but the room was empty.

  Had Jess slept on the couch?

  The door to her bedroom was open, and he could hear the water running in the shower. Early riser…or she had trouble sleeping. Most likely the latter. If she hadn’t had nightmares last night, he would’ve been surprised. Shooting someone was hard enough. Taking a person’s life, no matter what the circumstance, was not an easy thing to overcome. Mason believed she was justified, but he knew from experience that it made little difference when emotions and guilt took over rational thought.

  He flipped on the light in the kitchen and grabbed the carafe from the coffee maker and filled it with water while he added a filter and coffee to the basket. He hoped Jess liked really strong coffee and didn’t take anything in it. His refrigerator was pretty bare.

  A knock at the door sent him quietly moving towards the gun he kept in the drawer of the table next to the couch. He might have to reconsider that now that he had a house guest. Having guns out without locking them up wasn’t a real issue when he was the only one living there.

  He peered out the peephole in the door. Riley Bray, the CIA analyst for his new team. He opened the door and stepped out of the way to let her in. “Thought you were going to text me when you were on your way?”

  “Check your phone, dumbass.”

  Riley was tall, probably just shy of six foot, with an attitude to match her red hair. She didn’t hold back any punches and fit in perfect with the team of twelve men. She was good looking, sexy even, but Mason had a hard time thinking of her as anything more than a sister. Which was probably for the best, since they worked together.

  Mason pulled his cell phone out of the pocket of his sweat pants. Sure enough, a text from Riley lit up the screen.

  He smiled. “Oops.”

  “Yeah, oops.”

  Mason filled a mug with coffee and handed it to her.

  “Where’s your roomie?” Riley asked.

  “Shower.”

  “So, how was your first night?”

  Mason shrugged. “Okay, I guess.” He pointed toward the living room. “Think she slept part of the night on the couch, but I d
idn’t hear a peep out of her. Haven’t actually laid eyes on her this morning.”

  “Here. Since I know you don’t have anything to eat.” Riley tossed a McDonald’s bag at him. “You’re unsure if she’s okay—or actually here?”

  Mason dug through the bag. Ten sausage biscuits and six hash browns. Riley was a goddess. He unwrapped a sausage biscuit and took a bite. “Didn’t think it was a good idea to check the shower to make sure it was actually her.”

  “Why? is there a gun in there?”

  “No.” He shoved the second half of the biscuit into his mouth.

  A shit-eating grin slid across her mouth. “Then there’s no need to worry about her shooting you in the chest.”

  “Funny. Who knew you had a sense of humor?”

  “Not many, my friend, not many.” She pointed to the bag. “Leave some for your charge.”

  The door to the bathroom opened, and a figure emerged. Jess walked into the living room and stood next to the breakfast bar.

  “Good morning,” Mason said. “Coffee?”

  “Please,” she said and took the mug in her hands.

  “Riley—Jess,” Mason said as way of introduction. “Jess—Riley.”

  Riley put out her hand and Jess shook it. She looked Jess up and down, and then glanced at Mason. “Pretty good job judging her size, Tink. I’m impressed.”

  “Not my first time.” He winked.

  Jess stared at him, a multitude of questions swirling in those rich brown eyes. Something stirred in his chest. He attributed it to heartburn because he didn’t want to consider this woman was making him feel anything. She was work, and he kept emotions out of work as much as possible. Too hard to kill people if you let affection rule your actions.

  Riley handed Jess a bag. “I bought a few things for you—couple of changes of clothes, toothbrush, shampoo—so you don’t have to smell like Mason just because you’re staying with him.”

  Jess glanced inside the bag. “Oh, thank you.”

  “It’s just a couple of pairs of yoga pants, tops, and some other essentials. And a jacket. If there’s anything that you don’t like or doesn’t fit, just let me know.”