Freefall (The Indigo Lounge Series, #5)

by Zara Cox

  “Well, when you put it like that...” I let my voice drift.

  “No lies, Keely. You okay with that?” he asks.

  I suck in a deep breath. And smile. “I’m okay with that.

  Chapter 29

  Keely

  The next four days race by. Mason disappears into whatever area he’s commandeered in the bowels of the yacht to work when he has to. He never tells me what he’s working on, and I don’t ask.

  He, on the other hand, questions me about that Friday night six years ago. Sometimes, he’s subtle. Other times he demands to know every single detail. I hate myself for withholding that final part of jagged jigsaw, but I tell myself there’s no need for him to know. I also know he’s gathering the information I give him. Most likely to find who’s behind the emails. I let him. My past will inevitably rise up and slap me in the face. But for now, I’m living in the present.

  I also don’t ask why he keeps ignoring Cassie’s phone calls. They’ve graduated from three or four a day, to almost hourly now. He always checks to see whether she’s left a message. She never does.

  Wondering what the hell her deal is looms larger and larger in my mind, but I refuse to give it voice. I want nothing to take up extra room in the Mason & Keely Temporary Bliss Shuttle.

  Our routine is simple. Fuck. Eat. Fuck. Sleep. Fuck. Debate about the world and about nothing. Fuck.

  A couple of times, he’s ventured out to meet me for dinner or drinks on the boat or at whatever venue I happen to be escorting my guests. After that time at the club in Majorca, I’ve learned not to flirt when he’s around.

  Titus-Asshole-Morton, however, hasn’t learned his lesson. His nose hadn't broken after all—much to my regret—and his leers have taken a dirty angle, especially when Mason isn’t around.

  I’d wondered what he’d meant when he’d referred to him and Mason as fishing from the same pool.

  Well, I got my answer when I stepped into the elevator after a long afternoon of thermal baths and cocktails at Vulcano, Sicily.

  The hostess I’d scheduled to take the guests had come down with food poisoning, so I’d had no choice but to step in and head the trip. The healthy mud bath hadn’t been too bad, but the constant bickering of Titus’s pets has given me a piercing headache.

  Finding the man himself lounging against the wall of the elevator, doesn’t improve my mood. I stab for the lower deck and do my best to ignore him.

  Of course, he’s obnoxious enough to disregard my pointed signal and moves into my eye line.

  “Enjoy your day of rolling around in the mud?” he jibes. “I’m more than willing to dirty you some more if you want? he adds with a chuckle.

  I turn and stare into his pale blue eyes. “I don’t want, asshole. And I see your nose is still bent out of shape. Maybe you want me to bend it some more, finish what Mason started?”

  Cold rage fills his eyes. “I paid a fuck load of money for this trip. I was promised an experience that’s so far been severely lacking. Isn’t this gig supposed to a free-for-all? And as for Sinclair, I don’t know what his fucking problem is. We’ve both fucked the same girls from Hani’s stable. He suddenly doesn’t want to share, that’s fine.” His sleazy gaze slithers over me, and I’m glad I’m wearing the kimono-like gown that covers me from neck to feet. “You’re not super hot, but I see the appeal. Sinclair got a free pass the last time. If he so much as points a finger at me, my lawyers will turn him into chump.”

  The elevator door opens. I walk through it, then turn and cock my head invitingly. “He’s right this way. Care to come and tell him all of that bullshit in person?”

  Fear crawls through his eyes, but he snaps, “Not worth my time. I have somewhere else to be.” He stabs the button for the floor below repeatedly until the door starts to shut.

  I smile. “Enjoy your evening, you fucking coward.”

  Outraged anger is the last thing I see before I turn and head down the hallway. At the door, I pause and take a deep breath.

  I tell myself I’m a modern woman, that I’m okay with whichever way Mason had chosen to get his rocks off before he met me.

  But...I’m not okay being confused for a member of Hani’s stable, whoever the hell she is.

  I jump when the door is yanked open. “You plan to stand there all night?” Mason glares at me.

  He hadn’t been happy when I’d had to abandon our lunch and fuck plans to go on the excursion. Clearly, his mood hasn’t improved in my absence.

  I walk past him into the room, careful to avoid his gaze in case he sees my agitation, but he grabs my wrist and pulls me into a rough hug.

  “You were supposed to be back an hour ago,” he gripes as he buries his face in the crook of my neck.

  “Sorry, the mixologist who accompanied us was a little too good at his job. Either that or serving decadent cocktails while indulging in an ancient mud bath, is something no woman can get enough of.”

  “Hmm,” he grunts, his mouth sliding to my collarbone. “Did you have a mud bath, too? Is that why you’re wearing dirty, delightful stink I want to roll around in?”

  I tilt my head to give him better access, all the while trying to get my brain to erase Titus Morton’s words. “The sulphur’s supposed to be good for my skin.”

  “I’m good for your skin,” he growls softly. “You want me to demonstrate?”

  I open my mouth to say yes. Instead, different words emerge. “Who’s Hani?”

  Mason tenses against me, then lifts his head. “Who told you her name?”

  I stare back at him “Does it matter? Apparently, I’m good enough to be one of the many girls from her stable.”

  His features harden from granite to titanium. “Morton.” The word is a death sentence.

  I shiver but plow on. “I have to ask, Mason. Is this information public knowledge?”

  His eyes narrow. “Why?”

  My shoulders lift in shrug that feels as if it’s weighted by the world. “I just want a heads up if anyone who sees me with you will automatically think I’m a prostitute.”

  “They wouldn’t dare.”

  “Umm...sorry, but they kinda already did.”

  “I’ll deal with Morton.”

  I place a hand on his chest and shake my head. “No need, I already did. He’s probably thick enough to try something again, but I can handle him.”

  Mason watches me, trying to gauge my mood. His phone starts to ring and relief punches through me.

  Of course, I realize a moment later, it’s probably Cassie. And he’s not going to answer it.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” I say.

  He frowns. “Keely—”

  “You’re right. I stink. And I’m starving. You mind ordering me some food?”

  Still watching me, he nods.

  “Thanks. I’d love a juicy Indulgence burger. The chef tops the meat with a mean mango salsa I can’t get enough of. Oh and I want an extra large portion of fries with it please.”

  One brow lifts. “Anything else?”

  “No, that should about cover it. See you in a few.”

  I bolt for the bathroom and jump into the shower. Despite having used the spa facilities on board the yacht when I returned, I scrub myself again from head to toe.

  Two truths smack me in the face as I’m drying myself.

  The first is, I don’t care what anyone who sees me with Mason, labels me as. All I want is to be with him.

  I also possess a rampantly alive and kicking fountain of jealousy and possessiveness. Enough to equal or even surpass Zach Savage’s. I want to punch in the throat each and every woman that Mason has ever fucked.

  The first observation fills me with even more dread. The second I accept with weary resignation. I hadn’t been joking when I’d told Mason I was already fucked up. Learning this new dimension of myself only adds to my unique quirkiness.

  I’m chucking cruelly at myself as I leave Mason’s bedroom, wearing nothing but a short silk robe. When I hear voices, I thin
k it’s the restaurant’s concierge, delivering my food.

  My feet slam to a halt when I enter the living room. “Bethany?”

  She turns and smiles when she sees me. “There you are! Was thinking I might need to barge in there and pull you out of that shower.”

  She reaches me and tugs me into a hug. Beyond her shoulder, I see Zach talking to Mason.

  A sense of déjà vu fills me. The last time I’d been in this position had been in Zach and Bethany’s kitchen in Montauk. Then, as now, I’d been filled with turmoil and dread. It’s strange to think so much, and so little, has changed since that day.

  Bethany pulls back and stares into my face. I see the concern and anxiety in her blue eyes, and my heart catches.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  Her eyes widen. “Nothing. I’m fine. But I was about to ask you the same question.”

  A knock on the door stops further conversation. I let the bellboy in and direct him to where to leave the trolley.

  The moment he leaves, Bethany grabs my hand and clutches it tight. “We need to talk. Can we go to your suite?” There’s a tension in her body, and I notice that she’s not doing her usual devour-Zach-from-across-the-room routine.

  In fact, her body is precisely and deliberately turned away from the two men on the balcony.

  “Bethany, what the hell’s going on?”

  She shuts her eyes for a fortifying second, before she stares sadly at me. “I promised Zach I wouldn’t say anything. He’ll kill me if he knows I’m even thinking about it. But—”

  “Stop fucking me with, girl, and spill.” Whispering the dirty word brings a ridiculous swell of shame, as if I’m betraying Mason.

  As if he’s compelled me, my gaze finds his. He’s staring right back at me, intense speculation narrowing his eyes.

  “Not here,” Bethany pleads.

  I drag my gaze from Mason’s and nod. Plastering a fake smile on my face, I stride to the trolley and grip the handle.

  “Hey, we’re going over to my suite to catch up on wedding stuff,” I lie to Mason without looking him in the eye. “I’ll see you later.”

  He jerks straight from the cross-legged, cross-armed position he’d adopted while talking to Zach. I wonder whether he’ll stop me from leaving. I wonder what I’ll do if he does.

  “Keely.”

  Heart hammering, I turn. He comes to me and catches my face in his hands. His kiss is hard, but brief. Hazel eyes probe mine for a heart-stopping second before he releases me.

  “Hurry back.”

  I swallow and nod. “Okay.”

  Bethany holds the door open, and I wheel the trolley through like a bank robber hightailing it out of a heist.

  I don’t know why I’m in a hurry to hear what my best friend has to say.

  Because I do know that whatever it is will bat my fucked-up-ness into the next century.

  Chapter 30

  mason

  I stare at the door Keely just walked out of and calmly acknowledge that the feeling spreading its way through my bloodstream is panic.

  Not the crash and burn type that leaves just as quickly as it arrives. This is the slow, insidious type that taunts you with its possibilities and ability to grow extra appendages to fuck you with.

  It started with the left-field question about Hani. Then grew when I realised how the thought of her interaction with Morton made me feel.

  The little shit didn’t have a spine worth crushing, and I’m sure Keely can hold her own more than adequately. And yet none of that matters. The protectiveness that welled up in my chest, and is still present, beacons a chaotic sequence that’s been building since I told her about Toby. Since she let me purge on her.

  I recall a conversation with the tribal priest in Roraima. He’d told me I’d never find peace for the chaos that reigns in my heart. I’d informed him that peace was the last thing I wished for, or wanted. He’d told me he would pray that my chaos never quietens.

  My chaos isn’t quietening. It’s mutating into something less virulent and less murky, which makes me see through the dense jungles of pain and rage.

  She’d looked into my eyes and witnessed what I’d done. Or at least she suspects. She hadn’t called me a monster despite knowing what lives in my soul.

  I’m not sure if the open acceptance is better or worse. All I know is I crave her beyond imagining, whether she’s trapped beneath me, giving me what I need, or out of my sight.

  The Hani issue isn’t a problem.

  The thought that it might keep Keely from me is. Keely is all I need.

  “Have you heard a fucking word I’ve said since Keely walked out that door?”

  I inhale my irritation and turn to Zach. “So besides bringing your fiancé to help clusterfuck my evening, and then soiling my eardrums with goddamn small talk, why are you here?” I ask Zach.

  He lifts his beer and takes a long pull. “My staff alerted me that I have a Titus-Morton-shaped problem that needs to be dealt with. Know anything about that?”

  “Yeah, the guy’s an asshole. He’ll be a lifeless asshole when I get my hands around his pussy neck.”

  “You see, talk like that is why I thought I’d better come and check on my investment before you turn my yacht into a killing field or start throwing guests overboard.”

  “Great, I suggest you go take care of your problems and let me deal with mine.”

  “I think it might be too late, buddy,” he mutters.

  I glance sharply at Zach. “Care to shed some light on that declaration?”

  A hard, almost regretful smile twists his lips. “My soon-to-be wife—if she ever stops nitpicking every motherfucking detail of this damned wedding and gets round to actually marrying me—and your...what is she to you, exactly?”

  My teeth smash together. “Get to the damn point, Savage.”

  Zach shrugs, unconcerned by the seething volatility raking through me. “My Peaches and your Keely are close. Closer than you or I will be comfortable with, if you two survive the shit storm that’s coming long enough to become a thing.”

  The roar of the chaos increases, and panic deadens my limbs. “What shit storm. What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Keely called last week, after you dumped her.”

  “I didn’t dump her.” I can barely speak through the poison tearing through my bloodstream. “What did she say when she called?”

  “She wanted to know whether there were any bare-assed skeletons in your closet.”

  “What?”

  “You can freak out in your own time when you’re chasing rats the size of lions in that shit of a jungle you’re so crazy about. Right now, shut the fuck up and listen, because I know one of two things is going to happen in the next five minutes. Right now, my Peaches is spilling her sweet little heart to her best friend—despite promising me she won’t—about what happened to Peterson after you got your hands on him.”

  “Mother of Christ!” I charge for the door, but Zach gets there first.

  I knock his hand away intent on chasing down Keeley, but he shakes his head. “It’s too late, man. By now she knows.”

  “How? And how the fuck did your woman find out?”

  Zach’s eyes gleam. “This is where I’m supposed to say I don’t have any secrets from the woman who holds every beat of my useless heart in her fucking hands, or some shit. And yeah, it’s true. But the unvarnished truth is, she was freaked out with worry about her friend. I couldn’t have that. So I asked a guy I know to look into things.”

  I shake my head. “Bullshit. I covered my tracks better than ‘a guy I know to look into things’ standards.”

  Zach crosses his arms and leans back against the door. “Let’s agree to disagree on how good we are at what we do. Does Keely know you’re investigating what happened to her six years ago?”

  My hand drops from the door in a dead weight. “Shit! How the fuck do you know that?” I spike my fingers through my hair, certain in the knowledge that if ther
e’d been any hope of salvaging anything from the first piece of shit news, it’s just gone out the window with the second.

  “She’s important to Bethany, which makes her important to me. And before you throw a tantrum, Bethany doesn’t know about the investigation, or what Keely went through.”

  My head snaps up. “She doesn’t?”

  “No, and I’m going to make damn sure my little fire cracker doesn’t find out from me. But do me a favor, tell Keely. Trust me, things have a way of coming out whether you want them to or not.”

  I thrust my hands into my pockets to keep from putting my fist into the wall. “I don’t intend to let the person or persons who violated her get away with it. But yeah, thanks for the hearts and roses and forgiveness sermon,” I snarl.

  Zach bares his teeth. “Any time, pal. That code you wrote me ten years ago for tracking my stock made me a bundle and stopped my companies from tanking during the ’08 fuck storm. And I won’t divulge which one, but one of the toys you invented for me makes my Peaches a very happy woman. I figured the least I could do was give you a little man-to-man heads up that your life’s about take on epic clusterfuck proportions. As for letting anyone get away with it, I’ll go after them myself if you don’t.”

  Our gazes meet, and an understanding passes between us. I nod, then pace in tight circles, noting wryly that Zach is still guarding the door. I can’t hear myself think over the roar in my ears. I want to see Keely, but I don’t know how I’ll react if she walks away from me.

  I stop in my tracks as steel blades of irony slide between my ribs. I’ve been walking away from everyone who comes within caring distance all my life. Now, by attempting to care for Keely, and bringing her the justice she deserves, I’ve risked her walking away from me.

  I see Zach turn sharply toward the door, and I lunge past him and yank it open.

  When I see Daniel, instead of the woman who’s importance has crept beneath the black noise of my life, I bite back a growl. “What do you want?”

  The young guard looks from me to Zach, senses the volatile land mine before him, and hurries to speak. “We’ve had a call to the captain’s office for you, Mr. Sinclair.”