Dangerous in Training (Aegis Group, #2)

by Sidney Bristol

  “That would be a good guess,” Mason replied.

  “Gracias, Pablo.” Abraham waved at the desk clerk, then turned, flicking the end of the newspaper down the hall. “Let’s conduct business in private, hm?”

  “Lead the way.” Mason’s arm tightened around her waist, keeping them glued together.

  When she wasn’t so scared, she was going to kick his ass. Somehow. Some way.

  Abraham led them into one of the last rooms on the hall, unlocked the door and stepped inside, holding the door for them. Mason’s weight shifted slightly, pulling her backward, off balance. He smoothly stepped in front of her, one hand at the small of his back—wrapped around the handle of a gun.

  “I’m curious how you found me,” Abraham said.

  The cold, clicking sound of a gun being cocked froze the air in Hannah’s lungs. She might be sheltered, but her father had ensured she could shoot and handle any kind of legal fire arm. Nothing sounded like a real gun being prepared to fire. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

  “Harbor master.” Mason shifted, pulling the gun out of his waistband a little at a time. “A little cash and they gave us the names of all the private boats that had docked in the last seven days, even highlighted the ones still in port. It’s not our fault you didn’t think to use an alias.”

  The lights flipped on in the room and Abraham lowered the weapon, lifting his shoulders.

  “It was a risk worth taking,” he said. “Come in. Shut the door.”

  “What?” Her voice broke. They should leave. Run now. Not waltz into the lair of a mad man.

  “Close the door, Hannah,” Mason said without turning toward her.

  “Are you nuts?” she muttered under her breath, but did as he asked.

  The room was cleaner than she’d expected based on the exterior of the hotel. The furniture was sparse, but shone from polishing. A suitcase lay open on the desk and several large black travel cases sat around the perimeter of the room. The kind guns might be transported in.

  She did not want to know.

  Abraham crossed to the kitchenette and opened the fridge.

  “Who are you sending a message to?” Mason turned, studying the room openly.

  “If you don’t know the answer to that, you’re in a lot more trouble than I’d guessed. Drink?” Abraham gestured to the practically antique refrigerator with rows of bottled water and beer.

  “Water, thanks.”

  “Roberto de la Cruz. Or Cruz as most people call him here.” Abraham handed out two bottles of water and took a beer for himself.

  “What’s Cruz do?” Mason took one of the two arm chairs while Abraham strolled to the barred window and gazed out on the front street.

  “A little of this, a little of that, but his specialty over the last year has been girls. Whatever your fancy, you can get them from Cruz.”

  Mason glanced at Hannah, brows drawn low.

  It wasn’t tied to Aegis then? They were just after her?

  “We’re looking for two girls he kidnapped last night,” Mason said.

  “Friends of yours?” Abraham turned and sipped from the bottle.

  “More or less, yeah.” Mason twisted off the cap to his water and she followed suit.

  “Then I’m sorry, but they’re likely already gone. Unless they were special, then, I wish—for their sakes—they are dead.” Abraham’s gaze slid to her. “If I were you, I’d leave before Cruz saw you. You’d fetch a high price if he ever got his hands on you.”

  “I can’t leave them,” Hannah blurted. She couldn’t leave any of them. Faceless, nameless girls lined her thoughts, each one needing help no one was offering.

  “What is it you need? I must say, I’m curious what you think two people can do. Cruz owns a large chunk of the city, more or less.”

  “IDs. Credit cards, burner phones, a tablet if you have it. Cash. A couple guns. Some equipment.” Mason ticked each one off on a finger.

  “That costs.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “What I can’t supply, I know someone who can. It’ll take a few hours and I need some photographs.”

  “If I can borrow a phone I can put half the cost in any account right now. The rest on delivery.”

  “Easiest deal I’ve made all month. There’s a room next door, you can rest there while my guy puts the package together. You have preferences on your weapons?” Abraham set his bottle down on a dresser and hoisted a black case onto the bed.

  Ho-ly crap.

  She did not need to see this or be part of it.

  “Can I go next door?” Hannah’s throat felt like sandpaper and her heart was making a good attempt at breaking her ribs, it was pounding so hard.

  “Hannah...” Mason stared at her, probably trying to communicate something she couldn’t understand without a flashing neon sign.

  She needed out of here. Out of this world, if only for a moment.

  “Key is on top of the fridge.” Abraham waved in the general vicinity of the kitchenette.

  Hannah stood so fast the chair skidded backward. She grabbed the key and let herself out of the room, into the hallway. The humidity wrapped around her, easing the dryness of her throat, but it did nothing for the pounding in her head. She stumbled the few steps to the next room, unlocked it and slammed the door behind her, twisting all three locks into place.

  What the hell had she gotten herself into?

  Mason tapped on the door, doing his best not to break it down. For nearly forty-five minutes he’d had to sit around, shoot the bull with Abraham and talk guns when all he wanted to do was have Hannah in his line of sight. He’d recognized the panic in her eye, the fear, but there wasn’t time to coddle her, to ease her into it all or explain anything.

  “Hannah, open the door.” He knocked again.

  If she didn’t answer, he was going to kick it in.

  First one lock, then another scraped and the door cracked open, a sliver of Hannah’s face visible.

  He blew out a breath and splayed his hand against the wood.

  “Open the door,” he said.

  She stepped back and he slipped in, locking the door behind him. Mason drew his first easy breath since the moment Abraham lowered his gun. Mason’s hands shook and he wanted to hold her, but he couldn’t. Not until he was certain the tremors had stopped. For some reason he couldn’t shake the urge to hold her tight. As if he’d held her like a lover once before.

  He had to be strong for both of them now. Being close to Abraham was both protecting them, and putting them in danger, a reality he was all too aware of after nearly an hour with the other man.

  “I’m sorry about earlier.” Hannah backed up, arms wrapped around her waist.

  “It would have been safer for you to stay.”

  “And have a panic attack in front of that guy?” She gestured to the wall separating their rooms.

  “You’re doing fine.” He set his hands on her shoulders, squeezing them slightly to keep the shakes away. For someone thrown into a covert, fly by the seat of your pants operation, she’d done okay. Especially when she’d walked into the lobby and stared Abraham down like he was dirt. It was some act. He was proud of her.

  “I’m not fine, Mason. We’re in trouble—because of me.”

  “No, we’re not. We’re okay.”

  “Mason...you don’t know that.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No.”

  “Do we have a safe place to stay?”

  “Are you calling this safe?” She gestured at the room.

  “For now, yeah. As soon as we pick up the stuff from Abraham, we’ll move. Find somewhere more low key.”

  “Isn’t there someone we can tell about this? The cops? The...I don’t know, an American embassy or something?”

  “The cops would likely turn you over to Cruz and kill me. The closest American embassy is hundreds of miles away. We could maybe make some calls, put a bug in someone’s ear at the CIA or FBI, but they can’t act fast enough
.” Her friends would be gone long before the government could rally enough support to launch a rescue attempt.

  “Is this what you do?”

  “Yeah, something like this.” He nodded.

  Hannah turned and strode across the room, peering out the window by way of a tiny slit between the curtains.

  “I shouldn’t be here. I should have left. Can we call anyone at Aegis? My dad?”

  “He’s still radio silent, and we could call some of the guys, but who would pay the bill? If you go home, there is no vested interest in bringing those girls home.” The facts were, Aegis went where they were paid to go. It was rarely a charity thing. There were too many people whose livelihoods depended on the jobs they took paying their mortgages.

  “How are you paying for it?” she asked.

  “Aegis is. You’re here. Your dad would spend anything to keep you safe.” It was one of the points Zain had made, the one reason Zain hadn’t already booked a private plane just for Hannah. So long as she was there, Aegis would get the job done.

  “So as long as I’m here and supposedly in danger, Aegis will do whatever it takes?”

  “Until your dad gets back and sends a team of guys to yank us out of here, yeah. Getting those girls back is going to be expensive, and someone has to pay for it.”

  “So I can’t leave.”

  “You can.” And he’d stay and figure something out on his own, but it wouldn’t be enough. Maybe if he was Travis or one of the other guys who could tank through something like a one-man army, but he didn’t have those skills.

  Hannah crossed to the bed and sat on the edge. He followed her, because he couldn’t keep his distance. Mason knelt in front of her, looking up at her worry-lined face, the little divots at the corners of her mouth from frowning too hard.

  Every time he looked at her, he felt as though there was something missing. Had something happened last night? What had he said? Done?

  “It’s going to be okay,” he said.

  “Are you sure? Can you tell me that without a shadow of a doubt? Because I don’t know if I can believe it.”

  “Okay.” He took both her hands in his. “It’s not okay right now, but you are safe, we have supplies headed our way, and I am never going to let anything bad happen to you, ya hear?”

  “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Her voice broke and tears welled up in her eyes.

  He opened and closed his mouth. Him? She was worried to the point of tears about him? There was nothing to say, no defense against her tears. Had he ever seen Hannah cry?

  “I’m scared, Mason.”

  “I know.” He sat on the bed next to her and wrapped an arm around her.

  Somehow he’d make good on his promise. Nothing could happen to Hannah, not because her father would kill him, but because Mason would rather die than see her taken by someone like Cruz.

  He rubbed circles on her back, hating the way she trembled. This had to be hard on her, but they didn’t have the time or the luxury of indulging in fear.

  “Hannah?” He squeezed her hand. “I need you to walk me through what happened last night again. Maybe you’ll remember something different?”

  “Like what?” She straightened, little wisps of hair framing her face.

  “Did anyone talk to you? Was there someone you noticed watching you, or the other two girls?”

  “No.”

  “No, no one talked to you or watched you?”

  “We only talked to each other. Christine and Natalie would dance with guys, but they’d move on really fast. We didn’t talk to anyone.”

  “And did anyone watch you?”

  “Maybe? I can’t remember anyone specific.”

  “What about when we left the party?” It frustrated him to no end to have zero memory of that time. As she spoke he felt as though he should remember moments, the beats of a song, but if he tried to focus on it the phantom memory dissolved into nothing.

  “Um, you were out of it, we went back up and went to bed.” She stood and paced away from him.

  “Are you sure that’s it? We didn’t stop anywhere? No one knocked on our doors?”

  “I wouldn’t know.” She threw her arms up and turned around.

  “Hannah, will you calm down? I’m just trying to fill in the blanks here.”

  “You really remember nothing?”

  “It’s more like...shadows. Echoes of a memory. But no, I can’t tell you what happened.”

  Her gaze drifted away from him and she covered her mouth with a hand. She looked...shell-shocked.

  “What did I do?” He curled his hands into fists, frustrated with himself. “I did something that ticked you off, didn’t I? I’m sorry, okay?”

  “It’s not that.”

  “Then what did I do? Tell me.”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head, eyes closed.

  “Hannah, I need to know.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, tell me.”

  “We had sex, Mason. We slept together and you don’t even remember it.” She covered her mouth with her hand and turned away, muttering under her breath.

  “Wait—what?”

  Had he heard her right?

  They’d—slept together? As in, sex? Real, sweaty, screaming, orgasming sex?

  “You’re joking, right?” He clutched the edge of the bed, a sick sensation weighing in his stomach. He’d sworn it wouldn’t happen, that he’d put her safety above anything he wanted. That they would go home from this trip the same way they’d arrived—as just friends.

  “Oh my God, no, I’m not. And you’d never know if I didn’t open my big, fat mouth.”

  “I—I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “I should not have done that.” He was so dead. Her father would make sure he wound up six feet under—if anyone ever found his body.

  “That—what? Sex?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, it was wrong.” The barely-there memories, the shadows, could that be what he was trying to recall?

  “Wrong? Really? That’s what you want to call it?” Her voice had that dangerous, tread-with-caution note that only a woman could command.

  Shit.

  He’d fucked up even worse.

  “No—I just mean—”

  “I get that you have some twisted idea that we’re better off not speaking or touching or being around each other, but I don’t share that idea. We feel something for each other and you’d rather stick your head in the sand than take this one opportunity to figure out why we might have something.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth. “I fully understand why a relationship is out, what I don’t accept is your lame attempt to cheapen what could have been a great one-time thing between us. So really—shut the fuck up, Mason, because I don’t want to hear it. We went to a party. We drank. Someone somewhere is an asshole and tried to drug me. They got you instead, and then we had sex. My bad for assuming you were on the same page as me, but I will not let you piss on the only good thing that happened in this nightmare.”

  She turned and stalked into the postage stamp-sized bathroom and slammed the door shut.

  He stared at the wooden rectangle for several long moments.

  They had sex.

  Was she telling the truth? Was this a prank?

  It wasn’t like Hannah to pull a practical joke. She was stubborn, laughed easily, but a prank wasn’t her. If she said it...it must have happened.

  They really had sex?

  There hadn’t been enough time to mull over last night from his perspective, the bits and pieces he could remember, but in the context of Hannah’s announcement it made sense. He had these snatches of memory, sensual shadows, sweat—he’d chalked it up to a wet dream. But what if he was remembering pieces of last night? Stolen moments that should never have been?

  Mason leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and sucked in a deep breath.

  He’d promised himself nothing could happ
en between them because for him, there was no going back. No life once he knew what he couldn’t have. But now he wished to God he could remember.

  Had it been bad? Was that why she was upset? Had he...hurt her?

  He’d always been careful in bed, not because his dick was huge or anything, but because he was a guy and he knew his own strength. If he wasn’t careful he could injure a person and he’d never wanted that. Not unless it was completely necessary, and there was no reason he could process that would make that okay during sex.

  Fuck. He was sitting here worried about what he’d done, his lost memory, and how he felt, and Hannah was holed up in the bathroom because she couldn’t stand to be around him. He was an asshole.

  Mason pushed up and crossed to the flimsy door. He tilted his head, listening, and caught the muffled sound of sniffles.

  Someone needed to kick his ass. He wouldn’t even try to defend himself because he deserved it.

  “Hannah?” He tapped his knuckle on the door.

  The tiny, choked sound nearly broke him.

  He twisted the doorknob and pushed it open.

  One dim bulb illuminated the space.

  Hannah sat on the toilet seat lid, her face buried in her hands, bits of toilet paper between her fingers.

  What had he done?

  Mason went to a knee.

  “Hey. Hey. Please, don’t cry.” He tugged at her fingers.

  She allowed him to pull her hands from her face. Her eyes were red and her lashes damp. She still had that stubborn thrust to her chin, the one that said she was ready for a fight.

  “Talk to me, please?” He’d beg if he needed to. Somehow he’d make this right.

  “Why?”

  “Can you tell me what happened? Did I...did I hurt you?”

  “What?” Her face wrinkled up, as if he’d asked the silliest question. “No.”

  “Good. Good.” Relief so potent he nearly collapsed in a puddle poured through him.

  “It’s not fair.” She pulled her hands from his and sat back, swiping the tissue at her eyes. “I shouldn’t feel guilty because of your regrets.”

  “What? You shouldn’t feel guilty. I should.”