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“You’re planning something, and I’m not going to like it.”
How did she do that? He prided himself on his poker face, but the woman read him like a book.
Mason sighed. No point in denying it—she’d see right through him. “We need to get you two somewhere secure until we can figure out our next move.”
Avery’s eyes narrowed. “And I’m supposed to just follow you blindly?”
“Copy that.” Mason kept his tone even, but firm. “This is escalating, Avery. You’re a target now.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand. “I get that you don’t know me, don’t trust my skills. But keeping you and Paul alive until we can crack this case is my priority.”
Paul shot Mason a grateful look, but Avery crossed her arms stubbornly. “And where exactly is this secure location? A black-ops bunker?”
That made him laugh. Hard. “Not exactly. It’s my buddy’s place. He’s never there anymore. You’re not gonna want to hide, but you’re going to love the house. That’s a guarantee.”
“So we’re going to hang out at some stranger’s home without their knowledge?” Avery shook her head disgustedly. “And you wonder why I have trust issues?”
Mason felt his temper flare but forced it down. Getting angry wouldn’t help. He locked eyes with her, willing her to see his sincerity. “I’m trying to protect you here.”
She studied him carefully for a long moment. Then, surprising him, she gave a curt nod. “Fine. But I want to get the okay from your buddy first. Clear?”
Relief washed over him. “That won’t be a problem.”
If he knew Bridger, the guy would have the place stocked with Mason’s favorite foods before he made it halfway across town.
Paul cleared his throat awkwardly. “So where is this friend’s place?”
Mason grimaced. “Laurelhurst.”
Avery’s brows shot up. “You can’t be serious.”
Mason shrugged apologetically. The fancy neighborhood at the edge of Lake Washington was wall-to-wall mansions. Not exactly his style. Or Avery’s, obviously. “Bridger had more money than sense when he bought the place. He’s kind of embarrassed about it, to tell you the truth. He’s been talking about selling it since we started up Redemption Inc., but then along came marriage, and an adopted kid. He’ll get around to unloading it soon.”
“You’re taking us to stay at a mansion?” Avery protested. “Really under the radar there, don’t you think? Are you really going to ask for permission?”
Mason pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting back his exasperation. “I’ll call him right now. You can hear it from him directly.”
Avery widened her stance and crossed her arms. “Let’s do that.”
“Fine.” He needed to clue Bridger in anyway. Eyes on Avery, he punched up Bridger’s number.
His friend answered on the first ring. “Mason. You best be calling with a sitrep,” he warned, but his voice held only lightness. Joy, even.
Grinning, despite himself, at his buddy’s hearty greeting, Mason responded to Bridger’s happy tone. “Sounds like post-honeymoon life’s treating you well, my friend.”
“Copy that.”
“Mind if I put you on speaker? I’ve got a situation.”
“Affirmative,” Bridger assented, his tone holding none of the curiosity Mason knew the man was feeling.
Mountain jays cawed in the background. The familiar sounds shot him with a huge dose of homesickness. Beautiful as Seattle was, for a big city, he was not a metropolis guy. He needed dirt beneath his boots. The crunch of morning frost and the scents of pine and sage and snow.
He punched the speaker button and held the phone out so Avery and Paul could hear. “I’ve got Special Agent Avery Ellis here, and my brother, Paul.”
“Hi, kids,” Bridger called out. “Watcha need, Ortiz?”
“We’re looking for a bed for the night. Probably a couple nights. Okay if we crash at your place?”