Page 15

Cora

“This is getting ridiculous.” I glared at the back of Mason’s head.

He had been holed up in his home office for days. If he wasn’t hunched over his laptop, he was glued to his damn phone, whispering about something that he refused to tell me about. I really tried to be understanding. I could tell by how he’d been acting that things weren’t good.

But my patience had officially run out.

“What’s that, baby?” he asked without looking up, proving he wasn’t actually listening.

I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms over my chest. “I said Beckett and I are planning to rob a bank today. Thought we’d take your motorcycle as the getaway vehicle.”

“Mmhmm. Sounds good.”

I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly saw my own brain. “And after that, we’re going to join a circus and become professional fire-eaters.”

“That’s nice, babe.”

Men.

Walking over, I got right beside him and snapped his laptop shut, narrowly missing his fingers.

“Jesus!” His head jerked up, eyes wide with surprise before narrowing in annoyance. “What the fuck, Cora?”

“Oh good, you’re still alive. I was starting to wonder.” I perched on the edge of his desk, letting my fingers brush against the papers scattered there. “Beckett needs clothes, Mason. The kid has three shirts that barely fit, and one of them has a big hole in the front.”

He sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. I noticed the dark circles under his eyes had gotten worse over the past couple days. Whatever club business was keeping him up at night was clearly serious, but he refused to tell me anything about it. “Not today,” he said, reopening his laptop. “I’ve got too much shit going on.”

“Then I’ll take him. We’ll be quick; just to the mall and back.”

His head snapped up again, his eyes narrowing. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you think that was me asking for permission?” I knew my tone was snotty, but I couldn’t help it. Ever since he’d convinced me to take a leave of absence from The Burger Shack, and by convinced, I meant fucked me senseless until I couldn’t think straight, I’d been feeling increasingly trapped. The walls seriously started to feel like they were closing in on me.

Mason’s jaw tightened, a muscle ticking beneath the stubble. “Cora, I’ve explained this?—”

“No, you haven’t!” I pushed off his desk, throwing my arms in the air as the frustration that had been simmering finally bubbled over. “You haven’t explained shit to me, Chief!”

“Don’t fucking call me Chief, woman,” he growled.

“Well then stop treating me like I’m one of your men who’s supposed to fall in line.”

His eyes turned to slits.

He could be pissed. I wasn’t very happy either.

“The only thing you’ve said is that it’s not safe, but you won’t tell me why or what’s happening. You’ve got prospects following me to the damn bathroom, Mason!”

“That’s an exaggeration,” he grumbled.

“Is it? Yesterday, Lid waited outside the bathroom door while I peed. I could hear him shuffling around out there like some kind of creepy creeper! He even asked if I was okay when I took too long!”

A hint of a smile twitched at the corner of his sexy mouth and it did nothing but irritate me more.

“It’s not funny!” But even as I said it, I could feel my own lips threatening to curve up. Damn him, he was getting to me.

“Okay, maybe it’s a little funny,” I admitted, running a hand through my hair. “But seriously, this is getting out of hand. Beck needs clothes, I need fresh air, and you need to stop being so damn paranoid before I lose what’s left of my mind.”

Mason stood, rounding the desk until he was right in front of me. His big hands settled on my hips, warm and possessive, as he backed me against the edge of his desk. “I’m not being paranoid,” he said, his voice dropping to that sexy rumble that never failed to make my panties wet. “I’m keeping you safe.”

“From what?” I frowned, fighting the urge to melt against him. This was his signature move, using his hard body and that irresistible voice to distract me from whatever argument we were having.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot just below my ear. “Trust me on this, baby.” His breath was warm against my skin.

Damn him.

“You’re not playing fair,” I whispered, as his lips trailed down my neck.

“I told you. I never claimed to play fair,” he murmured against my skin as his hands slid up my sides, thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts.

“No. No, Mason!”

I wasn’t letting him do it again. Pushing against his chest, I put some space between us, ignoring the way my body protested the loss of contact. “Nice try, but I’m not that easy.”

His eyebrow arched, a dangerous smile playing at his lips. “The sounds you made last night suggest otherwise.”

Heat flooded my cheeks as the memories of how I’d begged him to let me come as he teased me for what felt like hours, his fingers and tongue working me to the edge over and over until tears streamed down my face. “Don’t be an asshole,” I stammered.

A wolfish grin spread across his face, something primal and possessive flashing in his eyes. “I’m pretty sure you liked everything I did to you.” He started to come closer, his gaze dropping to my lips. “Especially when I?—”

I put my hand over his mouth. “Stop trying to change the subject. Beckett deserves to have clothes that fit. He’s a good kid who’s been through hell, and right now, he’s walking around in pants that are two inches too short. We’re going to the mall today. Period.”

Mason stared at me, that muscle in his jaw working. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head, weighing his need to keep us under lock and key against the logic of my argument.

“Fine,” he finally growled, dragging a hand through his dark hair. “But Lid and Cueball go with you. And you don’t leave their sight, not even for a fucking second. I mean it, Cora. No bathroom breaks alone, no browsing in different sections. You stay together.”

It was a victory, albeit a small one, but I wasn’t about to push my luck by arguing about the babysitters.

“Thank you.” I stretched up on my toes, planting a kiss on his cheek.

Before I could pull away, he reached into his back pocket for his wallet and pulled out a credit card. “Here,” he said, pressing the Black AMEX in my hand. “Get the kid everything he needs. Clothes, socks, shoes—everything. I don’t want there to be a reason you have to go back out.”

I stared down at the card, running my thumb across the raised numbers. I’d never held a Black AMEX before. “Are you sure?”

“Right there and back,” he growled, ignoring my question. His eyes were dark with something I couldn’t quite read. “No detours, no lingering.”

I slid the card into my pocket, then leaned in and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Go with us?”

His hands settled at my hips. “Can’t, baby. Got a ton of shit to take care of today.”

I pouted my lips and he ducked down, biting at the puckered flesh. When he went to pull away, I tightened my arms until he changed directions. When his lips touched mine again, I kissed him long, deep, and wet.

Pulling away, breathless, he asked, “What was that for?”

“Because you may be a pain in my ass sometimes,” I brushed my thumb along his lower lip, “but you’re a good man, Mason. Even when you’re being overprotective and secretive and driving me absolutely crazy.”

He caught my chin in his hand before I could pull away, and pressed his lips to mine again. The kiss was shorter but it still managed to curl my toes. Jesus, the man knew exactly what to do to me, exactly how to touch me to make my knees weak.

“Be careful.” His voice was softer.

“I will,” I assured him, already backing toward the door.

“And Cora?” His expression shifted, the desire replaced with something serious. “Keep your phone on you. Answer if I call. No exceptions.”

I patted my pocket. “Got it right here. I’ll text when we get there and when we leave.”

He nodded, looking like he wanted to say more but stopped himself. For a brief moment, the mask of control slipped, and I saw a hint of fear in his eyes before he blinked it away.

I found Beckett in the living room, sprawled across the couch playing some game on the PlayStation Mason had brought home a few days ago. The bruise around his eye had faded to a faded yellowy-green, and he looked happier than I’d ever seen him.

“Hey, kid,” I called.

His head came up.

“Get your shoes on. We’re going out.”

Brows drawn together, he reminded me, “Mason said we had to stay inside.”

“Mason changed his mind.” I grinned, feeling a little smug. “Hurry up before he changes it again.”

Beckett didn’t need to be told twice. He was off the couch and shoving his feet into his worn sneakers faster than I could blink.

Ten minutes later, we were climbing into the backseat of Mason’s truck with Lid behind the wheel and Cueball riding shotgun.

Mason was watching us from the porch, phone pressed to his ear, looking like he regretted his decision already. The worry etched into his features made my stomach twist with guilt, but I pushed it aside. We’d be fine. He was overreacting.

“So,” I said as we pulled away from the house, “what kind of clothes are you thinking? Any specific style?”

Beckett shrugged, that teenage nonchalance masking his excitement. “I don’t care.”

“Well, I think we should get you some button-downs too. Maybe a couple nice pairs of pants,” I mused, already planning his wardrobe in my head. “And definitely new shoes. Those are about to disintegrate.”

“I don’t need anything fancy,” he mumbled.

The drive to St. Johns Town Center took just under twenty minutes, with Lid checking his mirrors way more often than was necessary.

“You guys okay up there?” I asked, leaning forward between the front seats. “You look like you’re expecting the boogeyman to jump out at any second.”

“Just following orders,” Lid answered tightly, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror again.

When we arrived at the mall, Lid drove around the parking lot twice before finally finding a spot close to the entrance. He killed the engine but made no move to get out.

“Wait here,” he instructed, his tone dead serious. “Let me and Cue check things out first.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s a mall. The only danger is me spending too much of Mason’s money.”

Ignoring me, they climbed out, scanning the parking lot like we were in some kind of spy movie.

Beckett shot me an amused look. “They’re hardcore.”

“They’re ridiculous,” I corrected, watching as Cueball did what looked suspiciously like a perimeter check around the truck, hand resting on the bulge beneath his cut where I knew he kept his gun. “But I guess it comes with the territory when you work for Mason.”

After what felt like an eternity but was really only a couple of minutes, Lid opened my door. “All clear. Let’s go, but stay close. No wandering off.”

We entered the mall flanked by our bodyguards, who kept glancing around like they were expecting ninjas to drop from the ceiling.

Despite their paranoia, I was glad to be out in the world again. This was the first time Beckett and I had been anywhere besides school or the beach in over a week.

“Where to first?”

“Uh, I don’t know.,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

I felt my lips turn down.

He was overwhelmed by all of the options.

“How about we start with the basics?” I suggested, pointing to a popular department store. “Jeans, t-shirts, that sort of thing. Then we can work our way up to the fancy stuff.”

Looking relieved, he nodded. “That sounds good.”

The men’s section was on the second floor, and as we rode the escalator up, I caught Lid scanning the crowd again.

“Relax,” I muttered to him as we stepped off. “You’re making people nervous.” I motioned to the rent-a-cop watching us.

Lid shrugged his shoulders like he couldn’t care less that he was drawing attention. Well, I was.

“Seriously, Lid. The only threat here is the overpriced jeans.”

He didn’t even crack a smile. “Chief’s orders,” was all he said.

Whatever.

For the next half hour, Beckett and I moved through the racks, assembling a decent pile of clothes. He was resistant at first to letting me grab so much, his eyes bugging out when I added another pair of jeans to the pile.

“That’s too much,” he protested, reaching to put one back.

I caught his hand. “Mason gave us his card and told me to get what you need,” I assured him. “Besides, you’re basically starting from scratch. Every guy needs at least three good pairs of jeans, trust me.”

By the time we reached the fitting rooms, Beckett had an armful of jeans, shorts, shirts, and even a couple of hoodies to try on.

“You got a lot of stuff there.” The attendant smiled as she handed him a plastic number tag and directed him to an empty stall.

“I’ll just be out here,” I told him, settling into one of the uncomfortable chairs that was angled towards the fitting rooms. “Show me each outfit, okay?”

He nodded before disappearing behind the door, resigned to trying it all on.

Lid and Cueball took up positions on either side of the fitting room entrance, trying to look casual and failing miserably. Several shoppers gave them wary glances as they passed by, mothers pulling their children closer.

After Beckett had modeled a couple of outfits, both of which looked great on him, I decided we needed to complete the look.

“Hey,” I called Lid, who was closest. “Can you guys go find some socks and maybe a couple pairs of shoes? Size twelve. Athletic shoes. Maybe some Nike’s or some Jordans?”

Lid frowned, glancing around uncertainly, his hand unconsciously moving closer to his weapon. “Chief said not to leave your side.”

“We’re in a fitting room. In a department store,” I slowly pointed out, gesturing to the enclosed space. “There’s literally one way in and out, and you can see it from the shoe department. It’s right over there.” I pointed to the section barely twenty feet away. “I promise not to get murdered in the next five minutes.”

He exchanged a look with Cueball.

“We’ll get out of here faster.” I dangled the fact in front of them.

Cue shrugged, his fingers drumming nervously against his thigh.

“Fine,” Lid finally conceded, his voice low and tight. “But don’t move from that spot. Not even an inch.”

I crossed my heart. “Girl Scout’s honor. Though I was never actually a Girl Scout. Love the cookies, though.”

They moved off toward the shoe section, still glancing back every few steps like they expected me to make a break for it.

Shaking my head, I couldn’t help but smile. They were insane. Mason was going to have to dial down the security.

“Beck?” I called through the fitting room door. “How’s that gray tee working out?”

“Almost done,” came his muffled reply. “It fits pretty good.”

I pulled out my phone, figuring I should text Mason as promised. Just as I was typing out a message, a movement in my peripheral caught my attention.

Three men, who looked wildly out of place, were headed right for me. Something about the way they kept their eyes fixed on me had the hair on my arms standing on end.

I glanced toward the shoe department, but Lid and Cueball had their backs turned, examining the display of sneakers.

My pulse quickened as I finished typing out my text to Mason.

Me: At the mall. Men approaching. Something feels off.

Before I could press send, they were on me. The one in the middle, the thin, wiry guy with unsettling eyes, stepped directly in front of my chair. A flash of metal appeared at his side.

“Not a sound,” he whispered, his breath reeking of stale cigarettes. “Or I’ll paint the walls with your insides.”

My blood turned to ice in my veins.

This couldn’t be happening. My phone slipped from my suddenly numb fingers, the unsent message still on the screen.

“W-what do you want?” I managed to ask.

His thin lips stretched into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re coming with me, sweetheart. You and the kid.”

My stomach twisted violently. “There’s no kid,” I lied, hoping Beckett would stay quiet, praying he’d somehow know to stay hidden.

The man’s smile widened, revealing yellowed teeth. “Don’t bullshit me. I’ve been watching you for days.” He raised his voice slightly, still keeping the gun pressed to my side. “Hey, kid! Get out here now, or I'll put a bullet in your friend.”

There was a beat of silence, then the fitting room door slowly opened. Beckett stood there, half-dressed in new jeans and a t-shirt with the tags still on, his face as white as a ghost.

“Good boy,” the man said, motioning with his free hand for Beckett to come closer.

As Beckett moved toward us, I finally got a better look at the gun pressing into my side, and my stomach dropped. Shit. That was real. Where were Lid and Cueball? How had they not noticed yet?

“Stand up, nice and easy,” the man instructed, his grip on the gun never wavering.

I rose on shaky legs, my mind racing. I needed to draw attention somehow, to alert Lid and Cueball. But before I could think of a plan, the asshole dug his fingers into my arm.

“We’re going to walk through that service door,” he said, nodding toward a door marked ‘Employees Only’ at the back of the fitting area. “All nice and calm, like we’re friends just hanging out. Try anything, and the kid gets it first.” He gestured to one of his companions, who had moved to Beckett’s side and was now pressing something into his back.

Beckett’s eyes met mine, wide with panic.

Oh, God. Stay calm. Keep it together.

As we were marched toward the service door, I glanced desperately toward the shoe department again. Lid was now examining a package of socks, his back still to us. Cueball was nowhere in sight.

“My... my purse,” I stammered, trying to slow our progress. “I forgot my purse.”

“Nice try,” the jerk behind me hissed, digging the gun deeper into my side. “Keep moving.”

The third man went ahead of us, opening the service door with a key card. My mind was a whirlwind of questions and fear as we were shoved through the door into a narrow corridor.

“Who are you?” Beckett asked, finding his voice. “What do you want with us?”

The hollow-cheeked man grinned, revealing those yellowed teeth again. “Name’s Spike. And what I want is my fucking merchandise back that your old man stole from me.”

My blood ran cold.

Mason? Merchandise?

“Look,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, “whatever issue you have with Chief, we’re not part of it. Just let us go. We have nothing to do with any of this.”

Spike laughed. “Sweetheart, you became a part of it when you started fucking the man who stole my property. And this kid?” He jerked his head toward Beckett. “He’s living under Chief’s roof, which makes him valuable too.”

I felt sick to my stomach.

Mason had warned me repeatedly that it wasn’t safe, but I wouldn’t listen. I had accused him of being paranoid, and had complained about the prospects following me around.

“Move,” Spike ordered, shoving me forward. “We’ve got a tight schedule to keep.”

As we were marched through the service hallways of the mall, one thought kept hammering through my head: Mason had been right all along.

And now, I had no idea if we’d live long enough for me to tell him I was sorry.