Page 26 of Hidden Resolution (Stonebrooke #2)

S tabbing pain shot through Shonda’s throbbing skull when she opened her eyes. She slammed her lids shut and sucked in a breath. Why the hell was it so bright in her bedroom? She never went to bed without closing the blinds. Squinting in the direction of her window, she groaned.

They were closed.

A swipe of her tongue across her teeth indicated her cotton mouth wasn’t the sole reason for the horrid taste in her mouth. At some point, she’d vomited. There was no mistaking the rancid flavor of bile. She moaned and rolled on her side.

“Too fast, too fast,” her brain screamed.

The life-affirming scent of coffee permeated the air, and she’d give her left arm if she didn’t need to move to get some. She whimpered at the thought of walking to the kitchen, much less standing up.

Why the fuck did her body hurt so badly?

She only recalled a few swigs of vodka. Granted, she wasn’t much of a drinker, but booze had never affected her to this degree before.

Pushing up from the bed was a mistake, and she froze until the world stopped spinning.

“Death, take me now,” she whispered, wincing as her voiced plea reverberated inside her head.

She sensed a presence in front of her and jumped.

Death worked fast!

“How about we keep dying at bay for a little longer, love? Have some coffee.”

Mason.

Yeah, so almost the same thing. He’d brought death to her heart in the nonliteral sense of the word.

“Not so loud,” she begged.

He chuckled. She contemplated murder and would probably have carried through if she weren’t in agony. In her current state, she would doubtless leave clues behind.

“Why are you here? I thought you’d left,” she croaked.

He tugged at his slacks and squatted in front of her. His appearance, so fresh and utterly gorgeous, pissed her off. She could almost guarantee she looked like a crack whore after a wild night of partying. Hair in all directions, little to no makeup to hide her pale face, and mascara smeared.

She followed the line of his gaze to her skewed bra. Hastily, she straightened it and closed her robe. Had he undressed her? She eyed him with suspicion.

“I didn’t take advantage—much.” His wolfish grin flashed.

As soon as his dimples appeared, she had to do a double-take to make sure the last of her wardrobe hadn’t dissolved into thin air.

In the interest of preserving her modesty, she tightened the robe’s sash and knotted it.

Not quite a chastity belt, but the sex ship had sailed a long time ago.

“I thought we agreed you were supposed to dial back all your sexiness,” she muttered.

When he sobered, continuing to stare, yesterday’s events rolled in.

Erica and Jacob were gone.

Sadness, swift and fierce, punched her in the chest, making it difficult to catch her breath. Nausea hit, not only from the alcohol consumption but from the image of her friend’s charred body, along with Zack’s sweet little boy.

“Oh, God!”

She shoved Mason on his ass and leapt over him in her rush for the toilet. As she crashed to her knees, he moved in behind her to hold her hair.

This is taking it above and beyond casual friendship, a little voice whispered.

Shut the fuck up, little voice! You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Shonda scolded.

When the contents of her stomach were fully purged, she shifted to rest against the vanity. Mason pressed a cup of water into her hand. As she sipped it, he ran a cool cloth around her neck and across her forehead.

“Better?”

His concern enveloped her, providing comfort on a basic level.

The fingers stroking her hair, the arm holding her back against his chest, and the legs sprawled on either side of her made her want to weep.

How could one person with a gazillion gallons of love to offer refuse to give it, other than pouring it out in minuscule increments?

Did he not realize it reeled a woman in and made her long for permanence?

Maybe for the time it took to get through the funeral services, she could accept his scraps and lean on his unrelenting strength. And once the horror was over and the dirt had been shoveled onto the coffins, she’d send him on his way. For good.

Having reached a plan on how to move forward, Shonda nodded. “Thank you.”

“I’ll assume you need a shower. Do you want your coffee first, or do you prefer me to wait and reheat it?”

“First, please.”

He left and returned with a mug and pain reliever.

“When you’re done here, we need to address a problem,” he said. His regretful tone suggested he’d spare her if he could.

Giving him a single nod, she allowed him to pull her to her feet. Catching her reflection, she winced.

“I was right. Crack whore,” she mumbled.

Mason was delightfully confused as she ushered him out. The fact he hadn’t made a suggestive remark or offer to scrub her back confirmed her dreadful appearance.

Twenty minutes later, feeling a step removed from the walking dead, she ambled into the kitchen. Mason, spatula in hand and apron tied around his lean hips, stood over her range, scrambling eggs.

“I wasn’t sure what you could tolerate, but sometimes greasy food helps.”

She dry heaved and slapped her palm over her mouth.

Turning off the burner, he picked up a plate and offered option two. “Dry toast?”

She accepted a slice and parked her butt at the counter. A muffled sound from the other room startled her. Inching back, she peeked around the wall and gasped.

Tied to a chair, with a gag in his mouth, was a very bruised and bloody Billy. His moss-green eyes, so like hers, pleaded for help.

Shonda straightened up, catching sight of Mason’s grim face.

“That’s what we need to discuss,” he stated gravely.

Laughter exploded from her.

Sure, she probably seemed like a lunatic, but who cared? Her life couldn’t be any more insane, and she should just go with the flow. With any luck, she’d be committed and given the good drugs.

“Let me guess. You suspect Billy has been trying to off me?” she said when she’d regained a semblance of sanity.

The shock on Mason’s face almost set her off again. She used her mug to hide her smile.

“Well, yes. But it’s a helluva lot more serious, love.”

“Of course, it is.” She sighed. “Because my life isn’t shitty enough.”

All trace of humor vanished, and she ate her dry toast in silence, chasing it with coffee.

As Mason explained their encounter, he also admitted to roughing Billy up as a warning against future attempts to harm her and helping him rethink the error of his ways when he was eventually released from prison.

And sonofabitch if she didn’t fall in love with him all over.

Not that any good would come from falling deeper into feelings.

Her new lawyer, John, had spoken to another attorney, and together, they devised a solution for Shonda’s legal woes.

Luckily, there was documentation for the island incidents and the car explosion.

John told them the outcome was fairly straightforward and had his paralegal type up a statement for her to turn in to the department heads as well as the human resources department.

Shonda spent the morning placing calls and hosting video chats.

Unbeknownst to Billy, Mason had caught his smug confession on his phone’s recorder. The audio file helped when Shonda played it back, but not much.

“You’re to report Billy’s involvement to the police for his nefarious behavior and turn him over. We also expect your resignation by the end of the day, Ms. Grant.”

“Understood. Thank you, Mr. Bascombe.” She owed no loyalty to her pissant cousin for what he’d done to her. “And again, I’m grateful for your lenience.”

“We’re sorry to lose you.”

And she was sorry to be lost. None of it really mattered. Unemployment afforded her the opportunity to mourn the sister of her heart.

By the call’s end, her headache had grown exponentially, and she feared her head would explode with the slightest provocation.

“So how do we do this?” she asked with a tired sigh, after closing her laptop.

Mason cut a sharp, lethal glance at Billy. “Say the word, and they’ll never find the body,” he promised. The threat was wrong on every level, but she enjoyed her cousin’s terror.

“I’m honored you’d do that for me,” she replied cheekily.

“Perhaps we should put him in your new car, blow it up, and say he was setting a second bomb.”

Billy’s already fear-filled eyes grew wider.

“Nah. I’m partial to my new baby. Jail is good enough. It’s going to take him a while to get out for attempted murder. GenCon has a whole team of lawyers willing to send him away for the theft alone.”

She approached Billy and untied his gag.

“Care to explain? I thought…” She clamped her jaw closed against the hurt. Yes, she’d believed he loved her, but he was one more in a long line who’d let her down on that front.

Betrayal was a bitter pill. She seriously had to lower her expectations of people.

Billy, sensing weakness, went for the Oscar. “I’m sorry, Shonda. I love you. You’re my cousin. The only real family I have. But I needed the money,” he whined, continuing until he registered she was unmoved.

She untied his legs and pointed to the hall bathroom. “Get cleaned up.”

Triumph shone on his smarmy face, and he had the nerve to bend in an attempt to kiss her cheek.

“Don’t,” she snarled. “Don’t you dare touch me.” Tamping down her murderous rage, she added, “You should get cleaned up for your mugshot. Can’t have anyone believing you were beaten to coerce a confession.”

Ugliness replaced his elation, and his eyes darkened with hatred.

And there it was. The truth of his feelings. It shouldn’t taste like ashes in her mouth, but it did.

Billy paused to sum up the new, take-no-shit Shonda, then cast Mason a calculating glance before storming down the hall.

She collapsed in the seat he’d vacated. Her palms cradled her forehead as she stared at the floor, half wishing she could cry. Yet the tears wouldn’t come. She was all sobbed out.

The scrape of a sliding chair brought her head up.

Mason joined her, and for the longest minute, neither spoke. As he opened his mouth, a thud came from the bathroom. Shoving open the door, they found the window was open, the screen missing, and Billy gone.

“Motherfucker!”

Mason rushed for the front door as she peeked over the window ledge.

Billy was up and loping away.

“So much for turning him over to the police.”

As the blue Maxima sped by, Mason calculated the odds of it being the one from the car lot.

By the time he reached the top landing, he was in a full-blown rage.

Because one, he and Shonda would probably never make out against another vehicle.

Two, he was exhausted due to a lack of sleep.

And three—this one pissed him off the most—Billy had outsmarted him.

He hadn’t realized there was a window in the guest bathroom, but he should’ve checked. And really, did the kid have a death wish, jumping from three stories up? How did he not break his fool neck?

Mason entered to find Shonda was fluffing pillows and generally straightening the place. She appeared to be on autopilot.

“Shonda.”

“What?”

“Why don’t you take it easy today?” he suggested.

“I can’t. I have to keep moving. The place needs to be nice for Erica’s parents.”

Her eyes were bone dry, which concerned him. She was being too stoic, too matter-of-fact when she should have been a basket case.

“If you shoot me a text with the flight number and time, I’ll pick them up,” he offered.

“I can get them.”

“It’s not a problem?—”

“You have enough to do, Mason, and I’m not a fucking invalid,” she snapped, savagely flinging a freshly plumped pillow down. “I can drive thirty minutes to the airport, retrieve a grieving couple, and bring them back here, all without your help.”

“Look, I’m trying to be supportive here, Shonda. But I’m not taking your shit.”

“My shit?” She visibly trembled with fury. “My shit? You have some goddamn nerve. This”—she waved her index finger between them—“has been your way from minute one.”

She punched another pillow, and he was thankful it wasn’t his face.

“‘I don’t do long-term. If you want this, know that it’s only for the duration of our stay,’” she mimicked in a piss-poor imitation of him.

But the speech sounded right. Hands on hips, she rounded on him.

“Well, you know what? We’ve played it your fucking way.

And now I’m asking you to respect my wishes.

You don’t get to pop in and out of my life on a whim, all under the guise of checking up on me. Not anymore.”

Shonda’s fury died out, leaving her hollow-eyed and spent.

He hated how badly it made him feel.

“I love you, Mason. And I can see by your horrified expression you don’t feel the same. The thing is, after everything that’s happened, I couldn’t go another day without telling you.” She deflated and sat. “But there are no expectations, okay?”

His heart hammered as his vocal chords shriveled up.

With a sad, decisive nod, she said, “I also know you’ll run for the hills. It’s all good. I swear.” She closed her eyes. “But could you please go? You don’t have to smooth things over or make life better for me. You can’t. And I need alone time to process everything.”

Part of him urged him to stay and make it work, but the strongest part of him wanted to escape, as she’d predicted he would.

“I’ll text Zack as soon as I pick up Pete and Mary,” she promised. “They can meet up to discuss arrangements after.”

With a nod, he left, cursing himself for hurting her and adding to her grief.