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MASON

T he door opened, and Kai Jacinto stood in front of me.

I gaped. I hadn’t seen Kai since high school. Since literal graduation—he was our class valedictorian, and I still remembered watching him up on stage, giving his speech, his eyes bright and shining behind thick-rimmed black glasses, barely tall enough to see over the podium.

The Kai Jacinto standing in front of me now had grown a bit, but I still wasn’t sure he’d cracked five-seven. He’d filled out some too, but the biggest change was less physical, more intangible. He looked older. More self-possessed. Suave, even.

He wore an impeccable black tuxedo, his hair crisply parted, his glasses now thinner-framed and more stylish. And there was something about his eyes that made me think that if he weren’t staring at me like I was a ghost, they’d crinkle up with smile lines.

Jesus. I hadn’t seen him in twelve years, but he looked good.

Better than I did, that was for sure. I immediately felt shabby in my black jeans, T-shirt, and leather jacket. No wonder Dana had told me to wear a suit. My face flushed. She’d mentioned this was a theater engagement or something. What kind of asshole wears a leather jacket to the theater?

The me kind, evidently.

Was Kai horrified by how I looked? Was that why he was staring like I was something the dog had dragged in? Speaking of dogs, there was a big brown one trying to wedge her massive head between Kai’s legs and the doorframe, her tongue lolling out.

Funny. I never would’ve pegged Kai as a dog person. Then again, I’d never really known him that well.

He kept staring, saying nothing, the only sounds the gentle hum of a car at the end of the block and the dog’s frantic panting as she tried to shove her way through the door. I was starting to feel awkward.

I gave a half-wave and said, “Um, hi. I’m Mason. I don’t know if you—”

That seemed to knock something loose. Kai blinked, shook his head, and said, “Nope.”

Then he shut the door in my face. Or tried to. The dog’s head got in the way—her bowling-ball skull lodged between the door and the frame. She whined and looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes like she didn’t understand what was happening, which, honestly, same.

“Bella, honey, move your head,” Kai said, pulling the door open a crack. But instead of retreating, Bella took that as an invitation to force more of her body through, wedging her thick shoulders into the space and once again blocking the door.

She panted hard at me, and not knowing what else to do, I bent down and stroked the top of her head. Her eyes went soft and relaxed, her jaw slackened even more, and I heard the thwap-thwap-thwap of her tail hitting the wall inside the house.

When I looked up, Kai was staring at both of us like we’d betrayed him. This definitely wasn’t the welcome I’d expected—well, obviously, I hadn’t expected to see him at all—but I couldn’t help wondering if I’d misinterpreted his response. He hadn’t seriously tried to slam the door on me, right?

“Small world,” I said, forcing a laugh that came out more like a wheeze. “I didn’t know you still lived in the area. You, uh—you are the one who called for a bodyguard, right? I thought it was some guy named Oscar.”

He gave me a look of pure disgust. “I definitely didn’t call for you.”

That stung more than I cared to admit. I didn’t flinch—I’d spent too long in the military for that—but still. We hadn’t been friends in high school, but we hadn’t been enemies, had we?

I could picture him so clearly, small and nerdy, his backpack weighed down by way too many textbooks. Always sitting at lunch with Ava Karstein, whispering with her in the library. Not that I’d spent much time in the library—academics weren’t my thing—but somehow, I always knew where Ava was.

I’d had such a crush on her all through middle school and high school. She wasn’t the kind of girl a football player like me was supposed to go for, but she was funny, whip smart, and while she was tiny, she had enough personality to fill a stadium. But she was always with Kai.

Looking at him now, something hot and sharp twisted in my chest. Kai had no right to look so disgusted. He’d dated the girl I’d been hopeless over for years. Not that it mattered anymore.

According to social media, Ava had been happily married for three years, and she’d had a baby six months ago. I was long over that crush. But the way Kai was looking at me still hit something raw.

I tried to make sense of it. “Sorry, maybe there was some kind of miscommunication. Dana told me someone had called for a bodyguard—”

“That was Dana who called me?” Kai’s eyes went wide.

“Yeah, she’s the manager for Heart—” I stopped short. “Wait, did you really not know it was me who was coming over?”

“No,” he said flatly. “I didn’t even decide to call for a bodyguard until last night. And she didn’t tell me your name.” His scowl made it clear he thought she should have.

“Sorry about that,” I said slowly. Bella was still panting like she’d die if she didn’t get to me. “I obviously didn’t know you were the client either. Why did you call yourself Oscar?”

He frowned. “It’s my middle name.”

That didn’t really answer my question, but he didn’t seem inclined to elaborate.

“Oh. Well, if you need me—that is, if you need someone—”

“I don’t,” he snapped. “This was a mistake. Goodbye, Mason.”

He said it like he hoped I’d drop off the face of the planet. And yeah, that hurt more than it should’ve. I wasn’t close to anyone from high school anymore. It might’ve been nice to reconnect. Made me feel less adrift in DC.

Kai’s face told me he didn’t want any of that. He pulled the door open wider and reached for Bella’s collar—but she was faster. She shoved through and leapt onto the front step, up on her hind legs, her front paws thudding against my chest.

She was solid . I grunted softly as she collided with me. Not that I was worried. All she wanted to do was lick every inch of exposed skin she could get to.

Kai looked furious, and I gave him a sheepish smile. “Sorry, are you teaching her not to jump?” I rubbed Bella’s head and shoulders, then gently lowered her to the ground. “Come on, girl, back down. That’s it.”

Her four paws had barely hit the step before Kai lunged for her collar again, but she slipped out of reach and tore off down the sidewalk. She gamboled into his neighbor’s yard, buried her head in their tulips, then rolled her entire body in a patch of myrtle. Vinca minor . I’d learned that name at my landscaping job.

“Bella, what are you—” Kai said, stepping forward, but I waved him back.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get her. No need to mess up your tux.”

He gave me a look like I’d insulted his mother, and I had no idea what I’d said wrong. I stepped carefully into the neighbor’s yard. Bella was now wriggling on her back, legs in the air, not a care in the world.

“You,” I said, crouching beside her, “are a naughty dog. Very naughty.”

I wagged a finger at her snout, then booped her nose. Her tongue lolled out even farther, and I couldn’t help rubbing her belly for a minute before gently rolling her over and grabbing her collar.

“Good thing you’re cute,” I murmured, walking her back to Kai’s door. I gave him a tentative smile. “How long have you had her?”

“Don’t do that,” he said, glaring at me.

“Do what?”

“Act like you care. Act like you’re not—like you didn’t—” He broke off, shaking his head. “Just give me my dog back.”

He reached for Bella’s collar. Our fingers brushed, and I felt a jolt shoot through me. My gaze jumped to his face. Had he felt that too?

He flexed his hand around Bella’s collar, and for a second, I thought maybe he had. But no—it was probably just a static shock. Or the humidity. Or terrible karma. Pick your poison.

“So, do you not actually need someone tonight, or are you—”

“Just go, Mason,” Kai said. He guided Bella inside, shaking his head and giving me one last scathing look. “Just go.”

The problem was, I couldn’t.

I’d taken the job, which meant Kai was getting billed for tonight. I didn’t know all the ins and outs of Dana’s business, but I knew that much. He ordered a service—he should get what he paid for.

Sure, I could’ve gone home, and Dana might’ve refunded him. But then I’d have to explain why, and I couldn’t even explain it to myself. The way Kai reacted to seeing me had left me stunned. And the thought of describing that reaction to someone else filled my chest with something that felt an awful lot like shame—an emotion I liked to shove into a mental shoebox and kick under the bed with the rest of my bad decisions.

I couldn’t believe Dana hadn’t told me it was Kai who called. She knew him as well as I did—maybe better. We’d all been in the same grade, but she and Kai were in the honors track. Had she not realized it was him? Or had she decided not to tell me on purpose?

I’d have to ask her. Later. Because I wasn’t going home yet—and not just because I’d showered and dragged myself out of the house for this.

This wasn’t a date. Kai had asked for a bodyguard. That implied he needed protection. And even if I didn’t know the details, I couldn’t in good conscience walk away. If he was in trouble—worried enough to want backup—then I owed it to him to be that backup. Even if he didn’t want to see me.

Luckily, there were cabs all over that part of Georgetown, so I flagged one at the end of his block and asked the driver to idle while I watched the house. Two minutes later, a black town car rolled up to Kai’s door. He stepped out, still in that tux, and tossed something—probably a dog treat—back inside before pulling the door shut.

“Follow that car,” I told the cabbie.

He gave me a look like, ‘ You serious? What is this, a spy movie ?’ I ignored it. If this turned into a low-speed, high-regret car chase, so be it.

I’d spent years in the field on missions, and I’d developed a sixth sense for danger that I’d never managed to turn off. It started with a prickling in my gut, spreading out through my chest and arms, then farther. I’d learned to trust it. And right now, my whole body was prickling.

Whatever Kai was dealing with, I wasn’t about to let him deal with it alone.

We followed the town car across the city. Sometimes traffic lights separated us, but I never lost sight of him completely. DC traffic was bad enough that we all crawled along. Eventually, the car reached Chinatown and pulled up outside the Trevi Theater.

As soon as Kai stepped out of the car, I tossed twice the fare at the cab driver and leapt out after him. I didn’t have the money to throw around—being unemployed and all that—but I didn’t have time to wait for change.

I considered catching up to Kai before he went inside, but thought better of it. He didn’t want to see me. And if he really was in danger, the last thing I needed to do was cause a scene. Instead, I let the theater crowd sweep him inside and lingered near the steps.

I was clearly underdressed. Everyone else heading in wore suits or gowns. One guy was in a white tux. The most casual person I saw was a woman in a cocktail dress so short, I wondered how she’d sit down in it. But that wasn’t my problem.

My problem was getting past the ticket taker.

“Ticket?” the guy said as I reached him.

He wore a green velvet jacket with gold tassels and looked like a toy soldier. All he needed was one of those Buckingham Palace guard hats, and possibly a bayonet to run me through for showing up too poorly attired.

“Left my phone at home,” I said, patting my pockets like I was looking for it. I’d seen people scanning QR codes. “But my companion already went in. Kai Jacinto. There should be two tickets under his name.”

I hoped there were. If Kai had been planning to bring a bodyguard, that might’ve been part of the reservation.

The guy blinked. “Mr. Jacinto? But he just went in. He said it would only be—”

“I didn’t think I’d make it,” I cut in. “Had to rush. Obviously.” I gestured to my outfit, which he eyed with visible judgement.

“Why don’t you call him?” he said. “If Mr. Jacinto comes back down to escort you—”

“Forgot my phone,” I reminded him.

I didn’t even have Kai’s number. And if I did, I doubted he’d pick up. But something about the way the ticket taker said ‘ Mr. Jacinto ’ gave me an idea.

“You really want me to bother him?” I asked, raising an eyebrow like he should know better. “Mr. Jacinto’s a big patron. You don’t want to fuck up his night.”

The guy blinked. “But my boss said he’s a guest of—”

“Come on, man.” I pushed. “He’s listed for two seats, isn’t he?”

“He’s in the Dogwood Box,” he said reluctantly. “But I still don’t think—”

“I’m running late already,” I said, cutting him off. “If he doesn’t want me there, he can kick me out and you’ll see me again shortly. But right now, I don’t have time for this.”

I pushed past him, not quite running. The Dogwood Box. That helped. I wouldn’t have to scan the whole theater to find Kai. Even if he wasn’t a patron, he clearly had friends who were. And he was still important enough that even the low-level staff knew his name.

What the hell had Kai been up to since high school?

I made my way up to the second floor, then the third, until I found the Dogwood box, right up next to the stage. A self-important-looking usher was stationed outside, but the hallway lights were flashing, signaling the show was about to begin. I didn’t give the guy a chance to speak before brushing past him and into the box.

It was swanky inside—red velvet everywhere, silk drapes framing the space like something out of a palace. Three heads turned to stare at me—Kai, and an older couple in their sixties, seated towards the front. The woman wore an off-the-shoulder evening dress in deep blue, a massive blue rock set in a gold necklace at her throat. A sapphire, maybe? Those were blue, right? The man beside her wore a navy tuxedo. He was smoothing his thinning gray hair with a confused expression as I entered.

“I thought you said your friend changed his mind,” the woman said to Kai.

Kai glared at me. “I thought he did. Excuse me a moment.” His voice was as sharp as the diamonds—I was pretty sure they were diamonds—encrusting the pin in the woman’s hair.

He stalked over to me in the back of the box. It’s hard to stalk in a space that small—it only took four steps to reach me—but he managed it. He dropped his voice to a furious whisper.

“I told you to go home.”

“You did,” I agreed. “But I never said I would.”

“How did you even find me?” he hissed.

“You weren’t exactly hard to follow.”

It took effort to keep my temper in check these days. The military had rubbed away a lot of my social graces. Still, I worked at it, because it wasn’t fair to take my frustrations out on other people. But Kai’s relentless rudeness was starting to wear thin.

“If you’re worried enough to need a bodyguard,” I said, keeping my voice low, “you might want to make yourself a little less easy to find.”

He made a disgusted noise deep in his throat. “I don’t need a bodyguard. And I don’t need you. Now leave. You’re upsetting my hosts, and I need to make a good impression tonight.”

I glanced over his shoulder. The couple was watching us with curiosity, but they didn’t look upset.

“They don’t seem bothered,” I said. “Why do you need to impress them? Are they the people you’re worried about?”

“They’re not the people I—” Kai cut himself off, eyes flashing. “I don’t have to explain this to you. It’s none of your business. The only person I’m worried about right now is you.”

“Well, the feeling’s mutual.” I placed a hand on his arm. I wasn’t trying to restrain him—just to reach through the wall of heat radiating off him like a stove on high. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on in your life, but you called Dana’s company looking for a bodyguard. I’m not going to walk away and leave you in danger just because you’ve got some unresolved high school grudge. Grow up.”

“Grow up?” Kai repeated, incredulous. “ Grow. Up ?” He shook his head, seething. “I cannot fucking believe that you , of all people, think you have the right to say that to me. Not after what you did.”

“What I did?” I blinked. “All I’m trying to do is help you.”

“You’re insane.” His voice rose slightly, eyes wide. “Or delusional. Or—fuck, I don’t even know. But I’m telling you now, I’m not in danger, and I don’t want you here.”

“You already paid for my—”

“Keep the money,” he spat. “I don’t care.”

Didn’t care? I didn’t know all the details, but I was pretty sure my time tonight wasn’t coming cheap. I’d been worried about not getting change from that cabbie, and here Kai was, throwing a few hundred bucks away like it was nothing. Looking around the plush box, at his well-dressed friends, maybe it really was.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. Everyone in high school knew Kai came from money. His family could afford tuition at our private school without blinking—unlike Dana, who got in on an academic scholarship, or me, who barely squeaked by thanks to football. Definitely not on academic merit.

Kai’s family had lived in a mansion right next to the school’s parkland campus. His dad was in politics, and his mom had her own cable news show. Not exactly scraping by.

Meanwhile, Dana and I took two buses to school every morning and came home to a house that was falling apart in Prince George’s County. We were the scholarship kids. His tuition probably paid for my entire sophomore year.

And clearly, he’d only climbed higher since then.

I frowned. “And your friends? You’re sure they’re safe?”

“Jesus Christ, the Michaelsons aren’t going to murder me during Act I,” Kai snapped. “I’m just sucking up to them so they’ll donate to the center.”

He glanced behind him, clearly hoping they hadn’t heard that. They were still pretending to read the playbill in the woman’s lap, but their postures were way too stiff to be natural, and the playbill was upside down.

The house lights dimmed again. Kai turned back to me, face tense. “Just go, Mason. Please. Is that what you need me to do? Beg? It never worked before, but I’ll fucking try if it’ll help. I need tonight to go well.”

Never worked before ? What the hell did that mean?

I didn’t understand his words, but I could read the look on his face—desperate, pleading, and raw. And suddenly, I knew I was doing more harm than good. I still wanted to know what had driven him to hire protection, but now wasn’t the time.

I nodded. “I’ll go.”

He didn’t thank me. Just turned and walked back to his friends like I wasn’t even there.

I slipped out of the box, but I didn’t leave. Instead, I posted up across the hall, arms folded, eyes on the door. If I couldn’t stay inside, I could still keep watch from here. After all, nothing said ‘ subtle security presence ’ like a guy in a T-shirt glowering at velvet wallpaper.

The usher gave me a confused look, but I returned it with one that said I meant business. He walked away. Good. You could never be too careful.

The next hour dragged. I didn’t look at my phone. Didn’t fidget. Just stood there, still and quiet, practicing the breathing techniques I used to teach the guys for staying awake on watch. Boredom wasn’t an excuse to slack off.

When intermission came, I stepped back and let the hallway fill with people, keeping ten or so bodies between me and Kai at all times. It wasn’t ideal—not great for protecting him—but at least I had eyes on him.

The second act felt even longer. I passed the time thinking. Trying to figure out what the hell had happened.

First, why the bodyguard? Why Heartbreakers Anonymous instead of a proper security firm? Amir’s recommendation alone didn’t explain it.

Second, why the hatred? Kai and I hadn’t spoken in over a decade. If this was about high school, what had I done? I’d never even managed to date Ava. I’d crushed on her, sure, but that was it. Nothing ever happened.

But the look Kai had given me—pure fury—felt deeper than that. Like he knew everything. Like he’d followed me overseas and seen what I’d done—and what I hadn’t.

I shivered. That was ridiculous. It was just my guilty conscience creeping in again. But the feeling settled between my shoulder blades like a knife, sharp and silent. I shifted against it, annoyed, then forced myself to stop.

Eventually, the show ended. A swell of music, applause, and cheers. People left their boxes and began to fill the hallway.

I stepped forward again. I didn’t care if Kai saw me now. If he wanted to yell, fine. I was going to make sure he got home safe, one way or another.

And he did see me—right away. As soon as he stepped out of the box, his eyes locked on mine. His nostrils flared, and he walked away quickly, leaving his companions behind.

I pushed through the crowd to catch up, and reached him on the stairs leading down to the lobby, that damned itchy feeling still crawling between my shoulders.

“Good performance?” I asked when I reached his side.

He didn’t look at me. “I told you to go.”

“I did go. I just didn’t say how far.”

He turned then, eyes blazing. “I don’t get it. Do you get some kind of sick pleasure from this? Didn’t you get enough of tormenting me in high school?”

Nothing like arguing about childhood trauma in front of five dozen strangers wearing rented tuxes. Though with this crowd, they probably weren’t rented. You probably needed to own five just to buy a ticket.

“Tormenting you?” I asked, baffled, as the staircase spilled us into the packed lobby. People pressed around us, but I stayed close. “What are you talking about?”

He stared at me, stunned. “Are you serious right now?”

“I’m seriously trying to figure out what I did to offend you, if that’s what you mean.”

The itch in my back spiked, and heat flushed up my neck. It had been a long time since someone got under my skin like this.

“I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation,” Kai said.

And maybe it was because he was looking at me instead of where he was going, but suddenly he stumbled, shouted, and fell.

The crowd parted, swelled, then parted again around him. I reached out instinctively, grabbing his arm to help him up.

He stared at me—not in anger anymore. In fear.

Then he grimaced and reached behind himself, touching the back of his tuxedo jacket. His face twisted in pain.

When he finally brought his hand forward again, it was covered in blood.