Page 20 of Swept Away (Men of War #1)

G EMMA

I mostly have a good time because it doesn’t feel like a surprise party, which has been anything but a surprise.

It’s a nice gathering with adults seated around the table, good food, and no blind dates.

It’s nice to get together with your family and talk about things other than work and school.

Around eleven at night, I start glancing at the time.I’m ready to go home.

Looking around the table, I find something to eat–a cheese roll–and once I’m done, I push my chair back and head to the bathroom.

My long skirt moves around my ankles as I walk down the corridor.

Moments later, I check my hair in the mirror and adjust one of my tank top straps before washing my hands and walking out.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I’m about to check the screen as I return to the living room when my aunt’s voice drifts from one of the rooms.

“Gemma?”

I stop and change my direction before pushing a door open. She’s in her bedroom, a box in her hand.

“Take it now. I don’t want you to forget about it,” Charlize says.

Younger than my mother, my aunt has short brown hair and blue eyes.

She loves practical clothing, and her current choice is a testament to that. Cropped pants and a flowing sleeveless shirt. Bangles jingling around her wrist.

I take the box from her.

It’s a gift-wrapped box, which I think is a nice touch. Whatever lies inside, I’m in no hurry to check.

If it belongs to my mother, it can’t be great.

My mother is wild now–look who’s talking–but she was worse back then.

Men hated that they couldn’t make her stay.

They hated themselves even more because they couldn’t resist her.

That’s a powerful combination.

My phone buzzes again, and I’m pretty sure that’s another text message.

“Sorry,” I say when she tilts her gaze down. “I probably need to check this. It must be from someone from school. Someone who wants to wish me a happy birthday.”

Her eyes instantaneously move to her wristwatch–it’s a bit late for congratulatory messages–but she says nothing.

“No problem.”

She flashes a smile.

“I’ll go back. You can stay here.”

I watch her step out of the room when a third message arrives.

I put the box down and sit on the bed, scanning the messages.

Mason: Where are you?

And then him again.

Mason: Gemma?

And then again.

Mason: I need to talk to you.

Man, he’s impatient.

I haven’t heard from him or Carter in a week, and now he’s all anxious to get me on the phone?

I ponder whether to text him back, and then I slide my phone back into my pocket and just ignore him.

GEMMA

I barely get back to the table, and my phone rings.

I swiftly mute the ringer and turn it off under the table.

It’s not like me to be mean, but now I realize I haven’t been too happy about not hearing from them the entire week.

Yeah, I thought I did all right.

I even lied to myself that I did, but some part of me wanted to hear from them.

If nothing else, I wanted to know they were okay. And him asking about me would’ve also been nice.

I’ll talk to him later.

For the next few minutes, I struggle to stay still and not check the time too often.

Regardless of my plans, people want to go home, and I do too, so a few minutes before midnight, we’re all heading to the door.

My aunt calls a cab for me, and I ask the driver to drop me off a block away from my place.

The weather is nice, and the breeze makes my late-night walk worthwhile.

There’s not a soul in sight as I round the corner. No pedestrians walking, and no cars moving.

The house across the street is shrouded in darkness, and I quickly recall the conversation I had with that woman.

I forgot to mention to the people at the party that this house is on the market.

Making a mental note to talk to Charlize about this place, I inch closer to my place.

My gaze moves randomly over the parked cars when something catches my eye.

It’s a black sports car, and as soon as my heart starts to rush, I fully know it’s Mason’s car.

Honestly, it hasn’t even crossed my mind that he might be back. Although someone else could drive his car.

Why not?

I slow down, my eyes moving back and forth, checking every car, shadow, tree. Any clue.

His car is parked in front of my house, which is unusual in itself. You can almost never find a spot in front of my windows.

I creep closer and check his car. It is his car.

For a moment there, I thought it might be a coincidence, although I hardly believe in that.

There’s no one inside.

The windows are rolled up.

And as I move past the car, I brush my fingers over the hood. It’s cold.

Whoever parked it here must’ve done it sometime ago.

Once I get to my building, I ponder what to do.

Should I walk to the next block and check the street over there? I don’t think there’s anything open at this hour. The stores and coffee shops are closed.

There’s a diner, but I doubt he is there, eating.

This is strange. Carter’s place is not far from here. But I can’t imagine he left his car here and went there.

Anyway, I'll go inside and maybe call him?

I spin around, head up the stairs, and walk to my apartment. The doormat looks slightly crooked, but not enough to bother me.

I slide it back in its place and shift the key in the lock.

The door slides to the side, and the familiar look of my place fills my view.

Everything looks how I left it.

Gizmo is not in his bed, but he could be in the kitchen.

I step in, close the door, and drop my backpack and the box on the wall table by the door when the lights go out, and I turn to stone.

My hackles rise as I snap my eyes to the street.

The streetlights are on.

Okay. So, this is only me?

Feeling my way around, I move toward the kitchen.

“Gizmo? Where are you?” I call my cat, and only manage to do that once when I hit a wall of muscle and a sharp scream peels from my lips.

A hand slides promptly over my mouth while a strong arm snakes around me.

I’m instantly lifted off the floor, and I kick my legs for nothing. My back is pressed into a man’s chest, and laughter echoes in the living room.

I quickly figure out what’s going on, and the answer comes from Carter, who sets me on my feet and brushes his lips over my cheek.

“Too late, babe. You could’ve been dead by now,” he says, and I have no idea what he’s hinting at.

“I told you she wasn’t ready,” he says to the man who chuckled a second ago.

Another arm loops around me, and Mason pulls me into his chest, no longer laughing.

“Where the fuck were you, kitten?” he says against my temple, and I’m scared and turned on at the same time.