Exit Strategy (11 page)

“I’m counting on it. Got an extra magazine on you? I’d be obliged if you tossed it onto the bed as you leave.”

He sucked the blood welling up on his finger before waving toward his right front pocket. “Be my guest. I’ve got a full magazine.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’ve felt your . . . magazine, and while it’s impressive, it’s not going to do me much good in the Glock. Where do you
really
keep your spare ammo?”

He grinned. “I don’t have anything
spare
, darlin’. I keep my gun cocked and loaded at all times. And I use it
all
.”

She rolled her eyes. “I bet women fall all over you with those kinds of lines.”

He lifted his hand toward her, ignoring the fact that she’d shoved the gun harder against his belly, and gently brushed the bangs out of her eyes. “There’s only one woman that I want falling all over me right now.” He leaned down, watching her incredible blue eyes grow wide with uncertainty. He parted his lips, angled his head, leaned lower, lower.

Sabrina’s breath caught in her throat. She tilted her head up, ever so slightly, her lips parting.

Score.

Mason snatched the Glock out of her hands and jerked her toward the bed.

By the time she recovered from her shock he’d holstered the gun and was lying on top of her on the bed with her hands trapped against his chest. He covered her mouth with his right hand, careful to keep it cupped so she couldn’t bite him again.

“As much as I’d love to kiss that angry expression right off of you,” he said, “I don’t have the time. No more games. Just the facts. Blink once for yes, twice for no. Will you do that?”

She glared at him, then blinked. Once.

“I know you’re suing EXIT because you think they used faulty equipment that made your parents fall to their deaths on a zip line. Question: were you supposed to be
with
your parents on that zip line?”

One blink.

He swore. “I’m going to lower my hand. But, if you so much as move a muscle other than your lips I’ll shove a sock in your mouth and tie you up. Promise me you’ll behave.”

She frowned but blinked. Once.

He lowered his hand. “Quickly, tell me why you weren’t on the zip line when the accident happened.”

“I was sick. I couldn’t keep anything down that morning. I opted to stand on the platform and take pictures instead.”

He rolled off her and pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. He unfolded it and held it up.

She gasped. “Where did you get that?”

“I searched your room while you were in the shower.”

He pitched the sketch of himself onto the comforter. “I saw similar sketches on the news. They were remarkably accurate. I assumed there was another witness somewhere since there wasn’t a picture of me too. I wracked my brain trying to think of who might have seen Ace and the others, but not me. And then I saw that sketch just a few minutes ago. You’re the one who drew the sketches.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you give the police the drawing of me?”

“I . . . wasn’t sure I got it right.”

He raised a brow. It was a perfect likeness of him, right down to the stubble. “How about now?” He turned his head left and right.

“Um, yes. Looks like I remembered you fairly well. Guess I should call the police and have them come pick up the last drawing. Can you hand me my phone?” She pointed to the side table.

He chose to ignore her sarcasm. “You need to destroy your phone. It can be traced. You should pick up a no-­contract phone and pay cash, use a fake name.” He pointed to the sketch. “Back to this. You’re an artist. But no artist I’ve ever heard of could draw someone that detailed and accurately from memory, not unless they’d known the ­people for years. So, what, you have a photographic memory?”

“Yes.” She sounded like she was used to having to defend her abilities.

“How does it work? Can you remember just the past few days, or weeks? Or can you remember farther back?”

“I have memories, just like anyone else, except that my memories are in pictures. As long as I can remember the event, I can see all of the details, just like the first time I saw them.”

“That has to be it.”

She frowned. “What has to be it? I don’t understand. Why are you grilling me with questions?”

He glanced at the watch on his wrist. He was out of time. No,
screw that.
He would make time. He helped her sit up, but he trapped her hands in his so she couldn’t do anything crazy like grab his gun again.

“Listen to me,” he urged. “Your parents are the only ­people who have ever died on an EXIT tour—­”

“How . . . how would you know that?” she interrupted, frowning up at him.

“Just listen. They died in a freak accident. But you were supposed to be with them. You’d be dead too, except that you were sick. Then, just a few months later, assassins are hired to go after you. Do you think that’s just a coincidence?”

She clasped his hands so tightly they started to go numb. “You think . . . you think my parents were killed on purpose, but I was the real target?”

He thought there was a whole lot more to it than that, but he didn’t want to scare her so badly that she couldn’t function. Or cause her additional grief if he was wrong. “I do.”

“But how can you be so sure that my parents’ accident . . . wasn’t an accident?”

“Because no one dies on those tours. And the company that hired me to terminate you is the one that ran that tour. EXIT Incorporated.”

She gasped.

“I don’t know why they’re after you. But I do know that if it’s because of your photographic memory, they’re never going to stop. You probably saw something and don’t even realize it. You need someone who knows the ins and outs of the company. Someone who knows most of the other enforcers on sight. Someone who can protect you.”

“Mason? Are you saying that you want to take me with you? That you’ll help me?”

“Do you
want
me to help you?”

“Do I get a gun?”

“
Sabrina.
”

“Okay, okay. Yes. I want your help. I want you to take me with you.
Please
.”

“Then you have to agree to my terms.”

She frowned. “What terms?”

He leaned down inches from her face to make sure she could see that he was deadly serious. “If you ever point a loaded gun at me again, I’ll kill you. Understood?”

She swallowed, hard. “Understood.”

He grabbed the Sig out of his ankle holster and handed it to her. “Pack light. We leave in five minutes.”

Chapter Nine

Day Two—­6:00 p.m.

A
fter Mason had agreed to take Sabrina with him and she’d packed a small bag, she’d gone downstairs and fired her bodyguards. Once they were gone, she and Mason had headed out the French doors, in an eerily similar escape to the previous night. Except that this time she’d been jogging beside him instead of bouncing on his shoulder. He’d taken her through the same path in the woods, and when they were about twenty feet from the parkway behind her property, he pulled some branches off the top of a dark blue pickup truck hidden in the bushes.

“Yours?” she’d asked.

“Yes. Did you think I stole it?”

“The thought did occur to me. Detective Donovan mentioned he searched DMV records for a Jeep Wrangler registered under either a first or last name of Mason and didn’t find any.”

“That’s because my Jeep is registered under an alias. It’s bought and paid for. I didn’t steal it.”

“Touché. My apologies.”

He grinned, and some of the tension in her shoulders eased. Ever since he’d told her his “terms” back in her bedroom, she’d been uncomfortably reminded that he really was a dangerous man. She tended to forget that when he was flirting and smiling at her. She still wasn’t sure which side was the real Mason. Maybe they both were. But either way, she had no right to complain. It was that dark and dangerous side that she was counting on to help protect her. Although now that she had her own gun holstered on her ankle, she didn’t feel nearly as vulnerable as before.

Half an hour later, Mason pulled up in front of a boxy, two-­story, concrete house that Sabrina supposed was considered contemporary. She just considered it ugly. When he took her inside, her opinion was confirmed. From the stained concrete floor, to the fabric on the lone couch in the expansive living room, to the solid-­surface countertop in the open kitchen, everything was decorated in varying shades of one depressing color: gray.

“This is . . . yours?” She tried not to let her distaste show.

“It is. Do you like it?” He leaned across the kitchen counter, propping his chin in his palms.

“It’s . . . big. Modern. Um. Clean lines.”

He glanced around as if seeing it through someone else’s eyes for the first time. “Yep. That about describes it.”

She clutched her bag on her shoulder. “What do we do now?”

“We wait. This is where the rendezvous is going to take place.”

“Rendezvous?”

“We’re meeting with the ­people you saw in the Hummer and a friend of mine, Ramsey. The three of them are the reason you’re alive today. They realized you’d been targeted even though you were innocent and they stopped me from . . . carrying out my original mission.”

She shivered and ran her hands up and down her arms. “Remind me to thank them.”

He nodded. “We’re going to talk about EXIT and how to keep what happened to you from happening to other ­people.”

“You’re including me in this meeting?”

“Of course. We’re a team now. Right?”

“Right.”

He winked, making her toes curl in her loafers. If she’d thought his sexy grin was lethal, that slow, lusty wink was a lady killer.

“Feel free to look around,” he said. “The bathroom is at the end of the hall.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

A
S
SOON AS
Sabrina was gone, Mason grabbed his cell phone and punched in Ramsey’s number. No answer. He called three more times before the line clicked.

“WTF, Mason? I was talking to someone. How many times were you going to call?”

“Until you answered. Where are you? You’re late. And there’s no sign of Buchanan or Emily.” A long moment of silence followed. “Ram?”

“I’m at the airport.”

Mason’s hand tightened around the phone. “Say that again. Because it sounded like you said you were ditching me.”

“I’m not ditching you. Plans changed. I’ve got to get to Augusta to help the Buchanans.”

“The Buchanans? Oh, right. I remember them. They’re those ­people who are supposed to be right here. Right now. With you.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Mason.”

“Lying doesn’t become you.”

Ramsey blew out an impatient breath. “I didn’t lie, not on purpose at least. I’d planned on being there. But Devlin’s brother, Austin, was in a burn center in Augusta. He’s been recovering from injuries sustained in a house fire. This morning, he disappeared. But no one reported it until a few hours ago. They thought he was sleeping in his room. When the nurse went in to check on him, he was gone.”

“I’m guessing he didn’t walk off by himself.”

“Not likely. He had mobility issues before the fire. And now, well, he couldn’t have left on his own. Devlin and his brothers are frantic. They’re all on their way there now.”

“All? How many brothers does he have?”

“Three or four I think. Doesn’t matter. The point is that this has the earmarks of something Ace might have pulled. He and Devlin have a brutal history between them and this may be Ace’s attempt at payback. I’ve got to help Devlin before it’s too late.”

“Hold it. If he’s got all of those brothers why does he need you? I need you here. While the Buchanans are looking after this Austin guy, you and I can figure out our next steps against EXIT. If there are other marks being targeted, we can’t afford to wait. Someone innocent will die.”

“I know, I know. But Devlin needs someone else who knows how EXIT operates to help him figure out what they’ve done with Austin and to watch his back. Not to mention keeping an eye on his wife.”

“She’s a former cop. I imagine she can handle herself.”

“Not against EXIT. Plus, you know the family won’t be focused right now, not with their brother’s life at stake. I can’t abandon them. And before you say it, yeah, I know it seems like that’s exactly what I’m doing to you. But this is different. You see that, right?”

Mason swore. “Yeah, I guess I do. Go. We’ll have the meeting after you’re done there. I’ll do what I can to try to get information about EXIT, but without Buchanan’s computer contacts, I’m not sure what I can do. One thing, though. Make sure you tell Buchanan and Emily that their pictures are being circulated on the Asheville news as potential witnesses to a crime.”

“What? How did that happen?”

“If you were here, I’d tell you.”

“Ouch. Guess I deserve that. I’ll be back as soon as I can. We’ll sit down, compare notes, and make stuff happen.”

A final boarding announcement sounded over an intercom in the background.

“I have to go before I miss my plane. Good luck, Mason. I’ll call when I can.”

“Be careful, Ram. This could all be a trick.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.”

Mason ended the call and shoved the phone across the countertop.

“Bad news?” a soft voice called out.

He looked up to see Sabrina standing a few feet away. Her hair had been brushed out to a glossy sheen that made his fingers ache to touch it. Another part of him ached to do a whole lot more, but now wasn’t the time or place, even if he was sure she’d be receptive to him. Which he wasn’t. All that he was sure of was that his reason for coming here—­the rendezvous—­had just evaporated. And if EXIT was actively seeking the little band of rebels, then Mason preferred to be in a much more defensible position without any other houses close by that could hide an assassin waiting with a gun.

“The meeting was postponed,” he said. “Something came up.” He grabbed his phone again and shoved it into the holder on his belt. “Grab your bag. We’re leaving.”

Her eyes widened with alarm. “Is something wrong?” She looked toward the windows as if expecting someone to drive up.

He forced himself to relax, offering her a lazy smile he was far from feeling. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just taking you to my home.”

“I thought
this
was your home.”

“This ugly place? Not a chance,” he teased. “Let’s go.”

T
HE SUN HAD
set before they’d reached Mason’s real home, an hour west of Asheville. Although this house was smaller—­a two-­bedroom, two-­bath cottage that could fit inside her living room—­it was cozy, welcoming, and much homier than the concrete monstrosity back in town. Best of all, it was on a farm, surrounded by acres of rolling hills, trees, and cornfields. She’d adored it on sight, or at least what she’d seen in the truck’s headlights and the outdoor security lights as Mason had driven her up to the house.

He’d shown her to the master bedroom and told her to make herself comfortable while he whipped them up something to eat. More than a little curious what a man like Mason would “whip up,” she quickly changed into a T-­shirt and some shorts, her version of comfortable. She took another dose of pain pills and used the restroom. Then she hurried back into the kitchen just as Mason was pouring two glasses of milk.

She burst into laughter. “This is what you whipped up? Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?”

He pressed his hand to his chest as if offended. “According to my seventh grade home economics teacher, these are
ribbon
sandwiches, thank you very much. They’re also nutritious, full of protein.”

“And the milk? Calcium, I suppose?”

“Strong bones are important.”

“So, basically, you don’t know how to cook.”

“Basically.” He picked up the two plates. “If you’ll bring the drinks, I figured we could eat on the back porch and watch the lightning bugs.”

“Sounds perfect.” She grabbed their glasses and followed him outside.

The wooden porch wrapped around the entire house, its weathered-­gray floor contrasting nicely with the whitewashed railings underneath the soft glow of the outdoor lights. Bright spotlights at the corners of the house illuminated the backyard and the edge of the cornfield directly behind the property.

Sabrina set the glasses beside their plates and took a seat at the table across from Mason.

“This is a big table. Six chairs.”

“I have a big family.”

She paused with her sandwich halfway to her mouth. “Family?”

He leaned toward her conspiratorially. “Did you think ­people like me don’t have families?”

Her face flushed and she set the sandwich down. “Of course not. Well, honestly, I guess I hadn’t really thought about it. So . . . they come here often?

“A ­couple of times a year, if I’m lucky. Darlene lives in Germany with her husband. My parents are there right now, visiting.”

“Darlene?”

“One of my sisters. The baby, Suzie, is at UGA. And my brother, Zack, he’s a firefighter back in Asheville. Whenever I’m out of town, which is a lot, and he has time off from work, he tends to crash here.”

She’d taken a small bite of her sandwich and quickly swallowed. “Why would he come out here if you aren’t home?”

His mouth quirked up. “Women. It’s hard to socialize at the firehouse. And he rents the apartment above the garage at Mom and Dad’s. So it can get a little . . . awkward . . . bringing home dates.”

“Ah, I see.”

He pointed across the waving stalks of corn that seemed to go on forever behind them. “See that barn out there, just past that clump of trees on the right?”

“Um hm.”

“That’s where Zack likes to hang out with his dates. There’s a lot of hay in that barn.”

The amusement in his eyes let her know exactly what his brother was doing in that hay. She cleared her throat. “If you have hay, you must have horses.”

“Nope. I’m not here enough to take care of any animals. But it is a working farm. I’ve got a deal with the guy who owns the land adjacent to mine. He stores his hay in my barn and plants and harvests the corn, or some years, soybeans.”

“Sounds like a good gig. He does all the work and you get to split the earnings.”

He shook his head. “I don’t take any money from him. Don’t need it.” He slid a glance at her. “And before you ask, yes, working for EXIT is quite lucrative.”

She decided not to touch that comment, for now. “Then what do you get out of the deal you made with your neighbor?”

He waved his hand. “That gorgeous view.”

The contentment in his eyes as he stared over his land was even more breathtaking than the fiery colors in the sky as the sun had set on the drive here.

Thomas would have liked Mason.

Sabrina blinked back the moisture in her eyes. Her brother had been a nature lover too. And she could easily imagine him enjoying that barn when he was younger, just like Zack.

After they finished eating, they went inside and washed the dishes. Once everything was put away, both of them stood in the middle of the kitchen, unable to ignore the elephant in the room any longer.

It was time to talk about EXIT, and figure out what they were going to do.

The acknowledgment was there in his eyes as he held out his hand. “Come on, Rina. You look like you’ll explode if you don’t ask me all those questions building up inside you. Let’s get it over with.”

She was still reeling from the cute way he’d shortened her name to Rina when he tugged her down onto the couch beside him in the family room.

“Go ahead,” he encouraged her. “I’ll answer what I can.”

She folded her hands together. “All right. What exactly
is
EXIT?”

“At this moment, I’m not really sure.” He scrubbed the stubble on his jaw. “Someone high up in the company is abusing their power, using enforcers for their own purposes.”

“Enforcers. You mentioned that word at my house. But I’m not sure I understand what it means. Isn’t it the same as a hit man? Or an assassin?”

He stared at her unblinking, unashamed. “When necessary, yes. But that’s not all we do, not all
I
do. What I’m about to tell you is highly classified, and dangerous. I’ve never told anyone else outside of EXIT about my work, not even my family. I’m telling you this now because, after the injustices that have been done to you, you deserve to know the truth. But more importantly, you need to understand exactly what you’re up against.”

The deadly quiet quality of his voice had her almost regretting asking him about his work. But he was right. She did need to know what type of enemy was after her.