Authors: Lena Diaz
He ran around the hood and tossed two large bags into the back, then grabbed the roll bar and hopped into the driver’s seat. The springs squeaked in protest as he started the engine.
“Brace yourself,” he said.
Without an armrest to cling to, she was forced to grab the edge of her seat. He floored the accelerator and they took off like a racehorse bolting from a starting gate.
Sabrina grimaced and changed tactics as the Jeep bumped across the uneven ground. She pressed both hands against the dash and marveled that Mason managed to stay in his seat without falling out even though he wasn’t wearing a seat belt. She didn’t even see a seat belt on his side. It was as if he’d removed it from the vehicle.
“Just a little farther,” he said, checking his rearview mirror.
“A little farther until what?” she asked, dreading the answer.
“Until we can stop. I want to make sure Ace isn’t following us first.”
At his reminder about Ace, she looked in the side mirror. Even though the moon was full it was still fairly dark. Still, she didn’t see any headlights behind them. Hopefully that meant no one was following them.
A few minutes later, Mason pulled the Jeep to a stop, seemingly in the middle of nowhere with trees closing in on all sides. He cut the engine and the headlights and hopped out of the car.
Sabrina wasn’t sure if she was supposed to get out or not, but the decision was made for her when Mason unclipped her seat belt and then lifted her in his arms.
She automatically started to put her arms around his neck to hold on but she stopped herself and clasped her hands together instead. Mason was a
bad guy
. She had to keep reminding herself of that. Even though he looked like heaven and smelled even better, if it weren’t for him she’d be lying comfortably in her bed at home instead of being carried.
Or would she? He’d implied something else a few minutes ago, but his confusing explanations were all scrambled up in her pain-clouded mind and she couldn’t make sense of any of it.
He gently set her down on a fallen log then returned to the Jeep. Before she could even dredge up the desire to try to stand and run, he was back. He dropped a black bag at her feet and knelt in front of her. He pulled a shirt from the bag, along with some water, and a bottle of pills.
She eyed the pills with suspicion and mentally weighed the odds of grabbing his gun from his holster before he could stop her. Based on how stiff and sore she was and how he’d just sprinted through the woods carrying her without even getting winded, she figured her odds were pretty much nonexistent. But she wasn’t going down without a fight.
He lifted the bottle of pills.
She held out her hands to stop him. “I’m not going to down some pills to make it easy on you. If you want me dead, you’ll have to shoot me—for real this time.”
He arched a brow. “You still think I’m trying to kill you? We’re back to that?”
She tried arching one brow too but was pretty sure she’d failed when he coughed behind his hand as if to hide his laughter.
“Yeah, we’re back to that,” she snapped. “I know I should probably beg you for mercy and fall at your feet pleading for my life, but that ship sailed along with my patience about the time you unloaded a magazine into my chest and—”
“Three rounds.”
She shoved her bangs out of her eyes. “What?”
“I shot you three times. A magazine would have been at least—”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. My point is that I’m sick of being afraid so I’m just plain done with it. I want answers. Who are you? Really? You said something about thinking I was helping terrorists? Are you some kind of government assassin or something? Who, exactly, hired you? Why is this Ace guy after me? Who was that couple in the Hummer?”
His eyes crinkled at the corners again and his mouth tilted into a grin that was as lethal as his gun. “Is that all? Are you sure you don’t have any other questions?”
She studied his expression, trying to read him. She’d thought for a moment that something she’d said had made him stiffen, like she’d gotten a bit too close to the truth. But she’d spouted out her questions so quickly she wasn’t sure which one had hit a nerve, if it even had. Because the way he was smiling now, he didn’t seem concerned in the least.
“Those are all my questions, for now,” she said. “Start explaining.”
“Are you always this shy around strangers?”
She wagged her finger at him. “Stop trying to act charming and answer my questions.”
He arched that infernal brow again. “You think I’m charming?”
“Don’t twist my words around.”
He looked like he was trying not to laugh again, which only made her more aggravated. She glanced longingly at his pistol.
“Don’t,” he warned, his expression turning serious.
She shrugged innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Right.”
He held up the pills and bottle of water. “Based on all of the hisses and winces coming out of you, you obviously need these. They’re prescription strength and will make you feel much better.”
She eyed the pills like a starving man looking at a buffet overflowing with food but agonizingly out of reach. She wanted, no, she
needed
those pills, if they really were pain relievers. But no way was she going to willingly ingest anything from a man who’d already drugged her once.
“No thanks. I’ll pass.” She clutched her hands against the desire to swipe them out of his hand.
He tossed the pills and water back into the bag. “Suit yourself.”
The cut on her right biceps seemed to throb in protest. Maybe she should have taken him up on his offer. Her shoulders slumped.
“Don’t look so dejected,” he chided. “Your night is about to get a whole lot better.”
“Really? The police are about to burst into this clearing and arrest you?”
He coughed again. “Uh, not that I know of. But I
am
going to let you go.
After
you change out of that ruined shirt and take off the Kevlar. I can’t take you into town with bullet holes in your shirt and a bulletproof vest underneath.”
“Wait. You’re saying that you’re going to let me go?”
“I’m saying I’ll drive you wherever you want, after you take the vest off.” He grabbed the fresh shirt and offered it to her.
Afraid he might change his mind if she hesitated, she took it. Thankfully it was a button-up blouse, because she was fairly certain that pulling a T-shirt over her head was beyond her current abilities.
“Turn around,” she ordered.
He shook his head. “Not happening. I don’t trust you any more than you trust me. If I turn my back, you’ll try to run away, or grab my gun.”
“I won’t try to run away.”
He arched a brow. “I notice you didn’t mention the gun.”
She batted her lashes. “Nothing gets by you, does it?”
“I’m not turning around. But I promise I won’t look at anything you don’t want to show me.”
“That pretty much means all of me.”
He stared at her a moment, then checked the chunky-looking watch on his wrist. “I wonder if Ace went back to check on you and was surprised not to find a body. If he had his car hidden close by the cabin and finds our trail—”
“Okay, okay. You win.” She dropped the shirt in her lap and shoved the tattered edges of her ruined blouse aside. But when she tried to pull it over her arm, a fresh rush of agony swept through her, making her bite her lip to keep from moaning.
Mason’s brows lowered but he didn’t say anything.
She tried again, and again she had to stop. Her nails bit into her palms as she waited for the pain to pass.
“Sabrina, let me—”
“No. I can do this.”
His jaw tightened but he didn’t argue.
She managed to get the blouse off her left arm, but it got hung up on the vest underneath.
Without a word, Mason freed it, then lowered his hands again.
She grudgingly nodded her thanks and let the blouse slip off her right arm to the ground. Halfway there. Now for the hard part. The vest.
She locked her eyes with his. “No looking south of my chin.”
“Promise.”
That one word sounded like a solemn vow. She still wasn’t sure she trusted him. But the way he’d spoken, and the way he was looking at her, she had no doubt that he meant what he’d said and that he would keep his word.
She swallowed hard and fumbled for the Velcro straps beneath her arms. But no matter what position she tried, she couldn’t pull the straps free without her ribs violently protesting every movement.
Unshed tears blurred her vision. She was so tired of fighting. So tired of hurting. All she wanted was to go home. Drawing a shaky breath, she closed her eyes. A tear escaped and slowly slid down her cheek.
A feather-light touch beneath her chin had her eyes fluttering open. Mason gently tilted her chin up until she was looking right into his chocolate-brown eyes. He slid his hand from her chin to her cheek and gently wiped away her tear.
“Sabrina, let me help you. Please.”
The warmth and concern in his voice started an ache deep inside her, an inexplicable longing to curl up against his chest and feel his arms tighten around her. It was a beautiful fantasy, to believe that this handsome stranger would protect her and keep her safe. And since she was so close to breaking down, she gave in—just this once.
“Okay,” she whispered, her throat thick from the struggle to hold back her tears. “Go ahead.”
He gently swept her bangs out of her eyes and feathered his hand down the side of her face. His touch was so gentle, so sweet, that instead of telling him not to touch her, she found herself leaning into his hand.
His breath caught in surprise. Embarrassed at her response, Sabrina pulled away.
Mason dropped his hand to the top of the vest and cleared his throat. “This might hurt a little, but I’ll be as gentle as I can.”
She nodded, and braced herself. But he was true to his word. He was incredibly careful, barely jostling her at all as he worked the Velcro straps loose.
He paused with his fingers beneath the edges of the vest, silently waiting for her permission.
Her face flamed hot. She was naked beneath the vest but there was no turning back now. She nodded.
His gaze locked on hers, never dipping down to her chest as he worked the vest free. She swallowed hard, staring into his warm brown eyes, amazed and confused at the same time that this incredibly gentle, considerate man was the same one who’d forced her from her home and drugged her. Which man was the real Mason?
It would be wonderful if he really was a good guy, and if he really cared what happened to her. It had been so long since anyone had.
“Sabrina?”
She blinked, her face flooding with heat. She’d obviously been staring for a while. “Um, yes?”
“Do you want me to button your blouse?”
She swallowed and looked down, stunned to see that he’d already pulled the new shirt on her and she hadn’t even noticed. She grabbed the edges and pulled them together. “I’ve got it.”
While she buttoned her shirt, he zipped up the bag and strapped it on his back. She smoothed the blouse down, and suddenly he was scooping her up in his arms again.
She blinked up at him. “I’m pretty sure I can walk.”
“Humor me.”
While she wondered what
that
statement meant, he carried her to the Jeep. Once she was buckled up and he’d started the engine, he looked at her expectantly.
“Where to?” he asked.
“You’re serious? You’ll take me wherever I want to go?”
“As long as it’s somewhere safe, yes. I don’t recommend that you go back home until you hire some bodyguards. The people who hired me, and Ace, won’t stop once they realize you’re still alive.”
“Well, I guess you should take me to the police station then,” she quipped, expecting him to immediately say no.
“You got it.”
Day Two—3:30 a.m.
A
ce pressed his hand against the wound on his neck and kicked the French door open. Glass crunched beneath his shoes as he entered the Hightower house. It was the closest place nearby that he knew was empty so he’d come here to patch himself up after the close call with Mason. He still couldn’t believe Mason had shot at him.
He swiped a vase off a table and slammed it onto the floor. It exploded into dozens of pieces, tinkling like rain on a tin roof as they scattered across the hardwood. Too bad he couldn’t cut the Hightower bitch into little pieces just as easily. But at least she’d paid the ultimate price for that stunt with those scissors—she was dead.
He made his way down the hall to the first bathroom that he found and flipped the light on. The amount of blood on his neck and shirt had him cursing again. But when he slowly pulled his hand off the wound, he was relieved to see that it wasn’t as deep as he’d thought and it was barely bleeding anymore.
After rummaging through the drawers and finding antiseptic and bandages, he tossed them onto the black granite countertop and wet a hand towel in the sink. As he washed the blood off, he couldn’t stop obsessing about Hightower.
He couldn’t picture her as the leader of a terrorist cell, concocting plans to blow up a mall or an elementary school. So what had she done to earn an EXIT order? Maybe she’d been a behind-the-scenes kind of coward, someone who funneled money to others to do the dirty work. She’d lounge in a silk robe, sipping some expensive, imported tea while she killed innocent people with the flick of a pen across a checkbook.
An agonizing memory formed in his mind: a small white church in the distance, rain clouds ominously forming overhead, a dark omen in contrast to the happy wedding going on inside.
Thunder clapped as he pushed his car to its limits. If he wasn’t inside before the preacher pronounced his brother and fiancée man and wife, his brother would never forgive him. He floored the accelerator and then watched in horror through the windshield as the little church exploded into a fireball, destroying his world, incinerating everyone he’d ever loved in one swift, violent moment.
Because of someone like Hightower.
He cursed and threw the bloody towel into the sink. His chest heaved as a more recent, horrific memory came into focus. Another white building, this one a house in the middle of a sea of green grass. Inside, Kelly Parker, the woman he’d grown to care for, if not love. Dead. Just like the others. And the man responsible, along with his cop girlfriend, was the same person who’d assisted Mason tonight.
Devlin Buchanan.
He was at the top of a very exclusive list—Ace’s
personal
hit list. Beneath Buchanan, a question mark that he hoped to replace with a real name someday, once he discovered who’d blown up that church and killed his family. And beneath the question mark? One more name, a name he’d added to the list tonight.
Mason Hunt.
But before he could pursue vindication, he had to report the results of his mission. What was he supposed to tell his boss? Everything had been a screw-up from the moment Bishop told him that Cyprian wanted him to check on Mason.
The truth—that he’d seen Buchanan on the parkway and had fired at him—would make Cyprian furious. If he admitted he’d grabbed Hightower to use as bait to lure Buchanan out of the cabin, that would only make it worse. And if he told his boss that he hadn’t bothered to double back and take the proof-of-death picture of Hightower’s body because he was worried Mason would be waiting to ambush him, that would make him look like a coward. Which he sure as hell wasn’t. He’d just been more concerned with tending his injury than snapping a picture.
No, he couldn’t tell the truth. He’d risk losing his post as Cyprian’s personal enforcer—the one responsible for taking care of unexpected problems, like Mason going off the grid tonight.
Then what should he say? How could he perform the required check-in without making himself look bad? He supposed he’d just have to get creative and leave out the parts that Cyprian didn’t
need
to know.
He pulled out his cell phone and called the hard line in Cyprian’s office, knowing the fancy encryption software on the other end would ensure that no one listening in over the airwaves would be able to understand anything he said.
“Bishop,” the voice on the other end of the line answered.
Ace hesitated, his distaste for Kelly’s replacement leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He’d much rather have spoken to Cyprian. “It’s Ace. The mission was successful, but there were . . . complications.”
“Complications?”
“Mason didn’t kill Hightower until I basically forced him to. It was like he was . . . protecting her, by taking her from her house. But when I was about to kill her he stepped in, like maybe he didn’t want me having credit for the kill. Then he went after me. I don’t know what’s going through his head. Definitely can’t be trusted anymore.”
“You’re saying he’s gone rogue. That doesn’t make sense. We’ve never had any problems from him. Did something else happen tonight? Something that can explain why he’d suddenly turn against us?”
Yeah. Something with the initials D.B. “No clue. You’ll tell Cyprian?”
“Of course. But I didn’t see proof of death come across the network. You’re sure the mark is terminated?”
“Like I said, Mason was shooting at me. It wasn’t exactly a picture-taking opportunity. But, yeah, she’s dead. I saw him blow her away.”
The answering silence didn’t surprise Ace. Bishop didn’t have a clue what to do about a mission that hadn’t gone exactly according to plan. He was turning out to be no better as an admin than he’d been as an enforcer. Why Cyprian had kept him around this long was a mystery. Maybe Bishop had something on his boss, something that could ruin Cyprian if it ever got out. That was the only thing that made sense.
“Do you have anything else to add to your report?” Bishop asked.
Not a chance. “Nope.”
“Excellent. Good night.”
The call clicked and Ace shoved the phone in his pocket. Now that business was taken care of, he’d have to clean up any signs of having been in the house. But after that, it was time for pleasure. Time to go to work on that very special list. He needed to draw Buchanan out. But how? Since the events of two months ago, every member of Buchanan’s family was under protection. His hometown of Savannah, Georgia, had been locked up tighter than a virgin’s knees.
But not all of his family was in Savannah.
One particular family member was in Augusta. And maybe now that Devlin Buchanan had resurfaced, it was time to test the security there again. First, he’d make Buchanan pay for his treachery, for killing Kelly.
Then it was Mason’s turn.
S
ABR
INA HAD TO
grudgingly admire Mason’s cleverness. He’d parked the Jeep at the end of a parking lot beside an exit, catty-cornered to the front of the police station, which was just barely visible because of another building blocking it. He’d kept his word. He’d brought her to the police. But none of their security cameras would snap any pictures of him. There was no traffic on these back streets either, especially this late at night. Or early in the morning, really, according to the digital clock on the Jeep’s dash. It was unlikely anyone would notice them.
He cut the engine and she unclicked her seat belt, still half in shock that he was letting her go.
“Wait. I’ll lift you out.” Mason hopped out of the driver’s side and headed around the back of the car.
Sabrina hated to accept his help again, but her sore ribs had already protested the simple movement of unfastening her seat belt. Climbing out of the Jeep on her own would probably be excruciating.
When he reached her side, instead of scooping her up out of her seat like he’d done before, he grabbed a folded-up white cloth out of the back of the Jeep and unrolled it.
Moonlight glinted and Sabrina blinked in surprise at what he was now holding.
“You had my glasses all this time and didn’t give them to me?”
She reached for them, but he pulled them back.
“Put them on after I leave. I kept them, hoping you wouldn’t get a good look at any of us.” He rolled them in the cloth and handed it to her.
She clutched the cloth, deciding it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to mention that she could see perfectly well at short distances, or to mention her photographic memory. Every fascinating angle of his face, every bulge of muscle in his sculpted arms, was imprinted in her mind. But even without her special memory skills, she wasn’t likely to forget his smoky, deep voice and that sexy Southern drawl.
Perhaps it was the proximity to the police station that had her fear burning away like fog in the morning sun and allowed her to see him,
really
see him, for the first time. And she liked what she saw. He had a rugged, wild, bad-boy charm that could melt away a woman’s defenses with one well-aimed grin. And while Sabrina certainly wasn’t immune to his particular twist on tall, dark and
handsome
, it was his quiet strength, his confidence, and the way he’d risked his own life to protect her that had her so confused.
He cocked a brow. “Sabrina? Are you okay?”
She slowly nodded.
He gave her a quizzical look and reached in to pick her up. But she grabbed his hands in hers, stopping him.
He froze, his face just inches from hers, his chocolaty eyes searching hers in question as he cleared his throat.
“Sabrina? What—”
“I can’t figure you out. Are you really a bad guy, or a good guy?” She entwined her fingers with his.
His eyes widened and she could feel his pulse speed up. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, then gave a short, awkward laugh and gently disengaged his hands from hers. Gesturing toward the police station, he said, “I imagine once you tell the boys in blue what happened tonight they can answer that question for you. Now, I’m just going to pick you up and set you—”
“I don’t pretend to understand you. I can’t fathom how someone who would work so hard to help someone would have accepted a contract to kill them in the first place. But I do know one thing. It’s because of you that I’m alive. You saved me. Several times tonight. I’ve been so scared and worried that I hadn’t really thought it through. But looking at everything in black and white, evaluating exactly what happened without emotion clouding the facts, it boils down to one thing—if it weren’t for you, I’d be dead.” She held her hand out toward him. “Thank you.”
He looked stunned as he stared at her outstretched hand, making no move to take it. “Are you . . . thanking me, for
not
killing you?”
“I guess I am. And for
not
letting Ace kill me. I mean it, Mason. Thank you.”
With obvious reluctance, he shook her hand. But when she would have pulled her hand back, he held it tight, lacing his fingers with hers as the expression on his face turned deadly serious.
“You need to get this police business out of the way. Tell them whatever you want to tell them, but don’t count on them to protect you. They can’t. They don’t have the manpower or the knowledge to go up against the kind of people I work for. I wasn’t kidding earlier about you needing to hire a bodyguard. Don’t leave the police station without contacting a personal security service. Hire them to send someone to escort you back to your house. Hire two, or three. Just don’t go anywhere alone. Promise me.”
The urgency in his voice, in the way his eyes bored into hers, sparked an answering fear inside her again, chilling her from the inside out and making goose bumps pop up on her skin. “What am I supposed to do? Live the rest of my life in hiding? Can’t you at least tell me who hired you so I know who my enemies are?”
He shook his head and tugged his hand out of hers. Before she could stop him, he’d scooped her up and lifted her out of the Jeep. She clutched the cloth with her glasses so they wouldn’t fall out while he turned with her in his arms. He crouched down, gently lowering her feet to the ground before helping her straighten, his hands on her waist to steady her.
The tug on her sore ribs had her drawing several slow breaths until the pain eased.
“Better?” he asked.
She let her breath out slowly. “Better.”
“I should have taken you to a hospital instead of the police,” he said. “Promise me you’ll see a doctor.”
“I promise. Trust me. I want some good drugs for the pain.”
He raised a brow as if to remind her that he’d offered some to her earlier. “I’m still waiting on that promise that you’ll hire some bodyguards.”
“I’m not an idiot. I’ll hire someone to protect me. But how will I know when it’s safe again? Will I ever be safe, Mason?”
His face softened with sympathy and he gently swept her bangs out of her eyes before fisting his hands at his sides.
“I honestly don’t know. But I’m going to do everything in my power to straighten this out. The people who hired me never should have targeted you. I’m going to find out exactly what happened, and make sure it doesn’t happen again.” He gently turned her in the direction of the station. “Now, go. I’ll watch over you to make sure you get inside safely.”
Frustrated that he wouldn’t give her the information she wanted, she turned to ask him again. But the gentle, caring man of just seconds ago was now the stone-faced stranger who’d abducted her from her house. His longs legs were braced apart and his left hand flexed near his hip, and near the pistol holstered at his waist. He was through talking and in full protector mode, his dark eyes scanning every potential hiding place between the parking lot and the police station. His jaw was tight and he was once again the predator she knew he could be. The shiver that ran down her spine this time had nothing to do with attraction.
She turned around and hurried toward the station.
M
ASON PULLED INTO
a parking garage not far from the police station and cut the engine. The Jeep was registered under one of his many aliases, so even if the cops went searching for a Jeep to corroborate Sabrina’s story and found this one, there’d be no reason to match it against his real name, Mason Hunt.