Mason could barely pull in a breath. He shouldn’t have gone to that party. He should have just stayed away. Lesson learned.
He barely slept that night, or the rest of the weekend. He ignored calls and texts and tried to fight off the desire he felt for Slade’s little sister.
He had to keep calling her that so he didn’t do something stupid like take her up on her offer. It would only end badly if he did. Not only would Slade likely kill him, but Mason wasn’t sure he could handle a woman like Megan. He wouldn’t be able to control himself.
Monday morning came like all the other mornings, with a shot of fresh air and a pot of coffee. Mason punished himself with another extra-long run, then a quick, cold shower intended to squash the desire that wouldn’t stop racing through his veins. He thought, more than once, about taking himself in his hand to alleviate the need, but thinking about her was a slippery slope, one he didn’t need to go on. Focus and determination were the only ways to get past the twisted desire he had for her.
The office was quiet when Mason got there. He let himself in and found English in his office, nose buried in the screen in front of him.
“You need to see this,” English said without looking up.
Mason stepped into the office and around the desk. English was a neat person with tidy piles of papers in neat stacks on his desk. The bookshelf behind him had books all lined up. Nothing personal was in the office, but that was normal for all of them. Growing up as SEALs meant personal didn’t belong at work. Separate the two in order to get the job done.
English pointed to the screen and Mason zeroed in on what he was trying to show him. “Is that…?”
English nodded. “Yep. A secret account that Wray Allen has. One his wife probably doesn’t know about. One that says he is up to a lot more than just fighting fires. If I had to guess, he’s deep in debt and looking for a way out.”
“This account has twenty grand in it. Why do you think he’s in debt?”
“Because these are his family’s accounts.” English pointed to another screen. “See this?”
Mason nodded.
“This transaction shows him moving money from his family to this account. And see this?” He pointed at the original screen and Mason nodded again. “This account isn’t owned by Wray Allen. He’s just authorized to make deposits. He hasn’t ever pulled money out. The company that owns it has, but not Allen.”
“So, this account is owned by a company, and they’re requiring Allen to pay them?”
English nodded. “It could be anything, but yeah.”
“What is this company?”
“I don’t know yet. I just found this. I’m digging into the company next. We need to know who’s behind it so we can find Mr. Allen.”
“What can I do?”
English looked up at Mason with a smile and lifted his mug. “You could get me a cup of coffee.”
Mason chuckled. He was more than a decade older than English and thought of him as a kid. When he gave Mason looks like that one, with a sheepish smile, he looked even younger. He was still a tough man, but with his blond hair, light blue eyes, and constant smile, anyone who didn’t know English would have mistaken him for a beach bum or a trust fund waste of space. He was deceptively smart, which made him a huge asset to the team.
Mason took the mug and filled it, adding a spoonful of sugar because he knew that was how English liked it. When the other man called down the hall to ask for that, Mason was already walking back into his office.
“Yeah, I know.”
English looked up at him. “You pay attention to things, don’t you?”
Mason shrugged. “We all do. Part of the job.”
“Yeah, but it’s different for you. You see things the rest of us ignore.”
“Maybe it’s because I’m old.”
English smiled and shook his head. “I think it’s because you’ve seen more pain than the rest of us.”
“I’ve caused more pain,” Mason said firmly.
English held his gaze for a long moment, then said, “It’s easy to hold on to our own anger and pain. The challenge comes when we try to let go and accept that the world is not all bad.”
“What pain are you holding on to?”
English offered a sad smile. “We all have pain.”
Before Mason could ask him another question, English thanked him for the coffee and turned back to his computer. Mason left the office and headed to his own, hoping he could do something useful. It had been a week since Wray Allen went missing. That long and Mason knew the odds of finding him alive. He refused to give up, but he was also preparing for the look on his wife’s face when she found out her husband wasn’t coming home.
The rest of the team showed up slowly over the next hour or so. The office noise grew louder, like a low buzz. They all knew the same thing. It was do or die time for the firefighter.
Dunn called a meeting for everyone to share what they knew. English told them all the same thing he told Mason that morning about the account. Dex and Dunn decided to pay Mrs. Allen another visit to see if she knew about the account or anything about the company English found tied to it.
Shortly after they left, Slade walked into Mason’s office and asked, “You busy?”
Mason shook his head. “What’s up?”
“I need to get out of here. Clear my head. Want to join me?”
“Hell, yes.”
Mason stared down the barrel of the gun. His finger twitched at the idea of pulling the trigger. He wanted to. Ached to.
He took a deep breath to steady himself and squeezed. He didn’t flinch as the bullet sped away from him and hit its mark. The explosion was beautiful. Pink splatter puffed up like smoke before falling to the ground with a splat.
“Nice shot,” Slade said with a chuckle. “You showed that watermelon who’s boss.”
Mason grinned. He loved the feel of a gun in his hand. Of the power that came with the responsibility of being able to pull a trigger and see things destroyed.
He also knew how dangerous they were. Not just from his career as a SEAL, but from the way a gun stole his world once upon a time. A world he never deserved. A world he would forever miss.
Megan.
Mason flipped the safety on and set his gun on the mat in front of him. He knew it was smart to keep up his skills since he’d started working for F-BOMB, but he also knew he had to be careful how much time he spent on the end of a gun. It became an addiction. An escape. The way some people played sports or ran, Mason shot. So much that his gun had become a part of him. An extension. An instinct. An instinct that cost him his wife.
“You’re done?” Slade asked.
Mason shrugged. “For now. I’m gonna head out.”
“Yeah?”
Mason was ready to make his escape, but something told him the trip to the range was about more than keeping their skills sharp and clearing their heads. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, of course. I was just hoping to get some advice. But it can wait.”
“Advice about what?” Mason asked. He checked his gun to ensure it was empty and put it in his case as required by the range before leaving.
“I, um…” Slade took another shot, then set his gun down. “I want to make sure I’m a good husband.”
Mason chuckled at the absurdity of the question. “And you’re asking me?”
Slade shrugged. “I know you tried.”
Mason drew a deep breath and blew it out slowly. He did try. He also failed. Miserably. Of all the people in their lives to ask about being a good husband, he was the last one Slade should be going to for advice, but for some reason he did.
“Don’t worry about it. Forget I asked.”
“For starters, know every day could be the last you have together. From the way you and Kyra met, I’m guessing you already know that, but what we do comes with no guarantees. Secondly, make sure she knows how much you love her so that if you don’t make it back one day, she won’t ever question if you really loved her.”
“I tell her all the time.”
“Telling her isn’t enough. Show her in everything you do. Kiss her when you wake up, touch her whenever she’s close, listen to her and talk to her. Do everything you can to make sure Kyra knows she’s the most important person in the world to you. You chose each other, and you have to choose each other every single day for the rest of your lives. That’s the only way this will work. The only way you can be a good husband.”
Slade drew in a breath and nodded thoughtfully. He stared over Mason’s shoulder beyond him to the wall.
“Sorry if that wasn’t what you needed.”
Slade shook his head. “It was exactly what I needed. That’s why I asked you.”
“I think you’re the only one who would ever ask me how to be a good husband. I’m fairly sure the rest of the world looks at me as an example of what not to do.”
“I know you loved your wife. What happened was an accident. If you could go back, you would.”
Mason absorbed the pain of regret and nodded sharply. “I wish for that every day.”
Slade stared at him for a second, then asked, “What do you think of my sister?”
“Excuse me?”
“My sister. I know you’re good at reading people. Something feels off with her. She’s never visited me before, and now she’s here for a few weeks. I’ve been here for almost three years. Why is she here now?”
“Are you sure it isn’t what she said and she wants to get to know Kyra?”
Slade sighed heavily and shrugged. “I don’t know. Something isn’t right. I saw you two talking in the kitchen the other night. What did she say to you?”
The sultry look on her face flashed through Mason’s mind. The moment she realized he was looking at her as a man should look at a woman. The way she looked up at him from beneath her lashes. He envisioned that look with her lips around his cock too many times to count in the days since.
Mason bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to stop the swelling in his pants. The last thing he needed was for Slade to realize his sister was propositioning Mason. Or that Mason almost considered taking her up on it.
“She asked how I knew you. I asked if she was enjoying her visit. That was really it.”
Slade ran a hand over his head and stared back at the target. “I was hoping she said something to you. Something that might help me understand what’s going on with her.”
“Sorry. She spent more time talking to the women than me. Did Kyra say anything?”
Slade shook his head. “No, but she’s trying to be friends with Megan. She doesn’t want to get in the middle.”
“And you think I do?”
Slade’s eyes narrowed for a second. “Why would you be in the middle? You don’t know my sister.”
“Yeah, true, I just meant spying for you. Or whatever.”
Slade sighed. “Maybe I should just ask her. I have two women living in my house and I don’t know how to talk to either of them most of the time.”
Mason chuckled. “Maybe let them talk once in a while.”
Slade grinned. “Good idea.”
Slade thanked Mason, then went back to focusing on the target fifty feet away. He waved as Mason left, already deep in his own thoughts. Mason preferred it that way. To be mostly invisible.
He locked his gun in his trunk and left the range. Dinner, maybe a beer, and sleep were in his immediate future. After such little sleep all weekend, he was ready for some downtime.
The grocery store was busy. The last thing Mason wanted was to have to work his way around people, but he missed his chance to get there before the crowd. He found a few options for dinners and threw them in his basket, promising himself he’d make a shopping list and eat better one day.
Megan was always good about that. She was the one who made sure he was healthy. She shopped and took care of things at home. Mason had fallen far short of that since he lost her.
“Mason?” someone said from right behind him.
He was in line, almost to the front, but that voice made him want to hurdle the belt and get the hell out of there. He turned and came face to face with her. Face to face with the woman responsible for one of the worst moments of his life.
“Bernadette,” he said coldly, trying to choke back the emotion welling up inside him.
God, how similar they looked. Sisters separated by only eleven months. Irish twins, their mom said when he first met the family. They grew up together as best friends, not just sisters. Always there for each other. Going through life together. Graduation, college, marriage, and eventually kids if things had worked out.
They hadn’t.
“What… why are you here?” Her chest heaved with the question. She stared at him, her eyes wide, tears forming at the edges.
God, she looked so much like Megan. So similar that he wanted to pull her into his arms and pretend she was. Just for a minute.
“Do you live here?” Bernadette asked, her voice rising. She was starting to draw the attention of the other people nearby.
“Are you ready, sir?” the cashier asked.
Mason turned and looked at him, feeling like he wasn’t really there. He put his things on the belt and followed them toward the guy who couldn’t have been older than twenty. What Mason would give to go back to that age. To the age when he met Megan. When he fell for her on sight. Maybe he could warn her. Warn them. Change things.
“How long have you been out of jail?” Bernadette asked. Her voice shook with the question.
The guy bagging the groceries faltered, looking between them. Fear swept into his gaze. His knuckles turned white with the grip he had on Mason’s frozen dinner.
Mason wanted to tell him she was crazy. Reassure him in some way. But there was nothing he could say.
“A few years,” Mason finally answered Bernadette.
“Years? You’ve been out for years? Why the hell do you get to walk around free when my sister is in the ground? You killed her, Mason. You killed my sister. You don’t deserve to be a free man.”
Mason tossed cash at the guy and grabbed his bags. He started to walk away when a manager stepped in front of him.
“Is there a problem here?”
Mason looked at the twerp. He couldn’t actually do anything to stop Mason, but he was the person of authority, and Mason respected authority. From day one, he knew his father was in charge, then his CO, his wife, and now his boss. Mason was smart enough to know when a situation spiked, it was best to just get the hell out.
“No, sir. I’m just paying for my groceries.”
“He killed my sister,” Bernadette growled. Or maybe howled. It was somewhere between the two with a crack in her voice that split open all the raw parts of Mason.
“Um…” The manager fumbled to come up with something coherent. He clearly didn’t expect that answer.
“I’ve served my time,” Mason said firmly, locking eyes with the manager so he knew Mason wasn’t a threat.
“Sir, I have your change,” the kid at the register said. He held it out to Mason, his hand shaking.
Mason took a deep breath and opened his hand for the change and the receipt. The kid dropped both into Mason’s palm. He closed it long enough to dump the contents in his grocery bag, then turned back to the manager.
“I just want to leave,” Mason told the manager.
He looked between Mason and Bernadette and finally nodded and stepped to the side. Mason walked away as Bernadette shouted after him that he was a killer and he still needed to pay for what he did to her sister.
If only she knew he paid for it every time he closed his eyes and saw the life drain from hers.
