Dangerous in Training (Aegis Group, #2) (2 page)

“Yeah, that’s Dylan.” She straightened her spine. When she’d first met him, he’d been...charming. Nice. For a moment—a day—she’d thought, finally! Someone to distract her from the unrequited love gnawing at her insides. But that had quickly faded as reality sat in. Mason Fever was brutal and left no room for anyone else.

Dylan Whatever-his-name-was was not someone she wanted to be alone with, much less go on dates four or five.

But she hadn’t brought Mason here to fight her battles for her.

“No,” she grabbed his elbow, “I’ll talk to Dylan.”

“Not without me.” The stubborn set of Mason’s jaw said she had about as much chance of getting him to budge on that point as she did moving a mountain.

“Fine. Come on.”

She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, strode around the truck and across the grass. Dylan waited for her, his relaxed pose contradicted by the shrewd, calculating way he watched her. He was a snake. A con man. Something she couldn’t put her finger on and didn’t want to. The sooner she could extract her life from his, the better.

“Hannah. A surprise,” Dylan drawled.

“I’m moving my stuff out of the shed, Dylan.” She planted her hands on her hips and stared Dylan down, daring him to tell her otherwise.

“You mean my stuff, in my shed?” His brows rose. No man had eyebrows that perfect.

“My stuff, Dylan. It’s mine, and you know it.”

“Possession is what? Nine-tenths the law?”

“Look,” Mason took a step forward, “man, we can argue—”

“I don’t know you—and I don’t care what you have to say.”

“Dylan—”

“Hannah, I told you, I’ll trade the stuff in the shed for a ticket to Mexico. It’s only fair since you used my phone to make the call. Fair is fair.”

She clenched her hands, channeling her anger deep down into the ground.

It wasn’t even about the trip. What did she care about a trip he’d pressured her into? It was free. Giving it to him would cost her nothing—except the principle of it. She should not have to pay off the man for her things. Her things he didn’t even care about. He just wanted to get something from her. Use her. And she wasn’t about to let him win. Dylan was the kind of man that got what he wanted and broke hearts. Well, this time he wasn’t going to get anything. Not into her panties, her stuff, or a ticket.

“We’re packing up her stuff. Now.” Mason’s voice sent goose bumps up her spine. “You have a problem with it, call the cops. Come on, Hannah. Hey, Travis, get the bolt cutters.”

Hannah marched back to the truck, spine straight, and her heart in her throat.

Well, at least no one died?

Dylan paced the length of the house, stalking through the sparsely furnished rooms.

“What the fuck, man?” Rogelio gestured to the back of the house.

Dylan had drawn the curtains the moment he’d seen the four meatheads in the driveway. One hot piece of ass was not worth blowing this whole job sky high, even if she was worth her weight in blow.

“Relax.” Dylan crossed his arms over his chest. He needed to relax. Rogelio was the worst person to have doing the pick-up today. Why couldn’t it have been a peon? Why did it have to be Rogelio? Too many bad comments about Dylan’s part in everything and he could end up dead.

“Relax? Who the hell are those guys? I’m supposed to pick up the merchandise and split.” Rogelio lifted a curtain and peered out back.

“I said relax. I have it all under control.”

“This doesn’t look like it’s under control,
hombre
.” Rogelio glared at him.

“I know what the fuck I’m doing. You just do your job.”

“Who’s the girl?” Rogelio dropped the curtain and circled the kitchen.

“She’s merchandise. I just had to set the hook.”

“This is setting the hook?”

“I can’t grab this one off the street. I had to work an angle. Like I said, don’t worry about it. Just get ready to move the others when they clear out.”

“Show them to me.”

Dylan led the way into the master bedroom. The walk-in closet sported three set of locks on the reinforced door. He unlocked the door and swung it open. Whimpers and the smell of human sweat permeated the air.

“Oh.” Rogelio knelt in the opening. “They are pretty. You’re lucky you do good work, Dylan. Cruz will be happy with these girls.”

“Exactly. Let me do my job and you do yours.”

“You know, we don’t need any more girls right now. She’d just be an extra. Why not save her?” Rogelio reached out and stroked the curling hair of the nearest girl.

Dylan knew Rogelio wasn’t talking about these girls. No, he meant Hannah.

“I can’t. She’s special.” Dylan’s lips twisted around the word, grimacing.

“What’s so special about her? Her tits taste like beer?”

“No. She’s a virgin.”

“Really? There aren’t many of those around.” Rogelio barked out a laugh.

Which was exactly the point. Dylan couldn’t fuck this up. He had to do it right, because he’d already promised her to Cruz.

M
ason slung two garbage bags of what he suspected were clothes over his shoulder and pushed the truck’s door shut.

This was the last of it.

Six hours, four vehicles loaded to bursting, and buckets of sweat later—Hannah was safe.

He trudged up the stairs to her new rental, a two-story condo in the better part of town, and let himself in through the front door. Zain, Travis and Ethan had taken off, leaving Mason on his own to finish unloading. From their long, hard looks, he knew he was in for it. Once Mr. Stevens got back, Mason would be lucky to come out of this with just a new asshole. There wasn’t a single one of the guys willing to cover for him, not that he expected them to. No, he’d pay for this little stunt all on his own, because it was better for Mason to get chewed out than for Mr. Stevens to put another brick in the wall he was building between himself and Hannah.

He could still smell the sweet mint gum Stevens had chewed that first day Mason was going through his interviews to join Aegis. The background check had gone off without a hitch. His physical therapy was going well. For ten minutes, he was alone with Stevens. He’d sat on the desk and leaned in close, right up in Mason’s face and said, “Stay away from my daughter.”

The rest hadn’t needed saying.

Stay away from Hannah, or Mason’s opportunities were done for. Just like his SEAL career.

“Hey, let me help with that.” Hannah’s feet beat out a rhythm on the stairs. She grabbed one of the two bags from him and bounded up the stairs to her room.

“Where’s your roommate?” He eyed the stack of boxes on the first floor that had been there when they arrived.

“She’s a flight attendant, so she’s somewhere in the air right now. Should be back tonight sometime I believe, unless she got stuck somewhere.”

Mason hung back on the landing, holding a bag of stuff that smelled like Hannah. He caught a glance of her darting across her room, back and forth, arranging things. He’d managed to avoid actually going in there by hauling around the furniture. Now, one little bag to go, and he could escape, back to his empty apartment.

“You can put that on the bed,” she called out from deep inside the room.

Right.

He’d rather cut off his left nut than go in there, but he couldn’t explain that to her. That she was the best—and worst—thing that had ever happened to him. One foot in front of the other, dragging all that dread with him. It took what felt like an eternity to cross the threshold into her room.

Boxes and bags were everywhere, but the bones were set up. White furniture, frilly curtains and everywhere—Hannah. Her smell. Her things. Bits and pieces of her. This was where she’d sleep, talk on the phone, fuck another guy even.

“Just put it on top of that stuff. I’ll sort it out later,” she said from the closet.

He plopped the bag on the mattress and turned, poised to leave. Except Hannah was standing on a box in the damn closet, wrestling clothes out of other boxes to hang.

“What the hell are you doing? Give me that. Who the fuck puts the clothes rod this high?” He took the hangers from her hands and jammed them on the rod. It was up there even for him.

“Thanks. I just figured I’d hang stuff I don’t wear that much up here.” She smiled, her cheeks pink, and handed him more clothes on hangers. The rod was tall even for him.

Mason swallowed his grumbling. The sadness was gone. One day of labor and she looked like
his
Hannah again. Well, not his. She’d never truly been his. It’d never gone past harmless flirting. But in his mind...they were more.

“I didn’t know you and Zain were related. Keeping secrets?” She continued to hand him clothes, putting him to work despite his best intention to leave.

“Yeah, my father and his mother were siblings. Our dads were best friends in the Navy.”

“Navy? Was it like, a family thing?”

“Something like that.”

“So did you and Zain serve together or something?”

“There were only two years we overlapped before his accident.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t know that. You never mentioned it.”

“It never came up.” And he hadn’t wanted to get into Aegis on his cousin’s clout.

He hung the fourth set of clothes on the rod, painfully aware of how silent the house was. That they were alone. Together.

Mason felt her eyes on him, sensed her stillness.

He straightened a few garments and steeled himself for whatever was coming next. It wouldn’t be clothes, that was for sure.

“We never talk anymore.” Her voice relayed every drop of sadness he’d seen in her eyes that morning. Now who was the asshole?

“We’re talking now.” He turned to face her. He briefly contemplated fleeing, but she was between him and the door. There wasn’t a way out except through her.

“That’s not what I mean. We used to hang out and stuff.” She stared at his chest, bits of stray hair sticking to her forehead. “Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No.”
Your father is just a dick.

“Then what happened?”

“Things got busy at work. You know how it is.” God, he was lame.

“Yeah.” She sighed and pivoted, her disappointment palpable.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, you know that, right?” That’d been all on him. He was the fuck-up here, not her.

“I guess.” She ripped open the very plastic bag he’d just brought upstairs. Whatever easy rapport they’d just had was gone. She was dismissing him, which was exactly what he’d wanted. Until he had it. “Thank you again for helping me. I know you probably had other plans for your day.”

“Not really. It was downtime. I’m glad to help.” He hung back, leaning against the doorframe. In her closet like a creeper.

It was time to leave. Things had been good between them. As good as they’d ever be. And yet, he didn’t move. Normally, he avoided her. He liked having a reason to get up in the morning and something to do with his life, now that the Navy was closed to him. Without Aegis, he didn’t know what he’d be good at. None of that could move him from the spot though. This was a rare opportunity to bask in her presence. He’d pay for it later, so might as well make it count, right?

“What’s your next job?” Hannah dumped the contents of the bag on the bed. “Whoops.”

He blinked at a pile of lace, satin, and more frilly, girly material. It took him about ten seconds too long to realize what he was staring at.

A giant pile of panties.

“Uh...”

“Come on, Mason, you’ve seen underwear before.” She scooped up a handful and waved them at him. A single black thong dangled from one finger.

Christ on a cracker, that was an image he didn’t need in his head.

“When’s Dad getting back?” she asked.

“A week, I think.” He wasn’t firing all cylinders yet. There was a great visual forming in his mind, one that would be burned there forever. Hannah’s ass. Black thong. Yeah...he needed to go now.

“Good.”

The suddenly perky way she said it sent warning sirens clamoring in his head.

“Why?” he asked.

“No reason.”

“Hannah.”

“Mason.” She tilted her head to the side and stared right back at him.

“Why?” he asked again.

“Because—Mexico tickets, remember?”

Shit.

“Does your father know about this?”

Hannah tipped her chin down and leveled a glare her old man would be proud of Mason’s way. She took two strides and poked him in the chest.

“I’m an adult, you know?” She followed the statement up with another jab to his chest.

“Yes, but your dad—”

“Is not going to Mexico with me.” She threw her hands up, her cheeks flushing red. Man, she sounded like her dad when he was pissed. It was the tone, not the words. They could both do angry pretty damn well. “I’m an adult. I’ve lived on my own, worked, and put myself through school. He does not get to approve me going on a trip. I’m not like you.” She paced the room, all the way to the window and back.

Like him?

He might work for Aegis—but they didn’t own him. What did she think he was?

“Wait a second—”

“You liked me.” She stopped less than a foot away, chin thrust forward, her angry gaze telling him to deny it. To deny that for a short time, there’d been a spark.

Mason swallowed.

He should say no, squash this here and now. There was no arguing with the logic that Hannah deserved someone who would be there for her. Who wouldn’t be on the road or on a job or...putting honor and country above family. He’d grown up with the Navy sewn into the seams of his life, knitting his family together. It made them closer, while driving Hannah and her father farther apart.

Aegis Group wasn’t the SEALs, but for all the danger they faced, it might as well be. The paycheck was better, but there wasn’t the same kind of pride mixed into it like there was with the Navy. It wasn’t bad or wrong, just—different.

“You liked me, and my dad said something, didn’t he?” Her voice was quiet, but in the silence of the house it was deafening. “God damn it.”

She shook her head and turned away, running a hand over her ponytail and pulling at the ends.

“Leave, Mason. Just, leave.”