MASON (Second Chance Novels Book 2) (10 page)

"Excellent," I say as I finish a bite. I gulp down some water before I continue. "We didn't bother with the tents. The weather was perfect. We kayaked through some Class-3 rapids this morning for a little fun, and I introduced Ledger to climbing on Saturday. Next time out I promised to show him how to repel down a rock face."

"Nice," she nods appreciatively. "I've done the rapids in both a kayak and a raft, but I've never done any climbing."

"I'll take you," I say. "You want to test your badass skills? Climbing's fucking intense if you do it right."

"Was it intense this weekend?" she asks.

"Nah, this weekend was just for kicks and teaching Ledge. When I want to hit it hard I go to the shore and tackle the cliffs."

"Who climbs with you?"

"Just me," I say plainly. "Like I said, fucking intense if you do it right."

She nods because she gets it. She gets all of it. I don't want to keep comparing her with Shelby, but I can't help but notice how opposite they are, especially after Ledger forced my brain in that direction. When I mention climbing to Shelby, she gives me the thanks-but-no-thanks speech and tells me to be careful when I go. I never tell her I climb alone. She would worry. But that's the reason she's so great to be with…she cares so much and she keeps me grounded. Still, she doesn't get it. And that's starting to bother me more than I want it to, and a lot more now than I've admitted it to myself. Dig's voice brings me back to our conversation.

"I'll have to try it," she agrees. "Usually I challenge myself with the martial arts, self defense, stick fighting…but climbing sounds worth checking out."

I simply nod, because I get it too. I force myself not to take a deep breath before I ask her what I've been wanting to ask since I met her.
 

"What made you go after all the fight and defense training?" I try to keep the question as simple as our norm.

She looks at me for a second. I can see how conflicted she is about answering, so I wait. She doesn't need pushing, especially today.

"Let's just say today's not the first time I've been attacked," she says.
 

"That's all I get?" I ask, suddenly wanting to find those assholes, too. She's quiet for too many moments before she speaks again. She takes a deep breath and lets out a frustrated sigh at the memory.

"The story isn't complex. My girlfriends and I got mugged while we were in college. We travelled together and I'm sure we stood out as clueless tourists, so we got herded down an alley and robbed. The bastards started acting interested in more than our wallets. I was the only one who fought back, so I was the only one who landed in the hospital. But after dealing with me, they didn't want any more attention drawn. They bolted, so nothing got worse than our purses getting emptied."

"Shit."

"Yeah. I told myself never again. I changed my major to criminal studies and started training as soon as I healed."

"You're a fucking rock star."

"Bite me."

I chuckle and carefully help her out of her seat.
 

"I'm not made of glass, you know," she says almost kindly. "But thank you."

"I know that. But your body's been through the ringer today. So pretend you're a regular person for an hour and relax, ok?"

I know my couch is a piece of shit and sinking so low would cause her more discomfort than necessary, so I walk her to my bed and offer her more comfortable clothes that aren't road-scuffed.

"You don't have to do all this," she says.

"Shut up," I half-smile. She smirks as I grab something from my dresser. Carefully I sit her down and kneel in front of her to take her shoes off…and there are her cute fucking toes again. God, I want to suck that little pinky toe in my mouth. God, I need to stop thinking like that.

She reaches for the button of her jeans but she winces. She tries to recover without me noticing but it's too late.
 

"Would you stop?" I ask plainly. "I'll help with your clothes, ok? I'll be totally professional."

She nods reluctantly. She'll be swimming in my sweats and t-shirt, but they sure beat what she's wearing now.
 

I undo her jeans and slide them carefully down her hips. The denim tries to drag her panties down, but she holds them up.
Damn
. I force myself not to look as she carefully steps out of her pants. I can feel her looking at me, but all I do is offer my sweats for her to step into. A moment later I'm off the floor and she's tying the sweats low around her hips. Her tiny, flat tummy is so damn sexy, and would be perfect if not for the bruises. Bastards.

Next I turn her facing away so I can help with her top and then with her bra. Fuckin' eh, I want to turn her around and look at her. I mean
really
look at her. I want to see her strength, her feminine beauty, and the damage from her attack, just so I can fuel my need for revenge. But instead, I help with my big t-shirt. She turns around and I chuckle.
 

"You look like a little kid playing dress up right now."
 

"And you look like a jackass…well, all the time," she smiles back. The sight of her swollen lip trying to curve into a smile pisses me off all over again.
 

She walks carefully to the bathroom and I wait for her, sifting through everything in my head. There will be no more weekend trips until all this is solved. Those fucking cowards attacked her while I was gone. These men are less than snail shit.
Bastards!
Also, it's time to get aggressive. No more passive surveillance and base-investigation. I will be up in their shit until the entire tie-wearing posse has been destroyed.
 

Last, damn it, is something I shouldn't be thinking. Only one minute ago I was so fucking close to Dig, undressing her, touching her, gazing at her skin…I can't deny it anymore, not even to myself. I want her. I want her
so fucking bad
. But I have Shelby.
 

Dig walks to my bedroom again and I help her into the sheets. She looks at me rather strangely, I think, but I can't let myself analyze anything right now. The thoughts behind her expression don't make a difference.
 

"I'll go change," I say, grabbing another pair of sweats and heading out of the room. Holy hell, Dig is in my bed. I should be taking the couch tonight, but I swear the picture of her hair along my pillow is not one I'll forget anytime soon. Maybe not ever. I'm not sure I can stay that far away right now. Not only is she beautiful, she's damaged. I honestly think she needs the connection right now, even though she'd never admit it. I need her close, too.

By the time I'm showered and my teeth are brushed, I'm ready to see if there's anything else she needs before I crash. I step into my room and see her discretely wiping her eye and faking a smile.
 

"You ok?" I ask, concerned and walking to her side.

"Hey," she greets with a little too much spring in her voice.

"Don't bullshit me," I say pointedly. She smirks and looks me straight in the eye.

"It's been a shit day," she says.
 

"Yeah," I answer. I move around the bed to lay down next to her. I want her to talk. Slim chance of a therapy session, but I'll at least try. I'm dressed only in my sweats, and I swear I catch her checking out my abs. I shouldn't care if she notices me, but wish I knew what she was thinking.

"What are you doing?" she asks, turning her face to me.

"You think I'm going to sleep on that couch?" I ask, faking offense. "Hell no. I'm not letting some little girl kick me out of my own bed. But I'll stay on top of the covers if it makes you feel better."

"I don't care where you are in relation to the covers, Mason," she says rolling her eyes at me.
 

I get into my bed like I do every night, but tonight I'm sleeping next to Dig. I take a deep breath and look over at her. Even beat up she's so beautiful. Her bruises only prove how tough she is. I return my gaze to the ceiling. This is another moment that isn't going how I imagined it.

"Mason?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me what you really did in the military. You were no damn mechanic."

I stare at the ceiling a moment longer. I don't talk about my real job in the Army. For every reason, to anyone…but Dig isn't anyone. She's an intelligent investigator, a solid partner, and a trustworthy friend. I take another deep breath while she waits patiently for me to answer. She's smart enough not to press.
 

"No, I was no damn mechanic," I finally say, resting my hand under my head and staring solidly at the ceiling. "Special Forces Recon, and then recruited into the Intelligence Unit. Of my nine years in the Army, eight of those went beyond standard enlistment."

"They recruited you fast up the food chain," she observes.

"I suppose they did."

"Special Forces at nineteen?"

"They called me Junior."

"Damn. So, I'm guessing they told you your IQ and personality tests were off-the-charts, add to that your athletic prowess and general ass-kicking attitude, and you were the perfect candidate."

"Something like that."

She smiles and looks over at me. "You're a fucking rock star."

"Bite me," I grin.
 

And that's it. She allows herself to relax, and I rest easily knowing she's safe beside me, and that I'll quickly drop anyone who wants to hurt her. I know she'd do the same for me. Perfect partners.
 

I force myself
not
to roll to her side. I'd love to smell her hair or pull her in and carefully massage away her tension. I want to explore her neck with my lips.
Shut the hell up,
I tell my brain.
 

I refocus my thoughts on Shelby.
Shit
. I never called her back. I look at the clock, knowing it's too late to call her anyway. I was supposed to go see her after camping.
Damn it.

Letting Dig drive herself home this morning was one of the hardest things I've had to do in a long time. Her entire body was stiff and her ribs were sore. None of the swelling on her face had gone down. We don't know who attacked her. Honestly, it fucking broke my heart to see her try to walk to her car as if nothing was wrong with her body.
 

I want to follow her around with a Glock tight in my grip, but that would piss her off, and is an unrealistic option anyway. In the mean time, patience and my ankle-holster will have to do.

I can only imagine what was going through Dig's head when she nodded goodbye to me, or how long it's going to take for her body to recover. I wonder if she'll let herself stay home from work today. Who am I kidding? Of course she won't. Miller will probably look at her with smug satisfaction. I want to
end
that asshole.
 

The minute I'm back in my apartment, I'm at the board, legal pad in hand, drawing up an entirely new strategy. I need exactly zero minutes to know what I'm going to do. I'll spend good, quality,
up-close
time with each fucker up there, using my surveillance as an excuse to be in their faces. I plan to annoy the shit out of every single one of them, and embarrass them in front of whomever they associate with. If the members of that little power circle want to escalate this game with a personal attack on my partner, I'll play it stronger. The old adage of bringing a knife to a gun fight makes me smile.
Idiot suits with their knives.

I spend the rest of the day doing everything I don't want to be doing. I have to recognize that every-day life still exists, so I let my brain sort through the project while I shop for groceries, clean my camp gear, work out harder than usual, and allow all my mental power to roll through the investigation. I play out every scenario available in order to take the best possible next step. Dig and I will win, and we'll win soon.

By evening I'm showered, focused, and I have to go see Shelby. I'm sure she's upset about yesterday, but I'm also sure she'll understand. I stop.
'I have to go see Shelby'
is what floated through my brain. Those exact words. I shake my head and get in the car. Visiting my girlfriend shouldn't feel like a requirement. I try to right my thoughts as I go, but driving doesn't change anything except my location.

"Mason," Shelby smiles at me from her doorway when I walk up her sidewalk. She offers me a deep kiss when I reach her. I rest my hands at her waist and smile at her.

"Hey Shel," I say before she turns to lead me in.

Her greeting in return has a chilled edge. Fuck.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," I apologize.

Her eyes betray a degree of hurt, but her expression remains soft. "It's ok. Were you alright? I called Cam and she assured me everyone was ok. So…what happened?"

I want to laugh again because Shel thinks I could get hurt on an average-joe camping trip. She has no idea. But then again, I haven't told her. I don't think she would want to know all the details about the former me. Her Mason is the one she knows, and
loves
if Ledger has it right. I sigh inwardly and lead Shel to the couch. This isn't going to be an easy conversation.