MASON (Second Chance Novels Book 2) (7 page)

"No fucking way," I grumble, beating her to the door and standing in front of her. "Be pissed all you want, but not at me. And if you want someone's ass to hurt, let's make it yours as I fucking kick it. Now tell me what the hell your
real
problem is."

I reach for her, ready to grab her shoulders and force her to look me in the eye.
 

"Do I look like I need a fucking hug?" she spits, knocking my hands away.
 

"Oh, no hug? Then hit me," I challenge.

She turns to look at me, pissed and trying to figure out if I'm mocking her.

"Fucking hit me," I challenge again.

She takes one step in and throws a hard right hook, which I easily push past me with a swift defensive block. She glares. She swings again, this time ready for my block and counters by twisting my wrist back. I aim at her this time, simply to piss her off more so she'll fight harder. She's been forced to lie back and take all their shit for too long. She needs this.
 

 
She easily blocks my swing, of course, and gets her feet involved in the scuffle. Hell yes, this woman can bring it. I not-so-easily block her leg-sweep, but I use my move as an opener to jerk her leg out from under her. She's on the floor, but this doesn't slow her down at all. She scissor kicks, landing her heel in my hamstring, and that's only the beginning. We may not be on a sparring mat, but I'm loving this fight anyway.

Both of us are fighting by instinct at this point, sparring and blocking swiftly, move after efficient move. She obviously studies several martial arts…many of the same I have, and she is fucking blowing me away. I'm nearly double her weight and I tower over her in height, and I can't take her down without getting my neck locked in her knee. Fuck. Me. Standing.
 

Grip after lock she fights out her anger. Grab after sweep I want her more. Holy fucking hell I can only imagine what kind of fuck I could have with this woman. Shit. I shouldn't imagine her in my bed at all.

I'm distracted enough that she takes me down hard with a sweep of her leg. Suddenly I'm on my back, kick-rolled to my stomach, and locked with my foot twisted up in the air and an arm wrenched up my back.
 

"Done yet?" she asks, out of breath.
 

"I don't know. Are
you
fucking done yet?" I ask as she lets me up.
 

The unspoken 'no' nearly screams from her face; her stance remains strong and tense. She needs to get this out, and I know how to help.

I quickly swing my forearm toward her neck which she easily catches and uses to continue my momentum around. She buckles my knee again. Before I'm down I twist and pick up her knee to knock her backward. Before she can get up I'm on top of her…and the atmosphere shifts immediately. My whole body has hers pressed under me. I can feel every curve as I lock her wrists down beside her head. She looks me in the eye, still breathing heavily, and I swear my eyes won't move from her mouth. Her lips are parted and I stare, wondering what it would be like to push my own lips against them. Only an awkward two seconds pass before she breaks my grip and pushes me off of her sideways. She stands and walks away from me immediately.

"Thanks for the fight," she says straight-faced, pulling her hair back, twisting it at the base of her head, and securing it with the hair band from her wrist. "Now what the hell do we do about Miller?"

I'm sitting on the floor with my knees crooked up and my forearms resting on them. I look up at her, frustrated by all the complications surrounding us, and meet her eyes again. She's got the same expression I do. We crossed a very small, very subtle line just now, and I think we both know it. She stares at me and waits for my answer about her boss.
 

"I don't know," I say. "But we'll figure it out."

I walk to the kitchen and grab two beers, getting back into our standard routine. She nods at me.

"Yeah," she sighs in frustration. "We got this."

"Look. Simms will be gone
soon
. As for your Miller, I'll make sure my presence is known. I'll bring him Miller coffee tomorrow morning. Staring them down will be enough to make my point."

"That's exactly the shit I'm talking about Mason," she says in quiet frustration now. "I lose all credibility if you come in there."

"Well," I say, understanding her point, "how about I bring
you
coffee and hand you some random flashdrive. Let's make him sweat what could be on it. I won't say a word and I won't stare anyone down. Believe it or not, I can do subtle."

She considers this for a moment. "Just coffee and a flash drive for me, no looking at Miller. Or Simms if he's still there."

"Right."

"Fine."

We've figured out at least our next step and we're staring at each other again. Fuck. I don't want this to get complicated, especially when this is nothing. Shelby is my girlfriend, plain and simple.
 

"Yeah, well I'm hittin' it," Dig says as she reaches for her purse by the front door. "I'm on shift at eight, so come soon after. I think Miller and I will be in the field by eight thirty."

I stay on my side of the room. "Yep."

The minute she's out the door I let out a very heavy breath. I lean against my wall and bang my head back a few times while I look at the ceiling. Staring will do me no good, so I clean up the kitchen, start a load of laundry, clean up anything else I can think of…and I still find myself dwelling on what a mess I may have created tonight. Getting on Dig like that, fighting or not, is something I should not have done. Fuck. I shake my head at myself and walk into my room, even though I'm wide awake.

"Hey," I nod to Ledger as I walk into Second Chance through the front door. I want there to be no confusion. After all night and all day of dwelling on the building conflict in my brain, I am a patron tonight. I want to get back to basics. I just want a fucking beer.

"Hey," he smiles in mild confusion, putting a napkin in front of my favorite stool.

"Black and tan," I say.

"Things going that well, huh?" he asks about my mood.

"So it's sarcasm tonight?"

He stops and looks at me with mild surprise. "Doesn't have to be," he says simply.

Just then Jackson comes out and says hi. Then he fucking asks me what's wrong, too.

"Ah, hell," I say, reaching for my wallet and dropping a few bills on the bar. I'm not here for group therapy.

"Sorry, Mase," Jacks says in his laid-back tenor. "I'm off it."

Ledger puts his hands up and backs off, too, so I sit back down and take a deep sip. I stare at the bubbles until I finish this one off, then gesture to Ledger for another. I'm lost in my own head again but come out of my thoughts just in time to see Ledger set my next beer in front of me on the bar. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now do you want to tell me what's going on? Because I've never seen you like this."

"And you'll never see me like this again," I shut him down. I go back to studying the lingering foam on my beer.
 

Ledger has a knack for reading every person and every situation. I hold my cards tighter to the vest than most, but he's too damn good to fool all the time. We get along well because no matter how much he sees, he usually keeps his thoughts to himself.

"Right," he says flatly. I shake my head at his sarcasm again. I can only imagine how much he's figured out at this point. Jacks heads to the back again and Ledger comes directly to me and damn-near gets in my face.
 

My eyes snap up to his. "What."

"You're a goddamn mess, my friend."

"Just having a beer."

"That's two, actually, which I've never seen you do."

My eyes narrow. I don't want to be pissed at my best friend, but he's in the mood to push buttons tonight, apparently. "Extra thirsty."

"Right," he says again. "You know, I could give you ten more beers and not a single one of them is going to help."

"Fuck off."
 

He turns his back and busies himself at the cash register with what looks like random things to keep himself occupied until someone else orders a drink.
 

I watch my beer bubbles get lower and lower down the glass until this one is finished, too. Ledger was right. This isn't helping at all. I take a deep breath and prepare myself for a long meeting between my ass and this stool. I don't feel like going home right now, but I certainly don't want to get drunk either. I don't lose control like that.

And that's when I realize my head is so fucked up for that exact reason. I'm losing control around Dig, and that is unacceptable. Strangely enough there are two reasons I'm slipping. One, I find myself wanting her, which I didn't give myself permission to do. Two, some of the control I'm letting go of comes from the fact that she is so damn strong herself. Our investigation…I've given half to her. I don't fucking do that. No, I always run the show.
 

Early in my Special Forces career, even in a fierce group of natural leaders, I stood out. My superiors saw my dominance in everything I did.
I could run the fucking show,
and was promoted accordingly
.
With Dig, she's my equal, again, without my permission. She throws me off balance in every way, which makes her both attractive and respected. Regardless of what else is happening in my life, Dig is a force. She's stronger than anything else around, which takes my control by half.

So here I am drinking. Good strategy, Pratt.
 

I grit my teeth and drink the glass of water Ledge sets in front of me. There are no bubbles to occupy my eyes. I look up at Ledger who is studying me from several feet away.

"Is there any point in asking?" he asks.

"Is there any point in pretending you haven't figured it out?" I grumble in return.

Ledger smirks, tells Jackson to run the bar, and goes to his office in the back. I know exactly what he's doing. The bar is getting busier by the minute, and Ledger knows me well enough to know I'll help Jackson on my night off. I want to tell him to fuck off again, but he's in the back. Less than five minutes later, Jacks is barely keeping up. I roll my eyes and make my way around the bar.

"Thanks, man," Jacks says simply. He's an easy guy to be around, which I'm sure is half the reason Ledger left me with him in the first place. I sigh and start serving drinks. Within minutes, the familiar rhythm of bartending eases some of my angst. I'm running the show, no matter how small this show is.
 

I don't see Ledger the rest of the night, which I know is deliberate on his part. When things slow down, I sip one more water at my stool incase Jacks needs help again, then I find going home difficult. I need to get control of this.

To that end, I call Ledger to come out then ask him for the next night off. He agrees, of course. He's a good guy. Tuesday will be for me and Shelby. I text her from the bar and tell her to be off work by six tomorrow, and that I would surprise her, and that she should dress up. I know she will love a night like that. Ledger eyes me as I text but I don't give a fuck what he's thinking.

With a single backward wave, I'm on my way home. I fall asleep rather quickly, thankful that I finally understand half my problem. I have no solution as of yet, but I have a path to follow to repair the rift in my head over what I want in my life. Dig is an equal partner in the project, but she's not part of the rest. When I'm done getting through this need to exorcise my old demons with this investigation, my feelings for Dig will leave along with my past. Shelby is who I'm with. I will maintain control of my world.

The next day I do some basic surveillance on a councilman. He's on his cell phone nearly the entire day, occasionally looking stressed. I have no doubt he knows about our little project, and he's most likely contacting anyone up the ladder who might be willing to keep him out of the mayhem we're creating. I smile at the panicked expression on his face the entire time.
 

By five-thirty, however, I'm in the shower planning my night out with Shel. I roll through my strategy point by point to make sure she and I have the best possible night together. I will romance her while we're out and make her feel special when we're home. I'm at her door at six o'clock sharp, dressed in crisp, charcoal suit. Shelby's eyes widen at the sight of me. I pull a single red rose from behind my back and present it to her with a very gentle kiss.
 

 
"Thank you," she almost whispers.
 

"You look beautiful," I say. "That dress…I'm not sure how you manage to look classy and edible at the same time."

She chuckles and shakes her head at my typical humor. "Let me put this in a vase."

She sets the flower in the center of her table and takes in its scent one last time before returning to my side. I offer my arm and she takes it with a smile. She's already in awe of tonight. Putting that look on her face is exactly what I wanted to do. I can make her happy, and that calms my brain.