He shakes his head, mouth twisted in a disgusted frown.
“Mason.” I rest my forehead against his. “God, I’m going to hate every second of this. Being away from you will kill me. I’ll do this quickly. Knowing that Lana’s vindication and you, the two most important things to me in this entire world, are waiting for me on the other end, I’ll make the most of every second and see this through. I promise.”
He rolls his head back and forth against mine, growling. “I can’t fucking believe I’m letting this happen.”
“I can.”
He blinks open his eyes.
“You have a good heart, Mase.”
“Fuck, don’t say that. I’m allowing the woman I love to be in the arms of some sick fuck. I deserve to be castrated for that!”
“Stop it. No more looking back. It’s only forward for us. Forward and forever.” I grip his face, forcing him to look at me. “Promise me we’re never saying good-bye.”
I nods. “I promise.”
“Say it.” I need to hear it.
“I’ll never say good-bye.”
“And neither will I. Never. No good-byes. Forward and forever.”
A weak smile touches his lips. “The two effs.”
“Well, for us there will be three.” I wink with the hope of lightening his mood.
“You have a dirty mind, Miss Trixy.” He pulls at my lower lip with his thumb, and I suck it deep into my mouth, eliciting a growl from his chest.
“We have a few more hours before I need to head home. I’ll show you how dirty my mind is.”
His expression sobers, and he places a small kiss on my lips. “Promise me you’ll stay safe.”
“For you? Always.”
Twenty-nine
Mason
Three days feels like three months.
So far, Trix is no closer to finding her sister’s killer. She’s kept me informed through short phone calls and texts, even managed to come over for a few hours before she went to work yesterday, and for that I’m grateful. This guy she calls Hatchet has been MIA since the night Trix showed up drunk on my doorstep.
Although it would break her heart, I’m praying the fucker never shows his face again.
I flex my sore fists, reveling in the ache of my joints as I gear up for a session with the heavy bags. There’s something to be said for being hate-fueled and resentful. These last few days in the gym have been some of my best. Amazing what happens when I paint a faceless man who’ll have his hands all over my woman on every fucking thing I punch.
After five minutes of jump rope, I throw my first punch, feeling stronger than I did even yesterday. Blow after blow, I imagine the man who will be seduced into giving up information by my woman.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
NOFX’s “Stickin’ in my Eye” bleeds in my ears; the beat pushes me harder as I throw all my weight behind each hit. Sweat blurs my vision, but doesn’t slow my pace. With every strike, I throw up a silent prayer that Trix’s mission goes down in flames and we can return to where we were the night we got came back from San Jose. I throttle the bag with a series of jabs when NOFX fades to the pinging of my ringtone.
I rip my phone from the elastic case at my bicep. Drake’s name flashes on the screen.
Dammit.
I hit “accept,” panting into the speaker hanging from my earbuds. “Drake, man . . . what’s up?”
“Whoa . . .” He chuckles. “You fuckin’?”
I work to catch my breath. “Shut up, asshole.”
“Needta’ finish up? Call me back?” He laughs. “Hate to be the cause of a nasty case of blue balls, brother.”
Dumbass.
“I’m training.” I pull my bandana off my head and wipe my face. “You call for a reason?”
“I did. I’ll be in town this weekend. My dad’s putting us up at Caesars again.”
My pulse pounds in my ears and my muscles tense. “Business?”
He’s silent for a few seconds then clears his throat. “Yeah.”
I drop my chin and dig my fingers into my eyes. “Drake.”
“It’s not what you think.”
Like I don’t have enough shit to deal with right now, Trix and her renegade mission, and now my hard-headed brother.
“Not bailing you out again. I’m done. This last time could’ve totally fucked me.”
“I know. I know. Listen. I need you to come by Saturday night.”
“No. Wait. Scratch that. Fuck no.” I pace and run a hand through my sweaty hair.
“It’s not me, man; it’s my dad. He’s asking for you.”
“Yeah, well you can tell him to kiss my ass.” I’ve been more of a father to D than his biological father ever was. “He thinks he can snap and have me jumping, he’s out of his motherfucking mind.”
Drake blows out a long, frustrated-sounding breath. “Don’t make him come after you, Mase. Puts me in a shitty-ass position. Just come by, see what he has to say.”
“No, I told you—”
“He knows I want out.”
I freeze my pacing and stare blindly at the heavy bag. “You told him you’re done?”
“Yeah. Thing is . . . fuck . . . Jessica’s pregnant.”
I drop to the bench and lean back against the concrete wall. “Oh shit.”