27. Mason

Mason

“ I t wasn’t her, Hannah.”

She’s been quiet on the car ride home. After everything we found tonight, I don’t blame her. I regret bringing her here. I should have come alone. Or with Prince. She shouldn’t have to see the destruction her mother is causing. The mess her “best friend” is at the centerfold of.

She needed to know, though, and she never would have believed me if she hadn’t seen for herself.

I knew they were trafficking people. What I didn’t expect is the who .

“I believe you,” she says quietly, looking out the window. I wish I could read her mind. Pick up on whatever the hell’s going on in that pretty little fucked-up head of hers, but I can’t.

“Those girls . . . I recognized two of them as people that hung around in Parker’s circles. Rich girls.”

She looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

“Are you saying my mother is trafficking rich kids?”

“I’m saying they’re hunting down the children of Parker’s friends.”

She falls silent.

“That would explain why they continue to torment my mother. Mila lives with her so, she’s no better off. Savannah has Prince. Bailey is all the way in New Orleans and has Charlie. And . . . someone attacked you.”

“Why would they do that?”

I shrug. “Isn’t it obvious? They know too much. Shit that could upend everything.”

“My mother wasn’t Parker’s friend—”

It dawns on us at the same time.

“Parker was one of your mother’s biggest sponsors.”

“And Michael . . .” I can feel her watching me from the corner of her eye. Honestly, I knew he was up to something and now that I know what it is, I’m wishing I had gone with my original plan of killing him when he showed up at my shop and demanded Hannah go with him. I have no doubt in my mind he was planning on taking her for himself to God only knows where. “Do you think he has anything to do with the attack?”

I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. “Little doe, I think he has everything to do with the attack.”

She lets out a shaky breath. “Why would he do that? We’ve been friends since we were kids.”

“You heard him. Your mother promised him you in exchange for tying up her loose ends. If he scared you enough . . .”

“I’d run right into his arms.”

She shakes her head, leaning back in the seat. I can tell she’s tired. I’m fucking tired. I’m also pissed off at the prospect of Michael touching her with the same hands he touched those dead girls with. Murder and rape one to go home to another?

Hannah’s too fucking good for me. I know it . . . but Michael makes me look like a fucking saint. I’ll kill him before he gets his hands on her. I’ll make it hurt.

“Is there anywhere else your sister would go?”

“No.”

“Anywhere—”

“I said, no. ”

“Hannah, we have to find her, one way or the other—”

“Can we just drop it for now?” she snaps.

I want to fight with her. Fuck, I really do. I want that fire back in her eyes that was there before Michael and her mother snuffed it out. Before she saw all that shit tonight.

I want her.

So, I do the only fucking thing I know how to and reach across the center console to take her hand. She lets me slip my fingers through hers. So I do.

Is this how you do it? Comfort and romance and shit? Her hand feels small in mine, the simplest of touches feeling like electric shocks to my dick.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, and I don’t have to look over to know she’s crying.

We ride in silence the rest of the way home. I don’t bother pushing her tonight and she doesn’t offer any thoughts.

What I can’t get out of my head is how easy it was for them to desecrate those women. How mundane it had gotten for them that throwing the bodies of their victims in the incinerator was just an everyday job.

It’s not until I pull to a stop in the driveway that I realize she’s asleep in the passenger seat. She looks so damned peaceful. After the heat of today, the attack, and now, everything that we’ve just learned, I don’t want to wake her.

She doesn’t stir until I’m laying her in her bed.

“Mason . . .” she grumbles, eyes still shut when I undo the knots on her shoelaces. I’ve never done this before. Not without sex involved. I don’t like it. It feels too . . . intimate. Too much for me to think about later when I can’t sleep.

I remove her shoes and place them by the old vanity I set up for her when I ran my errands today. It was Mom’s, but I knew Hannah would like it. It’s been sitting in storage, anyway. “Little doe, sit up so I can take your jeans off.”

She blinks one bloodshot eye open at me, burning in the dim light of the nightstand lamp. She complies though, lifting her hips, so I can slide her jeans down her legs and toss them in the hamper. Finally, I slip her into the center of the bed and she rolls over, quickly falling back to sleep.

It hurts to look at her. She’s too fucking perfect and in my head, I know I can’t keep her.

We’re too different. Too close to enemies to be anything else, but . . . as I cover her up with the comforter and step from her room . . .

Suddenly, I wish I could.

“You get information about where Melissa Gaines could be hiding out and you don’t think to tell me?”

I didn’t want to come here. It’s late and there’s a storm raging outside. Savannah’s already in bed, but I knew I needed to alert Logan of the warehouse before Michael and his band of merry traffickers had the chance to move.

Besides, the conversation Savannah wants to have is the last one I do after tonight.

Places like that don’t stay in one place. They shift, jumping from building to building so they can avoid being caught. Michael’s not an idiot. Well . . . at least not in that sense.

“I’m telling you now. And she wasn’t there.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Logan grumbles, scrubbing a hand across his face. “And you took Hannah, of all people. Her damned sister.”

“You wouldn’t have that information if it weren’t for her.”

He shakes his head. “Look, I don’t give a shit about whatever Romeo and Juliet situation you’ve got going on. But do you really think if she’s going to this length to find her sister, that she’ll just turn right around and give her to the cops?”

“Yeah, I do.” In fact, I know she would. Logan eyes me, his dark gaze reproachful. “They’re hunting the kids of the Brethren, Logan.”

He seems to understand the gravity of my statement after a moment.

“Don’t tell Savannah.”

“Not a smart move. She finds out, she’ll be pissed.”

“I know she will, but . . . your sister’s learning how to feel safe. I don’t want this fucking everything up. She’s got security. She’s got me. She’ll be protected.”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

Logan eyes me, calculating.

“When your sister went missing, I fucking lost my mind. Destroyed my house. Threw some kid through a wall. All because I failed her. Because I let her be taken.” He leans forward, lowering his voice. “That won’t happen again.”

“Then you’ll understand when I tell you I’m going to kill the governor of California.”

The room falls silent, only the sound of the AC whirring in the background.

“And I suppose you want immunity.”

I shrug. “Whatever you see fit.”

“All this for her?” He cocks a brow at me and tension slips into my shoulders.

“You know how you said Savannah’s learning to be safe. Hannah will never be safe, so long as her mother’s alive. No matter what I or anyone else does.”

“I wanted Parker dead. All the shit he’d done to your sister and to others. He doesn’t deserve a fair trial. He also doesn’t deserve the ultimate kindness, either. I want to watch him rot.”

“I want to watch Laura Gaines choke in a pool of her own blood.”

Logan ponders this for a moment, before sitting forward.

“We can use her.”

“No.”

“Well, do you want her safe, or not?”

“I want her safe. Not sacrificed.”

“Well, sometimes, you’ve got to sacrifice a little to get what you need. There’s a charity ball next week. Take her. She can keep up appearances with her mother and she’ll know where she’s at.”

“So she can kidnap her? Not fucking happening.”

“No . . . so she can see that there’s someone standing in her way. She won’t touch her with you connected to Parker. She won’t want to get involved.”

“Sounds like a shit plan.”

Logan shrugs. “You have a better one?”

I shake my head, chuckling bitterly.

“Almost a year later and Parker’s still fucking with us.”

“Fucking tell me about it.”

“So, I take her to this thing, then what?”

“Then, we wait. It’s like playing chess. You don’t move all your pieces at once. Just keep Hannah safe, make sure she doesn’t go wandering off. Whatever you’ve got to do.”

“No.”

Both Logan and I turn toward the doorway to the kitchen. Savannah stands there, eyes full of tears and glistening in the light overhead. I grit my teeth, steeling myself for what I know she wants to say.

“Don’t do this,” she bites and Logan scrubs a hand over his face.

“Savannah—” he starts, but she cuts him off.

“ No . You said it yourself. Having her around is dangerous. We just went through hell, Mason.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not the only one and just because you’re safe and sound in your little Santa Monica mansion doesn’t mean everyone else is.”

While Logan sits staring back and forth between the two of us, my sister is not so easily perturbed.

“I want to put all of that behind me. Parker, Melissa Gaines. The Brethren. I want a life, Mason.”

“What would you do, Savannah?”

Her lips clamp shut and she pauses, glaring at me.

“What would you do if Bailey was Melissa Gaines? Mila?”

“That’s a ridiculous thing to say.”

“Answer the question.”

“I would let justice take its course,” she says quietly.

“Bullshit. You and I both know you’d fight tooth and nail to save either one of them.”

“Why does she need you?”

“Why?” Jesus fucking Christ. I should have left when I had the chance. “Because of people like you that blame her for what her sister did.”

“Jesus Christ,” Logan grumbles, standing up and going for the bar in the corner of the room. Right now, I can’t blame him.

“She knew what was happening—”

“Did I?” I wait for her to answer, but it doesn’t come. “Did Mila? Mom?”

I’ve backed her into a corner. She knows it and I know it.

We stand there, seething for a moment. Both of us pissed off because Hannah exists and me pissed off because Melissa does. Without her, maybe shit would be different and I wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. Maybe I wouldn’t even know Hannah.

She’d be married off to some rich kid. Raising spoiled children and attending business parties in some high-dollar gown that probably costs more than what I make in a month, not asleep at home— my home.

I can’t lie, the thought of her with someone else feels like I swallowed battery acid.

“You’re in love with her . . .” Savannah says softly, eyes shining with unshed tears in the light. “Aren’t you?”

I grit my teeth, something like electricity shooting down my spine. I’m not in love with her. I’m obsessed with her and the difference is clear. I can’t stand her, but I won’t give her up, either.

“Oh my God,” Savannah shakes her head, sitting down in a chair beside the door. You would have thought I’d just told her someone was dead.

I don’t fully understand, and maybe I never will, but I can’t justify hatred by blaming someone else for their family member’s actions. Mom was married to Parker and while we’ve got our shit, I don’t blame her for everything he did. Bailey almost married Drew and I don’t blame her for the nasty shit he does. Hannah may be Melissa’s sister, twin even, but she didn’t help Parker traffic those girls. In my eyes . . . trying to stop it. Trying to save someone who hurt you in ways I can’t imagine. Hannah’s a fucking saint.

“She’ll ruin you, you know?”

“And if she does, I’ll let her.”

Savannah’s eyes widen in shock. I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t get attached.

I need to get the fuck out of here.

I head toward the door, but Savannah’s voice rings out from the dining room when my hand touches the knob.

“Why her? Out of everyone else in the world?”

I think about lying, but this time, I can’t. I need her to understand, I’m not walking away from this fight.

“Because she exists.”