4. Mason

Mason

T he annual Christmas charity benefit has got to be the biggest fucking waste of time.

That money doesn’t go to help people. Not most of it, anyway. Of course, they pay for the venue—the most expensive one they can rent—the staff to cater that event, the musicians in the live orchestra, and any high-ranking member they want to attend.

Laura Gaines will be giving a speech tonight. Probably another tale about how she’s saving the lives of millions as governor. But if Governor Gaines is. . . that means her daughter will be, too.

Of course, I’m not here to see Hannah Gaines, but if she happens to cross my path, I won’t say no.

The little redhead is becoming a problem. One I’m not accustomed to dealing with. It’s been three months since I saw her in the back gardens of the country club and each day, I’ve grown increasingly agitated.

It’s why I’ve always tried to keep my distance where she’s concerned. I knew she would trip me up and after she started asking about Parker, I started picturing all manner of things I’d love to do to her to shut her up.

Her under me, spread against my sheets and begging for my cock. My name a plea on her lips. Her on her knees, pretty green eyes flashing up at me with that fire I’ve come to seek out.

Heat rushes to my groin and my heartbeat pounds in my ears before I quickly push the fantasy away.

She’ll never be mine.

Now, like a cuck, I’m holding my dick for a chance to see her again. Watch those pretty freckles disappear when I make her blush. See her green eyes flash with that fire I can’t get enough of.

And her scent . . . Jesus fucking Christ. Like something I want to worship and degrade, all at the same time.

I know as well as any other guy not to fuck around with the governor’s daughter. Especially the daughter of Laura Gaines. Want to kiss life goodbye in the blink of an eye? Fuck around with the prized princess she parades around like a show poodle.

“You’re early.”

I blow a cloud of smoke at my reflection in the window in front of me. It’s cracked because the hotel doesn’t allow cigarettes, but I’ve never been one to follow the rules.

“You’re late.”

The FBI agent steps into the room with a dark chuckle, sitting down at one of the chairs. This room is another banquet hall, dark as it’s not being used for tonight’s benefit in the main room. Vaguely, you can hear the muffled sounds of the party beyond as all manner of LA’s wealth convenes for charity’s sake.

“Come. Let’s have a little chat.”

I don’t move from my spot by the window. The FBI agent chuckles again.

“You don’t trust easily,” he points out, lighting up the end of his own cigarette.

“And you do?”

He nods. “No. Though, it is my line of work to seek out liars.”

“What about . . . traffickers?”

He pauses for a moment, pulling hard on the end of the cigarette and blowing a cloud of smoke into the air.

“Depends on the kind.”

“Both.”

His eyes glint black in the darkness.

“I’m told you have some information that might be useful for me.”

“My stepfather,” I start, turning around and leaning against the wall. “Is trafficking drugs and people in and out of the state.”

“And you know this, how?”

“I have my sources. Before I give you the proof, I have some things I’d like in return.”

“I could just have you detained and then we’d get the proof, anyway.”

I chuckle darkly. “That’s where you’re wrong, Prince.”

“So, what is it you want?”

“I want my sisters and mother granted immunity. They didn’t play a part in this.”

Logan Prince seems to mull that over for a moment.

“And yourself, of course.”

“Yes.”

“Is that it?”

It should be. Fuck, it really should be.

“Hannah Gaines.”

“The redhead.”

So he has noticed her.

“She’s not a part of this, either.”

Logan sits forward, resting his elbows on his knees. I can see the plan weave its way through his mind as if it’s second nature for him. As if we’re all just NPC’s and he’s the controller of the game.

Good. It’s what my family needs. Someone who won’t get tangled up in emotions and shit that could make this plan go south. They need an out. Logan Prince is their out.

“So, you’re telling me, not only is your stepfather in on this, but also the governor? What about the other daughter?”

“She’s as much a part of it as Parker is. Maybe more.”

“How can you be sure?”

“You’ll get all that as soon as I get a document stating my family and Hannah will be safe.”

“Expect it in your mailbox this week.”

“Then you can expect an envelope with all these details after that.”

Logan watches me for a moment, studying me. It’s a classic FBI move. They try to get in your head. Make you tell them shit because they make you uncomfortable.

“So that’s Hannah Gaines, Monica Parker, Bailey Carpenter, Savannah Carpenter, and . . .”

“Mila.”

Christian steps out of the shadows, blue eyes grim in the dim lighting provided by the lowered wall sconces.

“Ah, yes, the more the merrier,” Logan says bitterly.

“Christian has an in for you, but we can’t be sure how soon.”

“And does Christian know what we’re up against?”

“I’ve been guarding the Carpenter girls for years. Marcus Parker is a cockroach and the world needs to be rid of him,” Christan says, as matter-of-fact as if he were talking about the Sunday paper. “You’ll see to it, it’s done, correct?”

Logan flashes a cocky grin.

“Oh, it’ll get done.”