Chapter 18

Avery grippedthe steering wheel of Mason’s rental car, her knuckles turning white as she followed his directions through the earpiece. He was a mile down the road, waiting for her to pick him up like some sort of secret agent. The streets were empty, and the misty morning made the suburban neighborhood feel like the set of a horror movie.

As she turned the corner, she spotted him emerging from the side of a picture-perfect house, looking like he’d just stepped out of a Tom Cruise action flick. Black tech clothing, a black backpack slung over his shoulder—the whole nine yards. She had to admit, the man knew how to make an entrance.

Mason strode toward the car, his movements so fluid she half expected him to break into a choreographed dance number. Her heart started doing its own little tango as he approached, a mix of excitement and dread coursing through her veins.

He rapped on the window. “Out,” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

She bit back a snarky comment about his lack of manners. So much for Mr. Sensitive. But hey, she didn’t need a soft guy. She needed a dangerous one, and Mason fit the bill. She slid out of the car, the damp air sending a shiver down her spine, and moved to the passenger side.

Mason got behind the wheel and handed her a small device with a screen that looked like it belonged in a sci-fi movie. “Tracker,” he explained, his tone clipped. “It’s reading the RFID tag on the delivery van.”

She studied the screen, trying to make sense of the blinking dot. “Fancy. How’d you get your hands on this kind of tech? Raid a NASA surplus store?”

Mason shrugged, his eyes fixed on the road. “Perks of our new business.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Right. And what exactly is this new business of yours? Spy Gadgets R Us?”

He didn’t answer, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was getting herself into something way over her head. The high-end tracking equipment, the black ops getup—it all screamed trouble. She glanced over at Mason, taking in his chiseled profile and the way his hands gripped the steering wheel like he was ready to take on the world.

Part of her wanted to demand answers, to know just what kind of “perks” his new gig provided. But another part of her was afraid to ask. Her stomach churned, and she regretted the greasy breakfast sandwich she’d scarfed down earlier.

What kind of business required this level of surveillance? And more importantly, how far was Mason willing to go to protect the people he cared about?

As they sped through the damp streets, following the blinking dot on the tracker, she could only hope she hadn’t made a huge mistake. They tailed the van to several houses, watching as the driver dropped off cardboard boxes. She snapped photos from a safe distance, her phone clicking softly in the quiet car.

An hour later, the van was empty and heading back to the warehouse. Her mind raced, thinking about all those packages. Each one could be the key to cracking this case wide open.

“I don’t see any way to get a search warrant,” she mused aloud, frustration coloring her tone. “The pills Paul found won’t be enough, not even with his testimony. Maybe we can dig into the backgrounds of the people who got the deliveries? See if anything shakes loose?”

Mason interrupted her, his voice sharp. “Enough fooling around. I’ll get you the evidence you need.”

She blinked. “How?”

He gave her a look that made her blood run cold. “You don’t want to know.”

She swallowed hard, meeting his gaze head-on. “Yes, I do.”

Mason shook his head, his jaw tight. “Seriously, you don’t. I’m going to take you back to Bridger’s place and have you check on Paul. Then I’ll handle this. My way.”

She should argue. Order him to stand down. But as he navigated them back to the swanky neighborhood, her mind whirled. The truth hit her. She didn’t want him to stand down.

How had she gone from being a stickler for the rules to this? She closed her eyes, sending up a silent prayer. Was it right to adhere to the law one hundred percent? Or should she follow her gut and let Mason help her find the evidence they needed to take down Rain Bay?

“Hey,” Mason interrupted her thoughts as they crossed the causeway, the waters of Lake Washington glinting in the pale sunlight. “This isn’t your decision, if that makes you feel any better. I’m doing this for Paul. He might be a blockhead, but he doesn’t deserve to run for the rest of his life just because he took the wrong job. I’m doing this. You can’t stop me.”

She nodded, a lump forming in her throat. He was right. She couldn’t stop him. But …

“Turn around,” she said suddenly, her voice ringing with determination.

Mason glanced at her, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I’m coming with you. This is my investigation. My responsibility.”

For a long moment, Mason eyed the road ahead, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face. “Sir, yes, sir,” he said, his voice laced with amusement.

Avery couldn’t help but smile back, even as nerves fluttered in her stomach. Her father had died doing what he knew he had to do. Letting Mason cross some legal lines would hardly cost her her life, though it might sever the shaky hold she still had on her career.

If that meant saving lives, so be it. She was all in.