by Tess Summers
The early morning made the house chilly, so he wrapped a royal blue velour throw around his shoulders and sat down on the couch once he dialed the phone.
“This better be important,” he said dryly once Jacob answered.
“It is. Kennedy has a car en route for you.”
He heard sharp whispering in the background, then it became more muffled—like he’d covered the phone. Jacob came back on, mumbling, “Jesus Christ. Bella has a car en route for you.”
He was trying to piece together what was happening.
“Are you still in Ensenada?”
“Yes. I’m in Bella and Dante’s office.”
“I’m assuming I’m going to meet you there? Should I bring Reagan?”
“Yeah, you’re coming here, and no, don’t bring Reagan yet. We’ll send someone for her later once we get shit figured out.”
His mind was racing as to what the hell could be wrong that would prompt Jacob to make an appearance at the Guzmans’ so soon after Bella warned him never to contact her again.
“Wanna give me a hint what the fuck this is all about?”
“I think it’d be easier to explain in person,” Jacob replied cryptically.
He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.
“’Kay. I’ll be there soon.”
“The car should be there in ten.”
Mason hung up without saying anything further. He was pissed. This was his last full day with Reagan before they headed back to reality and Fargo, and he didn’t appreciate the intrusion—he didn’t give a damn what the reason was.
Still, for Jacob to be involved, Mason knew it was big.
He thought about leaving a note but imagined that wouldn’t go over well when she woke up, so he gently shook her shoulders once he’d gotten dressed and brushed his teeth.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured.
She scrunched her face up and whimpered in response, never opening her eyes.
“Reagan, baby. I have to go to your sister’s; I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
There was a lapse from when he said the words to when her eyes flew open—like it took a moment for her to process what he said. She sat up quickly and threw the covers off.
“What’s wrong? Is the baby okay?”
Mason grasped her wrist firmly and tried to speak soothingly while keeping her in place.
“Madison’s fine. Your sister’s fine. Everyone’s okay. Jacob just called and said there was something I needed to see.”
“And he’s at Bella’s?” she asked incredulously.
She’d also witnessed her sister’s not-so-subtle threat that Jacob never contact her again, so she knew something big had happened.
Reagan shrugged off his hold and was scrambled toward the closet housing her clothes.
“I’ll get dressed.”
“No, sweetheart. You stay here. I’ll come back and get you once I know what’s going on.”
He knew the minute he uttered the words he had as good a chance of that happening as if he’d told the sun not to rise.
She snorted sarcastically from the doorway of the closet, “Yeah, okay,” as she shimmied into a pair of yoga pants, then pulled a sports bra over her head, followed by a touristy Ensenada sweatshirt she’d probably found in one of the many shops that catered to the cruise ship passengers on their day trips. She bent and stuffed her feet into tennis shoes without untying the laces, then practically jogged into the bathroom and reappeared moments later, her face washed and hair up in a ponytail.
“Ready?”
He started hobbling with the crutches toward the door. “Your sister’s going to kick my ass for bringing you,” he murmured as he paused for her to go ahead of him.
“Yeah, well. She’ll get over it. She can be mad at me if she wants to be mad at someone.”
Somehow, he knew it wasn’t going to work like that.
****
Reagan
Bella gave Reagan the fake smile she usually reserved for stupid people who were getting on her nerves because they weren’t doing as she instructed. That instantly put the younger sister in defense mode—she was not stupid and too fucking bad if Bella didn’t want her there.
“Can you go check on the baby?”
Reagan leaned against the ornate mahogany desk in Dante’s office and crossed her arms. “No.”
That made her big sister raise her eyebrows. “No, you won’t go check on your goddaughter?”
Reagan met Bella’s raised eyebrows with her own and added a tilt of her head. “No, I’m not leaving so you can talk about things while I’m not here.”
“Well, you can’t be here for this.”
“Why not?”
Mason stepped forward, his hand going to the small of her back while glancing at Jacob and Bella before looking down at her. His placating tone pissed her off. “It’s for your own safety, sweetheart. The less you know, the better.”
“I think we’re past that point, don’t you? I’m in this as deep as you are.”
“This has nothing to do with Cartagena,” Jacob interjected. “And you really can’t be privy to what we’re about to discuss. This is nothing personal, Reagan; it’s just the way it has to be.”
“You can’t be here,” Bella repeated. “What we’re about to discuss doesn’t include you. You need to go.”
She shot one last pleading look at Mason, hoping he’d have an epiphany and insist she be included, but he didn’t. Instead, he averted his gaze. The quarterback was ashamed to be seen with her.
“Your sister’s right, Reagan,” he said quietly.
Reagan was embarrassed and angry that Mason was siding with them, and excluding her in the process. It was like she was being uninvited from the cool kids’ table at lunch.
“But…” She looked at Jacob imploringly, almost desperate. “You said, at the hospital… I’m the one who saved Marcus. Not Bella, not Mason, not Jacob—me. I’ve earned a right to be here.”
Jacob snorted like she was amusing him. “Getting kidnapped and being held on a yacht for four days doesn’t make you qualified.”
“Only sometimes,” Bella added with a laugh.
“I’m still in awe of your abilities,” Mason chuckled back, completely ignoring Reagan’s observation that she deserved to be there. All three of them now looked at her like she was entertaining them.
Now they’re fucking laughing at me?
She thought she’d proven herself and could be a part of Mason’s life when he went back to work. Not part of his missions, but at least be allowed to know where he was and what he was doing.
Obviously that was a fantasy she’d created in her head.
Whatever.
She could honestly say she’d never felt more angry or embarrassed. She was seeing red, which was probably why she ignored the almost-always working filter in her brain and snarled at the three of them, collectively, “You’re so hilarious. Fuck. You,” and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
The tears were already streaming down her cheeks before she reached the end of the hall. A tiny part of her was expecting Mason to come after her. When he didn’t, she escaped to the guest bathroom and sobbed into one of the thick embroidered towels that hung on the rack—more for decoration than actual use.
She’d proven herself last week dammit—no matter what they were saying now. She at least warranted an invitation into the room. Instead, they were making fun of her for being kidnapped; saying she didn’t belong with them and their little spy-clique.
They wanted her to leave? Oh, she’d leave all right.
“I’m outta here,” she huffed out loud. She was catching the next flight back to Fargo; the X-Men could eat a bag of dicks in their secret meeting.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Mason
The hurt look on Reagan’s face before she stormed out of the room gutted him.
I should’ve gone after her.
I should have insisted she be allowed to stay.
&
nbsp; I should have been on her fucking side.
But Jacob and Bella cited her safety as being the reason she couldn’t, and keeping her safe was more important than anything, so he did nothing. Still, his gut was telling him he’d made a huge mistake.
“So what the fuck is going on?”
Jacob produced printouts with his name and some of his aliases highlighted. Kennedy’s name was also highlighted with the word DECEASED in all caps next to it.
“What’s this?” he asked as he shuffled through the papers.
“The Dark Web’s version of Wanted posters. Seems there’s a bounty on your heads. Well, yours anyway.”
“For Cartagena? How were we even identified? You picked up the cameras in the warehouse—I saw you. And the shell casings. Did you miss one? Is there a bounty out on Marcus?”
Bella shook her head. “It’s not from Cartagena. It seems we were both part of the same counterterrorism team in Paris three years ago.”
He had been loaned out to the French government to infiltrate a terror cell intent on planting a bomb in the city center of Paris on New Year’s Eve. He’d known there was a female operative also working on the inside, but he’d never met her.
“Wait—you were Red Riding Hood?”
“And apparently you were Robin Hood.”
A lot of fucked-up shit had happened on that mission—stuff that PTSD therapy sessions are made of. The day after the terrorists were arrested, he was supposed to rendezvous with Red Riding Hood. On his way to her hotel room, he had intercepted and killed an assassin sent to murder her. Red got away before they had a chance to meet. As was customary, Mason debriefed with his handler and was sent home to wait for his next mission, having never known his counterpart’s real identity.
Well, fuck me—Red Riding Hood was Kennedy Jones.
“That only slightly makes up for the fact you were going to kill me—and my little girl—last year,” she said with humor in her voice.
“Bella, I didn’t know. I was led to believe you’d switched sides.” Which, he guessed, was technically true.
“I hadn’t done anything to compromise the agency or its agents. I didn’t deserve a death sentence. Even now, I only work on Dante’s legitimate, legal businesses.”
“I told you last week, I’ll take your secret to my grave.”
“Which may be sooner rather than later if we don’t come up with a plan,” Jacob interrupted.
“We? I’m not sure I can afford you on this, Jake,” Mason said with a smirk.
“Well, too bad, asshole. You’re stuck with me. I’ll put it on your tab. You can make monthly payments.”
“Do you take Visa?”
The fixer laughed out loud at Mason’s joke. “Cash only.”
“I hope you have a houseful of kids whose college tuition I’m funding. Or at least their orthodontia.”
“Nope, it’s just my private island you’re helping pay for.”
“Then I better get an invite to come stay for a week,” Mason grumbled.
“You know the rule: Never mix business with pleasure.” Jacob dramatically looked back and forth between Bella and Mason and made a disapproving face. “Although it appears you two were both absent the day they taught that.”
“You should try it sometime; you might like it,” Mason goaded.
“Nah, I’ll continue living the shallow, one-night-stand playboy lifestyle. Thanks anyway.”
“Gentlemen, can we get back to the issue at hand?” Bella said, rolling her eyes.
“Sorry,” they said in unison.
“First things first. You need to get away from Reagan—you can’t go to Fargo with her. She wouldn’t be safe, and you know it. Bounty hunters wouldn’t hesitate to use her to get to you. ”
He knew she was right. The idea of letting Reagan go killed him, but he knew it was only way she would truly be safe. Still…
“Okay. But don’t get too excited. It’s only temporary—until this threat is neutralized.”
Her smile was empathetic—or maybe sympathetic; he couldn’t decide which. Either way, he didn’t like it, or what she had to say next.
“Agent Hughes, there will always be another threat around the corner. Reagan will never be safe, and she deserves better. She deserves stability, and someone who will love her and be there for her. Someone she can come home to every night and have dinner with. Go on vacation with without him having to use an alias or constantly look over his shoulder. Have babies with. She can’t do that with a spy.”
He wanted to be that man and do all those things with her. No one would love her more than he did.
“I do love her, and I will be there for her.”
“I don’t doubt you love her. That much is obvious. But how can you say you’ll be there for her?”
“What if I wasn’t a spy anymore?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you saying?”
“What if I take a medical retirement, once this Paris threat is taken care of?”
“And do what?” Jacob asked.
He shrugged. “Open my own restaurant in Fargo. Or San Diego. Or anywhere Reagan wants to live.”
“Let me know if you need an investor, man. I’m loaded,” Jacob said with a wink.
Bella rolled her eyes and sighed. “Let’s figure out what you’re going to do about this threat, and then worry about Reagan.”
Mason nodded his head, but the truth was, he was worried about her now.
He ran his hand across the scruff on his jaw. “We should bring her back in here. She needs to understand what’s going on,” he said quietly.
Bella steepled her fingers under her chin and contemplated his assessment.
“You might be right,” she said, then picked up the phone on the desk and hit two numbers.
“Rosa? Can you ask Reagan to come back to my office?”
A scowl spread across the older sister’s beautiful face.
“Oh. When?” Pause. “And who drove her?” Pause. “Okay then, will you let me know when he returns? Thanks.”
She hung up and looked at the two men. “She went back to the villa.”
Mason grabbed his crutches and stood. “I need to go and get her.”
It was Jacob’s turn to scowl.
“I’m on an hourly rate, here, my friend. A very hefty hourly rate. And I’ve got a plane to catch in ninety minutes, so let’s get a plan in place. Then I’ll be on my merry way, and you two can fill her in without me.”
Mason sighed and sat back down. He was already going to have to grovel—he doubted an hour would make much difference.
“What do you suggest?”
****
Reagan
She considered asking Carlos to wait while she packed but decided it would be just as easy to call a cab when she was ready. Too bad their little meeting hadn’t happened yesterday; she could have hitched a ride with her mama on Dante’s private plane. The last-minute ticket back to Ensenada was putting a big dent on her credit card balance, but it was a small price to pay for her pride. She hoped she felt that way a month from now when she made the first Visa payment and figured out how much the interest was going to cost her before she paid it off.
Maybe she’d get a bartending job on the weekend. It’d keep her busy, her mind off Mason, and she’d earn some extra money to boot.
Reagan walked out the tall wooden gates just as the cab arrived, pulling her luggage behind her like she owned the villa. Her sister had taught her long ago that the key to not getting hassled by people was to act confident. Not one security guard questioned why Carlos wasn’t driving her or asked where she was going—although given the suitcase, they could probably assume.
She did leave Mason a short but heartfelt note. If she were being honest with herself, she was holding onto a glimmer of hope that he’d come after her and try to make things right, but she wasn’t betting on it. Still, she purposefully didn’t slam the door completely.
Dear Mason,
Thank yo
u for giving me the best week of my life—especially yesterday, which will live in my heart forever as the most perfect day.
I wish you a lifetime of happiness and love.
Always,
Reagan
As she stood in line to board her flight, her phone dinged with a frantic message from Mason wanting to know where she was. Her anger had subsided with the drive to airport, and now she realized how ridiculous she was being. But she was committed at this point. Going back now would mean swallowing her pride and losing face, and she wasn’t about to do that. They’d laughed at her, she could only imagine how amusing they’d find it if she came back with her tail between her legs now.
Nope. Reagan was past the point of no return. She shut her phone off and stuck it in her purse.
Did she know she’d regret it? Maybe. But she honestly didn’t know what else to do.
Surprisingly, she didn’t cry or break down again until she walked into her house in Fargo twelve hours later. Looking around at the little white brick ranch, she was reminded of what she had been planning to do in order to accommodate Mason’s crutches, and how she was going rearrange her bedroom to make room for him and his belongings.
Her shame and embarrassment at overreacting reared its ugly head. As the tears streamed down her face she thought, well hey, at least this way I don’t have to worry about losing him anymore—I’ve basically guaranteed my fate with this stunt.
Which was probably a good thing. There was no way for them to be together—they led two completely different lives. He’d made that abundantly clear today, and that she had no part in certain aspects of his life. Which was bullshit; she had proven herself worthy. She wasn’t asking to go on another mission with him, but she had earned the right to know what the hell was going on. What they were discussing this morning was obviously not classified or top secret, since Bella and Jacob were involved in the conversation.
And she certainly didn’t deserve to be laughed at for wanting to be included.
Sitting down on her bed, she mustered the courage to turn her phone back on. Part of her dreaded seeing the texts she assumed would be there, and another part was terrified there wouldn’t be any. Her phone began to ding with message after message. Three were from Bella, one was from her mama, and thirty-six were from Mason.