by Tess Summers
Granted, some of his messages were just one or a few words, like:
Are you there?
Sweetheart?
Where are you?
Please come back to the villa.
At least let someone know you’re okay.
She could tell when he’d figured out she’d left because his texts got longer and more urgent, and perhaps more contrite.
Babe, I know I fucked up. You should’ve stayed. I’ll tell you everything that’s happening, just please don’t get on that plane.
Please don’t leave. There’s a lot I need to tell you. Please.
Don’t make me sleep alone tonight.
That one really got her because she was dreading doing the same thing.
I’m assuming you’re halfway home by now, since you haven’t come back. I love you, and I promise I will tell you everything once I get this cleared up. I don’t know how long that will be.
All I can tell you over text is be careful and pay attention to your surroundings. Lock your doors. Buy some pepper spray and apply for a CCW if you don’t already have one.
I’m hoping you already have one, considering Kennedy was your sister.
Please let me know when you get home safely. Remember: pay attention and trust your instincts.
He didn’t mention when or if they were going to see each other again or what he was going to do now that he wasn’t coming to Fargo. Did she dare ask?
Her phone dinged in her hand with an incoming message.
Reagan, I know you’re angry with me, and you have every right to be, but baby you gotta let me know you’re all right. At least tell someone you made it home okay.
Well, now what the hell was she was supposed to do? Had she ruined her chance with him?
She’d made a complete fool of herself, and she wasn’t sure how to go about fixing it. It wasn’t like she could show up at his office with cupcakes and no panties and beg forgiveness.
There was a pounding on her front door. Who the hell could that be at this hour?
She went to the door and opened it without a second thought to Mason’s warning texts that she be careful and aware of her surroundings. She was back in Fargo and in her comfort zone; nothing bad ever happened here.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Mason
He was going out of his mind with worry.
“I think you’re going to wear a path in the carpet,” Jacob remarked, not bothering to look up from his iPad as he sat on the couch in the living room of the villa.
Mason paused at the French doors overlooking the grounds and put his forehead against the glass. The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming. Where the fuck was she?
She wasn’t answering his texts. Security said she left on her own in a cab with her suitcase a few hours ago. He knew she was mad, and she had every right to be, but it was bullshit she took off like this. Bella wasn’t as worried as he’d thought she’d be—or as he thought she should be—when he broke the news to her that Reagan had left unaccompanied.
“Did you find anything yet?” he asked, still staring outside at the pink and white flowers.
“Bingo!” Jacob’s voice echoed off the Saltillo tile. “She got a flight out of Tijuana to Las Vegas and is making a connecting flight there to Fargo.”
At least he knew she was safe in the air.
“So how far is Fargo out of your way to New York?”
“Well, considering just three hours ago you agreed not to go to Fargo, it’s pretty fucking far.”
He tilted his head back, looking at the ceiling with a sigh.
“I know, but I need to see her in person and explain shit, then I’ll go.”
Jacob looked at him skeptically.
“You’re so full of shit. Once she sees you, she’s going to beg you to stay—or the other way around, and you’re not going anywhere.”
Yeah, that sounded plausible.
“No, I know I need to stay away from her for her own good. It will be incentive to get this threat taken care of.”
Jacob smirked. “Except, conveniently you still need rehab before you can really do much.” His breath through his nose sounded like a low growl. “When Bella finds out about this, I’m going to tell her you stowed away on my plane. I’m not going down for you. And, by the way, you probably should just reconcile with the fact that you’re naming your firstborn after me, because there’s no way in hell you’re ever going to be able to repay me what the fuck you owe. This delay for the pilot alone is going to cost me a couple grand, not to mention it’ll be at least five figures to deviate from the original flight plan.”
“I’ll make monthly payments for the rest of my life. Just give me a ride.”
“It’s your funeral, dude.”
“Why are we planning his funeral? I thought we came up with a plan to circumvent that?” Bella asked as she walked into the living room, looking very much like she could have a starring role in the Real Housewives of Ensenada in her silk blouse and pearls, tailored pants, and stilettos.
“Jesus Christ, where did you come from?”
“I used the entrance in the kitchen.”
Mason was certain she’d done that to eavesdrop, and he was willing to bet she’d heard his and Jacob’s entire conversation, so there was no point lying to her.
“I need to talk to Reagan. In person. She went back to Fargo.”
A wry smile formed on Bella’s lips.
“I figured as much. Dante already said you can take the jet.”
“I think it’s safer if I hitch a ride with Jacob. His plane is rented and less traceable.”
The Guzmans were more comfortable traveling to North Dakota since they’d gotten confirmation that Bella/Kennedy was now officially considered dead, but considering they’d just delivered Delilah Jones to Fargo yesterday, it might rouse some suspicion if they returned a second time that week. That was part of the reason he and Reagan were going to fly to Minneapolis instead on Thursday. They’d planned on renting a car and taking their time driving back so she could show him some of the countryside where she grew up.
Mason didn’t want to have to rent a car and drive from Minnesota by himself with his leg still healing—he wanted to get to his sassy pants as soon as he could.
Bella clicked some buttons on her phone.
“I just transferred twenty thousand to your account, Jacob.”
“I’m not a charity case, Ken—er, Bella,” Mason interjected.
She smirked at the blond man. “You forget I know how much you make—or don’t make, and I’m betting you’re not going to put this on your expense report. And, since I don’t want my oldest nephew’s name to be Jacob Smith Hughes, and I married a man with more money than he knows what to do with, I’m happy to cover it. Under one condition…”
Mason knew she’d been eavesdropping. He’d talk about reimbursing her later—when Jacob wasn’t around. He had more than enough money—obviously not as much as the cartel, but he’d invested an inheritance wisely when he was younger and had only continued adding to it. He could retire today and live comfortably for the rest of his life—but Mason had a feeling if the fixer knew that, the cost for his services would double.
“What’s your condition?” He was ready for her to tell him he needed to stay the fuck away from Reagan.
“You make sure my sister is safe. That is your number one priority.”
Well, that wasn’t what he had expected.
“And you name your firstborn after me,” she said with a grin.
Definitely not what he was expecting.
“But… earlier you were adamant I get away from her. You practically tailored the plan around that detail. And, I have to be honest, I think you were right. Until this bounty is taken off my head and I’m out of the agency, if I’m with her, she’s in danger.”
She crossed her arms.
“Are you part of a different agency than I was? Because I seem to recall getting exemplary training at becoming invisible. Maybe y
ou went to the B Team school?”
He’d let the jab go. He’d gone to the A Team school all right. He’d managed to capture her ass not more than a year ago—not to mention saving it in Paris.
“Then you’ll also recall the danger of being in one place too long. Or having relationships with people you actually care about.”
“If all goes according to plan, you’ll be breaking ground on your restaurant in four months. Are you saying you can’t stay hidden for four months?” She tsked. “And with help, even?”
Mason looked at her and smiled. “Why the sudden change of heart?”
For the first time he’d ever seen, she looked vulnerable.
“My entire childhood, it was Reagan and me against the world. We were all each other had—she was the only one I could rely on and vice versa. When I joined the Marines, I felt like I’d abandoned her, and it only got worse when I became part of the agency. I want nothing more than for her to be safe and happy, and I’ve realized I’ve never seen her happier than these past few days with you. I’ll admit I doubted your intentions, given how you met her. But my husband reminded me today about how he and I met, and that love works in some mysterious ways. Seeing how upset you are that she’s gone… I don’t doubt how much you love her, and I know you’ll care for her and protect her with your life. Maybe I’m being selfish because I find comfort knowing someone’s looking out for her again, since I can’t be there to do it anymore. And our mother, bless her heart, doesn’t have the capacity to take care of her—only be taken care of.”
He was silent—not knowing how to respond. Bella was trusting him to be with her sister.
Jacob’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “We need to get going if you want to be in Fargo by the time she arrives. She’s got a good head start on us and only a short layover in Vegas.”
He only needed five minutes to get packed and out the door.
“Hey, Mason?” Bella called from the doorway as he maneuvered down the front steps.
He paused and looked back at her. “Yeah?”
“Anything happens to her…”
“Yeah, yeah… fish food. I know. Don’t worry, it won’t.” He took another step, then turned one last time. “Thanks, Bella. For everything.”
Her genuine smile escaped, even as she pressed her lips together to try and disguise it. “Remember: your firstborn. Kennedy Alicia Hughes.”
“What if it’s a boy?”
She put her hand on her hip and dropped her head briefly.
“Fine. Your firstborn girl.”
He grinned and winked at her.
“It’s a deal.”
“Safe travels,” she said, then stepped back inside and closed the door.
****
Jacob was unusually quiet on the plane, not even arguing with Mason when he brought up how great the New England Patriots were going to do this year. He put in a jab about the New Orleans Saints, and the dark-haired man didn’t even take the bait.
“All right, man, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
Jacob have a humorless chuckle. “I’m trying to figure that out myself.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“I’m conflicted. I don’t think you’re doing the right thing by staying in Fargo. You’re putting the woman you love in jeopardy, and I disagree with that wholeheartedly. She’s got spunk, I’ll give her that, but she’s not Kennedy Jones. She wouldn’t stand a chance if her life were in danger. You being with her increases the probability of that happening by about a thousand percent.”
Mason didn’t have a response, so Jacob continued.
“It doesn’t help that I’ve met her, and I like her. I think she’s adorable.”
What the fuck was he getting at? Was the mercenary carrying a torch for Reagan?
“I watched you two together, just like I’ve watched Kennedy and Dante—or Bella, whatever. I had that once. And I walked away—for her safety, even though it gutted me and broke her heart. I’m sitting here on this jet, flying you to be with the woman you love—a woman that I like and would never want anything bad to happen to, and you think somehow it’s going to work out. So I’m left wondering if you’re making the biggest mistake of your life—or if I did, years ago when I left Taren.”
Mason was floored that Jacob was telling him all this.
“Do you still love her?”
“I will until the day I die.”
“Do you know what happened to her? Did she marry someone else?”
“Yeah, she did. Eventually.”
“That had to hurt.”
He sighed. “It did, but it also felt like confirmation that I’d done the right thing.”
“Just because she moved on doesn’t mean he’s the better man for her. I guarantee no one could love Reagan better than me.”
Jacob’s eyes grew wide and his mouth parted in surprise—like Mason’s words were a revelation. Then his expression immediately turned somber.
“You better get this bullseye off your back, man. It’d be a shame if I had to marry your girl because you’re dead.”
Mason tried hard not to snarl at the man he knew was teasing him.
“Tell you what, you ever talk about marrying my girl again, you’ll be the one who’s dead.”
“Then you probably better get this taken care of. Or not—I can wait. I guess I’ll just have to be content with my millions and a different woman every week until she’s available,” Jacob said with a smirk.
“Maybe instead of lusting after Reagan, you should check in on Taren. Just to make sure she’s doing okay.”
Jacob’s smirk fell, and he shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t want to upend her life again.”
“How do you know it wouldn’t be a welcome upending?”
He could tell Jacob was giving it some thought, but then he shook his head again with a sad smile.
“Sometimes it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie.”
He shrugged. “You never know.”
“No, I do. I would never want to hurt her again. She’s happy—I need to leave it alone.”
“But what if she’s not?”
“Drop it, Mason.”
With a sigh, he sat back on the leather couch as they cruised at thirty thousand feet across the US. Watching Jacob reading something on his tablet, Mason realized he’d just discovered the man was actually human—with feelings and everything. He would bet Jacob had never told anyone about Taren.
As if reading his thoughts, the fixer said without even looking up, “By the way, what I just told you…” He tore his glance away from his iPad and looked Mason in the eye. “I recommend you forget all about it, because if it ever gets out, I’ll know the source and will respond accordingly.” With a smirk, he added, “Then I’ll marry your girl and knock her up.”
“Your secret’s safe with me, asshole. But you really should check in on your girl.”
Jacob stood. “She’s not my girl anymore. She’s someone else’s wife now,” he said, then turned toward the small galley, effectively ending the conversation.
Two weeks ago, he would have understand why Jacob had walked away from the woman he loved. Now it seemed unfathomable. He’d cut off his left arm before he walked away from Reagan. But he was going to do as the man requested and drop it. This was Jake’s business, not his.
He’d been a lot more active today than he was used to since he’d been shot, and his leg was starting to throb. He popped a pain pill and laid his head back on the couch cushion, dreaming of his sassy pants as he slipped into a light slumber.
****
Mason still hadn’t heard from her, despite sending her what felt like a hundred texts. He fired off one more from the backseat of his Uber on the way to her house.
Still no response by the time his car pulled up outside her tidy ranch home. He immediately noticed some security improvements he wanted to get started on tomorrow, then remembered he was still somewhat incapacitated. Maybe he’d hire it out.
That is,
if she even let him in the front door.
He was prepared to grovel to make that happen.
Taking a deep breath, he knocked loudly on her sky-blue front door, observing the matching white planters on either side of the doormat. He’d be willing to bet money there was a spare house key under one of those items.
He heard her coming to the door, and wondered how he was going to respond when she asked who it was, and what he’d do if she refused to open the door when she learned it was him.
He needn’t have worried; she opened the front door without asking who was on the other side. They were going to chat about that later.
She gasped when she saw him standing there with his duffle bag in hand, crutches on either side of him.
“Wh-what are you doing here?”
He tried to make light of his uninvited appearance on her front door.
“Well, you wouldn’t text me back.”
As if on cue, his phone dinged.
“I just did a minute ago,” she said with a small, polite smile.
He glanced down and saw her name on his phone screen, but didn’t open her message.
They stood there awkwardly, neither speaking, and she didn’t move to invite him inside.
“Um, can I come in?”
She crossed her arms in front of her, not moving.
“Why?”
Ah, there’s my sassy pants girl.
“Well, I traveled two thousand miles to talk to you.”
She didn’t budge, simply repeating herself, “Why?”
Mason could tell she was itching to give him a piece of her mind. Something he deserved. But he was tired and didn’t want to fight with her tonight. Not ever, actually, but definitely not tonight. And certainly not while standing on her front step.
It was time to grovel.
“Because I was wrong, and I wanted to apologize to you in person. I was hoping to do it this morning at the villa, and then spend the rest of the day between your legs begging for forgiveness, but you sort of modified those plans.”