Unsurprisingly Complicated

by Claudia Burgoa

  He doesn’t say anything, but takes my mouth. His fingers reach for my panties again. When he reaches them, he lazily peels them off at the same time he releases my breasts, sweetly moving down to where the thin fabric used to be. He places his mouth on my folds, his hot tongue finds my heat and swirls around it as if he has an entire day to lick me. As close as I am, two fingers slid inside me. With impatient anticipation, I thrust myself against them.

  “Patience.” He freezes. “I’m in charge right now, lady. Patience and you’ll get your reward.”

  I bite my lip. His mouth and fingers continue their little dance, and shortly the adrenaline rushes through my head. I scream as I come hard and loud. His fingers bury inside me as I ride the orgasm. As the rush is over, my limbs are heavy, but I want more. Mason kisses my hips, my belly button, and my breasts. “You’re a dream, Ainse.” He leans closer to me and whispers in my ear as he buries himself deep inside me. Lazily, lovingly, he inches in and out; calculated moves that make me feel cherished. Yes, loved. His eyes shine with love, and I close mine to make some music from it.

  “Open your eyes, Nine,” he orders, as I’m trying to mentally record our symphony. Open my eyes? I’ve never… ever done it with open eyes. He stops. Damn it. I have no other option but to obey.

  “Together. Don’t leave me hanging, Ainse.” Mason’s stormy eyes are trained on me. “I want to see you while we’re making love, when you come, and when you breathe my name.”

  I focus on him and only him as he continues tormenting me with a slow pace that has me on the edge but unable to throw myself into the abyss where I’ll find release. Every inch of his thickness thrusts into me, making me want more and to reach my climax at the same time. His own slow symphony rips me apart with such a tenderness I’ve never experienced before. I raise my hips, matching his movements.

  “Come with me, Ainse.” He kisses me as he buries himself deeper. Waves of ecstasy throb through my body and together we explode in a downpour of a sizzling spectacle.

  “Mason,” his name falls from my lips as I climax, lips he seizes as we ride an intimate rollercoaster. Then, once my entire body is spent, I feel as though I have landed on a soft, wispy cloud. “I love you.”

  He closes his eyes without responding. I wait one too many breaths for him to respond back. His eyes don’t open, and I close mine to avoid any heartbreak. This is usually the part where I sneak out and perform my famous walk of shame. Not today. Today I’m at home in my own bed and waiting for a few words. He leaves the bed without a word or another caress. Karma is a fucking bitch that waits long enough to slap you. I swear she’s the one that came up with the saying ‘vengeance is a dish best served cold’. The old dispute of who said it first, the French, Shakespeare, the Klingons, or maybe the Egyptians are wrong. It was fucking karma.

  My entire body freezes, my brain doesn’t know what to do. Please don’t have him running scared because this time we’ll be through. This is Mason, he wasn’t supposed to be like the others.

  The bed sinks on his side, and his hand caresses my face. “Sleep, sweet Ainse.” He tucks me against his now dressed body and kisses the back of my neck. “I won’t leave; in fact, I have plans for us.”

  That’s better; I knew he wouldn’t discard me like a used toy. Last night had been a glitch. My body relaxes, my limbs grow heavy. “I love you.” I don’t expect him to reciprocate.

  “We’re good, aren’t we Nine?” His voice is far away, I nod. “Don’t ever kick me out again; you’re the closest thing I have for a home. I wish I could give you much more. Please, don’t ask for more.”

  I’ll be patient. One day, perhaps he’ll take off with me. I hear the thumping, soothing sound of his heart, and it doesn’t take long for me to doze off.

  A bright face with shiny eyes appears on the screen of my iPad.

  “Hi,” I greet Nine. “You look even more beautiful than I remember.”

  “Hi, Mase!” She waves, then watches herself on the screen as if she holds a mirror and pats her curls with one hand. “Not sure about being beautiful, maybe you’re tired or something. You do look like you need a good night’s sleep. In my bed will be ideal because I miss you. Are you almost home?”

  “No.” Her long lashes sweep down; the corners of her lips wither for a mere second before the bright face returns. “Soon. I have a few things to work around, but I’ll be home soon.” Home. A foreign concept and the fact that I’m anxious to arrive there is also an unfamiliar thought. I’m usually out and about, barely touching base in Seattle. Not this time. I itch to reach home and see her. Officially, this has been the longest seven days of my life. I went to Norway the first three days to check on the construction of a new lab that will research new viruses and other illnesses. They need a tight security, and I’ve been helping them with the design of the building to make sure nothing will escape and no one can break in. After that, I headed to Africa. A small consulting job to help with some ideas on how to control a new paramilitary group. What is it with these groups thinking they can train anyone to start a revolution? My last destination is Austin, where I’m meeting the hot shots of the FBI and the DEA.

  “I miss you, too, so much I’m rushing and delegating. We’ll see each other in a couple of days. No matter what time I arrive, I can make myself at home.” I dangle the keys of her house. The ones she gave me the morning I left. “I promise to cook for you. Well, grill some steaks. How are things there?”

  “I’m busy. Running around all day because of the summer sessions at the music school is more than I expected.” She flashes me an adorable grin. “My brothers can’t handle little children, their suffering is priceless. These are by far the funniest days of my adult life.”

  Her laugh isn’t evil, but contagious. We speak about the new private lessons they started, which were JC’s idea to spread the word about the school.

  “I’m doing it for the art, unlike JC. You know my brother.” I do. He likes to make money, about which I can’t complain. He’s my financial advisor and is building me a nice retirement fund. “I guess you can’t tell me much about your week, huh?”

  “Sorry, classified and boring.” Each and every time we talk I disappoint her with my half answers. “But we can discuss my plans for when I arrive home. You and me naked in your bed for days. How does that sound?”

  “Hmm, it depends on when you arrive.” She scratches the bridge of her nose. “Can you take a break, like vacation?”

  “Nine, I have to hang up.” I arrive at the building where my meeting is, and the driver stops the car right in front of the main door. “Save that thought for later. Miss you, Nine.”

  “I love you, Ten,” she whispers, blowing me a kiss before she disappears from my screen. The guilt of not having a response to her sweet words accompanies me outside the car.

  Checking my watch, I realize the meeting started without me, but I’m confident that Kowalski is handling it right. While I was out of town, Kowalski continued with investigating this new cartel. He has names, investors, and a ton of properties they have been using to store their inventory. He’d been working on a few names he couldn’t trace and hoped to have answers by the time we met in Austin. Unfortunately, he arrived before I did and went into a meeting that I’m about to interrupt. The room upon entering has a conference table in the middle and smells of old, burnt coffee. Kowalski’s bald head bobs as he listens to Agent Grennaldi. Agent Bradford sits at the head of the rectangular table with crossed arms and a narrowed gaze on both men.

  “So kind of you to join us, Bradley,” he implies as he checks his watch. “I should be thankful that you don’t charge by the hour.”

  “Bradley,” Kowalski nods toward the folder where the empty seat remains. “You can browse the file as I continue discussing our alternatives.” He lowers one eyelid slightly enough for me to know we have a problem. An issue I’ll spot if I pay attention to the papers in front of me.

  “These are a bunch of rich, influential people who be
lieve their money is going to help children,” Kowalski informs them. “My investigation tracked the bank accounts of these benefactors, and all their donations are to help others around the world or within our own country. They happen to be famous politicians, celebrities, and powerful CEO’s. That’s the demographic these assholes targeted.”

  That doesn’t sit well in the pit of my stomach. The copy of the list of beneficiaries is on top. Several names jump from the paper, but the one that immediately grabs my attention is Gabriel Colthurst. Fuck. This isn’t good. Behind that, is a list of addresses where the organization stores drugs, weapons, or their safe houses. There aren’t many in the country, but my skin prickles when I come across one with a familiar address—here in Austin. The owner, Ainsley J. C. Decker.

  I slam my fist on the table. Damn. I know who is behind this shit—or who’s smeared the shit without even knowing what he did. Porter fucking Kendrick.

  “Problem, Bradley?”

  “A lot of these are good people,” I explain to them. “My father, who has a security business for celebrities, has worked with several of them.” Their eyes are focused on me. I spoke too soon and without a plan. I might’ve implicated my father because I didn’t think about anything but how to get Nine out of this shitty situation. For all they know, she’s part of the organization. Not that she’d do something like this. I need to think of a plan.

  “I can make a few calls,” I offer. “Find out more about the situation before we jump to conclusions and the lawsuits start flying your way. That’s something none of us want. It’ll cost the country a lot of money. About one of these properties, if you have the people, we can take care of it today.”

  Bradford stares at me and laughs. I ignore him and dial a phone number placing the call on speaker.

  “Forgot something, Bradley?” Her sweet voice is annoyed as hell. “People have work to do.”

  “Good afternoon, Miss Decker,” I greet her. “I’m calling about a property located in the city of Austin. We need your permission to enter the house.” I recite the address from memory and request full access and the codes for the fences, alarms, and any other details she can provide to enter the premises.

  “Let’s be clear that the house isn’t mine,” her serious voice sounds confused and angry. “Porter Kendrick owns it, and yes, I lived there for a couple of years. Nonetheless, I moved out more than three years ago. I’ve no doubt that the place is abandoned, so I actually don’t care. If you have to go in, be my guest. Go visit, inspect, and whatever. Porter should know more about it, though. Now if you excuse me, I have seven children waiting for me to start my class.”

  “Thank you, Ma’am.”

  J-9: You better have a good explanation, or you’ll be sleeping next door, Bradley.

  Mase: Trust me, please.

  Once we had AJ’s authorization, we started to plan our next move. The FBI and DEA would form a team and head to the house where they’ll arrest, confiscate, and empty the property. I offer a few of my men to expedite the operation. I then ask them, once more, to grant me a few more weeks to find out the exact nature of the people who are financing this. They both agree and dismiss us, expecting answers soon. We head outside of the building and I make my first call.

  “Hello, Mason. What can I do for you?”

  “More like what can I do for you, Dad,” I respond. “Where are you, and are you with the Deckers?”

  “Santa Barbara, but we’re heading toward the compound,” he responds. “Why? Is everything okay?”

  “No, but we’ll make it right, Dad,” I respond. “See you soon, and maybe have them call their lawyer. They may or may not end up in jail.”

  Mase: Not sure when I’m coming home, but I’ll call you tonight.

  J-9: Is there a new national emergency, sir?

  Mase: Yes. Has Porter contacted you?

  J-9: No. You’re worrying me, Ten.

  With that last text, I pocket my phone and enter the Decker’s house, Kowalski and Wings behind me. Dad is in the foyer, standing rigidly with his eyes fixated on the three of us.

  “Hey, Mr. B.” Wings shakes hands with my father.

  They’ve known each other since I moved to my uncle and aunt’s house at sixteen.

  “Landon, how are you?” Dad pats his arm and releases his hand.

  “Bradley senior.” Kowalski does the same. “Pleasure to see you, sir.”

  “Nice to see you, too.” Dad tilts his head toward the living room. “Can you sit for a moment? I need to have a chat with my son.”

  Dad doesn’t wait for them to respond. He takes a few steps and opens the door, ushering me outside. Instead of saying anything, I hand him the folder with the information I have so far. The database of donors and the properties they are using as warehouses.

  “You’re dating Ainsley Decker,” he says without opening the folder. “Why would you do that? I’m not sure if you’re ready for that, Son.”

  He stares at me. I wait for him to say something else, and the silence continues until I break it, “Yes. I’m going out with her.”

  He shakes his head, and I don’t like that he doesn’t approve of my relationship. My father tried hard to be there for me, but I bet he spent more time with the Decker’s children than me. This worry is about her and not his only son.

  “Concentrate on this, Dad.” I point at the folder. “I’m not discussing my relationship with Nine.”

  “Mason, can’t you see that you’re not ready? You can’t even commit to leasing an apartment. The idea of owning a house gives you hives.” His eyes darken.

  Not the first time he doesn’t approve of my life. My ex never met his approval. It does surprise me that Nine didn’t make the cut, though.

  “I’ll be here when you need me, Son.” He places a hand on top of my shoulder and squeezes it.

  Why does everyone offer me a shoulder to cry on? Dad takes his gaze away from me and directs it toward the folder I gave him.

  “No. There must be some mistake. Are you sure?”

  “Of the data?” He nods at my question. “Yes. I’m running a thorough investigation, Dad. I wanted to clear the Deckers first. If they need a lawyer, I’ll send you the code. Can we talk to them?”

  “Yes, of course. They’re waiting for you in Gabe’s office.” Dad opens the door of the house and we both enter.

  “Dad, if it came to them or me?”

  “The answer is obvious. You.” He shakes his head. “There’s no contest. This isn’t about you, but a job. However, they’re my friends and employers. You’re my son.”

  He stops and looks at me with that semi-pissed and serious face that I’ve never understood if it meant he was worried or angry.

  “You need to let the past go, Son. If your mother had given me full custody of you, I’d have switched my line of work and dedicated my life to you.” His eyes soften. “I should’ve fought for it. It broke my heart that once I had it, it was too late. You hated me. My brother and Tara agreed they were the best choice, but you’ll never forgive me for that either.”

  There’s not much time to process what he said or to ask questions as Wings and Kowalski join us. We all walk to the office where Christian Decker is pacing back and forth, and Gabe is watching outside the window.

  “Is Ainse okay?” Christian stops right in front of me. “The boys called, asking us if we knew anything about Porter and the house in Austin.”

  Those three communicate among each other too quickly; I should use them on my team.

  “Yes, of course.” At least, the last time I checked. “My business here doesn’t involve her—directly.” Before I start the recording, I answer my girl’s last message.

  Mase: Stop overthinking and worrying, promise to talk about it as soon as I can. Enjoy your day.

  J-9: Enjoy? If you call my brothers ganging up on me to make me cook ‘fun’, then I’m having a blast. Can I text you later?

  Mase: Yeah, take your time and don’t let the paybacks get out of hand.r />
  J-9: Now how much fun would that be? You go and do your ninja thing; I’ll keep these two on their toes. xoxo

  A side-smirk stretches the muscles of my mouth. She’s too competitive for her own good. Everyone is staring at me, and I put away my phone and take out the small recording device.

  “Nine okay?” Kowalski asks, and I nod. “Don’t worry, we finish this, and you can go home. A few days with her naked will take away that edge you carry.”

  The Deckers clear their throats while I give him a murderous glare and keep my hands busy before I deck him.

  “Have you met Gabe and Chris Decker? Her parents.” I crook a brow and send him a menacing glare.

  “Gabe, Chris, meet Landon Wings and Karl Kowalski.”

  Fuck, he mouths, sorry.

  We discussed this on our way to their home. Why did he forget such an important fact? I’m doing their daughter. They already hate me for that; bringing up the other part isn’t going to help my situation.

  “I’m going to record this conversation,” I warn them. “We’re not using this as evidence unless I have to save our asses.”

  “We trust you, Mason,” Chris stares at me. “Not with my daughter, though.”

  Well, that’s another story.

  “Are you aware that you donate a monthly sum of five thousand dollars to Salva a los Niños?” I mispronounce the entire name. Bring me some French, Arabic, or Japanese and I can read it fluently, but Spanish, I’m rusty.

  “We donate to a lot of different non-profits, Mason.” Gabe’s blue eyes harden, and his stiff posture is directed at me. “The answer is probably, yes. My husband loves Mexico and there are children involved. There’s no point arguing with his logic on why we should help a good cause. Is that a new felony?”