by Kells, India
Mason tensed and pulled her back but not before she saw what was written on it.
Can’t wait for the next time I can hold you in my arms in the rain, darling Cleo.
Chapter Two
Mason had been nursing a beer, reflecting on his recovery from the knife wound that had nearly taken his life when he’d received Emme’s call. He’d heard Cleo’s name, and was out of his building and in his car like a rocket. He lived closest to Alliance, so he didn’t question why he’d been the first called.
All he knew was Cleo, that stubborn, sarcastic, beautiful, intelligent woman, was in trouble. He’d been battling his attraction to her since he’d walked in the very first day at Alliance and saw her sexy ass bent over the desk as she’d tried to connect the printer to her computer and cursing the entire time.
Tonight, he’d nearly had a heart attack when he’d seen a shadowed figure looming over her, pulling at her ankle. If he had been a few minutes later… He didn’t want to think about what might have happened. As she’d sat huddled in his car, shivering and trying not to let him see, her gorgeous lilac hair plastered to her face, he’d never wanted to protect someone as much as he did her.
Cleo was not meek and she was no damsel in distress. To see her so shaken made him feel feral with rage. He’d intended to walk her inside, make sure she was okay, then go to Alliance and check the CCTV from the area. The note on her door instantly changed his plans. His blood turned to ice as he realized two things, one, this was not an isolated incident and two, this sick fuck knew where she lived.
Cleo had herself a stalker. He’d seen too many cases like this not to recognize one. Snatching the post-it note between his forefinger and thumb, he reread it and made a decision. “Pack a bag, Cleo.” His words seemed to snap her from her fog, and he felt his lips twitch at the re-awakening of her formidable spirit.
“What?”
It was as if she hadn’t heard him correctly. He took her keys from her cold fingers and opened her door, which didn’t even have an insurance-approved lock on it. He and Cleo would be having a serious discussion about how she handled her personal safety, but not right now.
He unlocked her door and pushed her through, closing it behind them, barely taking in the abstract paintings and brightly covered purple walls of her apartment. Without waiting, he walked through every room, checking to make sure there was no intruder before returning to stand behind Cleo who was still in the doorway.
Cleo rounded on him, hands on her hips and Mason tried not to look down at her wet clothes and notice the outline of her perky breasts. He tried, and he failed. Cleo wasn’t a client, and he couldn’t employ a professional attitude to the case.
Cleo was the woman he had spent the better part of a year fantasizing about, and now she was in danger, standing before him, all attitude and fire, her body practically begging for his touch.
She let her bag fall from her hand. “Thank you for your help, but I have it from here.”
Mason felt the last thread of control snap at her complete disregard for what was happening here. “Cleo, it may have escaped your notice, but the man who attacked you tonight, the one who was seconds away from doing who knows what to you, knows where you live.” He stepped closer, softening his angry voice slightly as he saw her shiver again. “Now, either I’m staying here, or you’re coming to stay with me!” Mason moved, so they were nearly touching in the close confines of the room. “Which will it be?” He was perfectly willing to stand there all night and argue if it kept her safe.
She seemed to think on it a second before looking behind her at her tiny couch and shrugging. “Fine, I’ll pack a bag but only for one night and only because my couch is too small for you.” Then she turned and walked toward her bedroom.
“Cleo?” She stopped at his call and looked at him. “Who said I would be on the couch?” His wicked grin made his intentions clear. He was done running from his feelings for this little sprite—he was going to make things clear that mild-mannered Mason only went so far. He saw her mouth form a pretty little ‘O’ that made his dick twitch and grinned as she scurried away.
He picked up his phone and dialed Emme to update her on the situation. “Emme, it’s me.”
“So what’s the status?” He heard shuffling in the background as she put him on speaker.
“She opted out of the hospital. Bad news, the attacker knows where Cleo lives. The bastard even left her a note on the front door. It’s a classic sign of a stalker.”
“Motherfucker.” Shane spat the word.
“Yeah, my thoughts exactly.” Mason’s answer revealed his gloom.
“I’ll be right over.” Shane obviously felt she shouldn’t be left alone.
“No need. I have her packing a bag. She’s coming to stay with me.” Mason let the statement hang, waiting for Shane or Emme to say something.
Shane chuckled. “About fucking time.”
Mason had no clue what that was about and didn’t ask as Cleo chose that moment to walk in carrying a small overnight bag. She had changed from her soaked workwear of a chic pantsuit and blouse, which he’d been sure were made to torment men with the way they hinted at every curve and showed nothing and everything at the same time. He was wrong—the yoga pants she was wearing were the epitome of torture. They hugged the soft, round cheeks of her ass before tapering down into long shapely legs that he could picture wrapped around him.
“Mason.” Emme’s voice rose, which made him think it wasn’t the first time she had said his name.
“Yes, sorry?”
“I said, we’ll have Alex and King come over and run some fingerprint searches.” He could hear the definite smile in her voice.
“Good idea, I’ll be in early to get started on this case.”
“Okay, give Cleo a hug from me.” It was the last words Emme said before disconnecting.
“What was all that about?” Cleo came closer, the hoodie on her top half-covering her from his gaze.
Mason reached out, taking the bag from her hand. “Emme and Shane agree you have a stalker. They want you with one of the team or me until this is figured out.”
“I can carry my bag, Mason.” She frowned at him as he walked to the door and stopped.
“I know, but if you need to run, I want your hands free.” Again, he reached into his back and took his gun from the holster.
“Oh!” She stayed behind him silently as he opened the door and checked the hallway before ushering her out. He kept her between him and the wall, protecting her at all times. He got to the car and opened her door, letting her slide inside as he placed the bag on her lap and rounded the hood and climbed inside. “Fasten your seatbelt.” He watched as she did just that, glaring at him the entire time.
“Happy?” It was clear her shock had worn off.
“As a clam.” He offered her a grin. Cleo crossed her arms as she tore her eyes from him.
He drove in silence, constantly checking for a tail and finding none. Stopping at his apartment building, he parked the car as close as he could to the entrance. “Stay there.”
Mason tried not to be distracted as she poked her tongue at him. He opened her door and walked her inside to the building’s elevator. It was about to close when a hand moved in to stop the door.
Mason felt himself bristle at the young man who tried to step inside. ”Get the next one.” He stepped forward and stopped the man from entering. He was pretty sure it was the grandson of the woman one floor below him, but he wasn’t about to take the chance.
“Seriously, dude?” The way he looked at Mason was almost comical.
“Seriously, dude.” Mason hit the close button, and the man pulled his hand back.
The elevator started to move, and he felt a moment of relief.
“That was rude.”
Cleo’s anger made him sigh and turn to her. “Excuse me for not taking chances with your safety, but I can’t get the image of you on the ground in a dark alley out of my mind.” He watched her pale a
t his harsh words.
The doors stopped, and Cleo remained silent, making him feel like a giant asshole. Taking her arm, he led her to his door. He would get her inside and then apologize.
He let them in and did his usual walkthrough, leaving her standing by the door as he did. He thought she would make herself comfortable, maybe throw some sass his way, but when he came back, she was still there by the door, looking unsure and frightened and he hated himself for that.
Without words, he opened his arms, and with a tiny hiccup, she dropped the bag and flew into his open arms. Burying her head in his neck, she sobbed, her tears soaking into his already wet shirt as he held her tightly to him and rocked her body. He hated that this had happened to her. He would find this motherfucker and string him up by his balls and then let the fucker rot in the desert.
But nothing had ever felt righter than the feel of her in his arms. It had taken this to push him into going after what he’d known in his heart was his from the minute she’d told him he looked like a Bond wannabe.
Now he had her, he wasn’t giving her up, and any fucker that got in his way would find out Mason wasn’t as mild-mannered as he seemed. Cleo might take a little persuading but if there was one thing Mason was, it was patient.
Chapter Three
For the last hour, Cleo had stared at the ceiling detailing the pale off-white color of Mason’s guest room, but she still wasn’t able to close her eyes and relax. Every sound made her tense, wondering where it came from or what it was. It was so unlike her it made her angry with herself. Her brain kept reverting to her attacker, and even though she would rather forget the episode, Cleo forced herself to go over it again and again, to try and see where she’d made the wrong move or what more she could have done to save herself.
Her mind whirled, and there was no stopping it. Accepting she needed help wasn’t easy for her. Cleo was independent, she took care of herself and others—they didn’t take care of her. Realizing that she would have to let someone in wasn’t easy.
Curling onto her side, Cleo fixated on the pale, blue striped curtains for a while. Would the attacker be able to climb to the window? Unable to remember how high Mason’s apartment was, she pushed the cover aside and went to check. She heaved a sigh of relief as she looked out the window. Unless he was Spider-Man, there was no way he could access her room. It calmed her a bit, but she was the kind of woman who liked to be prepared. She looked around to see if there was anything she could use to defend herself, just in case.
Switching the light on, she analyzed her surroundings. The room was a lot like Mason, tidy with everything clean and in its place. She was relieved to see the baseball bat in the corner of the nearly empty closet. For lack of anything else, it would do.
Turning off the lights, she headed back to bed with her new protector clutched in her hand. She stilled as she heard a muffled banging sound that seemed to resonate from the opposite side of the bedroom door.
Her heart picked up a beat, and she forced herself to remain calm. She knew she wouldn’t settle until she had investigated the noise so she silently opened the door and slipped into the hall. Everything seemed peaceful and quiet as she padded silently down the hall. She checked on Mason, opening his door as quietly as she could. All she saw was the vast expanse of his muscled back on his king-sized bed. He was still asleep and hadn’t heard the noise. Maybe it was nothing, but she wanted to check before alerting him.
Moving through the dark apartment without knocking anything over wasn’t easy, especially since she hadn’t taken notice of the layout when she’d arrived. Thankfully enough light came from the kitchen window to illuminate the space so she could see the table and chairs on her right near the kitchen counter, and the living room on the left. There too, the light came through the large windows, and she could pretty much see nobody was there.
The loud banging happened again. It sounded as if it was coming from the front door. Grabbing the baseball bat with two hands, ready to swing at the person on the other side, she approached the entrance and checked the peephole. The hallway seemed empty.
Shaking her head, Cleo had almost convinced herself she’d imagined it and was heading back to her room when the banging sounded again. It was so close, she jumped back and knocked over a chair but didn’t care. If some madman was trying to play mind games with her, she was ready for him this time.
When the light came on, she gasped and whirled, ready to strike. She halted her movement when she saw Mason in pajama pants, his gun in his hand, looking at her with a deep frown.
“Cleo. What’s going on? What’s with the bat? Is someone at the door?”
Before she could speak, Mason passed her and tapped a few keys on a pad near his front door before opening it and checking the hallway. She watched his shoulders relax when no one was there. Mason closed the door and reactivated the alarm before taking a quick look in the living room and finally turned his attention to her. Seeing him half-naked, all muscles and sinew that could only be guessed at under his tailored suit, almost derailed her thoughts. It was the angry red scar from the knife wound that had nearly killed him that stopped her wayward thoughts.
Mason put the gun on the table and gently removed the baseball bat from her tight grasp before putting his hands on her shoulders. “Cleo, what happened? Are you all right? Talk to me.”
At that moment, she felt like the biggest fool. “I couldn’t sleep, and then I heard a loud banging coming from the door. Twice. So I went to check.”
And at that precise moment, the noise sounded again. Cleo jumped, but Mason didn’t seem surprised and sighed. “The sound isn’t coming from the front door. It’s George one floor up. He does shift work and has a shower when he comes home. The pipes are old, and they make that awful racket every time he turns the water on or off. The landlord won’t do anything about it, so I’ve learned to live with it. That’s why it didn’t wake me, but the chair did when it fell.”
Cleo rubbed her face, feeling defeated. “I’m going crazy. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re not. Why didn’t you wake me when you heard it?”
She shrugged. “You were fast asleep. I didn’t want to disturb you if it turned out to be nothing. And if the attacker was at the door, I planned to smash his head in with the bat.”
Mason seemed to debate her words a moment before he schooled his features and nodded. “Thanks for trying to protect me, even if I’m the one that’s supposed to be protecting you at the moment.”
“Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not. I’m touched. But it’s one in the morning, and we both need sleep if we want to catch this asshole tomorrow.”
She shook her head. “Go back to bed. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight. My mind won’t settle.”
Mason nodded, but instead of heading back to his room alone, he took her hand and pulled her with him.
At first she thought he would lead her back to her room, but instead, he went to his. Cleo’s heart started to beat faster, but not for the same reason as before. Pulling back the covers, he told her to hop into bed.
“You want me to sleep in your bed? Where will you sleep?”
Was there a twinkle in his eyes, or was she imagining things again?
“I’m sleeping there too. Keeping you close is the only way to make sure you’re safe and not about to smash my head in with a bat.”
Part of her, the sensible part, wanted to turn around and go back to the guest room. Another part of her, the naughty, rebellious part, wanted to slide under the covers with him.
And she did exactly that. It seemed wild and the crazy was the theme of the night.
Mason switched the lights off, put his gun on the nightstand beside him, and slid into the bed beside her, careful not to touch any part of her body.
“Goodnight.” His voice was deep, and it held a new intonation she hadn’t heard from him, and one she couldn’t interpret.
“Goodnight, Mason.”
She tur
ned her back to him, trying to find a comfortable position to fall asleep. Unfortunately, that wasn’t about to happen. Trying not to move too abruptly, she rolled onto her stomach, and then her back, before going back to her side.
A low growl came from the other side of the bed. “Shut your mind off, Cleo. That’s the only way you’ll be able to sleep.”
Rolling to her back again, she turned her head to look at him. His black hair was tousled, his warm skin so close to her fingers almost distracted her from their conversation. “Easy for you to say. I can’t turn my mind off just like that. Nobody can. Not even you, ninja.”
He chuckled. “You’re right. We don’t control it, but there are things you can do to calm your mind. Focus on something peaceful or a nice memory. That can trick your mind into relaxing.”
Cleo huffed and turned her back to him again. “As if it was that easy. Go to sleep, Mason.”
The bed moved, and before she could react, he brought his arm around her and plastered her body against his. His taller frame enveloped her like a cocoon, his breath fanning her hair. “Another option is to prevent you from moving at all.”
“Very funny.” She might have sounded sarcastic but being caught in his embrace felt reassuring and exhilarating at the same time. How she wished the man wasn’t such a goody-two-shoes. A wilder man would take advantage of the situation, and in Mason’s case, she would have let him. “You may like that kind of thing, Mason, but being trapped isn’t something I’m into.”
His arm didn’t let her go, instead his cheek rubbed the top of her hair in a rumbling sigh that made her blood simmer. And when he slightly pushed his hips against her bottom, the evidence of his growing erection was undeniable. Was she hallucinating again? Mason Bentley—the straightest arrow she had ever met—couldn’t want her. That was impossible.
“You know nothing about what I’m into, Miss Darwin. But I’ll share one of them if you want to know. I’m into anything that involves you, Cleo.”