by Ann Lister
“The guys are meeting here in the morning, at eight,” Fizzbo said to Mason. “We’ll go over team assignments and whatnot before we drive to the courthouse. I’ll partner you up with Zac.”
“Back with my old partner,” Zac said and bumped his shoulder against Mason’s.
“Just like old times,” Mason said and his stupid grin returned.
Mason stayed at the Ventura Security offices for another hour before he finally said goodbye and took the elevator back downstairs to the lobby. It was such a nice day he wished he could walk home, but it was too far away. Instead, he called for a taxi and waited at the curb. While he had a few minutes, he sent Tessler a quick text message.
“I’ve got good news to share,” Mason typed out and then hit the send button. Several minutes passed without a response from Tessler, which Mason thought was odd. Tessler was almost as nervous as Mason was over his appointment with the doctors today. He knew Tessler was waiting to hear how everything went. The fact he wasn’t responding to Mason’s text message felt weird, but Mason fluffed it off as nothing more than Tessler being busy or something.
Once Mason got home to his apartment, he decided to call him, but even that attempt went straight to voicemail. Mason asked Tessler to give him a call as soon as he could and hung up. He didn’t want to drive all the way over to there without him knowing he was coming, and they hadn’t exactly confirmed their plans for Mason to return again tonight, so it was probably better that he stay home. Besides, he had to be at the Ventura Security offices first thing in the morning, and he needed his sleep.
Mason changed into comfortable clothing and ordered takeout from the Chinese place down the street that delivered, then grabbed himself a cold beer from the fridge while he waited for his food to arrive. With every hour that passed, Mason felt less at ease. Something about Tessler’s silence didn’t feel right. His years of experience doing security work had him trained to know when something felt off, there was almost always a damn good reason for it.
He’d eaten dinner and watched a baseball game on television for a while and still no contact from Tessler. Mason glanced at the wall clock above the television and noted the time. It was almost eleven and still nothing from him. If he drove out to Tessler’s place now, he’d probably end up arriving late to work in the morning, and he couldn’t do that to Victor on his first official day back. Mason reached for his phone and called Tessler’s number. Again, his call went directly to voicemail and Mason groaned.
“Tess, I’m getting worried,” Mason said in his message. “I’m doing security work at the courthouse tomorrow morning, so I’m heading to bed now, but text me and let me know you’re okay. Maybe I can drive out to see you tomorrow night? You can let me know about that, too. Talk to you later.”
Mason brought his phone with him into his bedroom and set it on the table beside the bed. If there wasn’t a message from Tessler when he woke up in the morning, Mason didn’t know what he was going to do. He’d have to figure that out later.
He climbed into bed and did his best to sleep, but it was fitful at best. He eventually gave up on sleeping and got out of bed even before his six-thirty alarm went off. He quickly reached for his phone and noticed there were no messages from Tessler. It was too early to call him, but he sure as hell was going to send a text.
“What the hell, Tess? Why haven’t you called me back?” Mason typed. “As soon as I’m cleared of duty at the courthouse, I’m driving out to see you whether you want me to or not.”
Mason rolled out of bed and showered, then dressed in the security outfit each of them always wore while on duty, which consisted of black slacks, black jacket, white shirt and black tie. When all the guys were working together they kind of looked like secret service agents, and in a way, their duties weren’t all that different. They protected their principals, same as the secret service did.
He grabbed the keys to his truck and left his apartment to go to work. When was the last time he’d done that? Better yet, when was the last time he was able to drive his fucking truck? He should be jumping out of his skin with happiness at both of those details, but the silence from Tessler weighed heavily on his mind and stole some of the excitement away from this monumental morning.
Ventura Security was buzzing with chatter when Mason arrived. There was coffee and bagels available for a quick breakfast if they wanted to eat before they left for the courthouse. Victor went over the plan for today on the blackboard, pointing to a schematic drawing of the courthouse where each team would be positioned. Mason and Zac would be doing their duty beside the entrance doors of the courtroom where the hearing was taking place. The other teams would be scattered around the building. Once the formalities were concluded, the guys all loaded into two waiting vans outside at the curb.
“Fizzbo meeting us there?” Mason asked Zac as he sat down beside him.
“Yeah, he’s bringing Kensey in with him,” Zac explained. “We’ll all wait for them to arrive out front and then take our positions after that.”
“Gotcha.”
Their van pulled out into traffic and Mason’s thoughts went back to Tessler. He checked his phone again for the millionth time and cursed under his breath when he saw no new messages.
“You ready for this?” Zac asked him.
“Of course,” Mason said and forced a grin onto his strained face.
“You seem… distracted,” Zac said. “Everything all right with that guy you’re seeing?”
Mason nodded. “I think so,” he answered. “I mean, things were going great, then yesterday he went radio silent on me. I haven’t been able to reach him, and my security instincts are kicking into overdrive.”
“I’m like that too with Ben,” Zac said. “If he doesn’t check in with me on the regular, my radar goes off.”
“If Fizzbo doesn’t need me this weekend, then I’ll drive out to see my guy tonight and find out what’s going on,” Mason said.
A few minutes later, the van stopped in front of the courthouse. The guys crawled out and stood at the curb to wait for the second van, then played the waiting game until Fizzbo pulled up with Kensey. After that, it was a blur of commotion, and the adrenaline rush that came with that for Mason was huge. He loved every second of being part of the team again, but that high crashed once the day finished, and Fizzbo dismissed them until Monday morning when they’d repeat what they did today as the trial began.
Now Mason couldn’t get home fast enough to pack a bag and drive out to see Tessler. He sent another text message just before he left his house to let him know he was on his way and hoped for the best. At least the drive itself kept him distracted due to the traffic wanting to get out of the city on a Friday afternoon, but as soon as he pulled up in front of Tessler’s building and parked his truck, that knot of anxiety tightened in his stomach all over again.
He walked to the entrance Tessler used to get to his apartment on the upper floors and sent one last message. “I’m outside. Buzz me in,” Mason typed and then he waited. He looked through the large front window of the coffee shop on the off chance Tessler might be occupying his usual table, but it was empty. He pulled open the door and walked over to the order counter and smiled at the pretty, black-haired barista with the bright red lipstick.
“You’re Tessler’s guy, right?” she asked him.
“Yeah, I guess I am,” Mason replied and felt his face heat.
“I’m Angie, the store manager,” she said. “He’s always talking about you, just so you know.”
“That’s nice to hear,” Mason said. “Have you seen him around today?”
She seemed to think about his question for a moment, then said, “Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen him since yesterday around lunch time.”
“I’ve tried calling him, and he’s not answering,” Mason mumbled almost to himself. “That’s not like him.” Mason rubbed at the tension building in the back of his neck. There was no way he was leaving. Not without seeing Tessler with his own
eyes first.
“Do you want me to tell him you were here if I do see him?” Angie asked.
Mason nodded at her then turned towards the door when two more customers stepped up to the counter to place their orders. He left the coffee shop and studied the front of the building for a moment from the sidewalk, then discreetly walked to the alley beside the building towards the back. There was a paved parking lot there and several dumpsters along a fence. He looked at the back of the brick building and saw a door leading into the coffee shop, and a short distance away, he noticed a fire escape that went all the way to the roof.
Bingo.
Mason hurried over to the metal stairway and struggled to pull down the bottom piece. It took several firm tugs before it finally gave way, and he was able to get it extended a little bit lower, but it would still require Mason to jump and then swing himself up onto that first rung of the ladder before he could start climbing. This was another huge, physical effort on his part which he wouldn’t have attempted a few months back, but now, he felt up for the challenge. It actually felt good to be pushing himself like this—and succeeding.
Once he cleared the first level of the fire escape, he turned around and pulled that bottom piece back up until it was once again off the ground. After that, he couldn’t take the stairs fast enough to get to the top level. It felt damn good to be using his body again like this. Mason smiled at the accomplishment. It wasn’t all that long ago he needed a cane just to walk, and now he was starting to feel like his old self again. When he reached the top level, he climbed over the edge of the railing of the building and hopped down right beside a big flower pot. As his eyes bounced around the roof top, something about this ceramic flower pot seemed out of place. It was the only pot on this side of the roof and that had Mason convinced he was on the right track. He tipped the pot over and spotted a single brass key sitting beneath it. A quick glance around the roof and Mason could only see one door with a lock and began to hurry across the roof top towards it.
The discovery of the key both excited and angered Mason, but he didn’t have time to give it a lot of contemplation right now. If this was Tessler’s idea of proper security, then they needed to have a long talk about that. No way in hell was this enough protection for him, especially with the recent events involving the ex-agent.
Mason approached the door and turned the key in the lock to let himself inside the hall where the elevator was located. He pressed the button for the elevator and a moment later, the doors slid open and Mason stepped in, then he pressed the floor for Tessler’s bedroom and watched the doors close again. He figured he’d start at that level first and then search each of the other floors after that to look for Tessler.
Mason felt the elevator stop and waited for the doors to open, then he stepped out into eery silence that had the hair on his forearms standing up straight. Mason moved through Tessler’s bedroom. He took note of the unmade bed and the clothes Tessler had worn the last night he was there still strewn on the floor where Tessler had tossed them as part of his striptease. He pushed away the dirty images that wanted to fill his thoughts and walked down the hallway. He thought about calling out Tessler’s name, but if he was being harmed by someone, Mason didn’t want to alert them he was inside the apartment.
He moved slowly through the floors, visually clearing each room as he did, and still saw no signs of Tessler. Mason stood in the center of the living room, trying to figure out his next move when he realized he hadn’t checked the loft where Tessler’s office was located. That room was only accessible by a set of stairs, which was why Mason had never been able to see this space before now. He’d only been on the floors where the elevator stopped.
Mason hurried to the elevator and took it to the floor with the stairs leading up to the loft, then took the stairs two at a time to reach Tessler’s office. The room was almost completely dark except for one dim light glowing on top of an antique oak desk, which sat over by an arched window that looked down at the street in front of the building. The other detail Mason noticed was the mess. Piles of books of every size littered the hardwood flooring and appeared to be thrown there, rather than stacked in any kind of formal manner. He glanced to his left and saw a bookshelf had been tipped over and the contents of the three shelves scattered about the floor nearby.
Was he robbed?
Mason was suddenly wishing he had his service revolver on him, but the silence in the apartment told him he was alone. Then he heard a soft moan coming from a corner of the room concealed behind the desk. Mason stepped over a pile of books and papers to cross the room and found Tessler curled up in a fetal position on the floor with an empty bottle of tequila laid on its side nearby. The closer he got to Tessler, the stronger the stench of booze became.
“What the fuck?” Mason huffed. “Are you hurt or just drunk?” Tessler startled at the sound of Mason’s voice and then tried to scramble away when Mason’s hands reached for him. “Hey, it’s me, Tess. You’re safe.”
Mason quickly positioned Tessler against the wall and assessed him from head to toe. He didn’t appear to be injured at all, just dazed and a little confused. “What the hell happened?” Mason asked.
Tessler stared blankly back at him with eyes that appeared to be struggling to focus.
“Tess, talk to me. What the hell went on here?”
Tessler blinked then, sending tears trickling down his cheeks. “He has my journal,” he finally said. The words were so faint Mason could barely hear them.
“Who has your journal?” Mason asked.
“Barry stole it.”
“Was that asshole here?”
Tessler slowly shook his head, almost like it took a great effort to make the movement. “He called,” Tessler said in a hoarse voice. “He says he’s going to publish the journal that I based the trilogy on.”
“Can he legally do that?” Mason questioned. “I mean, if he stole it from you, where does he get the right to publish this?”
“I talked to my lawyer,” Tessler said as more tears dripped down his face, “and yes, I got shit-faced afterwards. I’m already regretting that decision.”
Mason used his fingers to wipe off Tessler’s cheeks, then sat down beside him. “Getting so drunk that you pass out and don’t answer your phone is never a good thing,” Mason said, “but putting that aside for the moment, what did your lawyer say?”
For the next hour, Mason sat beside Tessler in the near darkness of the room as Tessler told him the entire sordid story.
“I’m sorry I worried you,” Tessler said after a bit. “I figured you were probably working, and if I told you what was going on, you would have tried to get here. I didn’t want you to get into trouble with your boss since you were newly back on the job.”
“Fizzbo would’ve understood, Tess, and I could have come and maybe helped or just been some support for you,” Mason explained. “At the very least, it would’ve been nice to be included in what you were dealing with, that’s all.”
“I didn’t think of it that way, Mase, and I’m sorry. I’ve been taking care of myself for years, and it’s hard for me to accept that I now have someone who actually wants to help me with shit.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“We need a plan, Tess,” Mason announced. “When is the press conference?”
“Sometime late next week, I think,” Tessler said.
“Okay, and he admitted he had the journal?” Mason asked.
“He said he took it home to keep it safe for me,” Tessler answered and more tears came. “If that journal gets released, it will destroy me. Out of all the journals I’ve written over the years, the one he took is my most personal. It’s filled with the details of all my ... experiences with him and us at the club. It’s what I based the trilogy on. That journal was basically the outline for those three books.”
“He won’t get away with this,” Mason countered.
“He already did,” Tessler added. “He has my journal in his possession, and ap
parently, he can legally do whatever the fuck he wants with it. I can hardly bear the thought of him reading it, never mind it getting out to the public.”
Mason had managed to move Tessler off the floor of his office and downstairs onto the couch in the living room. Then he made a cup of hot tea and toasted an English muffin from the package Tessler used for their breakfast the previous day. Mason’s mind raced with ideas while he watched Tessler eat. There had to be a way he could fix this for Tessler.
Several minutes of silence passed while Tessler nibbled on his food and sipped his tea. Finally Mason turned to Tessler and said, “If I got the journal back, would that fix things for you?”
Tessler’s eyes went wide at that comment. “There’s no way in hell you’d ever recover the journal,” he said. “It’s at his house!”
“I’d need to do some intel on his property,” Mason said. “I’m quite sure I can do it.”
“What the hell are you suggesting?” Tessler asked.
Mason’s gaze met Tessler’s. He couldn’t tell him exactly what was going on in his head, and frankly, the less he knew the better off Tessler would be if things went bad. The last thing the man needed was to be an accessory to any of this. Mason ran his fingers over Tessler’s cheek. “While I was in the Marines, I was specially trained in certain … tactical aspects,” Mason said. “It’s part of everyone’s training. They throw a bunch of skills at you and see what sticks … see what you have a natural knack of doing. Then, they take the things you excel at, and you’re given additional training—infinitely more precise training—like what the guys in the bomb squad get and then some.”
“And your special skills training would be?”
Mason shook his head. “I have a few . . . unique skills. I can’t exactly ever list them on a resume, but I’m highly regarded in these areas to a level where I’ve been asked to give classes to new recruits,” Mason stated. “I’ve never agreed to giving these classes, but it was an honor to be asked. That’s all I can tell you. The rest is classified, and frankly, that’s all you need to know.”