Mason (Striking Back #2)

by S. M. Shade

  Mason

  Striking Back: Book Two

  By

  S.M. Shade

  Copyright © 2015

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  Other Books by S.M.Shade

  Prologue

  Everly

  Something is wrong. Really wrong. I can’t remember what it is. Danny tried to drown me, and I almost died. If Mason hadn’t shown up…

  Mason! My eyes fly open as my horrific discovery floods back. Mason is a monster, a sex slave trafficker, and he had me kidnapped.

  My heart tries to escape my chest as I gaze frantically around the room. I’m tucked in Mason’s bed, wearing nothing but an oversize t-shirt and panties. I suppose I should be grateful I’m not in a dungeon. Yet. The thought gets me moving, albeit slowly. Whatever the asshole drugged me with is still dragging me down. I’m shocked to see it’s almost noon. I must’ve been out for over twelve hours.

  Biology overcomes fear for the moment and I creep into the adjoining bathroom to relieve myself. I’m so thirsty, it feels like my tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth. Hoping no one will hear, I turn the sink on and gulp water from the faucet.

  My footsteps to the bedroom door are careful, soft. I can’t hear anything, the house is silent. Is he gone? Am I locked in? Finding my jeans and shoes by the chair, I dress quickly, trying to force my fuzzy brain to think. My first instinct is to try to escape through the window since we’re on the first floor. No doubt that will set off his security alarm though, and right now I’m barely strong enough to stay on my feet. I’d never outrun him or his goon.

  A phone. I need to get to a phone and call Ian. He knows where Mason lives and can send the police. Damned if I can remember the address. I’m surprised when the door handle turns easily, and I expect to see someone guarding the door, but the hallway is empty.

  So is the living room. No phone in sight, though. Shit. What do I do? Do I chance searching the house to call for help, or try to escape? The front door is right there, tempting me. It’s afternoon, surely there will be people around. Someone. Anyone. Screw it. I have to get out of here. My hand lights on the doorknob for a split second when I’m frozen by his voice.

  “Are we going to do this again, Everly?”

  Chapter One

  Mason

  A stray puppy wandered into my yard last year, skinny and starving. It managed the energy to run when I approached it, and found itself cornered by my back fence. I’d never seen such wide, terrified eyes. Until now.

  What the fuck? Why is she so afraid of me? I know finding the fake documents and ID’s confused her, but I don’t know why it caused her to panic. Does she think I’d hurt her? Part of me wants to let her go. Call Ian to come get her, but I can’t let her leave until I know where her head is.

  My security guard, Devon, drugged her to get her back here. I can’t have her running to the cops with stories of fake ID’s and kidnapping. Everything I’ve worked so hard to build will disintegrate, and I can’t risk it. First, I have to make her understand. I have to do something to take that look of terror from her face. It’s tearing me up.

  “Please,” she whispers. “Just let me go. Don’t do this.” She flattens her back against the door as I approach her, and tears fill her eyes when I take her trembling hand. Her whole body is shaking, and she keeps blinking like she’s trying to focus her eyes. I know she doesn’t have much tolerance for drugs. It’s probably making her dizzy.

  “You need to sit down before you fall.”

  “What the hell did you do to me?” she demands.

  “It was a sedative. I’m sorry, but you jumped from a moving car. You were going to hurt yourself.”

  Her face hardens and anger shines in her eyes. “Guess you can’t damage the merchandise. Let me go, and I won’t say anything to anyone.”

  What the hell is she talking about? “Not until we have a chance to talk. Tell me why you ran.”

  Her hand tightens on the door knob. “You know why. I found your stash of ID’s.”

  “So instead of asking me to explain, you run like a crazy person?”

  “I also heard you on the phone. Girls, fake passports, thousands of dollars. You think I don’t recognize a trafficking operation?”

  “Trafficking?” After a moment of confusion, I’m struck by her accusation. Not just struck. Bashed. Pummeled. A physical pain twists my gut. She couldn’t have hurt me worse if she’d stomped on my nuts. I love her, and she thinks I traffic in sex slaves. Doesn’t bode well for our relationship, I have to admit.

  “Evie…Christ…how could you think…?” It takes a moment for me to clear my head. Her fear is suddenly clear. Not only does she think I sell women, she assumes I’ll do the same to her for finding out. “Sit down, Everly,” I demand, trying to swallow my anger and devastation at her conclusion. “After I explain how fucking wrong you are, and what’s really going on, I’ll take you home. Or you can call Ian…or a cab…whatever.”

  “Just let me leave now and I’ll never say anything.”

  “So help me, if you don’t plant your ass on that couch, I will. Now.” My tone brokers no argument, and she moves to the far end of the couch, her wary, fearful gaze tearing another strip from my soul.

  “The passports and ID’s are fake. You’re absolutely right about that.” I sit across from her, dragging my hands through my hair in frustration. I’m risking everything by sharing what I’m about to tell her. “You know I own multiple domestic violence shelters. You’ve seen what they do. How could you think I’d exploit women in such a horrible way?”

  “I imagine it’s a good cover. An endless supply of vulnerable prey.”

  Fuck, she’s pissing me off. “The passports and ID’s are for the women who escape husbands and boyfriends who are particularly dangerous.” My gaze meets hers. “I’m going to tell you something that very few people know. I have to believe you’ll keep it secret, no matter how little you think of me.

  “I’m a part of an underground system, put in place for battered women and children. Sometimes, to keep them safe, we have to work outside the law. Many of them were married to cops, FBI agents, government officials, judges. People with reach, who aren’t easy to escape.”

  Doubt begins to replace the fear on her face. “You get them fake ID’s so they can leave the country?”

  “It’s more than that. We set them up with new lives, sometimes in other countries, but more often a new state. There’s a network of people and privately owned charities who help them hide and start over.”

  Teeth clamp down on her lip, chewing as she thinks it over. “And the money?”

  “We give them twenty-five thousand each to help with housing, food and expenses.”

  She wants to believe me, but I can tell she’s struggling. “And you had to send your goon to chase and drug me to tell me this?”

  “Evie,” I sigh. “What would’ve happened if you’d gone to the cops, if they’d found the passports? Not only could it have shut down the whole operation, it would’ve left all those women and their kids exposed, vulnerable. They could’ve been found.”

  She cradles her head in her hands. “I can’t think. I need some time. My head is killing me.”

  “It’s a lot to comprehend with a sedative hangover. Will you stay pu
t if I get you a drink?”

  “Yes, thank you.” I hate the way she sounds, the distance in her voice. She can be trusted, once I convince her I’m telling the truth. Given enough time, I would’ve explained everything to her anyway. But our relationship is over. There’s a big difference between not trusting me, and thinking me capable of sex slavery.

  She drains the glass of water after swallowing the ibuprofen I give her. “Do you remember Ivy Stevens?” I ask.

  Her tired eyes regard me. “Of course. She lived at Striking Back a few months ago. She went back to her husband.”

  “That’s the story we tell, but it isn’t true.” I sit beside her and log into Skype.

  Ivy answers, smiling when she sees my face. “Mason! How are you?”

  “I’m doing good. Someone wants to say hi.” I hand my phone to Evie, who takes it cautiously.

  “Hi, Ivy,” she says.

  “Hi Everly! It’s Maia now. It’s good to see you. Are you still working at Striking Back?”

  “Of course. How are things?”

  “Fantastic. I love it here. I have a new job, new friends. Everything’s great. I’m glad to see you’ve joined the little secret society.” She laughs.

  “I’m just learning about it, actually,” Evie replies softly.

  I take the phone back and let Ivy know we’ll check in again soon.

  Everly stares at her feet, shaking her head. “I can’t believe this was going on around me and I had no idea.”

  “I need to know you won’t tell anyone, Evie. A lot of lives depend on it.”

  “I understand.” Her soft brown eyes peek up at me through her lashes. “I’m sorry I got the wrong idea. I panicked.”

  “I’d never hurt you.”

  “I know.”

  I hand over her cell phone. “Call Ian. He called for you, earlier, and I told him you were sleeping.” I retreat to my bedroom for a moment while she makes her call. I don’t want her to leave, but I know this can’t work. Christ, she thought I was going to sell her. How do I forget that? I can understand someone who doesn’t know me jumping to such a conclusion if they heard and saw the things she did. But not her. It tears at something deep inside of me. I have to let her go.

  She’s still sitting on the end of the couch when I return. “He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  “Okay, you should rest until he gets here. You look pale.”

  Nodding, she curls up on her side, pulling a throw pillow under head. “I’m sorry, Mason.”

  “Me too, Evie.”

  * * * *

  Ian rings the bell, and Everly doesn’t move a muscle. I let him in and lead him past her sleeping form to the kitchen. “I need to talk to you for a moment.”

  “Sure, what’s going on? Ev sounded really upset. You guys fighting?”

  “Not exactly. I’m taking a huge fucking chance with what I’m about to tell you, but I know Evie will need to talk to someone about it.” He never blinks when I tell him about the underground shelters I’m a part of, and actually seems impressed.

  “I can’t believe Evie would have a problem with this, man. I mean, she’s not exactly a law breaker, but she should understand why it’s necessary.”

  “She doesn’t have a problem with what I do.” I explain what happened with the passports and the overheard phone call.

  When I tell him the conclusion Evie jumped to, he shakes his head. “She thought you were selling women?”

  “She freaked out and ran. I had to call one of my security guys to help me find her. She was hiding in the neighborhood, and I couldn’t let her go to the cops. It would’ve destroyed everything. I just wanted to bring her back, explain what was really going on, but she fought him so hard. Even jumped from the car as he was bringing her back.”

  Ian looks devastated. “She must’ve been terrified.”

  “She was, but I didn’t know why. Devon had to sedate her to get her back without hurting her. That’s why she’s so tired. I told her to call you. I just want her to feel safe, and I know she trusts you. Please keep an eye on her.”

  Ian blinks in surprise. “Are you breaking up?”

  “After what she thought I would do to her? She doesn’t trust me, and I don’t think she ever will. She believed I’d sell her, abuse her.”

  “There’s a reason behind that. It’s not my story to recount, but Ev has had more than one experience with sexual assault at the hands of someone she trusted. I’m not saying it lead her to that conclusion, but I’m sure it helped.”

  I nod. It still doesn’t change anything. “Danny is locked up so she should be okay to go home. I’m going to keep security on her for a while just in case. Just, please let me know if anything happens…if she needs anything. I know she won’t tell me.”

  Ian gives a reluctant smile. “Evie acts tough, but underneath, she’s a scared kid still waiting for the worst. She’s never had anyone take care of her without some obscene ulterior motive before, so it’s hard for her to accept.”

  We both glance toward the living room when we hear Everly call, “Mason?”

  “Go on. Take her home. I’ll be in touch when I find out Danny’s court date. She’ll have to appear.” Ian nods, and I hear the front door close a few minutes later as he leaves with the only woman I’ve ever loved.

  * * * *

  “Get up fuckwad!” Parker’s shout sets off brass bells in my skull. My mouth tastes like the ass end of a coyote, and the feel of the hardwood floor digging in my ribs tells me I didn’t make it to bed. Groaning, I pull myself up and onto the couch.

  “You look like shit, brother,” Alex says, shaking his head and sitting beside me.

  “I had a late night. What do you two want?”

  “A late night?” Parker scoffs. “You’ve been MIA for two days. I know your girl thinks you’re a human trafficker, but that’s no reason to drink an entire liquor store.”

  “Fuck off, Park.”

  Alex hands me a cup of coffee, and Parker tosses a brown paper bag beside me. “Eat. Nothing better for a hangover than greasy food.” Parker brags about banging some new chick as we eat sausage biscuits, but I barely hear him. I never drink until I pass out. I hate being out of control.

  But I couldn’t get Evie out of my head, and drinking to quiet the sound of her voice seemed like a good option. Apparently, it only works until I wake up. “Is everything under control at work?” I ask, wiping my hands on a paper napkin.

  “Work’s fine,” Alex replies. “Now, go shower and let’s go to the gym. I feel like kicking you in the head.”

  Although I feel like hell, I really don’t want to spend another day home alone. “Give me ten minutes.” After a quick shower, ibuprofen, and a bottle of water, I feel almost human. “I’ll meet you there,” I call, as Parker and Alex hop into Parker’s truck.

  As I follow them to the gym, I wonder what Evie is doing today. Did she return to Building Tomorrow’s Child after one of the counselors nearly killed her? I’m sure she did. If there’s one thing I know about that girl, it’s that she’s stubborn as hell. She won’t let one psycho keep her from helping those kids. I hope that also goes for Striking Back. The women and children love her, and I’d hate for her to stop coming because we’re over. I need to call later and see if she’s been there.

  The gym doesn’t open for a few hours so we have the place to ourselves. Alex grins at me. “You have half an hour to warm up old man, then I’m coming for you.”

  “Look who’s throwing his diaper into the ring,” I tease. Relief shows on his face as he smiles, and I know he was worried about me.

  Alex has always been the one who worries, who feels things more strongly. When our mother was killed, and we were forced to move to London with our aunt and uncle, he struggled more than me or Parker.

  Hell, they were only eight, and in one horrible bloody night, our world completely changed. Aunt Linda and Uncle Logan were suddenly the guardians of three heartbroken, extremely angry boys. Parker and I got into a fe
w scuffles at school, but Alex made a damn habit of blacking eyes and busting lips.

  After his second school suspension, they signed him up for MMA classes, and it didn’t take long for me and Parker to follow him. We learned to fight the same way we do everything…together. We got through it, and Alex got a handle on his anger. I know he still struggles from time to time, but he’s also the most compassionate person I’ve ever known.

  After lifting weights and running on the treadmill for a few minutes, I gear up and meet Alex on the floor. “I’m registered for the Children’s Hospital Charity Tournament. So don’t go easy. I need to be ready,” he informs me.

  “Is Parker competing too?”

  “Nope, but Taylor is.” A wide smile spreads across his face.

  “Brandon? How did you talk him into that?”

  “Believe it or not, he asked me.” Fourteen year old Brandon Taylor came to us almost a year ago. Skinny, shy, and afraid of his own shadow, he was being bullied at school and wanted to learn to fight back. After nearly a year of training, his self-confidence has soared along with his fighting skill. It doesn’t hurt that he’s grown six inches and packed on some muscle as well.

  “You tell him I’ll be there to watch,” I say, throwing a front kick.

  Alex easily knocks it down, bouncing around as we get warmed up. “The only spectator he gives a shit about is Karen.”

  “Ha! Good for him.” The boy has good taste. Karen Michaels is a fifteen year old girl in our intermediate class. “No wonder he asked to test for intermediate.”

  Alex laughs and replies, “Young love.”

  “Horny teenage boy,” I snort, sneaking in a reverse punch to his stomach. “Watch those reverse punches. You let too many through.”

  “I’m just building up your confidence.” He catches me with a quick side kick to the ribs. “How long are you going to wait?”

  “For what?”

  “To straighten things out with Everly.”

  “Just shut up and fight.”

  His laugh echoes across the gym as he dodges the next reverse punch. “Don’t be a fucking idiot. That girl is crazy about you.”