The guys found other places to look. A parking garage had never been so interesting.
Mason held onto her hand, needing that physical tether to remind him it was over. She was safe. The other women would be on their way home by tomorrow. The job wasn’t over, but they’d won the war.
Hannah’s hand relaxed in his grip until he was the only one holding on. He glanced her way, bracing himself for the sight of her. She was slumped sideways, lips parted, a bit of drool on her chin—she was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. And she was safe.
“What’s the final word on Cruz?” Luke asked.
“I guess I shot him.” If Mason had only known, he’d gone for a leg first, then worked his way up, pumping the bastard full of bullets and making him suffer. Maybe he wasn’t so very different from the men he’d helped convict for going rogue. He’d been pretty rogue himself out here.
He shied away from thoughts of home. Of what it would be like. He couldn’t take the thought of not knowing where Hannah was or what she was doing or how she was. But that’s what they were headed for.
Maybe it was time he went somewhere else. Putting distance between them hadn’t worked out. Why should it now?
He loved Hannah. And because of his past, her father, and the lack of a future he could offer her, they were better off apart.
It didn’t change how he felt or what he wanted.
“Your stop,” the CIA driver announced.
Mason didn’t bother waking Hannah. He climbed out one side and picked her up from the other while the guys thanked the driver and got what gear they’d been able to salvage.
“We there yet?” Hannah mumbled. She nestled her head into the crook of his neck, not even bothering to protest being carried.
Giving her up would kill him.
“Almost. Go back to sleep.” He pressed a quick kiss to her brow, when no one would see.
Their last kiss.
The plane they’d been able to contract was small, a glorified puddle jumper, but it was private and could take them directly to the Aegis landing strip instead of the regional airport twenty miles away.
He settled Hannah in a seat and took the one next to her.
It wouldn’t hurt to hold on for a little while longer, would it?
Mason took her hand in his and she squeezed.
They’d had a chance at paradise and lost it. There could be no bigger flashing neon sign that a love between them would not work. Too bad his heart wasn’t listening.
He stared straight ahead. It wasn’t possible to feel this much for another person. There would never be anyone after Hannah.
17.
Hannah shambled through her front door, Mason right behind her.
“Mel?” She paused, but there was no answer.
Over half the boxes were gone. Knickknacks and touches of home were everywhere. It was strange being back here. Almost as if she didn’t belong. As though she were a different person now.
She glanced back at Mason, but he hadn’t spoken a word. Not a single damn thing. He hadn’t strayed more than five feet from her since they landed. It was as if he expected someone to snatch her away again. She didn’t mind his presence. It comforted her. Kept the nightmares at bay. His silence? Not so much. That she could do without, but she didn’t have the energy to deal with it yet.
“I’m going to lie down,” she said.
No answer.
He just stood there.
Staring at her.
She climbed the stairs, and he followed.
Hannah grabbed a pair of shorts and a tank top from her dresser, and changed in the bathroom, not out of a need for privacy or modesty. Mason didn’t need to see the other bruises. If this was how he reacted to what he could see, she didn’t want to burden him with the rest.
They’d agreed once they came home that things would go back to the way they were. As of now, they were just friends. Technically they were breaking their rules. But she didn’t care. She wanted Mason there to scare away the nightmares. To make her feel safe. And she wasn’t the only one who needed companionship, if his stony silence was anything to go by.
She washed her face and braided her hair to keep it out of the way. The girl in the mirror almost looked like her. The old her, at least. She’d never be that girl again. Not only had the events of the last week, but just by being with Mason, she was different. Changed. And Mason was, too.
Hannah opened the bathroom door, and stared at Mason’s chest.
He wouldn’t say it, probably didn’t even have a word for it. What big, bad SEAL would? She’d bet he was scared. As scared as she was that they’d never see each other again. That they might wake up and find out being home was a dream. He needed to be near her as much as she needed him.
She took his hand and led him to the side of bed. She crawled in, scooting over to the far side, and laid down. For a moment he stared at her, brows drawn low, lips set in a firm line. She patted the empty space between them.
Mason toed off one boot, and then the other, but kept his clothes on. He stretched out on his side, facing her. She reached for his hand, tucked against his chest. It was clenched so tight it took her a moment to wiggle her fingers between his, but she was relentless.
For a long time they lay like that, on top of the comforter, facing each other, not saying a word.
She was tired, but too wired to sleep. Hungry though, that was a permanent state of being right now.
“I’m going to order a pizza. Any requests?” she asked.
“No.”
Well, at least he’d answered the question.
Since she didn’t have a cell phone, Hannah had to boot up her laptop and place the order online. She felt Mason’s gaze on her the entire time she sat at the bay window picking out toppings.
Was he afraid she’d vanish?
How were they going to move past this?
There was a bone-deep need for him eating away at her.
How was she supposed to turn that off? What would come of it?
“Hannah...are—were—you a virgin?”
Well, shit.
So much for keeping her secrets.
She looked up slowly, keeping her face as blank as possible. Did that even matter anymore? Should she tell him the truth? Or give him the answer that would appease whatever was gnawing at Mason?
He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, hands gripping the edge.
“The auctioneer said you were a virgin.” His stony façade was impossible to read.
“Yes.” She closed the laptop, refusing to hide behind even that.
Mason’s jaw worked soundlessly.
“Why didn’t I tell you? Or—did I tell you and you forget?”
“Yeah.”
“I never told you. Maybe that was a mistake on my part, but it was mine to make. I hate the concept of virginity. It’s built around the belief that a man sticking his penis inside a woman changes her forever. It has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with you. Do you have any idea what it’s like being a twenty-something virgin?” She rolled her eyes and stood.
“I...No. I don’t know what that’s like.” From the twist of his mouth, he still didn’t like the new knowledge she’d shared.
“I didn’t tell you because part of me was scared to.” She crossed to the bed and sat down next to him. “Maybe it was wrong, but I wouldn’t change anything. Well...okay, I’d have you remember it, but other than that, nope.”
“I wish I’d known...” He seemed so lost and distressed, she almost felt sorry for him.
“Why? You’d have told me no?”
“I’d have tried to.” He sighed and placed his hand over hers, threading their fingers together. “I don’t have a lot of self-control when it comes to you. I would have...”
She couldn’t imagine having this conversation with any other man. What they’d had was right. Even intoxicated and drugged, he’d exceeded any expectation she might have had.
“Made
it special?” She batted her eyelashes and grinned.
“Or something.”
“You seem like you need a minute to process this.” She tilted her head to the side.
He was still so serious. Haunted. Because of the sex? Or what they’d been through?
Mason’s expression softened by degrees. His thumb swiped over her knuckles. She still couldn’t read his face, but she was giving up on that. Somehow, she felt him. Deep inside of her. As if they’d traded bits of their souls.
“You make me see things differently,” he said.
“Good.”
“If you’d told me, I would have put you off. I...Maybe I’m glad you didn’t tell me? Were you ever going to?”
She stared at him for a moment, rolling the question around.
“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “We agreed when we came home that we were done. That we’d pretend nothing ever happened. So why bring it up?” It was an answer even she didn’t like. “What do we do now?”
Mason shrugged.
They didn’t have a clue.
Figured.
“It was good though, right?” he asked.
She tossed her head back and laughed.
“It’s not funny.”
“Yes it is.” She wiped at stray tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes. “You’re way more concerned about your performance than I was, that’s for sure.”
“Is it wrong I want to make sure it was good?”
“No. Thank you.” She leaned in and pecked his lips before she remembered...she wasn’t supposed to do that anymore.
She pulled back, that zing of awareness still a hot wire.
Mason stared at her.
She stared at him.
“Sorry. I forgot,” she mumbled.
“I don’t know how we’re supposed to do this,” he said.
“Me neither.”
“I was so scared I was going to lose you. That we wouldn’t find you. Or that—”
“I know.” She wrapped both her hands around his. “I was scared, too.”
He blew out a breath.
She’d never seen anyone with more pain markers than him. As a physical therapist, it was her business to know when something hurt or caused discomfort. Mason had them all in spades, and she knew why without having to ask.
He loved her.
She loved him.
And they couldn’t talk about it. Because once those words were out of the bag, there wasn’t anything they could do to pack them away again.
A loud Bang! Crash! woke Mason from a deep sleep. Hannah started in his arms.
It took him half a second to remember they were in her bedroom and the other half to start moving. He stood, drawing his gun from the side table, and circled the bed to stand between her and the door.
“Mason?” Hannah whispered, the tension strung tight in her voice.
“In the bathroom, now.”
She rolled out of bed and stopped, head tilted sideways. If possible, her face seemed to go even paler in the darkness.
A light flipped on downstairs, flooding the upper landing in a warm, yellow glow.
She turned, eyes wide, lips parted, panting, and mouthed, “Dad.”
Oh shit.
“Are you sure?” he whispered.
Mason kept the gun in hand, but lowered it.
Hannah tiptoed out of the room to the banister and peered over.
“Daddy?”
“Hannah. Dear God, they just told me.” Footsteps thumped on the stairs.
She glanced over her shoulder, expression panic stricken.
Mason slipped his handgun into her nightstand, snagged his jeans off the floor and stepped into them. They’d barely slept, and still he felt rotten about being caught with her. Or about to be caught.
Mr. Stevens shadow stretched across the landing. Hannah scampered out of view, maybe to stall her dad for a moment. Mason pulled on his shirt, too. If he had his clothes on maybe the old man wouldn’t skin and kill him. Just kill him.
Hannah and her father came into view, framed by the doorway.
Stevens paused when he caught sight of Mason, his face twisting into something akin to rage.
“You. What the hell are you doing here, you son of a bitch?” Stevens stomped into the room and might have tried walking through the bed if Hannah hadn’t grabbed his arm.
“I asked him stay,” she said.
“This is all his fault. Why would you do this?” Stevens jabbed his finger in Mason’s direction.
“It is not his—”
“Hannah,” Mason snapped.
She glanced his way. He shook his head. Someone had to be the focal point of Stevens’ anger, and after everything she’d gone through, Mason wasn’t going to allow it to be her. Besides. Mason had made the poor judgment call that let Hannah out of his line of sight. His decisions had made her an easy target.
“I ought to fire your ass right now.”
“Dad—stop!”
“You!” He swung around and aimed that same finger at Hannah.
Yeah, that wasn’t going to fly.
“Mr. Stevens,” Mason pitched his voice over them. “A word please?”
Hannah and her father both paused in their windup to a good fight to glance his way. Mason strode around the bed to the door and waited. Like hell he was going to sit there and let Stevens take out his fears on Hannah.
Stevens glanced from the door to Mason and back before taking the first step out of the room.
“It was not Mason’s fault.” Hannah followed closely on her father’s footsteps, not ready to give up the fight. “I asked him to go with me. He protected me!”
Mason caught Hannah by the shoulders and ducked his head to look her in the eye.
“Stop. Let me handle this, please?” He waited out her glare, but she never answered.
Hannah rolled her eyes and whirled away from him. It was as close to permission as he was going to get.
He closed the door behind him and hoped she stayed out of this. He was willing to take the brunt of her father’s anger. It wasn’t real rage anyway. Mr. Stevens was the same scared, sick-with-worry parent they dealt with all the time. Except he was also directly over Mason.
Mr. Stevens jerked open the front door and stomped outside. Mason followed, treading lightly.
They didn’t speak until they were on the front porch, door closed.
Stevens paced across the room and whirled.
“You let her go to Mexico? What the hell were you thinking?” Stevens threw up his hands. “This is on you, Clark. You fell down on the job and she could have paid the price for your fuck up. I’m going to bury you, boy.” Stevens glared at him.
“I’m sure you will try.”
“I should never have brought you on. Never.”
“Sir,” Mason snapped. “All due respect—fuck you. I was a damn good soldier, and I did what was right. Your daughter? She’s alive because of me. Did I screw up? Yeah. I fucked up big time. But I got her back. You want to lay her going to Mexico on me? Have you met your daughter? I’d have died to get her back. Any one of us could have. But we didn’t. We brought her home. Safe. If you need to yell at someone about it to make yourself feel better, yell at me. Not her. And keep your damn threats to yourself.”
That...kind of felt good. Granted, he was going to lose his job over this, but in the last twenty-four hours he’d more or less accepted that.
Stevens turned and paced as far away as he could on the small porch.
The sky was starting to lighten on the horizon. Touches of gray faded into mist.
The bubble of tension burst, and all the fight seemed to seep away, soaked up by the sun.
“The last conversation I had with Hannah before I left was a fight about going to seminary,” Stevens said with his back toward Mason.
“She told me you wanted her to get a Mrs. Degree.”
“Is it wrong to want something different for my child?” Stevens turned, his brow creased, not
with anger, but something else. “I came home from my second deployment after her being born and...she was scared of me. Didn’t even know who I was. My wife loves the man I haven’t been for decades. Why would I want that for my baby girl? Why would I want you in her life?”
All questions Mason had asked himself. He was bad for Hannah. He just had to hold onto that knowledge a little tighter.
“Guys like you—you’re too rough around the edges. You have too much baggage.” Stevens turned to face the horizon.
Mason could fill a house with his baggage.
“But I have to ask myself...” Steven’s tipped his chin up and shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “Would I prefer Hannah to be with someone who just loves her, or would I want her to be with someone who loves her so much he would die for her?”
Mason didn’t move. He didn’t dare to. Not even to breathe.
“I don’t like you, Clark, but I’m going to have to learn to, aren’t I?”
Mason swallowed. What the fuck was going on?
“My daughter and I are cut from the same cloth. We are difficult people. Do you know if you love her yet?”
“Yes.” Mason’s heart screamed it.
“I don’t want to see you for a week, Clark. I can’t stand the sight of you, but I imagine my wife will want to have you over for dinner, so we’ll make do.” Stevens turned, glancing at Mason. “A week. Stay out of my sight for a week.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ho-ly shit.
Hannah sat on the bottom stairs, watching the shadows sway back and forth through the frosted glass.
What were they saying?
She couldn’t make out anything. Not one little word. Which was shocking. She’d been ready for her dad to yell, scream, maybe even shoot Mason. Instead, it sounded as though they were having a civil discussion. About what? And why couldn’t she be involved? Of course they’d talk about her. Her trip. All her wrong decisions.
God, she wanted to strangle her father. For this and everything else. He could be so damn difficult.
The thinner shadow shrank.
Her dad was leaving?
That was it?
Dangerous in Training (Aegis Group, #2) Page 23