The detective stayed by the doorway and didn’t step any further into the house. “May I come in?”
“Why? Do you suspect Cole of tampering with my brakes as well? Here to get his fingerprints?”
“You can drop the attitude, Ms. Fulton. I’m here to ask a few more questions. Your friend hasn’t been convicted, only questioned.”
Powering off her e-reader, Emma sat up and attempted to act professional.
“Fire away then.”
“Before this morning, when was the last time you drove your car?”
“Yesterday. I drove to work, and I drove home.”
Detective Walker scribbled in his notebook. “Where do you park when at work?”
“In the parking lot.”
He looked up from his notepad and had the audacity to smirk. The cute detective would be perfect for Paige. “Can you see your car from your office?”
Emma sighed and pulled her hair back into a ponytail and realized she barely had any clothes on. “No. Not really. It’s a small office. Small lot. My window in my office looks to the back, which is all woods.” She crossed her arms over her chest, but he didn’t seem to notice. Apparently the kind detective had manners. “You can’t see the parking lot from the gym, pool, or the private rooms either, but I don’t see how anyone would be able to get under my car at work and not be noticed.”
“And after work, your car remained here, in your driveway until you went out last night?”
“Yes. As you can see it would be pretty hard for someone to come tamper with my brakes and risk not being seen by me or Cole.”
“Tell me about what you did with your afternoon before you showed up at the North Country.”
“I got home around two and made myself lunch. Scrolled through Facebook. Nothing really. Cole got home around three. I went next door and we watched the Red Sox game until four thirty or five. Then I came over here to get ready to go out. Paige and Cole showed up about six. Cole drove us in my car to the North Country.”
Emma started to sweat and felt her eyes grow heavy. Her hands shook as she reached out for her water. “Excuse me a minute.” She went into the kitchen and checked her blood sugar. Forty-three. Reaching in the cabinet for some fruit snacks, she pulled a packet out and tried to open it. Her body felt drained and too weak to tear open the source of sugar her body needed.
“Are you okay?”
She didn’t even hear the detective enter the kitchen. “Low blood sugar. I need carbs. Now.”
He took the package from her and easily opened it. “Thanks.” She chewed and swallowed the little sugary fruit pieces in less than a minute. “Give me a few minutes. I’ll be okay.”
“Should I call someone?”
“No. I’m a diabetic. Happens all the time. I need to sit.” She walked back to the sofa and wiped the beads of sweat above her lip. When they didn’t immediately reappear, she knew her sugar was on the rise again. “Okay, you were saying?”
Hesitantly the detective resumed his seat across from her. “We can finish this later if you want.”
“No, no.” Emma waved her hand. “My shakes will go away in a few minutes, and I’ll be as good as new. You wanted me to implicate another one of my friends, right?” She smirked.
The detective sat back and made a poor attempt at hiding his smile. Yup. A good match for Paige.
“I want to establish a timeline of when your vehicle could have been tampered with. It seems likely that it happened while it was left at the bar overnight. Anyone would have had access to it with little chance of being caught. The question now is who would want to hurt you?”
Other than the men who hassled her last night, Emma couldn’t think of anyone. Detective Walker somewhat ruled them out as they had no idea the lone car in the parking lot belonged to her.
Which brought them back to square one.
* * * *
“You implicated my brother?” Cole let himself into Emma’s apartment, beer in one hand a bag of chips in the other.
“I did no such thing. The detective asked who had access to my car and Mason was one of them. I cleared him though.”
“That’s not what Mason said.”
That’s what she was afraid of. Emma needed to explain the situation to him. He was pissed. She had never seen Mason Tucker pissed. Maybe a little upset like when she tackled him and dislocated his shoulder, but he wasn’t pissed. He wouldn’t return any of her text or phone messages. There had to be some way to get him to listen to her explanation of naming him as a suspect.
She’d play her physical therapist card. The no-holds-bar method worked best with him before; she’d try it again. Emma picked up her cell, ran upstairs so Cole wouldn’t hear and dialed Mason’s number, waiting for the automated message to end.
“Mason. This is your physical therapist calling. I noticed you haven’t come in for over a week and our contract said you would commit to at least five sessions. I am writing you in for Monday at one. If this time doesn’t work for you, please call back within twenty-four hours of your scheduled appointment. If you do not show up, expect a home visit from Helga.”
She pressed End and smiled. Secretly hoping he would skip his appointment.
* * * *
Helga rapped loudly on Mason’s front door. She knew he was home. His black jeep sat in the driveway and music blared through the open windows. Metallica? He didn’t seem the type. She gave him plenty of time to respond to her message, but he didn’t. He didn’t call the office to cancel his appointment, so she actually expected him to show up.
But he didn’t.
It was nearly four. Three hours late for his physical therapy and now she was about to make due on her threat. Although her real reason for showing up at his doorstep had nothing to do with his therapy but everything to do with being physical. Before she could jump his bones, not that that was her intention, she needed to apologize and clear the air. Wearing a miniskirt, girly jewelry and sexy shoes would hopefully make her appear more feminine, more sensitive.
Realizing Mason could not hear her knock or the incessant ringing of the doorbell over the loud music, Emma turned the knob and walked in. His house was neat, but not sterile. Very different from his twin brother’s. The front room was simply decorated with a chocolate brown sofa and two dark green recliners. A flat screen rested on top of a beautiful piece of cherry furniture. Photographs of New England donned the walls and minimal knickknacks decorated the fireplace mantel.
The screaming music ended and Emma called out right as another track began. She recognized Guns N’ Roses, “Paradise City.” Emma followed the music through the living room and into a quaint kitchen. She didn’t know what to expect from Mason’s house. She expected a bachelor pad like his twins’ but was pleasantly surprised with the country kitchen.
The cabinets were whitewashed; black granite counter tops gleamed in the sun which shone through the window over the large, basin sink. To the left sat a handcrafted cherry table with four mismatched chairs. She dropped her purse on the table and ran her hands across the satin wood. The woodwork was beautiful, and Emma remembered Cole mentioning Mason’s woodworking hobby. She wondered if he built the table and cabinet she saw in the living room.
Not wanting to snoop—actually she did, but she had more pressing matters at hand—Emma left the kitchen and turned toward the hallway that echoed the music. A door stood open, revealing a staircase she presumed led to the basement. Before she could take another step, the music stopped and Mason appeared at the top.
“What the hell are you—”
“Holy crap!”
Still holding their stance, waiting for the other to speak first, Emma took the opportunity to enjoy the scenery. Mason braced his hands on his naked hips, workout shorts hanging slightly below them, his broad, sweaty stomach screaming, look at me! Emma rolled in her tongue that practically licked the floor but begged to suck the droplets beading down his stomach, and let her eyes travel northward to his chest. He wasn’t big
and bulky, but perfectly toned. She forced her eyes to focus on his face, red and wet with sweat—he had obviously just finished a workout—and smiled at his sexy, disheveled hair.
“Helga at your service.”
Mason furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”
“You didn’t show up. An obvious invitation for Helga.”
Understanding still didn’t show on his face. Emma rolled her eyes and sighed. “Did you listen to any of the messages I left you?”
“No.”
Hurt and angry, Emma crossed her arms and glared. “You’re a pompous ass, you know that, right? I’ve been texting you and leaving you messages all weekend. Apologizing. I didn’t mean to throw you under the bus. The detective asked who had access to my car and I named you. Thank you, by the way, for bringing my car back.” Mason glared at her. Emma paced through the kitchen, waving her hands as she spoke.
“I know you had nothing to do with my brakes. Detective Walker asked, I answered, and then I realized what he thought, but that wasn’t what I thought; then we showed up at Paige’s house, and you and my family were there, and then we were whisked inside while you were being interrogated, and I felt guilty and wanted to clear things up, but then the detective left and you left and—” Emma gulped for air and turned to face Mason.
“I’m sorry. I really am. I know you had nothing to do with my accident. The thought never crossed my mind.” She spoke more softly now and laid her hand on his cheek. “I trust you with my life, Mason. You’ve been my hero. You know that. Right?” She inched closer, their bodies nearly touching. He smelled like soap and sweat and raw man. The heat radiating from his torso filled her imagination with lust. Her heart stopped, then started again. He stared deep into her, piercing her soul with his Godiva eyes. And then those luscious chocolate truffles lowered their gaze to her lips. She licked them in anticipation. Slowly she closed her eyes, expecting a soft, gentle kiss and was thrown off guard when his hungry mouth came down hard and devoured her.
He wrapped one arm around her back and the other on the back of her head and trapped her between his body and the wall. Emma moaned into his mouth, and he pressed even harder. She could feel his solid mass and his desire for her. Mason quickly moved his hands and lifted her on to him, his hands moving hastily up her skirt and squeezing her ass.
She melted into him, her hands sliding around his shoulders, holding on for dear life. The muscles in his back were slick with sweat and hard with muscle. He hauled her up against him and kissed her senseless. He nipped at her mouth and then moved his delectable, biting lips to her neck. Emma moaned and sank her nails into his back, begging for more.
The pressure of the cool wall behind her, and the hot, sweaty wall of muscle rubbing against her breasts caused her heart to race, and breath to shake. She tightened her legs around him, trying to ease the tremble as he took her higher and higher. Pointing her toes, she slipped her feet under the elastic of his shorts and slid them down his legs. Mason needed no more prodding, pushed her panties aside, and entered her quickly, setting up a rhythm that was fast and furious.
Emma’s head fell back against the wall as he brought her to a place she’d never seen before. To call it euphoric was cliché. There were simply no words.
The next few minutes were pure ecstasy as he held on to her as if she were his lifeline. She screamed out his name and then burrowed her head deep into his neck as she trembled with aftershocks. Mason’s body tensed and went limp. His thumping heartbeat pulsating at her breast. She hadn’t expected hot, sweaty sex ten minutes ago when she knocked on his door. Mason Tucker was a man of many delicious talents.
Emma sighed. “Wow.” Her heart beat erratically.
Mason dropped Emma to her feet and stepped away as if appalled at what they had done. As quickly as it had started, it ended. “You should go,” he growled, pulled up his shorts, and stormed down the hall to his room, slamming the door behind him.
“What the hell?” Emma said to an empty hallway. Ready to go raise some hell and put him in his place, she started down the hallway but stopped when she heard the shower turn on.
The anger quickly dissipated and hurt set in. No one had ever made her feel so cheap. Emma had a few one-night stands in college, but they were due to her lack of commitment. The wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am had been mutual back then. But not this time.
A quick lay in the hallway? That was all she was to him? Emma smoothed her skirt, wiped the tears she didn’t know had trickled down her cheek, and left vowing never to talk to Mason Tucker again. No one had ever hurt her the way he had. Her mother’s secret was meant to protect, but Mason had taken her heart and crushed it against his hallway wall.
Chapter 9
“Damn it.” Mason hit the shower wall with his fist and let the cold water stream down his face. He screwed up.
Big time. He took her against the wall like an animal and hadn’t even used protection. Never even asked if she was on the pill. Even after his shower, he could still smell traces of vanilla and some sort of berry. A scent that followed Emma and would always remind him of her soft skin, her loud moans and her beautiful smile.
The sharp stabbing from the cold spray stung, but he didn’t care. He deserved it. He should never have let Emma in his house, not that he invited her in. He never should have gone to physical therapy or offered to bring her to see J.T. It was his fault things escalated the way they did. And on top of the relationship mess, she had someone out there trying to hurt her.
Shutting the water off, Mason leaned his forehead against the tile wall as the water droplets slid down his body. He had sex with Emma. Emma. That was definitely against the rules. The pact. No one would have guessed Mason Tucker would stoop so low and break such a powerful promise.
But he did. And he had to gain the courage to come clean.
He stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and dressed in the first pair of shorts and T-shirt he could find. Picking up his cell, he pecked out a quick text and went to the kitchen for a much-needed drink. Halfway through his glass of water he spotted Emma’s pocketbook on his kitchen table. Mason muttered another curse. She needed her diabetes supplies, but he couldn’t face her. Not until he dealt with a more pressing matter.
* * * *
“Dude, what’s up? You look like crap. Nice, you brought beer. Crack me open one of those.” Cole reached out for a bottle of Sam Adams and Mason took one for himself, putting the case of beer in the fridge. “Just started up the barbie after I got your text. Feel like burgers or dogs? That’s all I got.” Cole eyed his brother suspiciously
“Burgers are good.” Mason closed the fridge and followed Cole out onto the deck. Nothing like a barbecue and a beer on a warm summer’s night. Having his brother actually want to hang out with him was pretty cool too. They needed to do that more often.
“Heard any more about Em’s car? I talked with the detective, he seems pretty cool, and he said you were in the clear. Not that we ever doubted you.” Cole laughed. “When’s the last time you ever caused trouble?”
Cole studied his brother. He did look like hell. Something was obviously bothering him. The urgent text was the first indicator. Asking if he was home alone was the second.
“Cole, look, I uh…I need to talk to you about something.”
“Shit, this sounds serious. What’s up, bro?” Cole took a seat on a deck chair and signaled for Mason to follow suit. He wasn’t big on heart-to-heart conversations, but Mason didn’t ask for a lot. If he were in trouble, Cole would back him up.
“I’d rather stand.”
“Shit, Mason. If you tell me you had something to do with Emma’s car—”
“God, no. I would never hurt…” Mason rubbed his hands through his hair then down his face. “I had s-s-sex with Emma.”
Cole choked on his beer and spit half of it down his shirt. “You did what?”
“You heard me.”
“Our Emma?” Cole digested this bit of news and leaned back in
his chair. “When did that happen?”
Mason shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at his flip-flop clad feet. “’Bout an hour ago.”
Once again, Cole spewed his beer. “Damn, Mason. I thought you were gonna tell me you were both young, drunk, and stupid. I wasn’t expecting ‘an hour ago.’”
“I’m sorry, Cole. I really am. I b-broke the code. Take a swing at me. Beat me to a bloody pulp. I won’t fight back. I deserve it.”
“Did you hurt her?” Cole got to his feet and stood face to face with his twin. “’Cause if you did, I will kill you.”
“I don’t know. Yeah, I probably hurt her. I’m sorry, Cole. I know she’s hands-off. I know you and her…”
“Hands-off?”
“I know you two are a thing. I don’t understand it, but I stepped in the middle and screwed up the brother code. I messed with your girl. I don’t know what else to say. But I’m sorry. I’ll never touch her, much less go near her again. I swear. It was a one-time deal.”
It took a few minutes to digest the bombshells his brother dropped on his lap. One: Mason had sex with Emma. Lucky bastard. Two: he thought Cole had the rights to her. And three: Mason was head over heels for the girl, even if he didn’t make the confession yet. Not sure how to play his cards, Cole stayed quiet and processed. His brother shifted restlessly.
“You mean ‘Bros before hos?” Mason stiffened and opened his mouth to speak, but Cole continued. “I’m not gonna hit you, Mace. But if you hurt Emma I will.”
Mason looked surprised and relieved. Cole would let him stew in wonder for a while until he knew how to handle the situation.
“Grill’s ready. I’ll throw the burgers on. Why don’t you fetch me another beer?”
* * * *
Alone in her office, Emma stripped off her flirty skirt and torn pink, lace underwear and changed into workout gear. She needed to let off some excess steam before she went home. Thankfully, she’d left Connor’s keys in the truck and she kept an extra meter and insulin at home and at work because there was no way in hell she was going back in to Mason’s house for her purse.
False Hope (McKay-Tucker Men Book 2) Page 10