Mason, absolutely dumbfounded, hadn't moved. Initially he'd been mortified to see Mary walk through the door, then shocked to see her raise a gun, but her convincing portrayal as a law-enforcement officer had been nothing short of brilliant.
Scooping up his precious Pete, he carefully removed the rope and hurried from the room. Giving him a quick, reassuring cuddle, he stepped back into his office and closed the door.
"Mr. Abbot, I wasn't expecting this and I don't have my cuffs," Mary said briskly. "Please use the cord to secure this man's wrists."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, shooting her a covert wink.
"It's Agent Briggs, Mr. Abbott," she said, winking back at him.
As Mason walked over to George to tie him up, Mary swung around to the side, keeping her gun extended and pointing it at George's head.
"Is this about Meeks?" he bleated as Mason bound his wrists behind his back. "I'll tell you everything. Make me a deal. I can tell you all kinds of shit about him."
"Let's start with your name," Mary said, thinking it seemed the most likely thing an agent would ask.
"Jeremy Hatcher."
"Jeremy Hatcher?" Mason repeated, tightening the knot.
"George Morris is an alias."
"Unbelievable," Mason muttered, rising to his feet. "Agent Briggs, would you mind checking on my dog. I may have left the outer door open."
Mary saw the look in his eye. He wanted a moment alone with the man who had threatened to strangle his beloved pet. She was happy to give it to him.
"Of course, and I'll be calling for backup. If he gives you any trouble just give a shout."
"I want to make a deal." George yelled. "Please, I'll tell you everything."
"That will be up to someone else," Mary declared. "Just lie there and be quiet."
Waiting until Mary had left, Mason pulled off his tie, jerked George on his back, and used it to tie his ankles together.
"Why the fuck do you have to do that?"
"You're as slippery as an eel. I'm not taking any chances," Mason said grimly. "You're going to answer some questions for me."
"I want a deal. I'll answer questions when I have—"
"You'll answer my questions now," Mason snarled, sliding his hand between George's legs and grabbing his testicles.
"Stop! Stop!"
"How did you poison Edward?" Mason demanded, squeezing harder.
"Elaine! Stop!"
"Who's Elaine? Tell me everything."
"Elaine Brewster. A waitress at Finnegan's," George panted. "Meeks told me Cochrin had lunch there all the time and I had to get friendly with one of the waitresses. Please, stop. I can't breathe."
"I'll stop when I hear everything. Keep talking."
"I paid her a bunch of money to listen in on his conversations. Then I gave her the vial and paid her double to put it in his coffee."
"How much?"
"Five grand."
Mason had heard rumors about George's charm with the ladies. With his boyish good looks, and his conniving character, Mason could see him winning over a hapless young woman, especially if he was handing her wads of cash.
"Did she know what was in that vial?"
"She didn't ask, and I didn't tell her. When he keeled over, she called me. She was going to tell the police."
"Why didn't she?"
"I scared her. I told her she'd never be able to prove I'd given it to her. I know how to convince people with shit like that."
"Did you poison Ed Cochrin because he'd found out about you?"
"No. Meeks just wanted him out of the way."
"Why?"
"I dunno. I swear. He just wants that fucking Melville property. He said he'd kill me if I didn't get the information about your offer."
"There were bugs in this office. Who was listening in?"
"Just me. I'd make notes and tell Meeks if I heard anything worthwhile. Please, let me go. Please."
With a final squeeze, Mason abruptly stood up. Though he wanted to leave George with a black eye, a broken nose, and several cracked ribs, he fought the temptation.
"I'm leaving for a minute. Please do something stupid. I'd love an excuse to kick your ass."
George grunted something he couldn't make out, but he didn't care. Pete was safe, and George and Meeks would soon be in jail. Letting out a relieved sigh, he opened the door, but before he could stop him, Pete bolted past and scampered towards George.
"What's he doing?" Mary asked, hurrying forward to join Mason.
"Taking matters into his own paws," Mason declared, shocked that his placid little dog was sinking his teeth into George's calf.
"OW, OW, GET HIM THE FUCK OFF."
"Careful, Pete," Mason said, deliberately taking his time as he walked across to pick him up. "You might catch something."
"GET HIM AWAY!"
"He's just a lap dog, aren't you, Pete," Mason said casually, lifting him into his arms. "I'm sure you'll find it's just a scratch."
"He broke my skin! I can feel it."
"You don't need to worry," Mason said with a grin, looking at George over his shoulder as he moved away, "he's had his rabies shot."
Mary had poked her head in to watch, and though she was still unnerved, she broke into a smile.
"My goodness, Pete, I've never seen you be aggressive," Mason said, closing the door behind them, "but it's okay. I'm not going to scold you. George got what was coming to him."
"He certainly did, and I'm glad you bit that creep," she murmured, making a fuss of him. "I think you should be called Superdog."
"And what about you, Mary, Mary. You scared the living daylights out of me," Mason said, putting Pete on the floor. "You were amazing, but where did you get a gun?"
"To be honest, I'm still shaking. I sure could use a hug."
"Of course. I'm sorry," he said, pulling her into his arms. "But the gun. Where did you get it, and why were you carrying it?"
"From you, you big goof. It's the water pistol you brought to my house. You left it behind. I was returning it."
"I'm speechless."
"Shouldn't we call the police, and who is that guy?"
"It's a long story. Hold on," he said, breaking their hug and pulling out his phone. "I'm calling my security chief."
"Not the police?"
"He'll bring them. Tom?"
"Hey, Mason, what's up? You sound anxious."
"You need to get over here. George is tied up in my office and begging for a deal. He swears he'll tell the police everything he knows about Meeks."
"What happened?"
"I'll explain when you get here."
"I'm on my way. I'll call it in, and I'll send Bart down from my office."
"Please do."
While Mason had been talking to Tom, Mary had crouched down to hug Pete. Though the little dog seemed none the worse for wear, when Mary tried to stand back up, he crawled into her lap.
"You need to come down here," she said, looking up at Mason. "He was fine a minute ago, but he seems upset."
Dropping next to her, he leaned over and kissed and cuddled his precious terrier, then put his arm around Mary's shoulders.
"So much for acting out the scene from your book."
"But we did, just not the one we had planned. How do you think I came up with the idea of pretending to be an FBI agent?"
"You're kidding?"
"No, I'm not kidding, but in my book it didn't end like that."
"I'm sure."
"Mason, maybe you should check on that guy. Are you sure he's tied up properly?"
"Tied up properly?" Mason repeated with a grin. "Did you forget who you're talking to?"
"You must mean the farm," she said with a soft smile. "I'm sure you needed to know all about ropes growing up."
"Perhaps I should show you how a rope can keep a naughty girl like you out of trouble."
"I'd like to see you try."
"You're very spunky for someone who just told me they're shaky."
"
Whenever I'm nervous, I talk a lot and say stuff like that."
"You say stuff like that all the time. I think spunky is just who you are."
"I plead the fifth."
"Again?"
"Speaking of pleading the fifth, do you think the police will keep us here for very long?"
"I'm not sure. Why?"
"Because I could use a drink, and my stomach's in knots. I don't know if it's from hunger or what just happened."
"I'll get us out of here as fast as I can," he promised, then studying her face, he thought she looked pale. "Are you okay?"
"Actually, I'm not sure. I'm suddenly feeling a bit weak."
"The hell with it," he said firmly. "The moment Bart arrives we're leaving. The detective can call me if he needs to, and we can talk to him in person tomorrow."
"Isn't that against the law?"
"I'm glad you said that. I don't think so, but impersonating law enforcement is."
"I hadn't thought about that."
"When the police interview you, tell them you pointed the water pistol at George, and he thought it was real. It will be his word against yours, so you'll be fine. Ah, Bart," Mason declared as the brawny security guard stepped into the room. "I'm sure you know Tom's on his way with the police," he continued, getting to his feet. "George Morris is actually Jeremy Hatcher. As Tom probably mentioned, he's tied up in my office."
"Yes, Mr. Abbott."
"This is Mary Austen," he said, helping Mary up. "She's not feeling very well so we're leaving, but I'll call Tom and let him know where we'll be."
"Don't you worry about a thing, Mr. Abbott. That dirtbag won't be going anywhere."
"Thank you, Bart. Goodnight."
A short time later, sitting in a quiet corner at Giovanni's, Mary downed a glass of a white wine as she and Mason shared a plate of tasty appetizers. Letting out a heavy breath, she leaned back in her seat.
"Feeling better?" Mason asked. "You had me worried."
"I am. Thank you for bringing me here. I was feeling really strange, as if I'd had the wind knocked out of me."
"I'm not surprised."
"I've never been so scared in my life. Looking back I don't know how I pulled it off."
"I don't know how you did either. When we get home I'll put the fire on in the bedroom, and we'll snuggle all night."
"That sounds wonderful. Why am I feeling so emotional?"
"Because you did something dangerous, It's just sinking in."
"I couldn't let that creep hurt you or Pete. I had no choice. I had to do something."
The waiter arrived with their entrees and poured more wine in their glasses, and as he walked away, Mason reached across the table for her hand.
"Mary, you're one in a million," he said softly, wrapping his fingers around hers, "I want to be with you. I'll stay at your house if you're uncomfortable in mine, I don't care. I'm a person who makes things happen, and I want us to happen. You and me. What do you say? Are we on the same page?"
"Mason, forget the same page," she said softly. "We're in the same sentence."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The dramatic episode had drawn them together. For the two busy days that followed, Mary stayed at Mason's house, but on the third morning Mason received a call from his office. Human Resources had found him a new temporary assistant who was already catching up, and the police had removed the tape from around his office. It was time to go back to work.
"Seeing you dressed and ready to do battle makes me want to finish my book," Mary declared, watching him button up the vest of his three-piece suit.
"You should pick one of the guest rooms and turn it into your own space."
"What do you mean?"
"Make yourself an office so you have a proper place to write. Don't you need that?"
"Uh, Mason! Are you asking me to move in?"
"I suppose I am," he replied, turning to face her. "I love having you here. Pete and I would miss you like crazy if you weren't around."
"I'll come back tonight."
"You're saying you'd prefer to work in the comfort of your home."
"I would," she said softly. "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry, in fact," he murmured thoughtfully, "if your house is used strictly for business you'll get a significant tax deduction."
"I will?"
"Absolutely. If you work there all day, then come back here, you can claim it as your office. Do you have an accountant?"
"Sort of. It's an online program."
"Dear, God," he muttered. "I'll put you in touch with someone who will save you a ton of money, and you should incorporate."
"Incorporate! That sounds like eyes glazing over time. I'm not very good at businessy things."
"Jonas will explain it to you, but basically your royalties will be paid into your company, and your company will pay you."
"This sounds really complicated."
"It's not, honestly. Jonas will take care of everything."
"Really?"
"Really! You'll be very happy with the money you'll save. You just need to think of a name, like Spicy Stories Publishing. It can be anything."
Pete's bark cut her off, and glancing across the room she saw him spinning around in circles, telling them he wanted to play.
"I know exactly what to call it. Pete's Pleasure Publications."
"That's fabulous," Mason said, hugging her impulsively. "I love it. Hey, Pete, you're a naughty novel publisher."
"You and I wouldn't be together if it wasn't for him," she said softly, "and I love him to bits."
"So we have a deal? You'll live here, and work at your house?"
"It sounds perfect, and I can always stay there if I get mad at you."
"Yes you can," he said with a chuckle, "and you know I'll appear at your door with a wooden spoon to straighten you out."
"Because it could never be your fault," she exclaimed, rolling her eyes.
"Of course it could, but I'll spank you anyway."
"There's something wrong with this picture."
"Only in your head. A wooden spoon smacking your butt will take care of everything. You'll see."
"Yeah, yeah, you and your wooden spoons."
"Just one," he quipped, then softening his voice, he added, "and it will be nestled in a bouquet of red roses."
"You just melted me. I'll bring a suitcase back with me tonight."
"Perfect, but one thing."
"Only one?"
"Only one. Do you own a corset?"
"Maybe."
"Mary, Mary…!"
"If I happen to come across one while I'm packing, I'll drop it in, assuming I remember."
"You do that. Tonight we're going to celebrate this new beginning appropriately."
"What does that mean?"
"You'll find out. I need to get moving. I'll be back around six, and you know how I want to find you."
"Uh-huh. Wearing sweats and a face mask."
"Come on, Pete. This temptress is trying to provoke me."
"Is it working?"
"You'll find out just how well in a few hours," he promised, grabbing her around the waist and yanking her into his body.
Her butterflies fluttering, she waited for his crushing kiss, but with a wicked smile he released her, and marched out the door.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Mary had managed to work through the morning, but after a quick lunch she decided to pack. Though she had plenty of time, the anticipation was making her restless. It turned out she needed the hours. It had been a while since she'd cleaned out her closet. Between bagging clothes for goodwill, and separating her winter and summer outfits, the afternoon flew by.
Placing her suitcase in her car, she pulled out into the street and started the fifteen-minute drive. The days were getting longer, and as she turned down the lakefront road, puffy clouds dotted the sky, and people were jogging along the promenade in front of the calm, clear water.
"I'm going to love living here," she mur
mured. "Maybe over time I'll get used to Mason's big house."
Swinging into the driveway, she saw no sign of the housekeeper's car, and as she rolled into the garage she glanced at the clock on her dashboard. Five-fifteen. Climbing out, she grabbed her suitcase and hurried into the kitchen, but came to an abrupt halt.
"Hello, Mary, Mary."
"Mason! I, uh…"
"You'll learn I'm unpredictable. Do you remember the guest room just past the stairs?"
"Uh-huh."
"Get ready in there. You have fifteen minutes, then I'll walk in the door. You should be standing in the middle of the room with your eyes closed. If you're not, you'll get a swat from my pizza peel for every minute you keep me waiting."
"How does one peel a pizza? I'm confused."
"A pizza peel is used to move a pizza in and out of an oven. Your time starts now," he declared, staring at his watch.
"Shit!" she muttered, dashing past him and out of the kitchen. It was going to be a frantic fifteen minutes.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Mary had purposely teased Mason as he was leaving for work that morning. She wanted a reaction, and he was going to make sure she wasn't disappointed. Returning home late in the afternoon, he'd set about preparing for the evening, then walked Pete, fed him an early dinner, and put him in the bedroom with the television on.
The look of surprise on Mary's face as she'd walked in from the garage had been priceless, and as he opened a bottle of champagne, he could imagine her nervously dressing. Pouring two glasses, he carried them down a short flight of stairs into his gym. There was a table holding three large lit candles, the pizza peel, and a wooden spoon. Setting down the glasses, he checked to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, then returned to the kitchen. Taking a delicious surprise from the refrigerator, he placed it in the microwave, and as he set the timer for five minutes, the clock told him it was time to fetch Mary. Marching down the hall, he entered the guest suite without knocking. She was standing in the middle of the room with her eyes closed, but she was also running a comb through her hair.
"Mary, Mary," he declared, grinning as she jumped and dropped the comb on the floor. "Don't you look lovely?"
TYCOON_His Money. His Harley. His Control. Page 13