by Leah Wilde
I swallowed. Keep your mouth shut and your nose clean, I told myself silently. But even as my thoughts warned me off, my mouth didn’t seem to get the memo. “Who’s Jimmy?”
Mason sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “A rival. He’s been trying to muscle in on my territory for a while now and it’s been a real thorn in my side. Last year, he was little more than a small time peddler. Now he’s got balls because he’s got followers.”
I frowned. The whole drug circuit thing, the territory and rivalries and all of that wasn’t something I was well versed in, but I could guess at a few things. It was business, regardless of what the product was. Mason sold to a certain area. This guy was obviously trying to do the same business in that same area, thus cutting into Mason’s profit.
At least, that was my best guess at the situation.
Mason stood and began to pace behind his desk. He was clearly irritated, his feet carrying him in four strides across the length of the room before he swiveled and came right back. He did this several times, seeming to get angrier with each pass. I wasn’t thrilled with being in the same room as him when he was pissed like this, but I was grateful that it was at least directed at someone other than me. That went miles towards making my day better.
The room was silent while he paced until finally I couldn’t take it.
“What are you going to do?” I asked hesitantly. I was still in that hazy gray area where we weren’t technically partners, but we sort of were, too. He was paying for repairs. I was watching over his shipments. The sex aside, we were in a sort of working arrangement, and maybe that entitled me to asking a few questions.
He stopped midstride, then turned to face me. “I don’t know how the hell he figured it out,” he told me, shaking his head. “I’ve been so careful with The Beehive. Everything goes through someone else. The deliveries are handled by my guys. The paperwork is forged to come from an out of town vendor. There’s no connection to me.”
I decided to not point out that Clay was a pretty noticeable guy and anyone who knew Mason probably at least knew of Clay. Instead, I remained silent and waited for Mason to work things out in his head.
“We need to flush the guy out,” Mason finally said, though he was directing this at Clay, not me. “He thinks he can come around and start threatening my people—” I raised an eyebrow at being called Mason’s people, but didn’t say anything. “—like I’m not going to retaliate. Like he’s got a fucking leg to stand on.”
“What do you want to do, boss?” Clay asked, hands folded in front of him.
Mason ran his hand through his thick hair, thinking for just a second. After a long pause, he said, “We lure him into a trap. Set him up.”
I frowned. A trap? I really didn’t know how this whole thing worked on anything more than a basic level, but a trap sounded dangerous. And kind of ineffective, though I didn’t know Mason’s plan yet. A trap implied that you someone was caught, usually in the act, but what act could Mason hope to catch him in? It wasn’t like anyone could go to the police situation.
It dawned on me that he might be talking about taking slightly more extreme measures. Like killing the man.
I don’t know that. He could be just trying to scare him, I thought. I didn’t really believe it though.
I gripped the armrests of the chair, wondering if I could excuse myself from the rest of the conversation. Being complacent in a drug operation was one thing, but I didn’t think I could stomach any talk of murder or breaking someone’s kneecaps. Do they really do that? My mind wondered idly, though I didn’t honestly want an answer.
Trying to figure out a good place to interrupt Mason and get the hell out of here, I froze when the next words left his mouth.
“He clearly thinks The Beehive is a weak point, otherwise he wouldn’t have threatened Sasha tonight,” he told Clay.
I hadn’t really thought that and felt a little indignant about it, though that was stupid. It wasn’t like I wanted to be some hotshot in the drug world, but still. I didn’t like anyone insulting my little place.
“You wanna use the shop?” Clay asked.
I whipped my head around to shoot Clay a glare. The urge to tell him off and inform him that they would be doing no such thing disappeared instantly at Mason’s reply. “Yeah. I think so. Jimmy—or whoever the hell it was—clearly went after Sasha to prove not only that he knows where my little hiding spots are, but also that he knows where to hit us. He’ll come back there, probably even try to bring Sasha to his side.”
I didn’t like the way Mason was talking about me like I wasn’t sitting right there and opened my mouth to tell him just that. “Excuse me, but think maybe I can be part of the conversation?”
He completely ignored me and kept on talking to Clay. “I think we can use that to our advantage.”
Frowning, I asked him, “What? Use what to your advantage?”
Neither he nor Clay answered me. Instead, Clay nodded and said, “We’ll need to move the stash, just in case.”
Mason agreed. “Quickly.”
“You wanna do it tonight?”
Mason’s eyes finally flickered to me, then moved back to Clay. “No. I don’t want to risk that Jimmy’s got someone watching. He’ll have expected Sasha—”
“Who is sitting right here,” I interrupted.
He didn’t miss a beat as he continued, “—to come to me immediately. I don’t want to make him think that he’s got us spooked. We’ll leave it tonight, but I want you on standby. Twenty-four hour. Be ready to move our stock immediately.”
Clay nodded. “You got a plan?”
Mason nodded and again his gaze flickered back to me. My stomach dropped and suddenly, I wished I’d made a greater effort to leave after telling him what happened. Why didn’t I just call him on the damn phone? I wondered silently. That probably would have saved me a lot of grief.
Pushing up onto my feet, I tried to excuse myself. “I should really go.”
But Mason was staring at me now and he shook his head. “No, stay.”
I swallowed and let myself fall back into the chair. I knew it wouldn’t be so easy and cursed myself again for not calling. “I really don’t have anything to contribute,” I argued. “And my son’s waiting at home. I don’t need to be here.”
Mason wasn’t listening, however. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest, straightening himself up to his full height. “Yes, you do. You’re involved, Sasha. And I need you.”
My stomach did an involuntary flip at those words. I need you. I tried to force away the small rush of pleasure I got from that, but it was impossible.
To be needed by someone other than Nick was something that I hadn’t had in my life for a long time. And I hadn’t realized how much I missed it until this moment.
And then that bastard wrecked it all by continuing. “Jimmy is going to come back. He’s going to try and intimidate you. This time, I want you to let him. When he threatens you, tell him you’ll do whatever he wants. Tell him that you’re sick of me and that you want to work for him instead. Promise him whatever he wants.”
With each word that left his mouth, anger bloomed inside of me. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what he was doing. Bait. That’s what he expected me to be. And worse than that, I was supposed to let this guy bully and threaten me, maybe even hurt me. My anger grew until my chest hurt and my body was vibrating as I tried to hold it back.
But the dam broke. “Like my body?” I asked him pointedly. “Is that what I’m supposed to promise him?”
Mason must have heard the rage building inside me, because he got stiff. His body went rigid and his expression became a blank mask. “I don’t expect you to sleep with him,” he told me flatly.
Gritting my teeth, I stood, clenching my hands into tight fists at my sides to keep them from shaking. “No. You just expect me to say that I will, right? And what will you do to make sure that I don’t have to follow through with that promise?”
He let out a sigh a
nd rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Sasha, I’m not trying to whore you out.”
I barked out a laugh, hurt and anger both coursing through my chest. “Isn’t that what you’re already doing? I’m your personal sex piggy bank, aren’t I? What’s one more donation?”
His eyes narrowed at me, his full mouth pulling down into a hard frown. “Damnit, woman. You think I want to use you as bait? Of course I don’t. That piece of shit doesn’t get to touch anything that’s mine and that includes you.”
Shaking my head at him, I spat, “You disgust me. I’m not your property, no matter what our deal is. And you can’t just tell me to risk my neck—or my body—for your petty rivalry with some lowdown piece of pond scum that your business dragged up from the bottom of the river. I won’t do it.”
“Sasha,” he began, but I was already turning away from him.
I’d had enough. I went to the door, watching as Clay sidestepped until he was right in front of it. I fixed him with a hard stare. “Move. I’m done here.”
His eyes flickered over my shoulder, undoubtedly looking for permission from his boss. I expected to be manhandled back to my chair per Mason’s orders, but instead I was surprised as Clay moved out of my way. The urge to glance back and see what sort of look Mason had given him was intense, but I resisted.
I reached for the door and jerked it open, but before I could make my exit, Mason spoke again.
“We have to take care of this, Sasha.”
Despite my better judgment, I glanced over my shoulder at him. He looked just like he always did. Cocky. Gorgeous. Sensual in the most devilish of ways. There wasn’t an ounce of apology on him. He did what he did and he made no bones about it. This was him, take it or leave it. Well, I would leave it. I didn’t care what his deal was. I’d figure out a way around this. His drugs weren’t worth my body or my life.
“We don’t have to do anything. You got yourself into this, you can damn sure get yourself out.”
“You’re in this, too, Sasha,” he pointed out.
Turning to face him, but keeping a hand on the doorknob, I fixed him with a steady glare. “Yes, because you forced me into it! I’ve done everything you’ve asked me over the last couple of months. Store your drugs? Check. Deal with your goons—?” I motioned towards Clay. “—Check. Let you fuck me until I—” I broke off, burning with embarrassment.
It wasn’t that I’d had sex with him in exchange for not having the other half of my store burned down. I’d done what I had to do and I’d come to terms with that. What embarrassed me now was that I’d grown to like it. I’d come to enjoy, in some way, our time together. What sort of person reacted like that?
Clearing my throat, I tried again. “I’ve risked my livelihood and gambled my son’s future. And it’s still not enough for you. Now you want me to risk my own life.”
He came around the desk, surprising me with a look that was almost sympathetic. It was so unlike him that I did a double take. He stopped a couple of feet from me. “We have to take care of Jimmy. If we don’t, the whole operation is ruined. And that means both you and me will go to prison.” He took a step closer. “Even I don’t have enough connections with the police to keep us in the clear for this.” Another step. “What about Nick’s future then? Momma’s in prison and, what, he goes to daddy?”
I slapped him before I had a chance to think it through. The movement was quick—a kneejerk reaction to his words. To the mention of Nick’s father who was the biggest mistake of my life, even now, after everything.
Angry tears burned at my eyes, heating my cheeks. “You’re a bastard Mason Marsh. I won’t let you manipulate my feelings to get what you want. Not this time.”
I jerked the door farther open, then slammed it behind me as I left the office. If Mason or Clay said anything after that, I didn’t hear them. All I could hear was the rushing in my own ears and my clopping boots on the floor of the hall as I stomped away.
Whatever happened after this, I promised myself I was done with Mason. For good.
Chapter Twelve
I got into my car and drove, filled with a building rage that I couldn’t quell. Maybe it was the mention of my ex, that bastard, or maybe it was the fear at the idea of being put in prison. Maybe it was just that asshole Mason who seemed to find all of my buttons and press them mercilessly. I didn’t know or care. All that mattered was getting away from that office, away from the mess my life had become
Although Nick was waiting for me and I knew I should head home, I couldn’t make myself do it. I was still so mad. My body trembled with anger and I knew that my cheeks were stained with tears. I used that as justification for not going straight home to Nick. After all, he was six, not stupid. He’d know just by looking at me that something was wrong.
So I found myself driving around aimlessly before finally coming to a stop outside of an apartment building that wasn’t mine. Instead, it was Steph’s.
I stared at it for a while, still behind the wheel, before deciding to get out and head up.
Steph had asked for the night off so that she could hang out with a couple of girlfriends of hers that were in town for the weekend. I’d granted it to her so I knew that if she was even home, she would still be with them.
It wasn’t right of me to bug her with my problems when she was having a fun girl’s night out—or in—but I didn’t have a lot of friends. I had Steph and that was about it.
Deciding it was okay to be selfish given the circumstances, I headed up the three flights of stairs to Steph’s apartment. The elevator was broken. Again. Standing outside her door, I paused.
From inside I could hear the thrumming of semi-loud music and the carefree laughter of women who had probably already had a drink or two.
Raising my fist, I knocked on the door. When no one answered, I knocked again. I was about to knock for a third time when the door opened to reveal a scantily clad Steph. She was rosy cheeked and grinning, though her eyes looked focused and clear. I hoped she was still sober.
“Sasha! Are you taking a night off, too?” she asked, her eyes sparking with excitement. “Come in, come in!”
I let her usher me in, knowing that I was about to her plans for the night.
“You want a drink?”
I shook my head. “No. How many have you had?” Not that I cared, but I wanted to know if I was going to be dealing with a babbling, can’t keep her voice down Steph or the sharp, sober one that I needed right now.
She waved off my question. “I’ve had half a beer. I am high on music and dancing!”
I could see why. The little apartment was full of a half dozen women, all around Steph’s age, and each dancing away to music I couldn’t stand to listen to. They were dressed like Steph, short skirts, low cut tops, makeup done to perfection. They looked good, but definitely like they belonged at a club, not at home.
“Can we talk for a minute?”
Maybe it was the tone of my voice or just the question itself, but Steph’s smile dropped and she stopped to really look at me. She frowned at whatever she found on my face. “Have you been crying?”
I felt angry tears build again and nodded.
She took me by the shoulder and led me to her bedroom. Clothes were strewn everywhere, her bed was unmade, and there were mismatched heels by the edge of her bed.
“Sorry about the mess,” she briefly apologized, then threw the comforter back to sort of smooth out the bed. She plopped down and patted the mattress beside her to encourage me to do the same. “Tell me what happened.”
I dropped down on the bed and unloaded on her. I told her about Jimmy and then I told her about Mason. “He’s an ass. An unbelievable ass. I mean, after everything I’ve done for him, he wants more? Now he wants my life?”
I looked to Steph, expecting her to have the same indignant expression that I suspected was on my own face. But instead, I found her frowning a little.
“What?” I demanded.
She lifted her bare shoulders in a shrug
. “Nothing. He’s totally an ass.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “But…?” I prompted.
“It’s just that…well, none of this is exactly news, you know?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He’s always been an ass, Sasha. Why are you surprised he’s being an ass this time?”
I opened my mouth to argue with her, then snapped it closed abruptly. I opened it again, but once more I found I had nothing to say against her reasoning. She was right. Mason had always been an ass. Manipulative. Demanding. Unyielding. All qualities that made him a shark of a businessman and a hell of a sexual partner.
Not that that was the point.
Was it?
“I…I just…” I trailed off before letting my shoulders slump and finally saying, “I guess I expected more of him.”