BOUND: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

by Leah Wilde

  Getting out of the car, I caught up to Mason who was waiting at the mouth of the alley for me, and we headed towards the shop. I grabbed my keys out of the pockets of my jeans, but it turned out I didn’t need them. The door was already open.

  I began pushing it and stepping inside, but one of Mason’s large hands dropped down on my shoulder to stop me.

  “Wait,” he said quietly. “Let me check first.”

  I was about to tell him that I could take care of myself—even as I felt a little pleased that he was being protective—but then I saw him pull a gun from the waistband of his jeans. Whatever I had been planning on saying dropped into silence. Suddenly, the night seemed more real.

  Mason pushed open the door and stepped carefully inside, doing his best to be quiet on the linoleum floor I’d recently had replaced. He got two steps in before a familiar voice said, “There’s more than I thought in here. We’re gonna have to make a couple of trips.”

  “Fuck, Clay,” said Mason who had his gun leveled at the larger man as he stepped out from the back of the shop. “I could have shot you.”

  Clay shrugged his big shoulders, clearly unperturbed by Mason and his gun. I didn’t see anyone else in the shop, so I had to assume that Clay had heard us and was talking to Mason as he walked in the door. Either that or Clay was talking to the voices in his head at which point I was going to call foul. I’d work with assholes, but not crazy people.

  “I got started,” Clay explained calmly. “Moving inventory is tricky business.”

  Mason shoved his gun back into his jeans, then motioned for me to come inside. Clay gave me a curious look, but didn’t look wholly surprised. “I didn’t think you would be here.”

  I patted at my hair, pushing it back behind my ears. It had looked disheveled enough after my romp with Mason that I shoved it up into a messy bun, but suddenly I wished I’d taken a shower. It was stupid to be self-conscious in front of Clay seeing as how the man had seen me naked as his boss did some very intimate things to me, but tonight was different. Mason and I were on a different level now and what we’d done was far more private.

  Or was it? I wondered suddenly. I’d promised that Mason was the only one I’d sleep with, but what about watching? Would Clay still act as our audience?

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. It had been degrading in a way to have Clay watch us, but a part of me had also been incredibly turned on by it. And though Clay was an ass, he’d grown on me a little. A very little. Kind of like fungus. But cute, pet fungus.

  Shaking my head a little, I said, “I’m full of surprises.”

  I thought I saw the hint of a smile on Clay’s mouth, but it might have just been the dim lighting. We didn’t want all the lights on, letting everyone know we were here.

  The men headed into the back and began shuffling things around. We had to do inventory as we moved everything to make sure it was all there and that we didn’t miss anything, but it was a tiny space. Definitely not big enough for Mason, Clay, and myself.

  In the end, I ended up actually inside the small space passing things to Clay who moved it while Mason checked it against his personal list. We had a lot of stock, so it was good that there were three of us there.

  We continued for a while like this, checking packages against Mason’s list and moving them out of the storage space. When the crates were starting to become cumbersome given the small area, Clay offered to start moving them. “I’ll take what we’ve got checked out back to my car, start loading. That’ll give you some space to work.”

  “Good call,” Mason agreed.

  Clay lifted a huge crate, his wall-like frame coming in handy. “I’ll bring the dolly back with me,” he informed us, then headed out of the shop towards his car with the crate in hand.

  I watched him for a second, then shook my head. “He is a big bastard, isn’t he?”

  Mason took Clay’s spot, setting his clipboard aside. “Nah. He’s not a bastard. His parents were married in some Catholic church four years before having him.”

  I stared at him a moment. “Seriously?”

  Grinning, Mason nodded. “Yep. He goes every Sunday, like a good Catholic.”

  “Not a bastard,” I amended.

  “Not a bastard,” Mason confirmed.

  I started passing Mason what I could and he’d pause now and then to check something off his list or write something down. After a while, we found ourselves surrounded by crates with nowhere left to put them. “I thought Clay was going to bring the dolly back,” I whined.

  Mason frowned, glancing through the store back towards the front door. “He’s been gone for a while.”

  I folded my arms across my chest, feeling a spark of anxiety. “You…you think something’s happened?”

  Mason didn’t answer me. Instead, he said, “Wait here.” Then he pulled out his gun again and headed towards the door. I watched him go, my heart hammering in my chest and my palms sweating. I swallowed heavily when he reached for the door.

  It opened before he got hold of it.

  A man entered. He was very clearly not Clay, who would have been twice the size of this guy. Mason reacted immediately, shoving his gun in the guy’s face and grabbing him by the shirt collar. He shoved the man into the wall, holding him against it with the barrel of the gun pressed into his cheek.

  “Whoa! Easy! It’s me!”

  The voice told me first who it was and then my eyes picked out his features in the dim lighting. The snuff tucked between his lip and teeth. The disheveled, thinning hair. The mild build. “Billy?”

  He nodded at my question urgently because Mason still had the gun shoved in his face. “Yeah, it’s me, boss.”

  I came out from my little corner in the storage closet and stepped around the boxes to get a better look at Billy. He looked like Mason had scared the crap out of him, which wasn’t surprising given the gun in his hand. Poor guy.

  Mason narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously, but released his collar, easing up enough that Billy wasn’t pinned to the wall anymore. He straightened out his clothes, glancing at the gun a little nervously.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Mason asked him. His gun was lowered slightly, but still gripped firmly in his large hands.

  “Clay called me. He told me to do a drive-by of the place, make sure everything was good.”

  Mason frowned, still looking a little uneasy at Billy’s presence.

  Billy shoved his hands into his pockets, almost like a little kid, and added, “I saw the car outside. Figured I’d come in and give you a hand.”

  This last little tidbit must have been enough for Mason, because he relaxed slightly. “Jesus, Billy. Next time call and give us a heads up, or I’ll shoot your stupid ass even when I know it’s you.”

  “You bet, boss.”

  Mason turned away from Billy and headed back towards me. “Since you’re here, give us a hand.”

  I saw Billy nod and follow Mason back. I was about to do the same, but my phone went off then, telling me I had a message. Pulling the phone out of my pocket, I checked it and saw that it was Steph.

  Stopping by. Nick needs that teddy bear.

  I started to respond that I wasn’t home and I would drop it off in the morning when I caught movement in the mirror out of the corner of my eye.

  Mason had placed his gun on top of one of the covered crates. As Mason reached for a box, I saw Billy pulling something cold and metal from the back of his pants. A gun.

  A startled cry escaped me, causing Mason to turn. Billy popped off a shot, but it missed its mark as Mason lunged for him. The men struggled for Billy’s gun. Mason’s large hands practically engulfed Billy’s as he tried to twist the gun free.

  But Mason was stuck between crates awkwardly, impeding his movements. Billy kept his littler, gangly hand wrapped around the gun. I thought he would back up then, try to get away from Mason, but instead he used his leverage and footing to shove forward with his weight.

  Mason, who wa
s already leaned forward too far in an effort to the get the gun had little choice but to go with the movement, pedaling backwards. Billy used the moment to jerk the gun free of his hand.

  It gave Billy enough leverage to push the gun forward into Mason’s face, making the larger man back over a crate. He tumbled to the ground and Billy leveled the gun at him.

  “No!” I cried and moved instinctively. I went for Mason’s gun which was still sitting atop a crate.

  It was possibly the stupidest thing I’d ever done.

  My cry and my sudden movement was enough to startle Billy away from Mason and jerk around to face me. As he did so, the gun went off.

  I screamed and ducked, forgetting all about Mason’s gun. Instead, I turned tail and ran for the door.

  I heard glass crunching, the high pitched wail like a siren as a mirror shattered, the bullet hitting there instead of me. Glass fell across the attached countertop like crackling confetti. I made it to the door just as another shot rang out and this time it was close enough that I swore I could feel it moving my hair.

  Falling out the door, I ran across the street, doing my best to get the hell away from Billy. Clay! I have to find Clay! I thought wildly.

  He had been headed for his car and I was, too, hoping I’d find the huge man there. But as I made it to the mostly empty parking lot, I found Clay’s car with the trunk popped open and a crate left unattended near the tire.

  I felt panic begin to build as I heard another shot ring out. It came from behind me and my heart fell as I suddenly comprehended that Mason was in the store with Billy.

  Billy—who still had a gun.

  Had Mason just been shot? I turned around and started back towards the store, realizing how stupid that was since I was unarmed, but I had to do something.

  I didn’t make it across the street. Halfway there, I heard a voice. The same voice from earlier that evening. “Hold it right there, sweetheart.”

  Jimmy.

  I froze. I was staring at The Beehive, horrified by how still it seemed, but in my peripheral vision, I could see a dark figure holding a gun aimed for me.

  He was a dozen steps away, and part of me hoped that I was wrong. That maybe this guy was just a bystander. A crazy kid dressed up like a gangster, holding a toy gun because he thought he was being funny. But I knew I wasn’t that lucky.

  The man’s face was cast in shadow, his features exaggerated with an elongated nose and deep black pits for eyes. I didn’t want to look at him too closely, didn’t want to turn my head, but I noticed that. Part of me wanted to think that if I just held still, he would leave me alone.

  But that was a naïve, stupid thought.

  “Please,” I heard myself say, but I knew this man wouldn’t listen. I wasn’t even sure if he could hear me. I was as good as dead.

  Who would take care of Nick? What would they tell him had happened to his mother? What would happen to Steph? Is Mason dead?

  When that gun fired and that shot echoed through the empty streets, I was one hundred percent positive that I was dead. But while I was waiting for the pain to come or for instant death to take me away, I saw Mason rushing out of The Beehive.

  He had a gun in hand and a wild look on his face. He settled a little when he caught sight of me, then I saw his gaze jerk away to the ground near my feet.

  My whole body trembling, I forced myself to turn slightly. I caught my breath when I saw a body on the asphalt, dark blood pooling beneath him. “Oh my god,” I murmured. My legs felt like they were made of gelatin, about to give way any second.

  The next moment, the one right before I dropped to my knees in shock, Mason reached me and wrapped his arms around me. He kept me up on my feet, letting me lean heavily against me.

  “Jesus,” he muttered.

  “Fuck, I’m sorry boss. I went to check out a noise I’d heard around the corner. Got clubbed in the damn head. When I came to, I found this fucking asshole out here pointing a damn gun at her.”

  At the sound of Clay’s voice, I tore my eyes away from the body. I had never been so happy to see that damn man. I could have kissed him, I was so relieved.

  “Jimmy,” Mason confirmed, easily identifying his rival. “Fucking bastard.”

  I clung tightly to Mason, trembling in his arms from dwindling adrenaline and relief. I was alive. Mason was alive. Hell, even Clay was alive. And the bad guy wasn’t. Everything was going to be okay.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I’d never seen a dead body before. On TV, sure, but this was different. The blood looked kind of fake—dark and like syrup instead of the bright red that people think of when they think of bleeding. And it scared me how still the man was. There wasn’t any movement to be found on him, not even a gust of wind whisking his hair away. Instead, he was as still as the pavement he lay on.

  Clay had shot Jimmy in the back while he was focused on me and I found that I was eternally grateful for that. Anyone else could call it cowardice, but Clay saved my life. And right now, I was relieved because it meant I didn’t have to look at the dead man’s face.

  Would his eyes be open? Milky white? Or would they still look like the same color they had been? Maybe they would be altogether closed.

  I didn’t know and I didn’t want to know. I wanted to forget this whole damn night, pretend like it had never even happened. I knew that was likely to be impossible, but at least I wouldn’t be haunted by the man’s dead, unseeing face.

  Looking up from the body finally, I looked at Clay. “T-thank you.” I silently cursed myself for the stammer in my voice, how shaky it was, but there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

  Clay frowned a little, whether at my gratitude or my trembling words, I couldn’t say.

  Before he could say anything, Mason shifted me in his arms and looked hard at his trusted enforcer. “You saved her?” he confirmed, though it was obvious. I sure as hell hadn’t killed Jimmy.

  Clay nodded. “Yeah. Son of a bitch thought he could get the drop on me, but I wasn’t down for the count.” He fingered a spot on his head that I now realized was red with drying blood. It looked swollen and a little gruesome, but compared to the general size of the man, it wasn’t much. He was still larger than life and that bump on the head could have been a mosquito bite. “Guess I should be lucky he didn’t shoot me.”

  “Why didn’t he?” Mason asked, and I could hear the low, dangerous suspicion in his voice. A small part of me worried for Clay.

  Clay didn’t waver as he said, “Probably didn’t want anyone to know he was here. Sound would’ve given him away.”

  Mason said nothing. Instead, his large hand rubbed along my back, soothing away the rawness in my nerves. I leaned on him a little harder, grateful for his presence and for the fact that I didn’t have to stand on my own.

  There’s a dead man right there. How can there be a dead man right there?

  I was probably in shock. I was a goddamned hairdresser for Christ’s sake. For a long, hard second, I found myself thinking that I was in way over my head. This wasn’t my world and I shouldn’t be involved in things like this.

  But even as I thought it, I had another thought: This is my damn shop. This is my damn life. And I wasn’t going to let people bully me anymore. Screw that.

  I’m glad he’s dead, I thought and it was a little jarring to have a thought like that, but instantly I knew why.

  Death meant he couldn’t hurt Nick—or me. And it also meant that Mason’s operation was safe and my business could continue as it had. When I looked at it from that perspective it was easy to see how killing someone was a lot more effective than calling corrupt cops.

  “Are you alright?” Mason mumbled into my hair.

  I realized that he was holding me tighter and that he had been kissing my hair softly.

  Pulling myself together, I nodded, my head still resting against his chest. “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I heard the worry in his voice, so out of place in a man lik
e Mason, and pulled away a little so that I could look up into his face. His brow was furrowed and his full lips were pursed together, the corners of his mouth pulled down into a heavy frown. I studied that expression, deciding it was just as strange to see on him as it was to hear concern in his voice. He just wasn’t the type of man to show those sorts of things, even when he felt them.

  It touched me to know that I brought that out in him.

  Swallowing back what lingered of my fear, I nodded. Then I pushed up onto the tips of my toes and pressed my lips against his. He responded immediately, melding his mouth to mine and using the strong arms wrapped around me to pull me closer to him. I had meant for the kiss to be reassuring, but not really lingering.