Admit One (24 page)

He heard the other man swear viciously under his breath before he got on his radio.

Mason told himself to approach her gently, not to snatch her into his arms, but he hadn’t taken one full step when he found his arms full of trembling woman.

“Shh. It’s alright darling.” He touched her hair, and when he felt the lump near her temple, the stickiness of blood, his own hand started shaking. “Here. Let me have a look, will you?”

“Outside. Please. I need to get out of here.”

“Of course.” Mason scooped her into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” she said into his shoulder. “I guess I freaked out a little when I couldn’t get the doors open.”

“I can’t imagine why,” he said, turning sideways so that he could carry her through the opening. “Considering the pleasant surroundings.”

She made a noise, just a small noise of what sounded like amusement, and it lifted Mason’s heart.

“An ambulance is on its way,” Alan Barger said, glancing at Mason with an unreadable expression before he turned his attention to Allie. As much as he would have liked to keep holding her, Mason carefully sat her on the ground, since Barger clearly wished to talk to her. Mason found that annoying, but reminded himself that the man
was
a cop.

Nevertheless, he kept his arm around Allie. For support.

Barger squatted down beside her. “Looks like you got a good-sized lump there. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“I don’t think so. Just… dizzy. And a little nauseous.”

“Could be a concussion,” Barger murmured as he gently examined Allie’s head.

Mason’s lips pressed together. He’d suffered a concussion last summer when he’d been struck by an intruder in Tucker’s home. That was one experience that he wasn’t keen on Allison sharing.

“Do you remember what happened?”

“Kind of,” she told the cop. “I was putting some flowers on Eugene’s grave and I saw… no.” She looked confused. “It was after that. I put a flower on Frank’s grave. Frank Wallace. He was Eugene’s friend. And then I noticed that someone had cut the padlock chain again.”

“Is that why you tried to call me?”

Mason’s head came up at that.

“I called you?” Allie said.

“Well, I received a call from your phone, but it disconnected before I could answer. When I tried to call you back, it went straight to voicemail.”

“I… don’t remember.” She lifted a hand to her head, then looked around. “Where is my phone?”

“We’re going to do a thorough search of the area after we get you taken care of.” He stood, spoke into his radio again. “Sounds like the cavalry is on its way.”

As the shrill peal of sirens drew closer, Branson came running out of the woods. “Allie?”

“She’s here!” Mason called over his shoulder.

“Thank God.” The other man slid to his knees, wrapped his arms around his sister.

“I’m okay. Ouch.”

“Careful of her head,” Mason cautioned.

“Sorry.” Bran pulled back, then leaned in again to examine the bump. “I don’t think even my makeup skills are going to be able to cover that doozy.”

He glanced at Mason over Allie’s head. And though his tone had been light enough, the look in his eyes suggested that someone was going to pay, and pay dearly.  

Mason met that look with perfect agreement.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“I
feel like an idiot,” Allie said from her position on the sun room sofa.

“I don’t know,” Sarah mused, tilting her head to the side to study her friend. “I think the shaved patch makes quite an avant-garde sort of statement. Very fashion forward.”

“Ha ha. I wasn’t talking about my hair, but thank you very much for reminding me.” Allie reached up, pulled some inky strands around to cover her stitches in what Sarah had come to think of as the concussion variation of a comb over. “I’m talking about the fact that I gave this pretty little speech about taking care of myself, and then basically threw myself into Mason’s arms like a blubbering mess of
woman imperiled
jelly.”

Sarah sipped the mint sprigged tea Josie had served along with a stern warning against talking too much and taxing Allie’s strength.

“I think you’ve been reading too many novels.”

Allie raised her head from the pillow. “This from the woman who can quote the entire
Outlander
series
verbatim.”

“Only certain lines,” Sarah demurred. “Maybe the occasional paragraph. But seriously, Al.” She sat her tea aside, making sure to use a coaster so that Josie wouldn’t kill her. “I’m sorry, I know you’re very concerned about your independence – and I respect how far you’ve come in that regard. I may not always act like I realize it, but I truly do. But come on, sweetie. You were mugged, your purse and car stolen, and you were locked in a freaking crypt.
Anyone –
outside of fictitious characters who don’t even break a sweat while wrestling alligators barehanded or fighting off brigands with a modified kitchen fork or whatever – would probably freak out.
I
would have freaked out. I would have climbed Tucker like a vine the second he made an appearance. So really, stop beating yourself up on this one point.”

“I have a gun,” Allie mused, staring at the slowly rotating blades of the overhead fan. “After losing my keys, having the car tampered with, I probably should have been carrying it. As a precaution.”

“Hindsight,” Sarah told her. “Although from what you described, I doubt you would have whipped it out just because you thought there was a drunken teenager in need of assistance. So the outcome likely would have been the same.”

“You’re being logical,” Allie said, exasperated. “How am I supposed to wallow in self-loathing and misery when you use reason like that?”

“Okay, you’re an idiot, and your hair looks like you had a run-in with a hedge trimmer, bless your heart. Feel better?”

Allie grinned. “I do, actually. At least you’re not treating me like I’m made of crystal.”

“Cut the menfolk some slack,” Sarah said, draining her iced tea. “They’re slaves to their DNA. Also, there are probably about a thousand women right now who’d gladly trade places with you if it meant having Mason Armitage at their beck and call.”

“I don’t want him to… hover just because he feels sorry for me.”

Sarah’s brows shut up to her hairline. “You can’t be serious with that. The man
hovers
because he’s smitten. If he were any more into you it would require a surgical procedure to pry you apart.”

Allie flushed, but looked uncertain.  “I don’t know about that.”

“Okay. Maybe you haven’t come quite as far as I thought.”

She turned her head on the pillow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, my dear, that you need to stop selling yourself short. Now, I know the doctor cleared you, but if you don’t feel up to it tomorrow, go ahead and stay home. Tommy is working out surprisingly well in the temporary employee department.”

“I’m amazed that he doesn’t spend all his time asking Rainey to show him where we keep the extra straws in the supply closet.”

“Give the boy some credit. Straws are too obvious. He asked her about the beverage sleeves.”

Allie laughed, and Sarah dropped a kiss onto her bruised forehead, covering the spurt of anxiety she felt whenever she saw it, with a playful smacking sound. The last thing Allie needed right now was to know how very much Sarah worried.

“Glad to see you feeling better.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

WHEN
Sarah had gone, Allie tossed off the blanket that Josie insisted on covering her with, and considered what she’d said.
Was
she being too hard on herself?

Probably. It was an old habit of hers, being her own harshest critic, overthinking every action she took, and apparently she’d been backsliding in that regard.

Okay. Time to pull herself back together. Sarah was right – it didn’t mean that she was weak or needy because she hadn’t been able to get herself out of the mausoleum. Or because she’d clung to Mason like lichen on rock when he’d released her from it. She’d just been mugged, for heaven’s sake. And she had a concussion. Totally understandable.

What wasn’t so understandable was the way she’d been treating Mason. Ever since he’d come back to Sweetwater, he’d been… well, he’d been like that rock she’d used for her mental metaphor earlier, hadn’t he?

Solid. There.

And yet she’d been maintaining an emotional – and physical – distance because somewhere in her head she’d gotten the idea that his interest in her was a fluke. That he wasn’t rock material, and therefore that she should cull any lichen-like tendencies on her part.

What kind of moron was she?

It was time for that nonsense to stop.

She’d reschedule their date, that’s what she’d do. It was about time she made some moves in this… relationship. Because whatever happened, she and Mason
did
have a relationship. If nothing else, they were certainly friends. Hadn’t he proven himself in that regard?

Feeling proactive, Allie lifted her new phone from the coffee table. Will had brought it to her after his people had thoroughly searched the cemetery and the surrounding area in case the mugger had ditched her purse after he’d pilfered the contents, but they’d come up empty-handed. It gave her the creeps to think about someone reading her text messages, looking through her contact list and perhaps ogling her photos. But if the same person was responsible for tampering with her car and then stealing her keys – Alan’s theory, with which most of her friends and family seemed to concur – then it was likely that they knew a number of things about her already.

Like where she worked. Where she lived – in an antebellum plantation filled with a variety of antiques and other valuables. Of course they should also be aware of the fact that her brother was the police chief, and as such would be extremely proactive about changing the locks and upgrading the security system. Not to mention that he was sharpening the proverbial spike on which he planned to put the culprit’s head.

Because that mental image made her grimace, Allie returned her attention to her new phone. Thinking about Mason was far more pleasant. She might have been frightened and in pain the other evening, but it hadn’t entirely escaped her notice that he’d looked exceptionally attractive dressed for dinner. Or that while the circumstances were less than ideal, it wasn’t a chore to be carried in his arms.

She brought up her contact list just as the alarm panel let out a high-pitched beep to signal that the door behind her had opened.

“Let me guess. You forgot to tell me that these yoga pants make my butt look fat.”

“Not quite.”

At the sound of the deep voice, Allie’s head whipped around. Pain stabbed through her temple with the sudden movement, and she pressed against it with her hand.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Wesley.” Emotions tangled inside her, but outrage got the upper hand. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He shut the door behind him, and then pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “I wanted to see for myself that you were okay.”

Oh, that was rich. “And that’s why you’re sneaking in the back door, trying to scare me to death?”

“I figured I wouldn’t get over the threshold if I came to the front.”

That was true enough. Her brothers and Josie – who’d moved back in temporarily – would have run him off, possibly at gunpoint.

“Well, I’m fine.” No thanks to him. “You can leave now.”

Frustration contorted his mouth, but then it set in lines of determination. He came fully into the room, helped himself to a seat catty-corner to her position on the couch. “I want to talk about… what you said the other night.”

Her stomach twisted, but her words remained cool. “I believe you’ve already delivered your commentary on that issue.”

“What? If you’re talking about pressing charges against that idiot actor, I –”

“I’m talking,” Allie said, disbelief causing her voice to rise “about the
flowers.”

“Flowers?” Wesley honestly looked confused. He shouldn’t cast stones against acting, considering he was doing a damn fine job.

“You’re not seriously going to sit there and pretend that you don’t know what I’m talking about, are you?” Disbelief gave way to anger. “You son of a bitch.”

“Whoa. Allie.” He raised his hands in a gesture of peace. “I don’t know what flowers you’re referring to, or why they seem to have upset you so much, but whatever it is, I promise you, I had nothing to do with it. I just…” and here he swallowed, appearing genuinely upset. “I just wanted to ask you. About what you said. Is it… was it…” He rubbed his hand over his face. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

Anger fled, leaving Allie feeling boneless. She slumped into the cushions. “You really didn’t send the flowers?”