Armed And Dangerous (The McKinnon Legends - The McKinnon American Men Book 2) (24 page)

She would never take him as he was, and he could not and would not change. He lived for the rush. She lived for the quiet evening by the fire.

By their admissions, he lived for the loud music and party and the rush of the free fall, the dive, or the speed. She lived for the peace and quiet of an evening alone with Lula by her side reading a good book.

Could he be in love with a woman who he could never hope to gain simply because they came from such different worlds?

An hour later, he was still staring at that door. However, he was no longer wondering why that drink, that willing woman or two, and that game of chance wasn’t looking quite as good as it would have less than a week ago.

The reason was in the next room sleeping.

“Blackjack,” the dealer called.

Mason pulled the chips closer to count them and wondered why winning forty grand on a single hand did nothing to excite him. He had been steadily winning for the last five hours and was currently sitting on over three-hundred and eighty thousand dollars worth of chips.

The dealer pulled the cards for the shoe very quickly and expertly passed out the hands to those sitting at the table.

“Place your bets,” the dealer called.

He put half of his stack of chips back out on the table.

“Hit me.” He was holding the two of clubs and the nine of diamonds, totaling eleven, very good odds to beat the house without going bust.

The dealer turned over the five of hearts.

He had seventeen.

“Double down,” he said while passing the balance of the chips to the place his bet. He had just placed a three-hundred and eighty thousand dollar bet on a single card.

“Hit me,” he heard gasps. Seventeen was very good odds to beat the house. Those gathered around felt he was truly gambling. Mason did not see it in quite the same light, completely void of any anticipation. It was a card game. There was nothing to gain or lose from this outcome. He would not miss the money one way or the other. He did not have it before he sat down at the gaming tables tonight, and if he walked away without it, he would be no better or no worse. It was the idea of beating himself that thrilled him.

More and more lately, he was trying to push things to the limits and to find that place or that thing which mattered to him enough to stop the madness or risk losing it all. He had not found it here at the tables.

The dealer turned over the four of spades.

“Blackjack.” The dealer gathered up all the cards as the on-lookers cheered.

“Congratulations, sir.” The floor supervisor came over to the table. “We have a room for individuals who would like to play higher stakes.”

Mason declined. “No thanks. I think I’m done. Cut a check to cover the initial fifty-dollar bet and the income tax. Then give the rest to a homeless charity.”

“Yes, sir.” The floor supervisor gathered up the chips to take them back to accounting after locking them into the box.

Mason left his seat then headed for the bar, but not before tucking several one hundred dollar chips into his pocket. It was as good as cash with the locals. Standing for a few moments at the entrance of the bar, he got the lay of the land. He walked smoothly over to a booth where he could monitor the entrance and could watch who came and left. Miss Dessert Bar, who he turned down earlier in the week, was over against the far wall nursing a blender drink and talking to a gentleman old enough to be her grandfather. He caught her eye.

Money can buy you anything, he mused, as he saw her and the older man leave. She winked at him and gave him the signal to give her half an hour.

There was another woman with her sister and a friend seated at the table three booths down. There were two gentlemen at the bar watching soccer on the television with the volume down low.

He ordered a draft and pulled out his smart phone. By now the team should be home free, he thought. He called Robert and received confirmation everyone was safely home. They had scattered in various directions for a few weeks for a much needed vacation. He let Robert know it would be a day or so before he could get Barbara to a safer place. Robert made him promise to bring his business partner home in one solid piece. Mason assured him the sooner the better.

He checked the rest of his text and e-mail messages. There were no less than three dozen messages from nine different women wondering why he had not responded. Most of those messages he deleted not even bothering to reply. Those women would be there when and if he decided to reply. There was one message he did respond to and once he got back to the States he was heading for Aspen. As a steadfast rule, he shied away from married women, yet in this case he needed someone who was not expecting anything beyond a quick affair. He just made a promise to see her before her husband returned from London.

Leaving the bar after finishing his drink, he went for a walk on the beach. The outside air was good for clearing his head as he watched the sun slowly dropping into the Pacific. He turned his back to the wind, cupped the lighter, fired up the Cuban cigar, and then took a deep drag savoring the full, heady taste in his mouth. Barbara hated the things calling them a phallic symbol. He wondered why he even smoked them. They were good, but not great. Was it because they were illegal back home and he was just doing something naughty?

Maybe so and maybe that was why he just promised to have a weekend affair with a woman who was another man’s wife. That was something he had never done before. So, why now?

He was questioning the reasons why he did the things he did more and more of late. Even before this mission, he had begun to do some soul searching. What he saw was dark, but not totally bleak.

Even Barbara could see redemption for him. Yet, she probably saw the good in most.

“May I join you?” The sultry voice came from behind.

He turned from his perch on the driftwood log to see Miss Dessert Bar slowly easing around the end of the petrified trunk.

“No cover charge.” He motioned to the spot next to him. “Mason,” he introduced himself.

“Holly.” Reaching over, she pulled the cigar from his fingers and putting it between her lips took a deep drag before handing it back to him. Mason found the gesture suggestive, just as she intended. There was nothing subtle about her.

“Are you free tonight,” he asked. She was a call girl. He wanted the terms to be very clear. He was not paying for sex.

“I’m not for hire if that is what you are asking. However, there is always a price, Mason.” She looked at him closely. “What about your wife?”

“She would not be into a threesome.” He knew what she was asking, and he wasn’t going there. He tossed the cigar onto the surf and pulled her into his lap. She was offering something, and he fully intended to accept. He wasn’t going to have sex with her right here on the beach. It was illegal, not that it had stopped him before, but he was already on Redondo’s radar and wanted to continue to fly low.

However, making out was not illegal.

He kissed her deeply, ran his hands up her inner thigh, and discovered she was not wearing any underwear.

Big surprise, he thought dryly as he expertly touched and pleasured her right there on the beach, taking her cries of ecstasy into his mouth. She was lush, smelled of sex, and would not be afraid of a little adventure. He could read the type a mile off, having been with this type more times than he could count, and unless she came up with some new material, he could see boredom looming in his future.

“Let’s go back to my room,” Holly offered after he left her breathless and wet. She usually never gave away what she could sell. With Mason, she was happy to make an exception.

He did not say a thing as he took her by the hand. Turning to leave the beach and feeling like he was being watched, he looked up only to see Barbara standing at the railing of the balcony. He saw her roll her eyes, not even bothering to hide her look of disgust as she turned her back to him.

Guilt tore through him.

He felt sordid and base, knowing she had watched him masturbate a perfect stranger on a public beach and had every intention of taking that same stranger back to her room. Once there, he would perform with her the most private and intimate of acts that two people could possibly share. Yet, the emotions and feelings that would be shared between them would be no deeper than if they were two strangers having a conversation about politics on a commuter train.

God, he thought, I really am a pig.

Barbara watched the scene from her balcony and could not tear her eyes away as Mason and the woman disappeared under the awning of the hotel beach entry.

Barbara wiped the tear away and pushed the pain of his actions to a deep place within her. He would never change, and she would not ask it of him. She had no right to ask him to change any more than he had a right to ask her to be anyone other than herself. Making matters worse, somewhere along the way, she had faltered in her resolve and he had wormed his way into her heart. She was in love with the big jerk, a man so wrong for her it was not even comically or ironically funny.

She had suspected over the years that there was something deeper there in her reactions to him, but she had chosen to keep the relationship more adversarial than not.

As her father used to say,
“You cannot and should not love your enemy regardless of what the Good Book says.”

She had kept Mason at swords-length for so long that developing a friendship or something even more meaningful was out of the question. Maybe on some subconscious level she sensed this possibility. She should have listened to her instincts and kept a professional distance. She should have declined Robert’s offer in his office before this ever started. But it was too late now, and there was no going back.

“Damn Robert,” she cursed as she tossed the shower curtain back to get her shampoo and body wash out of shower. When she walked into Robert’s office, she had been so surprised and just a little shocked to see Mason sitting in the chair across from his desk. Yet, if she was honest and there was no need in fooling herself, there had been a surge of excitement there too. She recommended John Hurling as her partner for this, and he was who she had been waiting for, along with Liam, when Mason had come into the office.

Brock Jennings would have worked. Art Sutton would have been even better for the job, but he was off on assignment in Budapest to recover a stolen diamond broach that just so happened to be attached to a multi-millionaire’s wife.

She had never given Mason the first thought for Team Leader on this mission. However, she trusted Robert’s professional judgment and did not second-guess his decision to have her go in as Mason’s wife. As far as the execution and follow through of the operation, Mason had not disappointed her at all, turning out to be an excellent choice. He displayed a level of maturity and judgment surprising her. Nevertheless, it left her open and vulnerable to her softer feelings for him. It allowed her to spend time with him as a partner, seeing past the reckless man, and to peer into the depths of his personality.

He had a sense of humor that was both off beat and amusing. They had shared a few private jokes together understanding the way the other's mind worked.

He was not tender in the traditional sense, but he cared about those under his direction, and Lord in Heaven, he was a fine specimen of a man. However, more than that, he was extremely intelligent, loyal to a fault, shrewd, and perceptive. She was beginning to more fully understand his behavior and why he did some of the things he did. She always knew that he was not out to kill himself, and this trip cemented that belief in him. What she did not know until recently was why he took such crazy chances. Now, she did know why he behaved as he did. Mason was looking for something meaningful in his life, but he was looking for it in all the wrong places. He was no different than her. He really did want the same things as she did. He just didn’t realize it.

His attempts to fill his life with danger were only his way of trying to feel fulfilled. But no matter how many planes he jumped out of or toys he bought, he would never feel the joy of being loved totally and deeply simply for who he was to another person. He would never get the same satisfaction from a speed racer as he would from holding his child for the first time. Yet, there was no way to tell him this. He had to find it for himself.

She was leaving, and he could do whatever he wanted, so long as it was not within her line of sight. She could not stand by and watch him self-destruct or take the risk of him taking her along with him. They really did need to be separated by half the distance of the globe, and if not him, then she needed to be the one on the other side. It was the only way for this to end.

Carlos watched from a distance as the two went back into the hotel. Anger boiled deeply within him. Even if these Americans came legally into the country, they had not gone through the legal channels to break the little girl out of the villa. Otherwise, he would have known long before the bastard ever touched Panamanian soil.

The woman who had been rescued from the fire had told him all about how she had been saved but only after he tortured the information from her. The policemen on his payroll had brought the woman to him after the villa was cleaned. They found her hiding in the bushes, and he forced her to share what she knew before he killed her.

The description of the woman on the strike team had been recognized by one of the policeman who was with Redondo in their camp earlier in the morning. The policeman knew where they were staying and passed this information on to Carlos. The informant was rewarded for his loyalty and consequentially was now sitting in a more financially secure position for the information he revealed.

The fire and loss of his brother lay solely at the feet of these American dogs, and soon he was going to have his revenge. They had taken something important from him. They had taken his money and status, his livelihood, his inventory of weapons, and his brother’s life. They cost him millions in lost product and revenue, setting them back years in their operation.