Locked and Loaded (4 page)

As she made her way down the hallway, Charlie took several cleansing breaths. Most of the time, she was cool as a cucumber under pressure. Completely unflappable. Mason Decker got under her skin like few people could. She didn't know what it was about him, but she found it infuriating as hell.

“Did you see his eyes?” Meredith fell into step beside her and the tension that Charlie had been trying to release made an unwelcome reappearance. “I swear they were the color of seafoam.”

Charlie rolled her eyes. Yeah, the guy had pretty eyes. So what? “I hadn't really noticed.”

“Are you kidding me?” Meredith clucked her tongue as though she felt sorry for Charlie. “You must be blind, kiddo, because that man was a sight to behold.”

Ugh.
So
melodramatic. “You think every man under forty who walks through the door is a sight to behold,” she teased. “Remember the SFPD guy we met with last month? I thought you were going to leave that deposition on a stretcher.”

Meredith chuckled. “He was a cutie. But that Mason Decker . . .” She mocked a swoon before she leaned in conspiratorially. “Can you imagine what a man like that could do in bed?”

Charlie's step faltered. It was true that Mason looked as though he could rock a woman into next week. His attitude, on the other hand, didn't do a damn thing for Charlie. “Bossy and demanding gets your motor going, huh, Mer?”

Her eyes bulged as she looked at Charlie. “Um, it doesn't for you?”

Charlie's stomach did a pleasant little flip as she thought of the intensity of Mason's expression earlier in the conference room. She pursed her lips. “Not a damned bit.”

Meredith chuckled. “Liar.” Her phone chimed and she checked the alert. “You're due in court in a half hour, don't forget.”

Shit
. Charlie had been so wrapped up in what Mason had unexpectedly brought to the table, court had completely skipped her mind. “We'd better get a move on. I want to review my notes beforehand.”

Meredith handed over a file folder. “One step ahead of you.”

Charlie flashed her assistant a smile. “Thanks.”

There probably wasn't a woman alive who didn't perk up when Mason walked into a room. Hell, he'd commanded the conference room today and he'd barely said a word. “Growly voice and alpha-male charisma aside, what did you really think of him?” She knew that when it came down to it, Meredith wouldn't pull any punches and she was one hell of a good judge of character.

“I think if you want to take down Faction Five, you're going to need him,” Meredith replied. “You need someone as hard as the guys you're trying to bust, Charlie. And he's the real deal.”

Sort of what Charlie was afraid of. “I can't believe his dad is Jensen Decker.” She gave a disbelieving shake of her head.

“No kidding?” Meredith let out an appreciative whistle. “His most-wanted poster was worthy of being framed,” she said with a laugh. “His son definitely inherited his good looks.”

Was that all he'd inherited, though?

“I'm worried about his connection to Eagan,” Charlie admitted. “Blood is thicker than water.”

“True.”

Had she been wrong to put her trust in the former Customs agent? Guess she'd find out soon enough.

Chapter Four

Mason sat at a small square table in the visitors' room at San Quentin State Prison. His gut churned and the acid ate away at the lining. The only thing he might come away from all of this with was an ulcer. He hadn't seen his dad in years. Not since the marshals had ambushed him at the Mexico border and hauled him off to jail. Fifteen years. Jesus. Mason and Kieran had both been kids when Jensen's shit finally caught up to him. Mason had tried to visit his dad once, before he'd revealed his postgraduation plans and been effectively shunned. According to his dad, working law enforcement brought the ultimate shame upon his family name. Mason snorted. Only in his fucked up life would one of his parents be ashamed that he'd decided to pursue law enforcement as a career.

Carrera had orchestrated his father's transfer to San Quentin shortly after Mason's meeting with the task force a couple of weeks ago. Right around the same time Mason had finally been given the green light to reach out to Kieran. He should've felt a twinge of guilt that he was using his dad as an unsuspecting accomplice to connect with Kieran, but he couldn't seem to muster anything but apathy. His dad had made his bed a long damned time ago. It wasn't Mason's fault that now he was being forced to lie in it.

How Mason felt about using Kieran to get information on Faction Five was another matter altogether, though. They'd promised to stay far away from each other's business a long time ago. Sort of their way of creating a neutral zone. Kieran got the life he wanted while Mason had been denied his happiness time and again. It certainly wasn't Kieran's fault—the blame for that rested on Jensen. And still, Mason had made the decision to cross the line he'd drawn almost two decades ago. Didn't he deserve to have the life he wanted too? His shared DNA with one of the country's most infamous criminals, not to mention his history with Kieran, had guaranteed him a spot at Glynco when all of this was done. This was about getting intel on Faction Five and playing by the task force's rules to get it done. Okay,
some
of their rules.

He'd come to the prison early, knowing he'd need a few minutes to get his shit together before he let his past collide head-on with his present. The past couple of weeks had been spent rethinking his decision to involve himself with the Faction Five task force. He reminded himself that he wasn't going after Kieran. This wasn't about bringing him down. His reasoning might be on the weak side, but it gave Mason a loophole. Justification for what he was about to do. It wasn't a betrayal per se. He was simply bending the rules. A means to an end.

It was Mason's turn to get the life he deserved.

A loud buzzer sliced through the quiet as a heavy metal door at the opposite end of the room opened wide. Several inmates filed in and settled at tables interspersed throughout the room. Mason's hands gathered into fists and his heart began to hammer in his rib cage. The last time he'd been face-to-face with his dad, Mason was a kid and they'd sat across from each other in a bland, cinder-block reception room just like this one.

He wondered what his dad would say if he found out his son was about to join the ranks of the world's most successful man hunters. The same man hunters who'd stolen his freedom almost two decades ago. The old man would probably have a heart attack on the spot.

Mason knew that prison aged a person, but it didn't lessen the shock as his dad walked across the room toward him. No longer the picture of youth and vitality that Mason remembered, his face bore the proof of a harsh existence and his dark hair ran with streaks of white. A wide, sarcastic smile stretched across Jensen Decker's lips as he pulled out a chair and sat across from his son.

“Funny,” his dad remarked. “For some reason, I didn't think I'd be walking into this room to sit across from a grown man.”

Mason knew exactly how his dad felt. He supposed that time stood still in prison. Still, the years showed on every line of his dad's face and in the graying of his hair. There was a hollowness in his gaze that Mason couldn't remember being there before his arrest. A tight ball of emotion lodged itself in Mason's throat and he swallowed it down. There was no use hashing out issues he'd long since buried.

“Dad,” Mason began. “How've you been?”

“I can't complain.” He shrugged. “Food sucks, though.”

Mason chuckled. His dad had always had gourmet tastes. Growing up, Mason had rarely eaten a meal that wasn't five-star. As a kid, all he'd wanted was McDonald's, and he'd hated his dad's fancy fucking tastes. He supposed that he'd inherited something good from his father, an appreciation for well-prepared food.

“I might be able to do something about that,” Mason replied.

His dad cocked an appreciative brow. “Smuggle in a half dozen fresh oysters and I'll be impressed.”

Mason's chest burned. That's what it would take to get his father's approval. To prove himself a halfway decent smuggler. He tried not to let the bitterness eat him alive. “Done.”

Ego was a trait that criminals not only valued, but respected. Whether they were gangbangers or high-end forgers. “I'll hold you to it.” His dad flashed a quick smile, reminding Mason of the man he remembered from childhood.

“Have you been painting?” Mason asked. Jensen Decker could put any Renaissance master to shame with his skill. Hell, he'd painted a reproduction of the
Mona Lisa
that would have brought da Vinci to tears.

“A little.” His dad's artistic skill was impressive and it was the only good thing Mason had inherited from him. “There's not much else to do in prison. I did one of Van Gogh's irises a few months back that I bet I could have snagged a couple million for.”

Always forgeries. Too bad he never painted anything original.

A space of silence passed. Mason couldn't recall a more awkward moment in his entire life. This notion of cozying up to his dad was a horrible idea. One that was sure to blow his cover. Jensen's gaze narrowed as he studied him, his eyes nearly the same color as Mason's. “You're the last person I would've ever pegged to jump ship on his convictions. What happened?”

Mason might've decided to walk the straight and narrow, but he'd inherited at least one more of his dad's traits. He could bullshit like a master. His ability to sell his cover story was what made him a great undercover agent.

“I got jerked around one too many times.” Mason offered up a shrug. “Shit pay. Shit benefits. No advancement. CBP put me on probation and there was an investigation after a few South American emeralds went missing from the evidence room.”

His dad's eyes lit with excitement. “What happened to the stones?”

Mason slid one balled fist across the table and splayed his fingers out. When he pulled his hand away, three grade-AAA emeralds sat on the table in front of his dad. It was a gamble to offer up a prize like this right off the bat. It could come off as contrived. But Mason was willing to bet that the shining green gems would dazzle his dad. Remind him of the life he'd been forced to leave behind.

“Damn,” Jensen said on a breath. “Very nice.”

He reached up, wrists cuffed together, and scooped up the emeralds before settling his hands in his lap. Thanks to Carrera, the guards would be a little lax with his dad for a while, allowing him to settle into a false sense of security. Mason doubted his dad would barter away the emeralds. More likely, he'd covet them as a symbol of his son finally turning his back on the law.

“Kieran didn't believe me when I told him you finally wanted to work with him.” His dad's expression grew serious and Mason's muscles tensed. “He said you were working an angle.”

Of all the things Kieran Eagan was, stupid wasn't one of them. That's why the double-agent cover story was the best. There was just enough truth in the lie to properly sell it.

“Which is why I asked you to change the date of our visit to today instead of Friday.” Eagan wasn't stupid, but neither was Mason. He'd gone off script and changed the date of their rendezvous, knowing full well that Eagan would be watching local law enforcement in anticipation of an ambush. No one knew about the change but Mason. Something that was bound to ruffle the feathers of a certain assistant U.S. attorney. “Ever since my probation, CBP has been keeping close tabs on me.”

His dad let out a derisive snort. “Dogs with a bone,” he muttered. “Every last one of them.”

Mason knew his dad thought of his crimes as victimless. He'd smuggled, stolen, and conned from those he'd felt could afford it.
They've got insurance
, he'd say.
Which, if you ask me, is the biggest racket there is. No one's out anything but the insurance company, and they're robbing their customers blind already
.

There still wasn't any guarantee that Kieran would show up today. But like he'd assured Carrera, he had to believe that after so many years of radio silence from Mason, Kieran's curiosity would get the better of him. Even the best criminals had a fatal flaw. Unfortunately, Kieran's was his relationship with Mason. “Yeah, well, I'm here because CBP thought they could jerk me around. They used me for undercover shit, refused to advance me. Exploited my knowledge and connections and didn't offer me a single reward for it. So, fuck them. It's time I worried about myself for a change. Paybacks are a bitch.”

“That they are.” Jensen chuckled. “Don't think for a second that I'm ready to trust you though.” His gaze hardened. “I haven't seen or heard from you in over ten years. Suddenly you come out of the woodwork, flipped, and ready to fuck over the same people you've idolized since you were a kid? Even you've got to admit that it's shady.”

Mason never thought it would be an easy sell. This was the part he'd been dreading. Every lie needed a bit of truth to it to be truly effective. And Mason's truth was one he'd tried to bury in the darkest recesses of his mind over the past several months. “I promised Kieran that nothing would come between us. That I'd always put him before the job. A month ago, the Marshals Service came to me. Because of you, they've rejected every single one of my applications. But they wanted to make a deal. They dangled a spot with the next training group at Glynco if I agreed to help them bring Kieran down. That's not going to happen. I made a promise to him and I'm keeping it. The marshals can fuck off. But I'm broke. CBP is never going to advance me. Kieran promised me that he'd always be there for me no matter what. I'm ready to collect on that promise.”

“They bent you over a barrel, that's for sure,” Jensen replied. “No Kieran, no Glynco.”

“Yup. I'm sick of bending over backward for CBP for no reward, and I'm sure as hell not going to work as a rent-a-cop or mall security somewhere. I'm tired of playing games. Tired of being poor. Of swimming upstream. Of doing every goddamned thing by the letter and still getting screwed in the end. I'm done. With all of it.”

Mason drew in a deep breath through flared nostrils. That was a hell of a lot of truth to spit out all at once.

His dad's lips thinned as he regarded him. “It's about damned time.”

* * *

Charlie slammed the phone down into the cradle with enough force to break the damn thing. Heat rose to her cheeks as her temper flared. “That son of a bitch!”

She grabbed her purse and headed out of her office. The door slammed behind her and Meredith gave her a questioning look.

“Cancel all of my meetings for the rest of the afternoon.”

Meredith opened a window on her computer and scrolled through the calendar. “What's up?”

“Mason Decker,” Charlie said through clenched teeth.

Meredith's gaze widened a fraction, but she kept her mouth shut. “Want me to call Carrera and get him involved?”

“No.” She'd be paying an in-person visit to the chief deputy's office later. “Just call me if anything pressing comes up.”

“Can do.” Meredith's fingernails clicked on her keyboard as she typed. “But Charlie, try to calm down. You look like you could use a Xanax.”

There weren't enough drugs in the world to help her deal with Decker. She let out a chuff of breath. “I'll touch base later.”

Thirty minutes later, Charlie pulled into a parking space at San Quentin, her hands still wrapped around the steering wheel with a death grip. When she'd gotten the call from the prison that Jensen Decker was scheduled to receive not one but two visitors today, her head had nearly blown right off of her shoulders. Mason had been given the green light to use his dad to reach out to Eagan, but only under U.S. marshal surveillance. They'd agreed Mason could meet with his dad two days from now. What was he up to? The double-agent angle of his cover left Charlie with a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. How could they be certain that he wasn't double-crossing them and working with Eagan? Mason was a wild card as far as she was concerned. He couldn't be left to work unchecked. It had been foolish for any of them to put their trust in him.

Charlie got out of the car and took a moment to gather her thoughts. By being here, she wanted Mason to know that he couldn't get anything past her. That she had his number, and damn it, she would
not
be made a fool of. He wasn't in charge. Not even close. Scheduling meetings off the books—unacceptable. Not to mention damned shady. Charlie wanted the win but not at the expense of sacrificing her integrity. Decker obviously wasn't trustworthy. Even if he managed to get anything on Eagan, who would believe him? An unreliable witness was useless. Not following proper procedure would sink her case.

They could find another way to flip Eagan. Mason was out and Charlie was going to put an end to his involvement with the task force right here and now. She'd bring conspiracy charges against him so fast it would make his head spin.