Mason: The Sinner Saints #4 (4 page)

A sharp edge crept into his smile. “So, you’re saying this morning at the museum you were just pretending to find me charming?”

Sara’s lips pulled together tight. She looked down at the table as heat began to flood her cheeks.

“You caught me off guard. I admit it,” she said, wrapping her hands around the glass in front of her. She swiveled it back and forth, watching the clear liquid swirl and the bubbles break on the surface. “But it’s not going to happen again.”

“That’s a shame.”

Sara looked up from the glass. Despite her warning, the devilish twinkle in his eye shone just as bright.

“Stop it,” she said. “I know what you’re doing.”

“And what’s that?” he asked.

She let out a long sigh.

“Standing close. Maintaining eye contact. Talking in a low but confident voice. Leaning in when I do. Smiling to reinforce mine,” Sara said. “You’re trying to build my trust.”

“Of course, I am,” Mason said without missing a beat. “Look at you. You’re scared. You’re alone. Your parents have been kidnapped, and someone is shooting at you.”

“Technically, I think they were shooting at you.”

Mason’s grin only grew. He slowly slid his hand across the table toward her. His fingers slipped over the sensitive skin of her wrist. She could feel the heat and the strength practically pouring out of him. She knew she should probably pull away…but she didn’t.

“The point is you need someone you can trust.”

Sara arched a brow. “And that’s you?”

“You could do worse.”

Yeah, she could. But that wasn’t the point. Unfortunately, Malcolm wasn’t grading her performance on a curve. Either she brought him
l’étoile
and paid the price he demanded, or…

No. She refused to go down that path. It was better to focus on what was right in front of her.

“And why are you so desperate to jump into this mess?” she asked. “What’s your angle?”

“No angle,” he said.

“Right.” Sara smirked. “There happens to be a priceless two hundred and fifty-year-old necklace floating around the city, and you just want to help me free my parents out of the goodness of your heart.”

“Pretty much.” He nodded. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Actually, it is.”

He was ballsy. She had to give him that. Everyone else she knew would be switching tactics right about now, desperate to find their way in. But not him. Every move he made only fascinated her more.

“All right. I’ll bite,” she said after a long moment passed. “How exactly are you planning on helping me?”

He moved in closer and lowered his voice. In a flash, intensity replaced the humor in his gaze.

“We have a hell of a team at Macmillan Security,” he said. “Lots of different talents. Put us all together and there isn’t a problem that we can’t solve. If you trust us—”

“You’re joking, right?” she cut him off. She didn’t need to hear another word.

“No.”

“Then you must have lost your mind.” Sara pushed back her stool, snatching her hand out from under Mason’s as she stood. “You saw what Malcolm did when you forced yourself into his game. How the hell do you think he’s going to react if you bring a whole
team
of people in?”

Mason straightened to his full height. “He won’t even know they’re involved.”

Sara closed her eyes and lifted her hands to the side of her face. She rubbed at her temples, but the pounding didn’t ease.

“Of course, he will.” Her voice came out sharp through gritted teeth. She forced herself to open her eyes and draw in a steadying breath. “You have no idea who you’re up against, do you?”

“So, tell me.”

“You can’t charm Malcolm Van Zandt. You can’t con him. And you sure as hell can’t steal from him,” she said. “So, unless you’re hiding some amazing talents from me, that means we can’t win.”

A wry smile lifted his lips. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard different versions of that speech?”

Sara slowly shook her head. He was a cocky bastard. And a damned stupid one.

“I don’t. And I don’t care.” She drew in a deep breath and dragged her hand through her hair, smoothing it out. “All I know is that if this goes sour, then I’m going to have more blood on my hands than I can handle. The last thing I need is to throw you and your friends on top of that.”

She took a step back from the table.

“Sara, wait,” Mason said, but he didn’t make a move toward her.

“I’m sorry, Mason. Your fifteen minutes is up.”

Sara drew in a deep breath as she spun around on her heel and headed straight for the back door. She let it out slowly when she didn’t hear his footsteps behind her. Well, at least Mason was true to his word.

He was letting her walk away. Letting her hunt down the Evening Star by herself. Letting her take on the responsibility of facing Malcolm on her own.

That’s how it was supposed to be.

She pressed on the bar that ran across the middle of the door and pushed it open. The chill night air rushed in, stinging her cheeks. She welcomed the sensation as she strode into the alleyway. Every step she took echoed off the high, hard walls surrounding her.

Maybe the cold would help her clear her head.

It sure as hell couldn’t hurt. And God knew she needed to think straight. Right now, she had no idea where to even start looking for the man who stole the Evening Star.

She figured she could make some calls. See if any of her parents’ old friends had heard anything. Of course, most of them had been in their prime back when she was a kid. What she needed were some fresh leads. Maybe her name would be enough to open a few doors. Sure, it was a long shot, but right now it was the only one she had.

A gust of wind howled down the narrow alleyway. Sara pulled her coat tighter across her chest as a trail of goosebumps suddenly sprung up along the length of her arms. An odd tingle took root on the back of her neck, causing the hairs to stand on end.

Sara sucked in a breath and held it. She stopped cold.

But the echoing footsteps continued behind her.

She prayed it was only Mason, breaking his promise, but the sick churning in her gut told her otherwise. She spun around…and looked straight into the cold, malice-filled eyes of a stranger.

Shit
.

Sara didn’t hesitate. She took off running, but being stuck in the middle of the alley, there was no way to evade the man’s grasp. His fingers bit into her arm after only a few strides. He slammed her against the cold concrete wall. The air left her lungs in a rush, and the man wedged his forearm under her chin before she could drag in another breath. He pressed his meaty body flush against hers, pinning her to the spot. A heartbeat later, she felt the unmistakable sensation of a pistol being thrust against her temple.

“Baumgartner,” the man whispered in a thick guttural accent. “Where is the necklace?”

Sara bit into her trembling lip.

Crap
. The Russians. She’d heard rumors they were in town. Not surprising.
L’étoile
was a hell of a target. It was sure to attract a lot of attention. If the Russians were here, that meant the South Africans couldn’t be too far behind.

And apparently, they all knew that she was the one Malcolm had tapped for the job.

Fantastic.

Just one more complication to heap on the pile once she got out of here.

If
she got out, she amended. Because judging by the way the Russian was digging the muzzle of his weapon into her skull, he didn’t exactly seem like the understanding type.

“I don’t have it,” she answered.

“Wrong answer,” the man sneered.

“You have a gun to my head. Why the hell would I lie to you?” Sara said. “Go ahead and check my pockets if you don’t believe me.”

The pressure against her temple intensified. “Maybe I’ll shoot you first, then check your pockets.”

Sara began to shake in earnest. She’d met her share of hired muscle. Bluffing wasn’t in their job description.

Fortunately, it was in hers.

“But if you do that, then you’ll never know where I stashed it,” she said.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “You want me to believe that you double-crossed Van Zandt?”

Sara nodded. “If you followed me here, then you already know that things didn’t end well between me and Malcolm. Why do you think he shot at me? Why do you think I ran?”

“So, the man you were with is your partner,” the man said. “He has the necklace.”

“No,” Sara said too quickly. She wasn’t about to let this guy go after Mason. “He isn’t involved in this.”

The Russian wasn’t buying it. He pressed his arm harder against her throat.

“Is he your fence?” he growled. “Does he have
l’étoile
now?”

Sara struggled to deny it, but the man was too strong. He’d cut off her air to a trickle. Her head was already going fuzzy. She tried to fight, but with every gasp her body grew weaker.

He didn’t need to put a bullet in her head to kill her. He could crush her windpipe in a heartbeat.

“You’ve got it wrong,” a low voice said from behind her attacker. “I’m not the fence. I’m the protection.”

The Russian dropped his arm from her throat as he turned toward the intruder. Sara’s knees gave out underneath her as air rushed into her burning chest. When she looked up, she found Mason standing only a couple of feet from the Russian.

Damn it. What was he thinking? Couldn’t Mason see this was no time to play the hero? The Russian was armed. He was a professional. This alley was a trap. There was nowhere to go, no room to fight. If Mason knew what was good for him, he’d turn around and run like hell.

But obviously, he didn’t.

The Russian raised his gun, aiming it at the dead center of Mason’s chest.

“Hand over the necklace,” he said, his lip curling up in derision.

Mason ignored him. His gaze snapped to her on the ground. “Are you okay, Sara?”

She opened her mouth, ready to tell him to get the hell out of there, but only a thin croaking sound came out.

A steely gleam that Sara had never seen before hardened Mason’s stare. Her blood chilled.

The Russian must have caught it too, because his Adam’s apple quickly bobbed up and down the moment Mason turned his attention back to him.

“You really shouldn’t have hurt my friend.” His voice was as cold as the frigid pavement beneath her hands.

Then he moved so fast that Sara had a hard time keeping track of him. In a single step, Mason closed the distance between him and the Russian. One hand closed around the gunman’s wrist. He thrust the butt of his other palm into the center of his throat.

The Russian stumbled back a step, his eyes wide. He grasped at his neck with one hand, while Mason slipped the gun out of the other. In a fluid motion, Mason ejected the clip from the bottom of the gun, then slammed the side of the weapon against the side of the Russian’s head.

The man crumpled to his knees. Mason towered over his hunched over body.

Not even five seconds had passed and the fight was over. Sara stared up at Mason in wonder.

“Tell your boss to leave Sara Baumgartner alone, or I will do the same thing to every man he sends her way,” Mason said. It didn’t sound like a threat, but a vicious promise. One that Mason clearly had every intention of keeping. “Understand?”

The man weakly tried to raise his head. A low gurgle bubbled out of his mouth.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Mason said, and lifted his booted foot.

Sara clenched her eyes shut. A second later, she heard a sickening crunch. Curiosity got the better of her and she peeked out through cracked eyelids.

The Russian was laid out on his back, blood gushing from his broken nose. Sara quickly turned her head away.

Mason used the outside of his jacket to wipe the empty gun clean before tossing it into a corner of the alley. Then, for the second time that night, he offered Sara his hand.

This time she took it.

He easily lifted her off the dirty ground, and gently cupped his hands over her shoulders. There was no violence in his gaze now, only concern.

“Sara, are you all right?”

She gave a shaky nod.

“I thought you were going to let me walk away,” she said. Her voice was squeaky, but at least it was working again.

“I did. I never said I wouldn’t follow,” he said. “You’re not complaining are you?”

“Oh God, no,” she said quickly. She shuddered to think of what would have happened to her if he hadn’t followed. She’d be the one sprawled out on the ground. Except, she wouldn’t be breathing.

“Good. Because I’m pretty sure I did tell you that ditching me was a terrible mistake.”

“Careful.” Sara narrowed her eyes. “Nobody likes a cocky bastard.”

“Is that right?” He lifted his hand and gently brushed her hair back from her face. “Well, then let me make it up to you. You can stay at my place tonight.”