Dangerous in Training (Aegis Group, #2) (13 page)

Hannah crossed to the bed and sat on the edge. He followed her, because he couldn’t keep his distance. Mason knelt in front of her, looking up at her worry-lined face, the little divots at the corners of her mouth from frowning too hard.

Every time he looked at her, he felt as though there was something missing. Had something happened last night? What had he said? Done?

“It’s going to be okay,” he said.

“Are you sure? Can you tell me that without a shadow of a doubt? Because I don’t know if I can believe it.”

“Okay.” He took both her hands in his. “It’s not okay right now, but you are safe, we have supplies headed our way, and I am never going to let anything bad happen to you, ya hear?”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Her voice broke and tears welled up in her eyes.

He opened and closed his mouth. Him? She was worried to the point of tears about him? There was nothing to say, no defense against her tears. Had he ever seen Hannah cry?

“I’m scared, Mason.”

“I know.” He sat on the bed next to her and wrapped an arm around her.

Somehow he’d make good on his promise. Nothing could happen to Hannah, not because her father would kill him, but because Mason would rather die than see her taken by someone like Cruz.

He rubbed circles on her back, hating the way she trembled. This had to be hard on her, but they didn’t have the time or the luxury of indulging in fear.

“Hannah?” He squeezed her hand. “I need you to walk me through what happened last night again. Maybe you’ll remember something different?”

“Like what?” She straightened, little wisps of hair framing her face.

“Did anyone talk to you? Was there someone you noticed watching you, or the other two girls?”

“No.”

“No, no one talked to you or watched you?”

“We only talked to each other. Christine and Natalie would dance with guys, but they’d move on really fast. We didn’t talk to anyone.”

“And did anyone watch you?”

“Maybe? I can’t remember anyone specific.”

“What about when we left the party?” It frustrated him to no end to have zero memory of that time. As she spoke he felt as though he should remember moments, the beats of a song, but if he tried to focus on it the phantom memory dissolved into nothing.

“Um, you were out of it, we went back up and went to bed.” She stood and paced away from him.

“Are you sure that’s it? We didn’t stop anywhere? No one knocked on our doors?”

“I wouldn’t know.” She threw her arms up and turned around.

“Hannah, will you calm down? I’m just trying to fill in the blanks here.”

“You really remember nothing?”

“It’s more like...shadows. Echoes of a memory. But no, I can’t tell you what happened.”

Her gaze drifted away from him and she covered her mouth with a hand. She looked...shell-shocked.

“What did I do?” He curled his hands into fists, frustrated with himself. “I did something that ticked you off, didn’t I? I’m sorry, okay?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what did I do? Tell me.”

“Nothing.” She shook her head, eyes closed.

“Hannah, I need to know.”

“No.”

“Yes, tell me.”

“We had sex, Mason. We slept together and you don’t even remember it.” She covered her mouth with her hand and turned away, muttering under her breath.

“Wait—what?”

Had he heard her right?

They’d—slept together? As in, sex? Real, sweaty, screaming, orgasming sex?

“You’re joking, right?” He clutched the edge of the bed, a sick sensation weighing in his stomach. He’d sworn it wouldn’t happen, that he’d put her safety above anything he wanted. That they would go home from this trip the same way they’d arrived—as just friends.

“Oh my God, no, I’m not. And you’d never know if I didn’t open my big, fat mouth.”

“I—I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I should not have done that.” He was so dead. Her father would make sure he wound up six feet under—if anyone ever found his body.

“That—
what
? Sex?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because, it was wrong.” The barely-there memories, the shadows, could that be what he was trying to recall?

“Wrong? Really? That’s what you want to call it?” Her voice had that dangerous, tread-with-caution note that only a woman could command.

Shit.

He’d fucked up even worse.

“No—I just mean—”

“I get that you have some twisted idea that we’re better off not speaking or touching or being around each other, but I don’t share that idea. We feel something for each other and you’d rather stick your head in the sand than take this one opportunity to figure out why we might have something.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth. “I fully understand why a relationship is out, what I don’t accept is your lame attempt to cheapen what could have been a great one-time thing between us. So really—shut the fuck up, Mason, because I don’t want to hear it. We went to a party. We drank. Someone somewhere is an asshole and tried to drug me. They got you instead, and then we had sex. My bad for assuming you were on the same page as me, but I will not let you piss on the only good thing that happened in this nightmare.”

She turned and stalked into the postage stamp-sized bathroom and slammed the door shut.

He stared at the wooden rectangle for several long moments.

They had sex.

Was she telling the truth? Was this a prank?

It wasn’t like Hannah to pull a practical joke. She was stubborn, laughed easily, but a prank wasn’t her. If she said it...it must have happened.

They really had sex?

There hadn’t been enough time to mull over last night from his perspective, the bits and pieces he could remember, but in the context of Hannah’s announcement it made sense. He had these snatches of memory, sensual shadows, sweat—he’d chalked it up to a wet dream. But what if he was remembering pieces of last night? Stolen moments that should never have been?

Mason leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and sucked in a deep breath.

He’d promised himself nothing could happen between them because for him, there was no going back. No life once he knew what he couldn’t have. But now he wished to God he could remember.

Had it been bad? Was that why she was upset? Had he...hurt her?

He’d always been careful in bed, not because his dick was huge or anything, but because he was a guy and he knew his own strength. If he wasn’t careful he could injure a person and he’d never wanted that. Not unless it was completely necessary, and there was no reason he could process that would make that okay during sex.

Fuck. He was sitting here worried about what he’d done, his lost memory, and how he felt, and Hannah was holed up in the bathroom because she couldn’t stand to be around him. He was an asshole.

Mason pushed up and crossed to the flimsy door. He tilted his head, listening, and caught the muffled sound of sniffles.

Someone needed to kick his ass. He wouldn’t even try to defend himself because he deserved it.

“Hannah?” He tapped his knuckle on the door.

The tiny, choked sound nearly broke him.

He twisted the doorknob and pushed it open.

One dim bulb illuminated the space.

Hannah sat on the toilet seat lid, her face buried in her hands, bits of toilet paper between her fingers.

What had he done?

Mason went to a knee.

“Hey. Hey. Please, don’t cry.” He tugged at her fingers.

She allowed him to pull her hands from her face. Her eyes were red and her lashes damp. She still had that stubborn thrust to her chin, the one that said she was ready for a fight.

“Talk to me, please?” He’d beg if he needed to. Somehow he’d make this right.

“Why?”

“Can you tell me what happened? Did I...did I hurt you?”

“What?” Her face wrinkled up, as if he’d asked the silliest question. “No.”

“Good. Good.” Relief so potent he nearly collapsed in a puddle poured through him.

“It’s not fair.” She pulled her hands from his and sat back, swiping the tissue at her eyes. “I shouldn’t feel guilty because of your regrets.”

“What? You shouldn’t feel guilty. I should.”

“Why?” She threw her hands up.

“Because...” He perched on the edge of the tub and propped his elbows on his knees.

“You can’t even give me a good reason.”

“Because I was out of my mind. I can’t remember it. If I’d been there mentally, I’d have, I don’t know. Done something special, because you deserve it. What can I say? I’m an asshole, I should feel guilty for being me.”

“You are not an asshole.”

“Was it...at least...good?” Had she gotten off? Or had he...shit, had he come and rolled over like a drunk slob?

Please say you came...Please, please, please.

“Uh.” Hannah’s cheeks glowed a bright red in the blink of an eye. “Yeah, good is a word I’d use to describe it.”

Well hell. How good?

“Did you get off?” Man, what he wouldn’t give to remember that.

“Oh my God, do we really have to talk about it?” She covered her eyes with one hand. The blush spread down her neck, but the most telling was her smile.

A woman didn’t smile like that if an orgasm wasn’t included.

“Hey, my two greatest fears in that situation are, did I hurt you? And did you have a screaming-O?”

“I’m so not having this conversation with you.”

“I was there, remember?”

“I do. You don’t.”

“You can’t help a guy out and fill in the blanks?”

“I thought you’d prefer it that way.”

Mason stood, snagging her hand and tugged her to her feet. Hannah dropped the hand from her face and stared at him, suspicion mixed with a smile. His heart did a summersault in his chest just looking at her.

“I’m sorry I don’t remember, and that I’m an ass. You shouldn’t feel guilty about anything. Not last night. Not for the girls. Nothing is your fault.”

“If I hadn’t been so stubborn about coming, none of this would have ever happened.”

“You can’t think like that. You can’t take on the responsibility for someone else’s actions.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, because he needed to feel her and she seemed like she could use a shoulder.

Hannah’s body fit against his, her head nestled just under his chin. He squeezed her and ran a hand down her silky ponytail. Another memory of her hair between his finger tips, her breath on his neck shook loose. She’d moaned then. Loudly. He seemed to recall an issue with volume control. Blood pumped straight to his cock, eager to revisit that particular moment in time.

“What’s going to happen?” she asked.

Right. Life-threatening circumstances. Great way to kill a boner. Just what he needed.

“Abraham’s going to come through. We’ll make contact with Zain. He’ll hopefully have IDs on the girls and some background information. We figure out how they picked you, maybe we find them. Cruz sounds like a pretty bad guy, so if we can get in, get the girls, and get out fast, that’s ideal. I’d rather not start a war with the local kingpin.”

“Thank you.” Hannah squeezed him back and lifted her chin from his shoulder.

“We’re going to be okay.”

She nodded, but didn’t seem convinced.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

Hannah nodded again.

“I promise nothing bad will happen to you.” He smoothed a stray tendril of hair behind her ear.

She leaned her head into the touch, and again, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d done this before. That locked somewhere in his befuddled brain was a moment that echoed this one. Face to face, touching her, in her, the kind of thing he wanted to remember.

He didn’t know who moved first, maybe they both did. Their mouths met, a gentle press of lips. Sweet, soft, and perfect.

Dylan shoved the metal door open so hard it bounced against the side of the building.

“I found her,” he announced.

Rogelio glanced up from the table and the papers strewn over the surface. The four other thugs didn’t bother even looking at him. Then again, those idiots couldn’t even speak English.

“I found the blonde.” Dylan stopped next to the desk.

He’d had to pay good money to Cruz’s own people to get a head start on the info. That money was going to set him back two months, but at least he’d still be in the boss’ good graces. He couldn’t lose Hannah. She was too valuable a commodity.

“Where?” Rogelio asked. The fucker didn’t even care. But it wasn’t his ass on the line. All he had to do was pick the girls up and deliver them.

“Next door to one of Cruz’s old buddies. Abraham.” Dylan slid his phone with a snapshot of Hannah and her boyfriend across the desk.

“They won’t still be there.” Rogelio glanced at the image and shrugged.

“My guy says they’re still there. They haven’t left.”

“You have a guy sitting on them, and you haven’t gone to get her already?”

“They’re with an arms dealer. I’m not stupid.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“I need some guys to go get her.”

“No way. I’m not losing anyone to get a piece of ass you couldn’t handle on your own.”

“Rogelio, the boss wants this girl.”

“Because you pre-sold her to him.”

“You don’t understand how this business works, do you?”

“
Hombre
, I’ve been doing this longer than you have.”

“Whatever. You’re just a delivery boy.” Dylan turned toward the door.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Could he go to Cruz and get the manpower he needed?

Probably. Hannah was valuable enough to fetch a good price, despite her age. But Dylan had wanted to handle the acquisition himself.

“This delivery boy knows how to get the girl,” Rogelio said.

Dylan paused in his tracks, one hand stretched toward the door.

The fucker was playing him.

Still, getting Rogelio’s help was better in the long run.

“How?” Dylan turned.

“Abraham is a coward. We wait. Keep your man on them and tell me when there’s a change.” Rogelio flipped through more papers. The man didn’t even glance up at Dylan.

Could he afford a couple hours?

He’d have to make it work.