“Mase.” Drake’s voice is beside me, but faint. “I already tried.”
I glare between them. “What? Why not?”
“Because he took a vow when he joined me.” Eli shrugs and stares at his son. “No getting out. He knew that from day one.”
“What if he refuses?” No man can make another man do anything he doesn’t want to.
He pushes up from his seat and moves around to drop his ass on the table next to Drake. “We terminate those who don’t stay loyal.”
My flesh crawls at the seriousness of his words. “You’d do that to your own kid?”
Eli tilts his head. “You sure you want the answer to that question?”
I throw an arm out, pointing to a downtrodden Drake. “He’s your son. How could you expect this of him? You wanted nothing to do with him for most of his life. Now you’re so devoted you can’t let him go?” Even if it means so that he can raise his child? I avoid giving all that away. After all, knowledge gives them power.
“Mason, stop.”
I turn my glare to my brother. “Stop? Stop what? Defending you? Fighting for you? Dragging your ass out of the bed you made for yourself? I can’t do that. I’m your brother, your family—”
“You’re not part of this family—”
“Fuck you, Elijah.” I push up from my chair and grab my brother around the bicep. “We’re done listening to whatever you have to say.”
“Don’t walk away from me, boy.” Eli’s voice shakes with rage. “No one walks away from me.”
“Yeah? What’re you gonna do? Shoot me in a hotel suite in the heart of Las Vegas?”
“There are worse things than getting killed.” His words drip with threat.
“You leave my brother and me the fuck alone, and we’ll keep what we know from the cops.”
“Don’t handle threats well.” Elijah leans forward, his fists balled.
“Well then, this should be good practice.” I drag my brother from the room, refusing to look back or at anyone until I’m out of the suite and into the elevator.
It’s only then I slam my brother against the wall and get into his face. “What the fuck did you do, huh? What did you promise these guys that they’re refusing to let you go?”
He shakes his head, studying the floor as if the tacky carpet will reveal the answer.
“I’ve always been there for you.” I shove him and he doesn’t resist. “You owe me something here. All I’m asking is how the hell you got in so deep.”
The elevator doors ping and an older couple joins us. I move to the opposite wall and try like hell to calm my breathing. I don’t know what happened in that room before I got there, but Drake didn’t leave the same man.
Once in the casino, we head straight out to the valet and wait for him to bring up my truck. I dart my eyes to my brother, who’s acting as if his skull has doubled in weight and keeps his chin down.
I pull out my phone and hit Trix’s contact info. It rings until her voicemail picks up. Shit.
I hit “end” and type out a quick text.
On my way. Stay put. We need to talk.
The valet pulls up with our ride, and I toss him a few bucks and climb in, Drake doing the same while still playing mute.
It’s a silent but tense ride home. I jog up the stairs from my garage, eager to get Trix in my arms. This shit isn’t over with my brother, but at least I have my woman back.
The place is dark. Not at all what I expected. I check the couch then turn to head up to the loft when my phone rings.
I check the caller ID.
“Hey, Trix, where are you?”
“Hey, Mason . . . sorry, I didn’t end up at your house.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m here. Where are you? I’ll come to you.”
She clears her throat. “Oh, um . . . about that. I’m with Angel, and Santos agreed to stay with us.”
“What? Trix, just let me come get you. We can—”
“No. Mason, look. I need some time, okay? A . . . a lot has happened, and you’re making decisions for me. I just . . . I need time.”
Is she out of her mind? “Decisions? When it comes to your safety, it’s my job to make decisions.”
“No, it’s not. I uh, I need some time to think.”
“Wait, hold on, is this about me refusing to allow you to continue with this suicide mission you’re on? Or telling you to go with Santos?”
“Please, don’t make this harder. Time is all I’m asking for.”
“How much time?”
Silence stretches between us.
“Trix, I don’t understand. I thought things were good. I thought . . .”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice shakes with emotion. “I have to do this.”
“Do this? Do what?”
“Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“See me around . . . Beatriks, stop.”
“Good-bye, Mase.”
“What?” My pulse pounds in my ears, sucking the breath from my lungs.
“You heard me. Good-bye.”
“No—” Good-bye?
The line goes dead, and I stare at the phone in my hand, not seeing it.
She told me she’d never say good-bye. I’m sure her learning that I dealt drugs to that biker piece of shit of hers was a jagged pill to swallow, but Trix is strong. She of all people knows what it’s like to be backed into a corner and forced to do things we’re not proud of for our family.
No, fuck this. We said no good-byes.
I need to see her. My legs carry me three steps before I realize I have no idea where Angel lives or the slightest clue how to get in touch with Santos. That means I sit on my ass until the morning and start hitting up her house and Zeus’s until I find her and force her to give me some answers.
“Why now?” Jessica’s voice comes from the stairs that lead down from my bedroom. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“Business is taken care of, why not leave now?” Drake has her bag slung over his shoulder and his keys in hand. “You can sleep in the car, okay?”
I eye my brother. “You’re leaving?”
He only nods.
“You don’t have to leave now. Get some sleep and take off when you’re rested, man.”
“Can’t sleep.” He heads to the front door. “Driving will be good for me.”
Still dressed in her pajamas, Jess turns toward me with a sleepy smile. “Thanks for letting us stay, Mase.” She waves, and Drake opens the door for her then guides her out by the small of her back.
“Drake, you sure you’re okay?”
For the first time tonight, he looks at me, but there’s no emotion in his expression. “Did I ever tell you how I got this scar on my face?”
“Yeah, you got in a fight.”
He shakes his head. “Not exactly. I was cut in. Cut in to Eli’s crew.”
I cringe, wondering how bad that must’ve been to leave that deep of a scar.
“These guys aren’t fuckin’ around, bro. Believe me.”
“I do, but I’m not going to let them take down my family. Not if there’s something I can do to protect it.”
His chin drops to his chest, and he mumbles something that sounds like “that’s what I did.” He turns his back on me, but freezes in the doorway. “Mason, just know that . . . I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I squeeze his shoulder. “We’ll figure this out. You just focus on getting your girl and your baby home safe, yeah?”
He nods and slinks away, leaving me standing in my doorway, wondering what in the fuck my next move should be.
Thirty-four
Mason
The next morning I’m racing to the Youth Center. It didn’t hit me until last night after staring at my ceiling fan for two hours that today is Sunday. I called Blake, whose turn it is to run the MMA class, and it didn’t take much convincing to get him to give me his shift.
My tires squeal as I pull into a parking spot, scanning the lot for Trix’s car. I don’t see it, but
maybe she parked out back. I jog to the door and Sylvia jumps when I rush in.
Her hand flies to her chest. “Take it easy on an old lady. You scared the heck outta me.”
“Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m here from—”
“Yes, I remember. Mr. Mason, right?”
I nod and run a hand through my hair, anxious to get back into the gym and find Trix, put my hands and lips on her to know she’s okay.
Sylvia pulls out her clipboard and slides on her glasses. “Hmm, okay, let’s see here . . .”
I practice my deep breathing and wait until she gets her fucking shit together.
She peeks up at me from over her glasses. “You remember where to go, right?”
“Yes, I do.” I point back down the hallway that leads to the gym, but my feet are already moving.
“Your nametag!” She waves, but I’m halfway there. “That boy’s in a hurry.”
She has no idea.
Once in the gym, my eyes search out the huddle of dancing girls for the flash of platinum and purple, but come up empty. Maybe she’s not here yet? I walk around, scouring the place from the mats to the tops of the bleachers and everything in between.
Still nothing.
Last night was probably rough on her. Maybe she slept in? I head over to the kickboxing area and drop to the mats, keeping alert. I don’t know how much time passes, but a small group of kids slowly makes its way over. I greet them without taking my eyes off the gym at large when there’s a tug on my shirt.
I peer down and find Denny, whose mouth is turned into a frown. “Mr. Mason?”
I kneel to his eye level and hold out my fist for a bump. “Den, what’s up?”
His dark brown eyes meet mine. “She’s not coming.”
My chest constricts. “Who?” I ask, although my gut tells me I already know.
“Miss Trixy.” He sighs. “She’s not coming.”
My pulse hammers in my neck. “How do you know that, Den?”
He kicks at the mat then shrugs. “Because she always gets here early to bring me breakfast.”
My heart pinches at the rejected sound in his voice. “Maybe she’s sick?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. She’s never sick. She shows up sick just to bring me breakfast.”
The pain in my chest turns into the rapid throb of panic. “Huh, well, why don’t you get your gloves on and start shadow boxing while I go talk to Miss Sylvia, okay?”
He nods and his eyes get watery before he dips his chin and heads to the gloves. “Den, buddy, I’ll find out what’s going on. I promise.”
He doesn’t respond, but straps on gloves that dwarf his tiny hands, and the same feeling of foreboding I had last night hits me again hard. With an urgency for answers on my heels, I jog to the front desk where Sylvia has her nose pressed to a computer screen. I knock on the counter to get her attention rather than scaring the shit out of her again, which I’m liable to do with the way I’m feeling.
“Sylvia, did Trix call in sick today?” My stomach flips over on itself as I wait for her answer.
Her eyes scrunch up along with her mouth. “Yeah, funny huh? As long as she’s been here, she’s never missed a day.”
What the fuck? “Right. Did she say what was wrong?”
Her face turns sad. “Yeah, she had to go back home, something about having to take care of her sister.”
I grip the counter, suddenly lightheaded. “Her sister?”
“As long as she’s been volunteering here, I never even knew she had a sister.”
I swallow and fight the urge to rub my temples. “She has a few. Did she happen to say which one?”
“No, she just said she needed time off and was looking forward to getting out of the city and into the Majestic Mountains.”
“Where?”
She pushes up her glasses. “Where she’s from. The Majestic Mountains? I’ve never heard of it, but it sounds lovely.”
What the hell is she talking about?
“Great, okay.” I pat the countertop. “Thanks.”
She nods then goes back to her computer.
I return to the gym, but feel disconnected as my mind attempts to process.
Last night she needed some space. Today she’s headed back to Los Gatos. Maybe one of her sisters is sick, and this is all part of the space she needs to figure things out. I pull my phone from my pocket and dial her again, the call going straight to voicemail.
Something isn’t right. And I’m not giving up until I figure out what it is.
Three days later…
This is bullshit.
All of it.
They say there’s a thin line between love and hate, and I’ve been fucking living there for the last seventy-two hours.
I’ve practically worn holes in my damn phone from my repeated calls and text messages, none of them returned. I’ve driven by her house and burst in past her roommate only to find that she hasn’t been there in days. Calls to Zeus’s are pointless. For whatever reason, maybe company policy, they can’t tell me shit.
Which is why I’m heading over there now to find Santos and torture the motherfucker until he tells me every single thing that happened the night he took her out of that villa.
It’s not even seven p.m., and there’s a line to get into the club. I push past to the front, and the bouncer holds his hands up. “Gotta stand in line with the rest of them.”
“I need to talk to Santos.”
“Don’t give a fuck. Still need to wait in line.” He nods to the back of the line, but fuck him. I’ve waited long enough.
I move from the front door and around the building to the back. From what I’ve noticed, Santos usually handles the girls’ side of the club rather than the customer side. The back door is used for exit only and is locked from the inside. If I wait out back long enough, Santos’s sure to pop his head out eventually.
The bass throbs, and I pace the length of brick wall, waiting. No matter how many times I check the parking lot for Trix’s car, I find myself jerking to attention every time a new one pulls in or even fucking passes by. My arms tense and my legs burn with unspent energy. I’m antsy as hell and getting more impatient as every second passes.
The sun disappears and the air cools, letting me know I’ve been out here for a while, when suddenly the back door swings open. I rush over just as Santos’ face appears and a group of men tumble out.
He catches sight of me, and I don’t miss the slight reaction on the usually stone-faced bouncer.
“Santos, I need a minute.” I rush up the steps and brace open the door.
“Workin’, don’t have a minute.” He tries unsuccessfully to shut the door.
“What happened the night you took Trix from the villa? Ever since then, she won’t talk to me. Guess she went home, but . . .” I blow out a long breath, suddenly feeling pathetic for being here. Guy’s girlfriend dumps his ass, and he chases after every person she knows searching for answers. I rub the back of my neck. “I’m sorry, I know this sounds crazy, but I can’t help but wonder if maybe she said something to you about being pissed at me? Something doesn’t feel right.”
He doesn’t give anything away by his expression, but steps outside. I release the door, and he catches it before it slams shut, grunting as if holding the thing open is causing him pain. His eyes close and he clutches his ribs, breathing through his teeth.
I’ve been around injuries long enough to know exactly what that is. Broken ribs.
“Rough night?” I nod to his ribs, but he ignores me.
“Rough few days.”
He steps under the light, and it’s then I notice a fading black eye and a scab on his lip. “What the fuck happened to you?”
“Got messed up with the wrong people.” He stares at me in a way that has me shifting on my feet. “You know what that’s like?”
“I do.”
He nods. “Yeah. You do. So does she.”
I shake my head, feeling the weight of defeat crash over me. ?
??So you’re saying she thinks I’m the wrong people?” Fuck, I knew it. She thinks I’m a drug dealer and a participating member of B3. What she saw at the beach, knows about my ties to Elijah, and the way I man-handled her at that party, she has all the evidence against me.
He taps his temple, his eyes wide. “Think.”
“I—”
“Think.”
Think about what? “When you see her, will you please tell her to call me? It’s cool if she’s over us.” It so fucking is not! “But I need to hear her say it.”
His eyes dart to the lot behind me, his jaw hard. “Think harder.”
“I know I fucked up.”
Why the hell does he look so disappointed?
This was a mistake. I wave him off and move back down the steps. “Speaking in riddles, what the fuck?”
He mumbles something that I can’t make out, but my guess is whatever it is will only make me angrier. I hop in my truck and head over to Rex’s for poker night, feeling like I’ve lost the other half of my soul.
Now I get what Trix was talking about when she’d mention Lana’s death. Losing someone you love is horrific. Knowing it happened is bad enough, but not knowing why is excruciating.
If she’d just let me explain, I could fix all this. Whatever she thinks of me is wrong and doesn’t justify this kind of punishment.
Is this it? Did I lose her?
Rex reaches two hands into the middle of the table and rakes his winnings toward him. “You forget to take your meds today, Baywatch?”
“That’s not funny.” Gia, who took Talon’s spot at the table tonight after the guy called to say he had last-minute pussy to slay, his words, not mine, slaps her man on the arm.
He cringes and stacks his chips in nice even towers. “Sorry, baby.”
I swig off my beer while flipping a chip over my fingers.
“Mase, man, Rex’s is right.” Lane leans back in his chair, scowling. “Someone kill your kitten?”
How do I even answer that? No, fuckface, but my girl, the one you so proudly fucked, promised me she’d never say good-bye and fucking left my ass. Yes, I’m a pussy-ass bitch, but love’ll do that to you.
“I’m good.” I shrug and motion for Lane to deal the fucking cards already.