The Mercenary Next Door (Rogues and Rescuers Book 2), page 17
“No, thank you,” she said, still unfailingly polite despite her obvious heartbreak. She pushed the mug away, piercing his soul with her big brown eyes.
“Mason…will you hold me?”
“You never have to ask.” But Mason didn’t hug her. That wasn’t enough to soothe the yawing ache inside him. He sat next to her, pulling her bodily into his lap.
Laila was startled, but it only took her a minute to relax, melting into his arms as if she’d always been there.
“I’m sorry about your friend,” he whispered into her hair.
“So am I,” she said, shuddering despite the tight hold of his embrace. “Because it’s all my fault.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Laila knew what Mason was going to say before it was out of his mouth. She could tell by the way his body stiffened, growing still underneath her.
“No, it’s not. If your ex is involved—and we don’t know that for sure—it has nothing to do with you.”
Laila tried to climb off his lap, but Mason wasn’t having any of that. Collapsing against him, she shuddered, trying to absorb his warmth. When she found her voice, it sounded as if she’d gargled with rocks.
“They wouldn’t even know each other if it weren’t for me. The only time the other Night Witches set foot inside Alpha Omega house was to help another girl get back to her dorm room. They would never have stayed to drink or party there, not until I started dating Joe.”
Mason’s hand fisted in her hair before he gentled his hold, cupping the back of her neck possessively. With light pressure, he tilted her head back.
“That is not on you. You didn’t do anything wrong. Any time a woman walks into a room with a man, she is at risk, whether she knows it or not. A place full of men will never be safe—definitely not a frat. Hell, I’ve been to college. Even a sorority isn’t a safe space. Nothing you did or didn’t do would have changed that.”
Except the Night Witches did know that. Or at least they used to. As much as she wanted to deny it, she had been responsible for that line blurring.
“If I had told Jasmine about the problems I was having with Joe beforehand, she might not have gone there that night.” Laila swallowed, wondering how the hell her throat had become this raw.
“I didn’t even tell Rosamie. I was worried she’d blame herself because she encouraged me to go out with him. And because I didn’t tell her, I didn’t tell anyone. Which was stupid—if I had just been a little more open with my friends, then Jasmine might still be alive.”
“We don’t even know what happened that night. Not for sure. It’s possible she went somewhere else after the frat.”
“You don’t believe that, and neither do I. Not after the way the cops acted,” she said. “They seem fairly sure Alpha Omega is where she was last seen. And with the way Joe behaved…”
Laila pressed her cheek against his T-shirt, trying desperately to shut off her brain. The material was impossibly soft, considering how new it appeared. The only way her cotton clothing became this smooth was after a thousand washes later, usually when it was just about to fall apart.
Mason’s hand cupped the back of her head. “We’re going to figure this out.”
It was the ‘we’ that penetrated the cocoon of regret and self-recrimination.
“No, Mason. I can’t drag you into this mess. You letting me stay here is enough.”
It was more than enough, in fact, possibly too much. Mason was a good man, strong and capable. He had the training to protect himself and her. The urge to lay her problems at his feet was so tempting, but the sheer strength of her desire meant it was wrong.
She’d gotten herself into this mess.
She’d have to be the one to get herself out.
Mason didn’t want to let Laila go, but the doorbell rang, so he allowed her to push away. She sat on the farthest edge of the couch. Resisting the urge to reach out and touch her again—his perpetual struggle—he walked away with a low ‘excuse me’ to answer the door.
Rosamie blew in like a hurricane with Ransom close on her heels. The minute she and Laila saw each other, they burst into tears. They fell into each other’s arms, proceeding to have a conversation conducted in subvocal whispers.
Wary and gun-shy in the face of feminine tears, he and Ransom backed away by silent mutual agreement.
Moving to the kitchen, Ransom started ransacking Mason’s fridge. He handed him a beer before cocking his head at the women on the couch, visible though the passthrough window. “What the hell language is that?”
Mason shrugged. “It’s English with a heavy girl accent.”
Opening the beer, he clocked the mark on Ransom’s neck. “Thanks for keeping an eye on Rosamie. Although judging from the hickey on your neck, it’s not that much of a hardship for you.”
Flushing, Ransom touched his neck—in the wrong spot. “This was before she found out about her friend. Since the police came, she’s been alternating between making calls and crying, but that’s understandable given that they were roommates. It’s pretty messed up. So is your girl’s face.” Ransom leaned on the counter, raising a brow. “Are we gonna hunt down the bastard who did that to her, or what?”
“Don’t tempt me,” Mason growled, tightly clenching the neck of his beer. A small but ominous crack forced him to relax his hold.
“I was planning on it,” he admitted after a moment. “But I don’t want to muddy the waters. If the police are looking at Dubey as a person of interest in this death, then kicking the living shit out of him will just complicate this clusterfuck.”
Ransom sniffed, then took a swig of his beer. “Do you think they’re going to be able to pin anything on that asswipe? Rosamie says he has more money than God.”
“The money is a problem. But no one is untouchable.” Mason’s eye gravitated back to Laila the way it always did. She was nodding at something Rosamie was saying.
He took another sip of his beer. “Patience is a virtue.”
Mason gave the girls the better part of an hour together. He hoped it would give them time to get the sharpest part of their grief up and out of their system before deciding that was wishful thinking.
That was going to take time, lots of it. Mason’s thoughts were on grief and how everyone experienced it in different ways, but that still didn’t prepare him for the sight that greeted him when he walked back into the living room
“We have to make some plans…” His voice trailed off as Laila twisted to face him. Her adorable little mug was twisted, her fingers pulling down her lower eyelids. But that wasn’t half as bad as Rosamie.
The small Filipina was pushing up her nose with one finger. She’d somehow managed to flip both her upper eyelids inside out.
“Woah.” Ransom skidded to a stop next to Mason. Then he burst out laughing. “I never met a girl who could do that, too.” He then flipped his own eyelids up, making a snorting sound echoed by the diminutive Filipina.
Suppressing a shudder, Mason pointed to Laila. “You, still adorable. These other two knuckleheads, however, are grotesque.”
“Sorry,” Laila said, rubbing the tear tracks off her cheeks with the heels of her hands. “It’s just something stupid we do to make ourselves feel better.”
He put a hand up. “You do whatever you have to do.”
Ransom held out two beers to the ladies.
Fishing a tissue out of her purse, Rosamie wiped her face in straightforward, no-nonsense swipes. “Got anything stronger, playboy?”
Mason turned, fishing bottles of port and whiskey from the chest that served as his liquor cabinet. Laila took the port. Rosamie, predictably, the whiskey.
He took a seat on the other couch, outlining his concerns. “Rosamie, it may not be the best idea for you to stay in the dorm alone. Is there someplace you could go?”
Rosamie frowned. “I’m not going to let that asshole chase me off campus.”
Laila took a sip of the port, coughing. “Are you sure you want to stay in that room without Jas? You have to move out next week, regardless.”
“What?” Ransom perked up.
“It’s the end of the quarter,” Laila explained. “The summer session starts in two weeks. We have to be cleared out of the graduate dorm a week before so they can clean before the incoming students. Our dorm will be filled with high school students doing special programs for college credit.”
“I thought you were done with classes.”
“I am, but Rosamie is not,” Laila said.
“I move back in with my family in summer,” Rosamie said in a flat voice that spoke to her enthusiasm level. “To save money.”
“I was going to stay on with Joe this summer while I searched for jobs in my field,” Laila said, her eyes dropping to her hands. “But before that plan, Rose and I were going to try and sublet a place together. Maybe we should try again.”
“No,” both he and Ransom said it at the same time.
Ransom tsked. “It’s not a good idea, doll face,” he said, sitting on the couch’s arm next to the Filipina. “If some shit went down, then you two living alone is a security risk. I mean, look at you. I know you can throw a punch, but you’re kind of a shrimp.”
Scowling, Rosamie flipped him off.
“You can stay here with Laila if you want,” Mason offered.
Please say no. Please say no.
“Maybe during the day and shit, when we are both training,” Ransom said. “But Rosamie is going to crash at my place. Aren’t you, darling?”
Rosamie smirked. “The hell you say.”
“What?” Ransom lifted his arms, throwing out his most charming grin.
Mason almost smiled before he remembered the circumstance, but when he checked Laila, he let the gesture bleed onto his face. There was definite amusement in her eyes, but it was muted.
“You don’t want to bring trouble home,” she told her friend softly.
Rosamie gripped her hand. “This is not your fault. And I’d like to see that piece of shit get through my mom. She’ll tear Joe a new one in like four different places.”
Ransom laughed, but Laila nodded. “Yeah, that sounds about right,” she murmured.
“You’re just trying to scare me,” Ransom sniffed. “She’s going to love me.”
“Who said you were meeting my momma?” Rosamie asked, her head drawing back.
The two got lost in their banter, which was equal parts sniping and flirtation.
Laila quietly slipped away from them, refilling her glass of port. She let him usher her into the kitchen, where she leaned back against the counter. “Thank you for inviting her to stay, too. I know she’s not your favorite person.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Um.” A tiny crease appeared. “Well, granted, I haven’t seen you interact all that much, and the first time was under tense circumstances…but you kind of stiffened up just now when you saw her.”
Not to mention the fact Rosamie admitted pushing Laila to go out with Dubey. She was probably very vocally anti-Mason too. However, given how things had looked from her perspective, he really couldn’t blame the woman.
Plus, he and the shitkicker did have one thing in common. We both love Laila.
Well, there was maybe more than one thing.
“I do like her,” he said, straightening in realization. “Because Rosamie is your Ransom—and believe me, having a Ransom at your back is always a good idea.”
Her nose wrinkled and she huffed lightly, almost laughing. “So, the stiffening is involuntary?”
His eyes widened. “Oh no, it’s intentional. For the record—I always brace myself when Ransom comes around. You should, too.”
A few days later, Laila waited until Mason left for his training session before going into his bedroom to curl up on his bed.
She knew she shouldn’t. He’d made it before he left. There was no way she’d be able to get those military-precision corners right.
Or I could ask him if I can sleep here. She knew he would let her. He wanted her.
Laila didn’t understand it, but she could tell. There was a heat in his eyes when he looked at her, but only when he thought she wasn’t watching. If she took him at his word, he’d always worn that look, even back in their old building.
Except Mason would never ask her to share his bed again. He would never take advantage of the situation or her vulnerability.
Laila buried her face in the bedding. So stop being vulnerable. And stop being a creepy stalker by smelling Mason’s pillows.
Forcing herself to stand, she smoothed the sheets. Good to his toes. That was Mason. Damn. Was it wrong to wish he were just a little bit bad?
No sooner had she thought it that she was swamped with guilt, one that backed up and ran over itself.
I am not Joseph’s girlfriend anymore, she told herself sternly. Their relationship had been over the second he struck her.
But she hadn’t told him so to his face…
Laila knew she didn’t owe him that. She didn’t owe him anything. Nevertheless, she felt as if she had missed something—the opportunity for a clean break.
I should have ended things weeks ago. Hell, she should have never moved in with him in the first place. Part of her had known that. If she’d listened to that instinct, maybe Jasmine would be alive.
That thought was another gut-punch, but Laila deserved it.
Nevertheless, she physically pressed her hands to her stomach, breathing in slowly until the band of compression went away. Mason was right. She couldn’t keep doing this to herself.
Laila made her way to the kitchen, intending on preparing a small breakfast. She found her phone on Mason’s charging base on the passthrough counter. He must have put it there for her.
The passthrough was her favorite feature of the house. She liked being able to see the living room from the kitchen and vice versa. Her least favorite was the shelves in the closet. Improbably wide and too high for her, Laila had a difficult time organizing her clothes without bunching everything in the front. But it was a small inconvenience. She was just glad to be here with Mason.
Wondering if it was worth rearranging her clothing again, she picked up her phone and started when she saw the number of messages received.
Only the two newest were from Rosalie. One was a short and sweet text from Mason telling her he’d prepared pancake mix, and he’d left it waiting for her in the fridge. There was also a voicemail from Detective Silano, telling her they hadn’t been able to get Joseph to make a statement. His lawyers were stonewalling.
The rest of the messages were from Joseph.
She sat on the floor where she stood, scrolling through the texts. Most were pleas to meet. None mentioned Jasmine or a visit from the police. Shaking her head, she racked her brain. Laila had to do something—anything.
Then she frowned, considering the phone in her hand.
When Ransom dropped off Rosamie, she had a plan.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rosamie grabbed her arm, gripping it tight before relaxing and letting it go with a loud whoosh.
“Sorry,” her friend apologized when she saw she’d left nail marks on Laila’s forearm. “I thought I saw him.”
“Yes, me too. But it was only someone who kind of looks like Joseph,” Laila assured her.
They were across the street from her ex’s building, watching the lobby from the busy window seat of a taco shop. The man who’d just rounded the corner and passed them had been close in height with similar coloring, but his features had been far sharper. Nevertheless, the resemblance had been close enough to nearly give her a heart attack.
“Have there been any sightings of him on campus?” she asked, willing her racing heart to slow. She spoke without turning, her eye on the distant figure of the security guard in the lobby of Joe’s building.
Rosamie hunched over her phone.
“Not today, but according to my spies, he was at the frat all last night. He’s been there every night this week, sending the pledges on stupid missions and partying like nothing is wrong.”
She wrinkled her cute snub nose. “In fact, according to Juan, he’s been drinking a lot more than usual at those things.”
“Yes, you mentioned that.” It was part of the reason Laila had decided to break into Joseph’s apartment.
It’s not breaking and entering if you have the key, she reminded herself.
“I can’t believe you want to do this,” Rosamie said after a pause. “I’m the one who comes up with the crazy plans—not you.”
“It’s not that crazy,” Laila whispered, checking over her shoulder furtively. It was irrational, but she kept expecting Mason to appear over her shoulder, his handsome face glowering in disapproval.
Oh, you know it would be much worse than that. Mason would be furious if he found out she was putting herself at risk this way. It both warmed and terrified her.
“We have to do this,” she said aloud. “I think we are the only ones who can.”
“How?” Rosamie asked. “We’re not exactly crack detectives. As far as I can tell, your plan begins and ends with getting in and out of Joseph’s apartment without being seen. Are you seriously expecting to find some evidence lying around? It’s not like the party was here—it was at Alpha Omega.”
“I’m aware of that. And I don’t expect Joseph to have left anything that could incriminate him on purpose, but you said so yourself—he’s partying a lot at the moment. I may not know him as well as I thought I did, but I know enough. Joe’s drinking and rallying the frat brothers around himself in a desperate effort to pretend everything is all right. When the alcohol clears, he’s going to come to his senses, then we’ll lose our opportunity.”
“To do what again? I’m still lost.”
Laila took out her cell, then showed Rosamie the picture.
Rosamie’s mouth flattened. “Why are you showing me a poorly drawn cartoon penis?”
“Do you not see the map?” Laila gestured to the picture again.
