The Mercenary Next Door (Rogues and Rescuers Book 2), page 3
“Anyway,” she said after a moment, “he apologized, and I got out of there, but it was so embarrassing.”
“You were embarrassed?” Rosamie smacked her lips. “What about him? Who does shit like that? Did he even apologize?”
“Repeatedly,” Laila assured her. “He was worried he’d hurt me. As for why, he said the places he’d been sleeping in weren’t always safe or secure. He is not a personal trainer or an actor like we thought—he’s a soldier for hire. He’d just gotten back from rescuing this kidnapped couple. It sounded crazy dangerous.”
Rosalie was incredulous. “Really? That guy? I could have sworn he was a secret porn star or something. It would explain why he was always taking off. I thought he was going off for marathon filming sessions. Instead, he’s Clearchus of Sparta.”
Laila frowned in confusion, and Rosamie shrugged. “Clearchus was a famous mercenary. I wrote a paper about him for my History of Ancient Greece class last year.”
Laila rubbed her hair with her gloved hand. “As bad as Mason felt—and he obviously did—I was the one who felt like shit. I would have never gone in there if I thought he was home. Although, now I’m wondering if he has some kind of PTSD.”
She would never have thought such a thing before. Mason always seemed so together. True, he didn’t talk much, but he never appeared stressed or out of sorts.
But then again, how would she know? Laila was relegated to the periphery of his life. Despite her interest in him, she knew next to nothing about the man.
Rosamie wagged her finger in Laila’s face.
“Nu-no,” she said, over-enunciating. “Stop right there. Mason isn’t some puppy that’s been kicked. You can’t take him in and make him all better. That’s the kind of shit that almost got you kicked out of the dorm freshman year.”
Laila winced. “I know Mason isn’t some charity case. I’m not an idiot.”
Rosamie nudged her with her hip. “I know you’re not. And I don’t want to kill your buzz—I really don’t—but you’ve been lusting after this guy for ages, and he’s never looked at you twice. Now you have your first real interaction, and he tackles you? Run. Run like he’s the devil.”
“C’mon, Mason isn’t a bad guy,” Laila protested. “He saves people.”
“Or so he says.” Rosamie scowled. “For all we know, he protects drug dealers and rich pedophiles. Mercenaries are just that—mercenary. They do anything for money.”
“I don’t know. That doesn’t read right to me. A man who cares for his plants so meticulously can’t be all bad.”
At least Laila hoped he wasn’t.
“I didn’t say he was, but now that you brought it up, how many people do you think he’s killed?”
When Laila didn’t answer, Rosamie sniffed. “Stick to college boys.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, there’s not exactly a line of those beating down my door.”
“That’s because you never give them a chance. I don’t know why not. You’re so pretty.” Rosamie waved at the distant row of Greek houses. “You could walk into any of those houses and have your pick of boys.”
“Ugh,” Laila said, bypassing the compliment. She knew she wasn’t hideous, but she could only call herself passably cute if she put in the effort to do her face and hair. Most of the time, she was too tired. “Bad example.”
As part of the Night Witches, the guys they regularly saw in the Greek houses were hostile and pretty gross. The smell of stale beer wafted from them in place of cologne. It made her stomach churn.
“You’re right,” Rosamie laughed. “But with a little effort, you could have anyone, not just the low-hanging fruit.”
“I don’t know why we’re even talking about this,” Laila said, resuming the walk to Greek Row. “My fantasies about Mason are just that. Not real. I know they’re kind of sad—that much is true. But it’s not like I have time to date anyone anyway. Between classes, getting enough hours at the store to cover rent and tuition, and the Witches, I have no time for a social life.”
“Laila, I love you, but that song is getting old,” Rosamie admonished, but she softened it with a smile. “At least get a fuck buddy. Any of the guys from the Pharmacology study group would do the job credibly.”
The class was a killer, hands down the most intense requirement of her respiratory therapy degree.
Laila made a face. “I’m not sure I can handle a fuck buddy.”
She didn’t’ come right out and say it, but Rosamie knew she wasn’t experienced. Laila wasn’t the type to go from zero to sixty without doing something stupid…like getting her heartbroken.
“You won’t know until you try,” her friend encouraged.
They stopped at the corner, and Laila grimaced at the row of houses. It was Friday night, so each one was lit and busy. Music blared as people milled in and out, going from house to house—a typical Friday night.
“Which one are we headed to first?”
Rosamie peeked at her phone at the text she’d received. “Alpha Omega.”
Laila’s groan was loud. “Those guys are the worst. I thought they were disbanded after what happened last month.”
Alpha Omega, the wealthiest fraternity on campus, had come close to being shut down when an alleged case of hazing landed one of their pledges in the hospital with alcohol poisoning.
“Their alumni association paid through the nose to get them reinstated. Since the guy pulled through, the university was inclined to let them skate,” Rosamie said with a sniff. “But things are supposed to be better now. They’ve just elected that new hotshot transfer student as president—the lieutenant governor’s son. He’s supposedly walking the walk, not just talking the talk. He even said the Night Witches were welcome anytime.”
“Sure he did,” Laila said skeptically.
“Only one way to know for sure.” Shrugging, Rosamie twined an arm through hers. “Let’s get this over with.”
With a sigh, Laila trudged after her friend, wishing she had Mason’s muscles between her and the drunken gauntlet of jerks who made up Alpha Omega.
Chapter Five
“You better not light that thing in here,” Mason scolded, snatching the fat Cuban cigar out of Ransom’s good hand.
His friend and coworker waved the other arm, sling and all. “What? You’ve got enough plants in here. They’ll absorb the smoke. That’s why you have so many freaking plants, right—because they clean the air? Or so you keep saying.”
Mason grunted noncommittally. “Are you even allowed to drink or smoke? Aren’t you still on antibiotics? What did Doc Valentine say?” he asked, naming the physician Auric Security kept on retainer stateside.
Ransom wrinkled his nose, picking up a beer. “He said to take my fucking pills, and I shouldn’t scratch under the bandages,” he replied, proceeding to do just that.
Mason didn’t blame him. He’d been shot before, too, and he knew how itchy a healing bullet hole could get at this stage. Picking up his beer, he turned to the living room. The rest of his Auric team was milling about, setting up the poker table.
Ransom, Jace, Klein, Wes, Tyler, and Collins came over weekly whenever they were in town. But tonight promised to be more than their standard poker game—some of the guys had brought girls.
Wes and Tyler had already pushed the couch to the wall. Someone had dragged the folding chairs out of the closet, but Mason wondered why they bothered. One of the girls had taken a call, giving someone directions to his place aloud. Tyler had connected his phone to the Bluetooth speakers, and he was actively scanning dance music playlists.
Mason suppressed a scowl. “When you said you wanted to come over tonight, I thought we’d have a quiet night in. It’s Wednesday,” he stressed. “I have neighbors.”
No sooner had he said the word than the image of Laila pinned underneath him flashed through his head. Her lips had been parted, and their unexpected lushness stayed front and center.
That had been a few days ago. Mason hadn’t run into Laila since. He was concerned she was avoiding him.
“We’ll keep it down.” Ransom waved his concern aside, swigging his beer.
“Right.” Grabbing one of the closed bottles of booze the guys had brought over, Mason headed to the door.
“Hey,” Collins called. “Where are you going with my Jack Daniels?”
Ignoring him, Mason stepped outside, knocking on his other neighbor’s—Old Man Tran—door. The bottle was accepted grudgingly, but Tran still threatened to call the cops if they got too loud.
“And tell your female friends to keep the screaming in the bedroom to a minimum. Don’t forget I hear everything,” Tran snapped before closing the door in Mason’s face.
Behind him, Ransom laughed. “What was that about?”
“Our places share a bedroom wall.”
Still laughing, Ransom rolled his eyes. “What a waste of whiskey.” He turned to Laila’s door. “And what are you going to give this one?”
An unwilling flush crawled up Mason’s neck. “Never mind,” he said, pointing to the door. “Go back inside. I’ll be right there.”
Mason lifted his hand to knock on the door, but he stopped when Ransom narrowed his eyes. “What?” Mason growled.
Leaning his good shoulder on the door with exaggerated casualness, Ransom smirked. “I’m curious about your mystery girl. This is the one you text whenever we’re heading back, right?”
“Because she waters my plants,” Mason said, lowering his voice. Though he’d never been inside, he knew Laila’s apartment was small. If she were in there, there was no way she could miss hearing this conversation.
“Small little thing, dark hair and eyes.” Ransom squinted as if he were scanning his memory. “Is she hot?”
“Go-back-in-side,” Mason gritted from behind clenched teeth.
Ransom snorted. “No way. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how cagey you’ve been about her. It’s like you don’t want us to know she exists. I’m dying to see her up close.”
“I never denied Laila exists,” Mason said.
Ransom raised a brow. “So, you’re not doing her?”
“What? No. And lower your fucking voice,” Mason hissed, casting a nervous glance at the door.
“Well, then invite her over.” Ransom shrugged. “The more, the merrier.”
“Hell, no,” Mason snapped.
“Why not?”
“Because,” he said, imagining Laila mingling with his team. If Ransom didn’t try to get in her pants, then Wes would be all over her. The only ones Mason could trust around her were Collins and Jace, but only because they were the ones who’d brought dates. Hell, maybe not even then.
None of the guys were married. Everyone but Klein played the field. Louis Klein had a boyfriend, Julio, and their relationship was the only steady one in the bunch.
Ignoring his friend, Mason pivoted to knock on Laila’s door. He hoped she wasn’t standing on the other side, listening to the entire mess.
What if she is… and she wants to come over?
Something in him balked at the idea. He didn’t want Laila around his single friends.
“I guess she’s not home,” Ransom said after a minute or two passed.
Mason hid his relief. “Now stop stalling. I want to kick your ass at poker.”
They returned to Mason’s place to play a few hands. Mason lost the first two, but he won the pot on the third—mostly because the girl perched on Collins’ lap distracted him during the game.
Shortly after the girl’s friends arrived, they dropped the pretense of playing poker. Everyone started dancing instead. Choosing to drink instead of chatting with the two available girls, he backed off. He then behaved like a grumpy old man, making the occasional circuit around the living room to pick up dirty cups. He also turned down the volume on his speakers whenever anyone nudged it over the threshold he’d marked in red sharpie.
Tran was probably going to call the cops, but it was out of his hands now. Mason had done everything he could. Deciding the cat was out of the bag, he allowed himself to relax, the hum of conversation washing over him.
“What are you doing hiding in the kitchen?”
Mason glanced up to see Julio, Klein’s boyfriend, holding a six-pack. Genuinely happy to see him, Mason pumped the other man’s hand.
“I’m not hiding. Just kicking back,” he said, taking the bottle Julio offered. It was from a local microbrew Mason sometimes visited.
“Thanks for this. I like this place. They have this killer Porter they only do at Christmas. Have you tried it?” Mason asked.
“No, but I’ll make sure to check it out in December.” Julio grinned, passing a hand over his blue scrubs.
“Did you come straight from the hospital?” Mason asked, pointing to the outfit.
“I did. I just got off a ten-hour shift, but I’m still wired. After Louis called, I decided to join in the fun. What happened to the poker game?” Smirking, he raised an eyebrow at the trio of couples grinding on the makeshift dance floor.
Mason shrugged before opening his beer. “You know how it is after a long op. They just want to blow off steam. I’m hoping they keep it down, though. The old man next door already threatened to call the cops.”
Although Tran had a point about the noise being more disruptive if it came from Mason’s bedroom, given their shared wall.
Guess it’s a good thing I’m not getting any.
His thoughts immediately returned to Laila, and he winced. Covering. he took a sip, although this particular beer wasn’t bitter enough to justify the grimace.
“Why don’t you move?” Julio asked, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “Louis and I started looking at houses since he got back.”
Mason drew his head back. “Really? A house?”
Julio nodded enthusiastically. “The last one we saw was nice. It’s in a new development outside of Alhambra. It’ll be a hell of a commute for me, but Louis and I want a yard, maybe a pool. You know what a fish he is. I’d rather just have a hot tub, so we’re thinking of compromising and getting one of those spa-swim things, with a hot tub at one end and a motorized lap pool on the other. They’re pricy, though, so it will have to wait for a year or two after we close escrow.”
Escrow? Julio may as well have been speaking Greek. “Damn. I guess Klein’s all grown up.”
The nurse nearly snorted out his beer. Wiping his face, he laughed. “Not quite, but for this, he’s motivated. We’re tired of our neighbors, too.”
“I didn’t say that,” Mason protested, thinking of Laila. “Not all my neighbors anyway. But buying a house is a big commitment. I’m not sure I’d be ready for that.”
He had the cash thanks to his Auric paycheck, but the idea of shelling out such a large amount just to call a place his own didn’t feel right. It was all so… permanent.
“Maybe you could rent one?” Julio suggested. “It’s not like you need to be in town, right? Proximity to an airport is a bigger factor.”
Mason thought about it before shaking his head. “I wouldn’t want to give up the restaurants around here. I like being able to get Chinese food at two in the morning if the mood strikes.”
Not that he did it all that often. But he enjoyed having the option.
Julio shrugged. “Suit yourself. But I’m telling you, I can’t wait to have our own space with no landlord to answer to.”
“That would be nice,” Mason acknowledged, wondering when it had gotten so crowded.
His apartment was packed now. At least six other people had arrived when he wasn’t paying attention, including Dusty, another Auric merc from a different team. Considering the square footage, it made for a tight squeeze.
“Where did Ransom go?” Mason asked, not seeing the big man.
“I don’t know,” Julio answered from around a mouthful of chips. “The bathroom?”
Mason waited to see if that was the case, but when the occupant came out, it was a girl he didn’t recognize.
Suspicious now, he went out into the hall. A rush of heat swept over him as he caught his buddy leaning over Laila, clearly chatting her up.
Ransom’s good arm was braced over Laila’s head. Technically, she could still open the door, but to do so, she would have had to turn her back on the large stranger.
Laila wasn’t wearing her grocery store uniform, but she held a brown paper bag with the store’s logo printed on it.
“Hey, leave her alone,” Mason said, grabbing Ransom’s good arm. Roughly, Mason pulled his friend away from his tiny neighbor.
Ransom scowled as if to say, ‘give me a little credit’. “I was just about to invite Laila over.”
Laila swiveled her gaze between the two men. Her expression crestfallen, she smiled tightly. “I can’t. I’m in the middle of midterms.”
Mason wanted to swear. He didn’t mind inconveniencing Old Man Tran, but Laila was another story. He was about to promise to keep it down when one of the girls who came with Collins exited his apartment, heading to the elevator with a wave of her unlit cigarette. A burst of music and loud conversation followed her. Even after the door closed, they could still hear the bass.
Wincing, Mason turned back to Laila. “Let me get you a hotel room.”
She pulled the grocery bag closer to her chest. “That’s not necessary. I can put in some earplugs. I won’t be sleeping much in any case. I have a lot of studying to do.”
“And is that something you enjoy?” Ransom asked, nudging Mason in the back.
“Of course,” Laila said, seemingly confused.
“Really?” Now Mason was surprised. He had done well enough in college, but the minute it was over, he’d been out of there like a shot. The idea of going back for an advanced degree, voluntarily entering a classroom or lecture hall, made him claustrophobic. But that didn’t mean he and his friends were going to be the reason he messed that up for Laila.
“Go grab some clothes and your books, and I’ll drive you to a hotel. Somewhere nice.”
“But—”
“I insist,” he interrupted. “You have to get a good grade, right?”
