The Mercenary Next Door (Rogues and Rescuers Book 2), page 7
Her lids flew open when Mason kissed her stomach. Their eyes met over the naked expanse of her chest. She felt more than saw the smile he pressed against her midriff. He worked his way up her body, lips lingering on her breasts. But what set her off again was his shaft, hard and hot against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh…
Laila tried to work a hand between them to guide him inside her when the phone rang. The ringtone sounded distinctive, classical, and ominous.
“Fuck.” Mason jerked into a sitting position. “I’m sorry,” he apologized as he leaned over to reach for his pants. “Sorry, this is work.”
Hitting redial, he climbed off the bed.
“Lang here,” he said into the receiver, not bothering to grab his pants or shirt.
Mason Lang is in my apartment, buck naked. Laila pinched herself, but the unlikely apparition stayed right where it was.
And he’s not even a little bit shy, is he? Well, why would he be? The man was a golden god. Modesty was for lesser beings.
A little wrinkle appeared between Mason’s brows.
“Oh, really?” He glanced at his watch again. “I guess. Yeah, sure. I can be there in thirty minutes.”
Hanging up, he turned back to her, his mouth tight. “I have to go.”
Laila pulled the sheet up, covering her breasts, although she wasn’t sure why. He’d already seen, stroked, and licked every inch of her. “Do you have to leave town?” she asked tentatively.
“I’m not sure. They didn’t say so, and they would have, I think. I’m being called into headquarters.”
She blinked, concerned because he was. “Is that not normal?”
“No,” he said, the furrow deepening. “We usually get a message to gear up and head for the airport, or we meet at our training facility first for a run-down if the powers that be think one is necessary. We don’t get called into the downtown office very often. That’s for schmoozing the clients.”
He broke off, staring at her. Laila bit her lip, willing for him to say something…anything.
“I guess I should go find out what they want.”
“Uh, yeah,” she said awkwardly. “I hope everything is okay.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing. If I were getting fired, I would have some clue. My team lead, Dominic, isn’t the kind to mince words if you’re fucking up on his watch.”
Laila nodded her head like a stupid bobblehead doll. “That’s comforting.”
Mason picked up his pants, getting dressed in a blink. He grabbed his keys.
“Do you want something for the road?” she asked, her head spinning at how fast he could pull on his clothes. Was it a job hazard?
Mason jerked. “What?” A slow grin spread across his face.
Blushing, Laila realized how those words must have sounded. She jerked her thumb at the kitchen counter. “I brought some day-old muffins and a cinnamon roll from work. They’re in that bag.”
Laughing, Mason nodded. “I am starving,” he said, reaching in and taking out the banana nut muffin. “I, uh, I guess we’ll talk later.”
Laila nodded again, still hiding under the sheet. She waited until the door closed behind him before throwing herself face-down on the bed.
“Oh my God.” Burying her face in the pillow, she let out a short, muffled scream.
“Laila?”
Whipping around, she saw Mason at the threshold. He’d come back. Shit.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she squeaked, mortified.
“Good, good.”
“Did you forget something?” she asked.
“Yeah.” Crossing the room, he strode up to her, gathering in her arms. He pressed her close, kissing her within an inch of her life.
“Damn,” she gasped, collapsing on the mattress when he let go. Every part of her tingled.
“We will talk later, okay?”
“Okay,” she agreed, dazed.
Chapter Ten
Mason stepped into the elevator before pressing the button for the twentieth floor. Auric headquarters was at the top of an L.A. Highrise. The sleek offices were where the company founders—Ian Quinn and Elias Gardner—met with private companies and government contractors.
The two men were cousins. Gardner came from a much wealthier background than Quinn, but that didn’t matter to them. They had been tight since childhood. After doing stints in different branches of the military—Quinn had been a ranger, Gardner a Navy Seal—the ambitious duo joined forces. They founded Auric while still in their twenties, recruiting their closest friends as team leaders.
The interior of the office was designed to impress. Minimalist without being bare, the rooms were professionally staged to convey affluence and stability—the way a bank tried to make its customers believe it had been there for decades, if not longer.
Aside from their work for Uncle Sam, most of Auric’s clients were big companies—including one or two multinationals. Some were in the oil business, but not always. The world grew more interconnected by the day. The need to secure people and places would only increase.
Though the Auric offices weren’t as flashy as the Caislean, Mason always felt a little out of place whenever he came here. Employees at his level didn’t see the main hub too often, usually only when they signed their contracts or updated their wills…which may have explained his mild disquiet.
Every member of Auric was required to have a last will and testament, updated every year. Mason recognized the wisdom of the policy, but it still made him uneasy. Despite regularly facing his mortality on the job, it was never as real to him as when he saw it in black and white while revising his will with the company lawyer—his annual trip to purgatory.
Other than the dreaded paperwork, the bulk of Auric’s business was conducted at their training facility near Glendale. Only the team heads came to the offices regularly—not that Quinn and Gardner discouraged visits. But they weren’t necessary. Both men still trained with their employees, making themselves accessible should someone want to have a quiet word. When Mason first started at Auric, they used to go on missions, but the business was growing fast, so they did so less and less. The last time Quinn had coordinated an op was over a year ago.
Nevertheless, the cousins’ past military experience was one reason Mason had decided to sign up with Auric. It was important to him that the founders weren’t fat cats or straight-up pencil pushers. Quinn and Gardner knew what it meant to serve. He trusted them. And before today, he thought that went both ways. Now he wasn’t so sure.
Mason didn’t know why he was being called in, but he must have done something wrong and not realized it.
It was the only thing that could have distracted him from thoughts of Laila at that moment.
He stopped short of the entrance to Auric offices, images of her slim naked forms wrapped around him, flooding through his brain.
Fuck. Stop that. Right now, Mason had to deal with the fact he might be getting fired for some godforsaken reason.
Grunting, he passed a hand through his hair before straightening his posture and opening the glass door the led to the reception era. Whatever was going on, he could count on Quinn and Gardner to be straight with him.
“Hello, Mr. Lang,” Laurie, the receptionist, greeted him. In her early twenties, Laurie was the object of much speculation among the men. A few had asked her out, though without success.
Her bright smile could have been in a toothpaste ad. “They’re expecting you,” she said with a graceful gesture of her hand.
He inclined his head, intent on going in and getting it over with, but Laurie hopped to her feet behind the desk. “Can I get you something before you go in? Coffee? A bottle of water?”
“No, thank you, ma’am,” he said, stiff-necked. The touch of Tennessee in his drawl was proof of his anxiety.
“Be sure to let me know if you change your mind,” Laurie said cheerfully before she sat, returning to her work.
A hand clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, man. Thanks for coming in so fast.” Dominic Santos, his team leader, drew him away down the hall. Once they were away from the reception desk, he smirked, nudging him. “You know Laurie never offers to get me anything. Nor does she offer refreshments to any of the team heads—I know because I asked. She only fetches for Quinn and Gardner, the clients, and, apparently, you.”
Mason ignored the bit about the receptionist. It wasn’t hard given the sight that greeted him on the other side of the glass conference room doors.
“Now I know I’m in trouble,” he said, looking askance at the group around the oval table. Ian Quinn and Elias Gardner sat with two other men in suits so sharp they could probably draw blood.
“What makes you say that?” his team leader asked.
“Why else would you be here?”
Dom was a solid guy, a former ranger like him, but he was also a family man with a young kid at home, so he didn’t socialize much with Mason or the rest of the team. But Mason could still read him. And, right now, Dom was amused.
“Relax. It’s nothing like that.”
Scowling, Mason wanted to ask him what it was like then, but Dom forestalled him. “Let’s just get in there,” he said, pointing to the door with his thumb. “It’ll all be clear soon enough.”
Wiping his expression clean, Mason followed him inside. The newcomers turned to him. They appeared to be the same age as Quinn and Gardner. They were also fairly fit, but that was where the similarities ended. These were gym bodies wrapped in ten-thousand-dollar suits. Mason was generally good about spotting fellow former soldiers. And these men didn’t have the bearing that marked past military experience.
“Hey, Mason, come on in.” Quinn waved him over. “This is Rainer Torsten,” he said, pointing to the man with red hair. “And this is his associate, Garret Chapman.”
Chapman, a dark-haired man just under six feet, put his hand out to shake. Torsten followed suit.
Mason greeted them with a murmur, but he refrained from launching into the dozens of questions he had. It must be a new op, something sensitive enough to require a face-to-face interaction.
Everyone took a seat around the polished oak table. After making a few bland inquiries about Torsten and Chapman’s flight here, Quinn turned to him. “I’m sure you’re wondering why we called you in here.”
Mason nodded, his eyes darting to study the other men before returning to Quinn.
Ian leaned forward. “Though we’re a relatively new company, our reputation has grown at a steady rate. The business has been solid, and we’ve landed several big contracts. However, we’re getting to the point where we have had to start turning down jobs. The demand is that high.”
Mason nodded. Dom had told him as much, but Mason hadn’t considered what that meant beyond having basic job security.
“So, there’s a deal on the table,” Quinn confided.
Mason leaned back. Dom was right—this wasn’t about a screw-up. But he still didn’t know what he was doing here.
“We have three teams running now,” Quinn continued. “But we could be fielding twice as many. Doubling our current operations has been our long-term goal, as is opening an East Coast office, but those things are a few years out—at least three, perhaps four. Or they were until Torsten and Chapman approached us about investing, allowing us to expand our operation. With their help, we can do it in two.”
Chapman gestured to the men. “I’ve known Garret for years. We were a year apart at university. He and Rainer have partnered on deals before. They’ve been looking to invest in a company like ours for a while, and while we have been hesitant to take outside funding, they are a known quantity.”
“Is that right?” Mason asked, his tone conversational. He was fairly certain his expression was as bland as the day was long, but Quinn and Gardner quickly addressed the first question that jumped to mind.
“Neither wants to get involved with daily operations, just a solid company to invest in. They would be silent minority partners,” Quinn stressed.
“The other guys will be happy to hear that,” Mason said with brutal honesty. “No offense meant, but a lot of us signed on to Auric because we knew our bosses were former military themselves. They understand our mindset, and neither is cavalier with our lives.”
Garrett Chapman leaned forward in his chair. “Naturally, we’re not interested in messing with perfection. Auric is doing very well without us. We just want to help it grow. But we do have some ulterior motives for investing in a security company specifically,” he said, giving the redheaded man a significant nod.
“Um…” Caught off guard, Torsten hesitated, but Quinn gave him an encouraging nod.
Torsten’s fair complexion reddened to the point where the bridge of his cheekbones almost matched his hair. His mouth closed. He reached for the bottle of water in front of him, taking his sweet time to take a drink. “Well, this is a little embarrassing, but I had an incident last year.”
“A security breach?” Mason prompted, a tiny bit surprised to find himself sympathetic for a millionaire.
“In a sense,” Torsten acknowledged. He smiled sheepishly. “I, um, I met a woman.”
“Ah,” Mason said aloud, leaning back in his chair.
The man cleared his throat. “I was introduced to her by one of my museum contacts—I have an extensive antiquities collection.”
Torsten’s mouth quirked, and he shrugged. “Eileen was charming, and she had great credentials in the art world. And, well, she was stunning. I wanted to spend time with her…alone. She returned my interest, but she balked at having an audience. So, I dismissed my security personnel for the night.”
“Hmm.” Mason didn’t need the man to draw him a picture. “Were you injured?”
“No. Just drugged. She wasn’t looking to violate my person—her interest lay elsewhere.”
Torsten had a distant light in his eye like he was riffling through his memories, examining each one in turn and setting it aside.
It must have weighed on him something fierce. Torsten would have been helpless. He could have been killed, particularly since he’d gotten up close and personal with his assailant and could easily identify her. He was lucky she let him live.
Yeah, something like that would have been hard to shake off.
“I’ve explained to my insistent friend here that the woman didn’t steal anything of value,” Torsten said, indicating Chapman. “All she did was copy some information about one of my art purchases. Considering the lengths she went to get it, the details were pretty innocuous. I still have no idea why she wanted the data.”
“Are you concerned this Eileen will come back?”
“No. I’m sure she won’t,” Torsten said, sounding certain.
Mason raised a brow in question. “Then, are you worried about the integrity of your current security? Do you want us to vet your people?” Auric sometimes did that, although team leaders typically handled the assessments.
“Not exactly,” Chapman answered. “We want you to train us.”
Mason drew his head back. He raised an eyebrow at Quinn and Gardner, who nodded.
“We may not want to be involved in the day to day,” Chapman said. “But we do like to dive into companies to learn what makes them tick. It makes for more informed collaborations.”
That didn’t sound particularly hands-off to Mason, but Torsten’s story explained why they would want to ‘dive in’. Mason just hoped their involvement would end there. Auric wasn’t a boot camp for bored billionaires.
“So, you want me to take some time to run them through our training routines?” he asked politely, addressing his team lead and the big bosses.
“Actually, we want you to train them alongside your new team,” Quinn corrected.
Mason sat up straighter. “Excuse me?”
“That’s the real reason we brought you in today. We want to start recruiting a fourth team now, and we’d like you to take the lead—on a trial basis, of course.”
Gardner tapped his fingers on the table to get Mason’s attention. “We are evaluating a few candidates for team leads, but that’s for teams five and six. If we’re serious about expanding, we need to hit the ground running. It makes sense to promote from within. And given your performance, it would be stupid not to make you an offer.”
“That’s great,” Mason said. “At least, I think it’s great.”
“You’ve been with us a long time,” Gardner continued. “The men respect you. When Dom had to delegate the lead to someone else, you’ve stepped up with excellent results. If you’d stayed with the Rangers, you would have been promoted a long time ago.”
Mason blinked. He hadn’t thought about it that way, but then the military wasn’t something he’d signed up for because he was looking for a career. It had merely been a placeholder. Kind of like Auric. Or at least that was what he’d been telling himself up until now.
Gardner nodded to the two investors, drawing his attention back to the present. “Garrett and Rainer will only be with you through the first phase of training, where you run through candidates and put them through their paces. We wouldn’t finalize the new team until after. I don’t have to tell you how important it is for the group to gel. We wouldn’t want the presence of these two to interrupt the new group’s dynamics.”
No, Mason didn’t need that spelled out for him. Even more so than the army, Auric teams were well-oiled machines. Each one was a cohesive unit. They got that way through training, a polite phrase for the endless and grueling drills, courses, and exercises each team went through until they operated seamlessly.
Mason took a deep breath. Part of him was still reeling. Me a team leader?
“So, a crash course in hand-to-hand and marksmanship is all you’re looking for?” Mason asked Torsten with a raised brow. “It won’t change what happened to you,” he added a bit more gently.
“I know that,” Rainer Torsten said with a self-deprecating little shrug. There was an air to him—chagrin mingled with frustration.
He doubts his judgment. Mason could relate.
“Garrett thinks it’s high time I learned how to shoot and fight hand-to-hand,” Torsten said. “And I guess it wouldn’t hurt to learn how to handle myself a bit better, get some real offensive and defensive techniques down. When you have as much money as I do, it’s hard to find someone willing to hit you.”
