Where would she be without his scowls and his grumbles and his insistence on keeping his distance?
He wrapped his arms around her and held on tight. A little squeak of gratitude, fatigue, and pent-up fear escaped her. She thought maybe he didn’t hear it,hopedhe didn’t hear it. She didn’t want to ruin all the hard work she’d put into convincing him she was one tough cookie.
But when she pulled back, the look of remorse on his face told her he hadn’t missed a thing. “Sorry this happened.” Then he added with a grimace, “Again.”
She forced another smile. This one hurt, too, but she kept it in place by sheer dint of will. “Yeah. I suppose I should start wearing a hard hat, huh?”
He cocked a confused eyebrow.
“You know,” she said. “Because of all the shit that’s come down on my head since I started working for you guys.”
Wolf gave a little snort. But the joke fell flat with Mason, and she immediately wished she’d kept her mouth shut.
Mason took things too personally. He’d taken what happened on Garden Key, the danger she’d been in, too personally. And he was taking the danger she’d been in today too personally too.
Looking for a change of subject, she pointed to the side of his T-shirt. Had she mentioned the thing was too small for him? It was as if John Cena had gone shopping in the juniors department.
In any other situation, all of thatmalenesson full, mouthwatering display might’ve distracted her from what she wanted to ask. But the edges of Mason’s bandage were visible beneath the white cotton, and that was more than enough to keep her focused. “How are you feeling?”
He glanced down and this timehewas the one trying to lighten the mood. “What?” he scoffed. “This little thing? Just a mosquito bite. How about you?” He hitched his chin toward her bandaged forehead.
Two can play this game, she thought.
“Any other woman would be strapped to a gurney and screaming for pain meds,” she told him, mimicking his macho-man stance. “But I barely feel a thing.”
And then it happened.
The mighty Mason McCarthy offered up one of his rare smiles.
Something to understand about Mason… He looked like the kind of guy you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley. His brow was heavy and usually slammed into a scowl—especially when she was around. And then there was his nose. It was wide and listed a little to the side like maybe he’d been a boxer in his youth, or otherwise just a kid who’d gotten into more than his fair share of scrapes. And his jaw looked like it could withstand a hammer strike and come back all Oliver Twist style.Please, sir. I want some more.
But when he smiled?
Oh, when he smiled, it transformed his face the way the spring sun transforms the earth after a hard winter. His bluer-than-blue eyes lit up from within. His wide mouth curved into an arc so perfect, it looked like it’d been formed by a master sculptor. And all that was hard and unyielding about him seemed to fall away, revealing a softness that made everything inside Alex want to…
Something.
Sing, maybe? Dance? Whoop and holler?
In short, Mason McCarthy’s smile was a wonderful gift.
“So I guess that means we’re a coupla badasses, huh?” He looked so yummy smiling at her that she wanted to hug him again. Hug him and kiss him and…otherthings.
And never mind all of his objections.
“Or it means we’re crazier than wax bananas.” She made a face.
Mason’s shoulders shook when he chuckled.
A smileanda chuckle? A banner day, indeed!
“So what now?” Chrissy asked. “I wasn’t given any instructions when I was shown to this room.” She circled a finger to indicate the conference room, otherwise known as Alex’s Least Favorite Place on the Planet. “Are we good to go or what?”
“Go?” Alex asked dubiously. “You want to go before we have any answers? Or did all those uniformed types mention to you guys who the A-holes on the speedboat were? Or why they wanted to kill us? Or if they have any friends who will try to finish the job once they find out we’re still alive and kicking?”
Chrissy stumbled like the thought made her knees go weak. She reached to brace a hand on one of the metal folding chairs, but Wolf was there to offer her support as she lifted a hand to her head. “Holy shit. I hadn’t considered that.”
“From what the local boys told me”—Wolf eyed Chrissy—“they’re workin’ off the assumption the crew that hit it us are the same guys who’ve been robbin’ fishin’ boats in the Straits for the last six weeks.”
