“How about here?” It’s the one of Mason’s hand on the shoulder of a tall brunette. “Look romantic? Like lovers in the sunshine?”
I close my eyes, soaking in the hot water as it soothes my muscles. “She looks miserable. What’s your point? Are you tryingto tell me your stalker caught you breaking up with your harem for me?” Does he really think that’s much better?
He snorts. “No. I was never with them. You know how most of the women feel when they come to Striking Back. They’re heartbroken and terrified. I meet with each woman in a public place the first time for an intake interview, somewhere they feel safe. That’s what the pictures show. I’m reassuring them I can protect them.”
I study the photos again. “None of these women are living at your shelter,” I point out, sitting up carefully so I don’t slosh water onto the floor.
Mason grabs the shampoo as I reach for it and turns on the shower attachment to wet my hair. “The blonde woman is named Tracy Long and she’s at S.B. She moved in the day you were attacked. The tall woman decided she felt safer out of state so we sent her to a sister shelter in Florida.”
“And the last woman?”
“Backed out and went home to her husband.” His hands feel so good lathering my hair while I remain silent, thinking it through.
“You haven’t been with anyone else?”
“No, baby.” He gently washes my back before handing me the cloth so I can finish. “Ready to get out?”
I nod, and he takes my hand, helping me out of the tub. Before I can protest, he dries me off from head to toe with a fluffy towel and helps me dress. I wrap him in a hug. “I’m sorry I accused you.”
His chin rests on my head. “I understand how it looked.”
“But I don’t think I can keep doing this. I just can’t handle a relationship right now. I’ll screw it up, and you’ll end up hating me.”
His large palms cup my jaws and bright blue eyes burrow into mine. “I could never hate you. This isn’t easy for me either. We have the same abandonment issues. We just cope differently. You try to leave before you get left, and I hold onto to what’s precious to me with all my might. I’m overprotective, and I know it can be smothering, but I don’t cheat. You can trust me.”
His lips part mine with the softest of kisses, and his next words tear down any remaining doubt that I’m in too deep to see out. “I love you, Everly. Please stop running from me.”
My tears overflow and I can’t stop them. “I’m sorry. You’ve been so good to me. I should’ve let you explain.”
“It’s okay, love. You’ve had a terrible week. Just let me take care of you. Everything will be okay. I’m right here beside you.” His strong arms wraps around my waist and he leads me to the couch in the living room, already made up with pillows and a blanket. “We’ll just hang out and watch movies while you rest. Ian will be coming by in a few hours.”
“Mason.” I grab his arm, pulling him down beside me before he can walk away. “I love you, too.” His eyes light up and a wide smile blooms across his face. He pulls me into his lap, kissing me in that long slow way I love, and I feel something inside me loosen and relax. I’m in love with him. He loves me. We’ll be okay. We spend the next few days together while I recover.
Mason settles in beside me on the couch, a worried expression on his face. “Everly, I need to talk to you about something. I was going to wait until you were well, but I think you need to know.”
Turning to press my back against the arm of the couch, I pull my knees to my chest. This doesn’t sound like good news.
Mason scoots closer, refusing to allow me to put any space between us. “Since the night your car was vandalized, I’ve had my…people investigating.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Not everything they do is strictly legal. I didn’t want to involve you. I have friends who’ve worked in Military Intelligence and for Homeland Security.”
“Hackers?”
“Professionals. Anyway, they discovered something. It’s about your father.”
“What about him?”
“Sweetheart…he’s not dead.”
I laugh at the absurdity of it. “What the hell are you talking about? I’ve seen his death certificate, been to his grave.”
“The U.S. Marshals helped him fake his death. He’s in the Witness Protection Program.” He slips his hand into mine and stares into my eyes. “He’s alive, Evie.”
My head is spinning. There has to be some mistake. “Why, though? Who’s after him?”
Mason lowers his head. “From the information I have, it could be a number of people.” His reluctance to tell me is stamped on his face, but with a sigh, he says, “Your father was a Mob boss. The car accident was an attempt on his life.”
