Mason winks. “Because orgasms are great and all, but the thrill of getting caught makes it that much more exciting.” He leans in to whisper, “Besides, we’re taking your status as incorruptible as a challenge.”
Chapter 18
Mason
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“I’m gonna blow it up,” Stryker decides, glaring daggers at the apartment building.
“There’s at least twenty other people in there,” I counter, not really arguing, simply pointing out a fact.
They can all burn for all I care. How many times did they pass Risa in the hallway and not see what was going on, how withdrawn she was? How often did they fawn over that bastard, thinking he was the gods' gift to earth, oblivious to what was going on behind closed doors?
Risa puts her hand on his shoulder, gently stroking down his arm as we glare at the brick exterior, waiting outside of the apartment building. “If you’re going to get arrested for mass murder, at least make it for something more interesting than this. Let’s save that for plan B, okay?”
As the police cruiser pulls up, parking on the side street, she removes her hand, coming to stand beside me. Ryker and Thatcher exit the vehicle, eyeing the three of us with grim expressions, likely realizing they made a smart choice to intervene before we beat the shit out of the guy.
Ryker huffs. “Looks like we got a jumpstart and avoided the call that would’ve been going out anyway.”
Bane holds his hands up in surrender. “Not here to cause trouble, officers. We just want to make sure Risa is able to grab her things without getting hurt.”
Thatcher’s eyes are hard as he tilts his head toward the building. “Why don’t we have Risa go first, her husband can hover nearby, and the four of us will stay back a step?”
Ryker’s already shaking his head. “T, protocol-“
“Fuck protocol!” Thatcher snaps. “I want to see how he reacts when he thinks she’s alone.”
By his partner’s silence, I’d bet money that something happened to someone Thatcher loved, maybe a sister caught up in a domestic violence issue. Ryker nods, looking exhausted already, and waves a hand out for Risa to lead the way.
Pulling open the door, she takes a steadying breath before starting up the winding staircase up to the fourth floor. Stryker and Bane stay behind with the cops just around the corner while I lean against the wall, pretending to scroll on my phone.
Risa passes one door before stopping outside of her old apartment. Her fist hovers a few inches above the white painted metal, mustering up the courage to knock. A myriad of emotions cross her face, eventually settling on determination, and she raps her knuckles against the door. With my senses on high alert, I hear his footsteps as he approaches, forcing myself to look down at my phone and watching her out of the corner of my eye.
“Risa?”
“Blake,” she retorts icily. “I’m here for my stuff; shouldn’t take long.”
