Mason: The Sinner Saints #4 (7 page)

“So, why the hell did you bring me here?”

“Because this office has everything we need—untraceable phone lines, secure internet, and a fully stocked kitchen, all protected by one and a half inch-thick Aluminum Oxynitride bulletproof glass doors.”

As hideouts went, it sounded impressive. There was only one problem.

“How are you planning on explaining who I am to your co-workers?”

“I’m not,” he said, laying the charming smile on thick. “It’s six thirty-seven in the morning, Sara. I’m pretty sure we have the place to ourselves right now.”

Right now
. Yeah, Sara didn’t miss that part.

“And when nine o’clock rolls around?”

“Then we’ll come up with something.”

Sara cursed under her breath. What other choice did she have? It wasn’t like she was drowning in other options. Her apartment was soaked in blood and crawling with cops. She had to assume there were eyes on everyone she was associated with. Hell, she couldn’t even go out into the streets because, apparently, they were swarming with people gunning for her.

She shot him one last glare as she walked past him and into the lobby of Macmillan Security. Mason quickly led her past the slick, modern reception area.

At first glance, the office looked like any other, a cavernous space dotted with cubicles and a line of offices that ran along the far wall, but on closer inspection, Sara could tell the amount of care that had gone into the design. The carpet beneath their feet was nicer than the usual industrial supply. The overhead lighting was LED instead of flickering fluorescent. The art on the walls were originals, not prints.

Macmillan Security was high-end. There was no doubt of that. Everything here was the best.

Too bad, the one thing it didn’t have was the only thing she was looking for—someplace to hide. The space was too open, too spacious. If anyone walked through that front door, whether friend or foe, the first thing that they’d see was her.

Exactly what she was trying to avoid.

Sara slowed as Mason led her toward the back of the building. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the corner office.

Finally. There might be hope for this place yet.

“We should go in here,” she said, as they neared the door.

“Can’t,” Mason said. “My office is right next door.”

Sara stopped short. She might not know how to filet an intruder with a kitchen knife, but that didn’t mean she had no idea how to take care of herself.

“But your office isn’t going to work for me. This one will,” she said.

Mason’s shoulders tightened as he turned around to face her. Maybe he didn’t like her tone.

Too bad.

She didn’t like having every word she said blithely swept aside.

“It’s always worked for me.” His tone might have been light, but the look in his eyes was anything but.

Sara crossed her arms over her chest. If he was throwing down a challenge, she was more than happy to pick it up.

“I’m sure it’s great, but this one is better to hide in,” she said.

“Is that right?”

“It is,” she said. “Your office has interior windows and a sheet metal door. This one has reinforced steel, bolt locks and no way to see inside.”

“It also has a state of the art biometric entry system,” he shot back.

“You say that like it’s a problem.”

Mason’s brows shot up. “You think that you can break into Carter Macmillan’s private office?”

Sara shrugged her shoulders. “I know I can.”

“That I want to see.” He gave a little laugh and took a couple of steps toward her. “You’ve got yourself a deal. If you can get past those doors then that’s where we’ll work. But I have to warn you that if you manage this, Carter is not going to be happy.”

Sara looked him straight in the eye. “So unhappy that he shoots both of us?”

“
Both
?” He cocked his head to the side. “Probably not.”

“Then he’s already a step up from the people we’re hiding from.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “Would you like me to time you?”

“How did you know?” A smile curled Sara’s lips.

“You’re an easy mark, remember?” Mason gave her a wink as he stepped back from the access panel by the door.

Sara had seen the model before—a basic keypad entry system with a thumbprint scanner that also checked for pulse and electrical resistance. Mason was right. The system was almost impossible to fool, but if there was one thing that her mother had taught her, it was that only an idiot wasted precious time figuring out a way to bust through a front door when there was always a back window to shimmy through.

So, the path of least resistance it was.

Sara dug into her bag and pulled out her Swiss army knife. She flicked out the blade and used the tip to unscrew the scanner face. A few seconds later, it fell away, revealing the tangle of wires beneath.

From there it was a lot like hot wiring a car. Twist the right leads together, and—
click
—the bolts slid free.

Sara pushed the door open and held it with her foot as she put the correct wires back together and reattached the panel.

“How long?” she asked, craning her head around.

“Forty-two seconds.”

Sara’s face fell. “I’m out of practice. I was hoping to do it in under thirty.”

“Can’t imagine why you have trouble convincing people you’re not a thief,” he said, taking over holding the door.

She shot him a smirk. “You don’t see me stealing anything, do you?”

A devilish sparkle lit up his sapphire eyes, and Sara instantly regretted her playful tone.

“That’s because you haven’t gone inside yet,” he said. “Who knows? You might find something in there you can’t resist getting your hands on.”

She knew she shouldn’t engage. They needed to get down to some serious work. The clock was ticking, and this sort of silliness only wasted time. But she couldn’t seem to hold back a giggle.

Besides, she couldn’t let Mason have the last word, could she?

“Well, if I haven’t been tempted by now…” She let her words trail off as she walked past him into the office.

“Oh, you’ve been tempted,” he said, letting the door close behind him. “Everyone gets tempted by quality from time to time.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Sara walked over and leaned against the edge of the desk in the center of the room. “Besides, I’ve found that people have a tendency to vastly overestimate the value of their goods.”

Mason remained by the door. He leaned against the wall and casually crossed his arms, but his gaze stayed steady on her.

“Yes, but it’s not just the value of the goods,” he said, his expression turning comically serious. “It’s the quality of the services.”

Sara laughed in earnest. “That’s terrible,” she said.

“They can’t all be golden,” he said, a wide smile spreading across his face. He pushed off the wall and started toward her.

“Really?” Sara asked, straightening up. “I thought for certain you’d have a line for everything.”

Mason stopped in front of her. So close that she had to crane her head back to keep her eyes on his.

“Most times,” he admitted. “But you’re special. You’re the only one that’s ever left me speechless.”

Damn
. He was good.

Sara’s lips parted. Her tongue darted out to wet them. Her rational mind might know they were only teasing, but it seemed that her body hadn’t gotten the message. Even now, heat pooled deep in her belly. Tingles traced a path down her neck.

“Now that’s a much better line,” she said, giving her head a shake. “I’m sure the ladies all go crazy for it.”

He pushed a stray strand of hair away from her cheek. He didn’t pull his hand away once he was done. It lingered on the side of her face, his warm skin barely brushing against her sensitive nape. “It’s not a line, Sara.”

Her mouth opened to tell him off but all that came out was a soft whisper. “Like hell it isn’t.”

He inched closer, his legs pressing her deeper against the desk. She didn’t push him away. She could lie to herself, rationalize that she was caught in his magnetic blue gaze, that she was overwhelmed by a master at work, but Sara knew that would be a lie.

The truth was that right now she wanted him to kiss her. She had from the moment she’d first seen him in the museum. Who the hell wouldn’t?

He combed his fingers through her hair, cradling the back of her head, and time slowed down. His gaze didn’t leave hers.

Her heart began to pound, hammering against her breastbone. Her speeding pulse filled her ears.

Maybe that’s why she didn’t hear the click of the opening door behind them until it was too late.

Sara barely had enough time to blink before a voice boomed.

“What the hell is going on?”

Chapter Six

“Carter.”

Mason’s shoulders fell as his friend’s name crossed his lips. He closed his eyes as he drew in a long breath.

Shit
.

Carter Macmillan always did have the worst timing in the world. Mason should be deep into kissing Sara. Her arms should be wrapped around his neck. Her knees parting, allowing him to nestle in closer to her body. Her sweet mouth opening and letting him in.

Instead, he was doing his best to keep her from falling off the edge of his boss’ desk in panic.

“You’re here early,” Mason continued, as he helped Sara get her feet steady on the ground. Only then did he turn around. “I wasn’t expecting you until later.”

“I can see that.” Carter arched a single brow. Just as he expected, his friend didn’t sound any kind of happy to see them. “How did you get in here?”

Mason pressed his lips together as he cocked his head to the side. This was going to take some skill to smooth out. The
Captain
wasn’t the kind to forgive invasions of his privacy easily.

“We broke in,” Sara said before Mason could open his mouth.

“You
what
?” Carter said, his voice dropping dangerously low. His glare glistened with a lethal edge.

Mason turned his head her way as she stepped around him to stand at his side. To give her credit, she met Carter’s gaze without blinking. Mason had seen the look in her eyes before, the mix of trepidation and resolve. She might be afraid, but she was doing her best to hide it.

“Well, technically,
I
was the one who broke in,” she said. “Mason just timed me while I did it.”

“That’s impossible,” Carter said. “My security system is unbreakable.”

“Obviously, it wasn’t,” she said. “Though if it makes you feel any better, I rewired it and fixed the flaw I found. Now this room truly is the most secure in the building.”

Carter crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You must be the infamous Sara Baumgartner.”

An embarrassed smile curled her lips. She dipped her head down far enough for her hair to partially cover her face. “I think that
infamous
might be overselling it a little.”

“It’s not,” Carter said. “Why the hell do you think that I’m up and at the office before seven o’clock in the morning? You’re the prime suspect in the theft of the Evening Star. Practically every law enforcement agency in the world is looking for you right now, Miss Baumgartner.”

The color drained from Sara’s face. She stumbled back a few steps as Carter moved away from the door and toward his desk. Mason put his hands on her arms to steady her.

Carter didn’t miss the simple move. He shot Mason a look of warning as he passed them.

“Sara didn’t do it,” Mason said.

Carter nodded as he sat down in his chair. “Charlie passed along your message last night.”

“Your
message
?” Sara asked, turning toward him. “You promised you wouldn’t pull anyone else into this.”

“We needed their help. Charlie is the only person in the world who stands a chance of tracking down both Malcolm and the man you followed last night,” he said. “Besides, she was already involved.”

“And him?” she asked, inclining her head toward Carter.

“
He
is your new boyfriend’s boss,” Carter said.

“Mason is
not
my boyfriend,” Sara said, shaking her head a little too hard. “And trust me, you do not want to involve anyone else in this mess.”

“Finally, something we agree on.” Carter leaned back in his chair and gave Sara a long look. “But if I’ve learned anything over the last few months, it’s that I rarely get what I want.”

“What does that mean?” Sara asked.

“It means that while you might be one hell of a B&E artist, Miss Baumgartner, you’re not a liar. Charlie looked into this Malcolm Van Zandt, and he’s every bit as bad as you said he was. It’s too dangerous for Mason to try to take him down on his own.”

“How much of the team are you giving me?” Mason asked.

Carter tucked his hands behind his head. “Everyone.”

Mason’s eyes widened. Carter wasn’t messing around. This Malcolm bastard had to be bad.

She trembled at his side. “You have to call them off.”

A slow smile spread across Carter’s face. “I think you’ve forgotten whose office you broke into. I don’t have to do anything.”

She propped her hands on the top of Carter’s desk. “This isn’t a joke.”

“That must be why I’m not laughing,” Carter said, leaning forward. “I’m also not about to risk the life of one of my best men, not to mention a close friend, just because you have trust issues, Miss Baumgartner.”

“Fine,” Sara’s voice shook with desperation. “All I need is a few minutes and a phone to make a couple of calls. After that I’ll get the hell out of here. Alone.”

“The hell you will,” Mason said, his tone hard. He turned toward Carter. “I won’t allow that to happen.”

“Don’t worry. Neither will I,” Carter said. “There have been two attempts on your life so far, Miss Baumgartner. I can’t in good conscience let you go anywhere without protection.”

“Three,” Mason corrected him. “There was a break in at her apartment a few hours ago.”

Fine crinkles creased the corners of Carter’s eyes. “Any idea who they were working for.”

“The South Africans,” Sara answered for him. “I should have seen it coming. Whenever the Russians are in town the South Africans can’t be far behind.”

“Is there anyone that usually follows the South Africans?” Carter asked, his lips tight.

Sara tilted her head to the side. “The Belgians occasionally, but I haven’t heard any rumors about them being in town.”

“The Belgians. Of course.” Carter sighed. “Maybe it would be easier, Miss Baumgartner, if we put together a list of people that aren’t currently trying to kill you.”

Sara started as a rhythmic knock sounded on the door. She spun around, and reached for his arm. Mason slid his hand over hers reassuringly.

There was only one person he knew that knocked with such a catchy beat.

“Come in,” Carter called, as he reached under his desk to release the lock.

A second later, Charlie’s red head poked through. “Hey, I wasn’t sure anyone was here yet.”

Carter’s lips flattened into a straight line. “Some of us earlier than others.”

Sara shuffled back a step as Charlie walked into the office, but it didn’t help. Charlie’s gaze snapped right to her.

“Ah, Sara,” she said, a wide smile immediately bloomed on her face. “I was hoping that you’d be here with us.”

“You were?” Sara asked skeptically.

“Yeah, you were?” Carter echoed.

Charlie didn’t spare a glance at Carter. Instead, she strode right over to Sara, her hand outstretched.

“I’m Charlie Keswick,” she said.

Sara shot him a questioning glance as she quickly shook Charlie’s hand. “Sara Baum—”

“Baumgartner,” Charlie said. “I know all about you.”

Sara’s eyes widened. “You do?”

“Of course I do. Who do you think made sure that Mason drew this particular assignment?”

“Am I supposed to be thanking you for that?” she asked, her brow creasing.

Charlie shrugged her shoulders. She settled into one of the chairs in front of Carter’s desk. “You will after you meet the rest of the guys I could have sent your way.”

“Oh, I don’t plan on meeting
anyone
else,” Sara said, waving her hands. “Nothing personal, but I’m not even happy to see you right now.”

“Well, I don’t know how you’re going to avoid it,” Charlie said, digging into her oversized bag and pulling out her laptop. “I passed them on my way up.”

***

Sara’s heart started to pound. She tried to swallow, but she couldn’t. Somehow there was a huge lump blocking her throat.

She turned toward Mason and wrapped her hand around his arm. “I have to get out of here.”

That second another knock sounded. There was nothing musical about this one though. It was nothing but loud and functional.

Sara barely had time to let out the breath she’d been holding before the door clicked open. She turned her back, but it didn’t help. She could still hear three distinct sets of footsteps entering the room.

Three more people she had to worry about. Three more lives she was now responsible for. That made six total…eight when she counted her parents.

Damn it. This was snowballing out of control. There was no way that Malcolm was going to let this slide.

He’d already threatened Mason’s life if they didn’t deliver
l’étoile
. She shuddered to think what he was going to do when he found out about all these other people. Hell, she could probably bring him every last bit of inventory inside the San Francisco Museum of Fine Art and he still wouldn’t consider them square.

Mason cupped his hand around her shoulder. Sara could practically feel the strength pouring from his touch.

“It’s all right,” he whispered. “Just stay by my side, and everything is going to be fine.”

Sara knew she shouldn’t put any stock in his words. He was just trying to reassure her, trying to calm her down. It was a tactic he would have used with anyone, but still she found herself tempted to believe him.

God, was there any part of Mason Wright that wasn’t tempting?

Sara drew in a steadying breath before turning back around. Three new faces stared at her…each one more intimidating than the next. There was something about the way they were all standing together, shoulder to shoulder, presenting a solid wall of muscle and brawn that made Carter’s welcome seem downright warm in comparison.

“Gentlemen, allow me to introduce Sara Baumgartner,” Mason said. His tone was light, but she didn’t miss that he’d angled his body a half step in front of her.

No one said a word—not even a single nod of acknowledgement. A tense silence filled the room.

Sara wasn’t about to be the one to break it. Based on the way all three were glaring at her, none of them wanted to be here anymore than she did.

Great. Now even her supposed allies were against her.

“Oh, come on guys. Be nice,” Charlie said, swiveling around in her chair. “Don’t let them scare you, Sara. They might growl like attack dogs, but they don’t bite.”

A few eyebrows shot up, Sara’s included. She’d known her share of mercenaries in her life and these guys certainly seemed like they fit the bill.

“At least not in the house,” Charlie amended.

Another tense moment ticked by, and Sara figured that, if there was any hope of getting this over with, she was going to have to make the first move. She raised her hand and gave a self-conscious wave.

“Hey…guys,” she said weakly.

Nothing. The cold stares continued.

“Oh for God’s sake,” Charlie groaned, swinging up from her chair. “I don’t even know how any of you get through a day of regular human interaction.”

She went over and stood by the first man on the left, a tall, blonde man with pale blue eyes.

“This is Rhys,” she said. “He doesn’t mean to be rude. It’s just that he only has one expression. Doesn’t matter if he’s happy, sad or angry. This is what you get. We have a friend that calls him
Iceman
. It seems to fit.”

She moved on to the broad-shouldered, muscular man in the center. For some reason, the daggers he was staring at her seemed particularly sharp.

“And here’s Jake,” she said. “He’s actually a pretty nice guy, as long as you don’t get on his bad side.
Unfortunately
, you are currently on his bad side.”

Sara gulped down a breath. That didn’t seem like a good place to be.

“How did I manage that?” she asked.

“My girlfriend is a curator at the San Francisco Museum of Fine Art.” His voice was even deeper and growlier than Sara had imagined.

“I didn’t end up being the one who stole the Evening Star if that helps,” she tried.

“It does not,” he said.

Sara gave a shaky nod. She hadn’t held out a lot of hope that it would.

Charlie moved down to the last—and biggest—guy in the line.

“And this one here is Bowie Tamatoa,” she said.

“Please tell me I didn’t accidentally do anything to piss off his girlfriend,” she said.

She heard Mason let out a chuckle.

Charlie started to open her mouth, but Bowie rushed to answer. “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said.

Charlie snapped her head his way. “You don’t?”

“No,” he said, staring straight ahead.

“What happened to Diane?” Charlie asked, her eyes going wide.