Page 25 of Silent Sins

As Mason knew he would, Bridger agreed instantly. “Anything we can help with?” he added.

“Just logistical support for now.” The team would have this handled in a nanosecond, but he had agreed to do this Avery’s way. For now.

“Copy that. Keys are under the mat,” Bridger said. A kid’s high, joyous laughter rang out in the background. Bridger’s soon-to-be-son, Kellen.

“Hey, Dad, it’s getting dark out. You said we could play one more game of Night Ranger before bed.”

“On my way, bud,” Bridger called out. “We good?” he asked Mason. “I gotta jet.”

Between the wondrous happiness in his friend’s voice and the thought of having a family—a wife like Jane and a fantastic boy to come home to—Mason’s chest constricted.

“Be safe, bro.” Bridger ended the call.

Mason eyed Avery. “You good with that?”

For a heartbeat, he thought she was going to argue, but mercifully, she finally nodded. “For now.”

“Cool.” He pocketed his phone. “We’re leaving in ten minutes. Gather what you need.”

“What about me?” Paul asked. “We’re going to swing by my place first, right?”

“Negative. What part of ‘lay low’ don’t you get?”

Paul flapped his arms helplessly. “Dude. I don’t even have a toothbrush.”

“I’m heading back to my motel later to clear out my room. I can grab whatever you need from the store on my way back.”

Paul tensed. “What about my truck?”

“It stays at the casino. They’ll have it towed. Eventually.”

Paul’s mouth dropped open. “That pickup cost me thirty-five hundred bucks.”

“I’ll buy you a new one. Not a problem. You ending up dead, however, is a problem. You follow me?”

He braced for another argument, but his little bro merely nodded meekly.

Excellent. At this point, Mason would take what he could get.

“We’ll head out in my rental.” He thought through the plan out loud. “We’ll leave Avery’s car in her parking spot.” He caught her eye. “There’s no evidence that you’re being shadowed, but we should plan for the worst-case scenario. That’ll buy us more time.”

Avery hadn’t moved. From the set of her jaw and the fire in her eye, he predicted a coming storm. Tempting fate, he tapped his watch. “Tick tock, Agent Ellis. Eight minutes and counting.”

She eyed the collection of pans hanging above the stove. He widened his stance, ready to duck if she chucked one, but her hands flattened on the counter. “Just one thing. Does your friend’s place have a spa? I want to know if I should pack a swimsuit.”

The woman had gumption. Maybe too much. Despite his attempts to keep his communications professional, he couldn’t stop the grin that split his face. “No spa. Run that sass at me again, though, and you’ll be sorry.”

Paul leaned in her direction. “Careful. He’s big into forced pushups. Must be all that soldiering.”

She eyed Mason from head to toe, and back, as if she was studying a prize steer. “Yeah. He doesn’t scare me.”

Mason folded his arms, going for a bored look, but he couldn’t help rocking back on his heels. Agent Avery Ellis had fire, that was for sure. He liked spice. Always had. Only not on the job.

He had a bad feeling this was just the initial spark before everything went up in flames.

15

Zap.

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