Page 12 of My Secret Santa Mason

She was everything that was good in this world.

And she was fucking hot to boot.

She was exactly the kind of woman I had to stay away from if I knew what was good for me.

Women were dangerous—they could mess with a man’s head, make him forget who he was and what he was trying to do, and if I wasn’t careful, everything I’d worked so hard to build could be at stake.

She’s just a woman.

Yeah, well, Rae had put my name in that stupid drawing, and now I was on the hook, wandering aimlessly like some idiot who didn’t have a clue what he was doing.

Which, let’s be honest, I didn’t.

I had no idea what kind of gift she’d like, and the last thing I wanted was to be in this holiday circus trying to figure it out.

I shoved my hands deeper into the pockets of my fur coat. I’d sewed it myself with hide and gut that I’d hunted, and it kept out the cold. I grumbled under my breath as I made my way down the main street.

The air was cold, biting against my skin where the coat didn’t push up right against my neck, but it was better than the stifling warmth inside the stores, each one blasting Christmas music loud enough to make your ears bleed.

I’d passed four of them already, too pussy to go inside.

Yeah, I could handle guns like a pro, I could take out any number of assailants at once with hand-to-hand combat. I could set booby traps that were the stuff of nightmares, and I hunted my own food, eating it raw sometimes if it was just too damn wet to make a fire.

But I was bested by fucking Christmas cheer.

I hated Christmas as a general rule. It wasn’t just a waste of time; it was a distraction, a façade when underneath, everything looked and felt different. Betrayal crept up wearing the mask of a sheep when underneath the wolf had long, menacing teeth. Holidays like Christmas just helped to hide all of that away.

As I passed one of the decorated windows, something caught my eye—someone slipping between the buildings, just out ofsight. He’d had a dark coat on, and his face registered only for a second. Years of training allowed me to memorize details in a flash.

I turned, trying to get a better look, but whoever it was had already disappeared.

Damn it. I knew every face in this town, and that one didn’t belong here.

It was a man, mid-thirties maybe, with a dark coat and hair and a look in his eyes that set my instincts on high alert.

What the fuck was he doing here? And why was he being so shady?

I moved down the street, still walking casually with my hands in my pocket, but I was wide awake now, scanning the crowds. My Glock was at my back, just in case something went wrong, and I wanted him to show his face again.

Just so that we couldtalk.Or, you know,not talk.

But he was gone.

When I walked a little further, another stranger lingered near the café. His gaze darted around like he didn’t belong, and he had the same shady air as the first guy.

What the hell was going on? I didn’t like strangers in my town—especially ones who thought they could slip in without being noticed. Were there more? Or was it just Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dipshit?

My eyes darted all over the place as I walked, my muscles bunched tight, ready to spring into action if I needed to fight. I was big and strong and I made sure I stayed that way—I trained hard, and even though I hadn’t been in active duty in a decade, I still kept up a rigorous training regime.

You never knew what was coming and fucked if I was going to be caught off guard.

It wasn’t paranoia.

It was survival.

I’d learned the hard way that you couldn’t trust anyone, not after what happened with my team. My so-called brothers had turned on me, and it had nearly gotten me killed. Not to mention all the innocent lives that had been lost.

The guilt I had to carry after all that, and the resentment that I’d been the one to be stabbed in the back… I’d spent my life in the shadows, knowing every move, every face, every threat. I’d been a member of an elite team.

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