Page 123 of Mason
I take a slow breath, lifting my chin just enough to feign disinterest as I glance at Kadri, who lounges in the doorway, watching me like a man watching his dog perform a trick.
“You want in, Walsh? You want to do business with me?” He gestures lazily toward Maxine. “Then prove yourself. Fuck my pet.”
A test.
A power play.
My jaw clenches, but my face stays impassive.
This is what I signed up for.
Undercover operations aren’t about comfort. They’re about playing a role until your own reflection starts to look like a stranger.
I’m Devon Walsh, arms dealer. Ruthless. Wealthy. Unmoved by the suffering of others.
I don’t react. I don’t let the revulsion show.
Instead, I step forward.
Maxine flinches, her breath catching, but she doesn’t back away.
She’s been through worse.
I already know that.
She doesn’t know who I am.
Not yet.
I reach her, my body blocking her from Kadri’s view.
When I lean in, I keep my lips barely an inch from her ear, my voice just loud enough for her to hear.
“I’m a Fed.”
She tenses so hard I feel it through my suit jacket.
I slide a hand up her bare arm, slow, careful—keeping up the act as I whisper, “I need you to play along. You’re safe with me. Just pretend. Kadri’s watching.”
Her breathing is uneven, her pulse hammering beneath my fingertips.
I know what she’s thinking.
I know she wants to believe me, but she’s been through too much to trust a stranger, let alone a man in this house.
But then?—
She blinks rapidly.
It’s slight. Barely perceptible.
But it’s enough.
I tilt her chin up, giving Kadri the best angle, because I know that bastard is watching.
The second my lips touch her skin, she shivers.
I move slowly, deliberately, my hands only touching the places I have to touch, my mouth only pressing where necessary.
