Page 35 of Her Savior Biker
His facade cracks. “Family? These criminals? This piece of shit who’s been filling your head with lies?”
“The only one who lied was you.” She takes another step, her transformation from victim to survivor happening in real time. “You told me you cared about me, then you broke my son’s arm. You told me you wanted to protect us, then you threatened to destroy us.”
“I was trying to give you a better life—”
“By terrorizing a three-year-old because he spilled juice?” she fires back.
One of the MPs behind Mason shifts uncomfortably. Whatever briefing they got, it probably didn’t include child abuse.
“You’re being dramatic,” Mason says, desperation in his voice. “Aiden needed discipline. I was trying to be a father to him.”
“Fathers don’t break their children’s bones.”
The simple statement hangs in the air. The CID agents exchange glances; doubt is creeping in.
“Enough.” Mason’s mask slips completely. “You’re coming with me, Shannon. Now. Or I’ll have you arrested for kidnapping.”
“On what grounds?” Rector moves forward, his voice drawing everyone’s attention. “She’s the child’s mother. She has every right to take her son wherever she wants.”
“She crossed state lines without my permission—”
“Your permission?” Rector’s eyebrows rise. “And what legal standing do you have to grant that?”
Mason’s jaw ticks. “We’re in a relationship. I’ve been acting as Aiden’s father—”
“For two months,” Shannon interrupts. “We dated for six weeks. In what world does that give you parental rights?”
The number lands like a bomb. The agents now look openly skeptical.
“It’s more complicated—” Mason insists, but he’s losing control.
“No, it’s not.” Her voice cuts through his bluster like a blade. “It’s very simple. I choose him. I choose this family. And I choose to never see you again.”
Silence stretches. Then Mason’s control snaps.
“You stupid bitch,” he snarls, his hand moving toward his sidearm. “You think these criminals can protect you from me?”
The word is barely out before I’m moving, but Tank’s hand on my arm stops me.
“Easy,” he murmurs. “Let him hang himself.”
And Mason does. “I own you,” he continues, rage building. “You and that little bastard both. And when I’m done with you, you’ll come crawling back begging me to take you home.”
The MPs behind him are staring in shock. This isn't the officer they know.
“That’s enough,” one of them says. “Captain, maybe we should—”
“Shut up.” Mason whirls on his own man. “I’m in command here.”
But he’s not. Not anymore. Everyone here has just seen the real Mason Holt. His rage hangs in the air, his hand twitching. Before he can dig himself deeper, Rector steps forward.
“Captain Mason Holt,” he says calmly. “When Tank called me a few days ago, he had a hunch you might be dirty. So I looked into you.”
Mason goes very still. “What?”
“I’ve got friends in interesting places.” Rector reaches into his jacket and produces a manila folder. “Friends who’ve been wondering how certain shipments keep making it through base security.”
The life drains from Mason’s face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
