Page 84 of Hidden Resolution
Mason’s dislike was instantaneous. “Whatever, I need a beer.”
“Could you get me one if y?—”
The death glare he cut Billy stopped the bastard mid-sentence.
“Yeah, on s-second thought, I’m n-not all that thirsty,” Billy stuttered.
Keeping him pinned in place with a lethal look felt like pulling wings off a butterfly, but young Billy Boy wasn’t going to take advantage of Shonda in her fragile state.
In any state.
Mason recognized the type. The kid was probably running from trouble and had brought it to her door. Well, whatever was brewing would end now.
After grabbing a beer for himself and a water for Shonda, Mason returned to the living room to find her sprawled out on the couch. Discomfort radiated off Billy like UV rays from the sun.
Good.
Maybe if the little shit realized no one was putting up with his weaselly ways, he’d be quick to hightail it out of town.
Mason placed his beer on the coffee table and repositioned Shonda with her head resting on his thigh. No reason for her to be in pain in the morning. Well, other than the massive hangover she would suffer. As he smoothed the hair away from her cheek, he marveled again at the softness of her skin. God, he loved touching her.
Abruptly, he shut down that line of thinking. Not the place, nor the time.
“Okay, kid, spill. Why are you here? And why now?”
“What do you mean? I’m just here to visit.”
“Yes, and I was born last Friday,” Mason scoffed. “What kind of trouble are you in?”
“No, really. I?—”
“Enough!”he snapped. After the trauma of the last twenty-four hours, he was on an extremely short, frayed leash. If it broke, Billy Boy was in for a world of hurt. “Do you really think the wide-eyed, innocent routine actually works? You can’t possibly be that stupid.”
The guy remained quiet.
Smart move.
At the moment, Mason was tired to his very soul. With his fatigue came a cranky-ass attitude and a heightened intolerance for games.
“I’ll ask one more time. If I don’t get a straight answer, you’re out on your fucking ass. What kind of trouble are you in?”
A snaky emotion filtered through Billy’s moss-green eyes as he cast a glance at his cousin, followed by one akin to fear mingled with regret. An instant later, he pasted on a who-gives-a-shit grin.
“Okay. Let me put this another way,” Mason said silkily. “What have you gotten her mixed up in?”
“Could be classified as corporate espionage, I guess.”
Mason choked on a sip of beer. Yeah, definitely not what he’d expected. He would’ve been less surprised had the answer been drug cartel-related.
“Excuse me?”
Please, God, let him have heard wrong, for Shonda’s sake.
“Corporate espionage,” Billy reiterated, seemingly blasé. The surfer persona disappeared as if it had never existed. “I workfor an international marketing firm based in Miami, and our advertisements contain hidden codes. It allows competitors to get insider information. What exactly they contain, I don’t know. But the idea is ingenious and keeps those involved from having to meet in person. Lessens the risk of getting caught.”
“Let me guess, you’ve used Shonda’s design talent to create these ads.”
“No. There are many of us skilled in ad-set creation. And if I couldn’t do it, I’d sweet-talk another co-worker. Unfortunately, she was killed last week in a hit-and-run.”
