Page 67 of Mason
Um. Bear’s father...
I just need a minute.
Can I meet you back in our original seats?
I take a couple of deep, calming breaths. It’ll be fine. I’ll meet them down there like I said, and we can hash it out later, though how I’ll ever explain any of it to Bear, I have no fucking clue.
I pivot on my heel, ready to head back to the main hallway when I hear something behind me, then hands latch onto my arms as some sort of fabric comes down over my head. A bag. A sack. Fuck, I don’t know, and before I can scream, a hand slams down over my mouth. In the next instant, I’m being dragged backward, my feet scrabbling for purchase, but finding mostly air. The hands on my arms clench down in a steel vice grip, and panic rises within me. Because if there’s anything worse than being stuck in a small space, it’s having something over my head so I can’t see or breathe freely.
It does me no good to pay attention to where they’re taking me because I’d lost all track of where I was while I was wandering around. A moment later, one of them lets go for a split second, and I try like hell to get free of the other guy—because these are definitely dudes—but he clamps down on my arm in a punishing enough grip to bruise. My heart slams behind my rib cage as the other guy returns, grunting a bit as I catch him—maybe in the abdomen?—with my elbow. They proceed to drag me backward as I kick and twist.
The acoustics change, and every sound made now has a slight echo to it.Where the fuck am I?They pull me along roughly, eerily silent the entire time. All I’m able to focus on is the rustling of the bag over my head, and the scuff of feet against the floor. And of course, my muffled cries of terror.
And then I’m lifted and forced into a narrow space, my body bent in half with my knees to my chin. I’m shoved up against the backside of whatever the hell this is. A box? A coffin? I’m held inside, the area nowhere near large enough for me to even crouch.
In one swift motion, the hands holding me shove hard and miraculously release me. My heart gives a lurch.Will I be able to escape?When I reach out, my hand meets wood. I understand, finally, and dread sweeps through me, head to toe.
Oh my fuck, I’m inside a tiny fucking space with a bag over my head. I scream through the rough material, my hands fumbling with what feels like burlap or something, but it’s somehow tied around my neck, and I can’t get it off. “Help me! Someone, please help!” I shout, pounding on the door.
I stop, listening, but I hear no one. It’s the middle of the fourth quarter. Everyone is watching the game. There is no one to save me.
Wait.My phone. Gasping for air, I pat myself down while I become more and more lightheaded.Fuck. Where is it?Did one of those slimy assholes take it? Did I drop it? My hands shake. I’m becoming disoriented, my body flailing and smacking into the solid wooden walls of this prison I’ve found myself in as I attempt to find a way out of this mess.
And even though I can’t see a damn thing, I can feel the walls surrounding me and they feel closer and closer. They’re caving in on me. My heart is going to explode from my chest.I’m never getting out of here. This is how I die.Cold sweat coats my skin as I struggle, pulling at the bag all while banging my elbows into the sides of whatever this living nightmare is I’m trapped in. Anxiety and panic rip through me, and without thinking about what I’m doing, I throw myself every which way, trying to find an escape until stars shimmer at the edges of my vision before a black cloud rushes in, taking me with it.
THIRTY-FOUR
BEAR
I comeoff the field with the rest of the team, victorious, only to find Mason and Duke waiting right at the tunnel for me. Their expressions are grim and don’t leave much room for interpretation. Something’s wrong. Tell me it isn’t something my fucker of a father did or said.
I’d wanted to leap up there and rip his arm from around Lennon when I saw the two of them together up in the VIP box. The look on her face when he put his arm around her—it was fairly obvious that she didn’t like it. Not one fucking bit.
My teeth clench tightly together until I’m certain they’re going to crack from the pressure. Mason and Duke should have known to keep her the fuck away from him. He’s lecherous on his best days, a downright perv on his worst. Horrible that I know that shit about my own father.Fuck.But what were they supposed to do? When we’re summoned, we’re expected to show up. It’s more trouble in the long run if we don’t. None of us like the way our fathers breathe down our necks—Mason’s old man even manages to do it from prison. And my guess is that they didn’t have a choice. Especially with Tristan being up Duke’s ass about how he’s handling Lennon.
My lungs constrict in my chest, preparing for the worst, because very seldom have I ever seen panic like this on Mason’s or Duke’s face. I quickly jog up to them, adrenaline surging through my body in preparation for whatever lies ahead. My gaze darts between the two of them. “What’s going on? Where the fuck is Lennon? Why isn’t she with you?”
Duke’s hands dive into his hair as he shakes his head while Mason tugs hard on the back of his neck, his jaw clenched.
Mason is the first to speak. He blows out a hard breath as he flings his hand in the direction of the VIP seats. “We were upstairs with Tristan and Derek because Tristan requested we come. We were watching the game, and everything seemed fine, so I got up to get her a drink andpoof,she was gone. I don’t even know how she got past us.”
Lennon is…missing?
I blink sweat out of my eyes, then swipe my forearm over my brow. She ran. And now I have to consider very seriously that there might be a connection to my old man talking to her and her taking off like that, but I need all the facts first. “Duke?” My breath gusts from me.
He shakes his head. “Tristan waylaid me inside, he wanted to talk about the auction. My back was turned, so I didn’t see her leave either. I didn’t even know she was gone”—he gives a jerk of his thumb toward Mason—“until he pulled me away.”
There’s no telling where she could be. The stadium is a huge place. Concern flares within me, glowing bright.Fuck.“You guys start turning this fucking place upside down. You hear me? I’ll get out of my gear and join you as quick as I can. If we don’t find her in the next twenty minutes, we call for help.”
Duke nods. “I’m going to call her again.” He dials and puts the phone up to his ear as we run full tilt together through the tunnel. As we get inside the building, the two of them split up while I head into the locker room.
It’s chaos in here, as usual. Sweaty bodies, shouts of glee, celebrating our victory. Lots of fist bumping and ass smacking. I can’t think about fucking any of it right now.Could she have run? Little Gazelle, don’t do this to me. Fuck. What the hell is going on?
I’m in the process of tearing out of my gear, stashing assorted pads in my locker when I hear a very distinct “What thefuck”from behind me. It’s Jimenez, one of our huge defensive tackles. “Oh my fuck. There’s a body in my locker.”
His words shake me to my very core. I don’t waste more than a half second before I pivot, eyes widening. My heart lodges in my throat. Horror fills me. A girl’s body, head covered by a rustic-looking sack, threatens to fall out of the locker Jimenez opened.
As if in slow motion, my eyes land first on a pair of legs, long and smooth, which hang out of a little pair of cutoff shorts. Her feet are bare, and fuck—she’s wearing a Kingston University Lions football shirt with a knot tied at the waist. That wouldn’t necessarily mean jack shit, except it’s the old version that not many of these fuckers would have—it’s only the players who have been around as long as I have that would have them. And it’s the very same one I’d given to Lennon this morning.
