Page 50 of Beautiful, Violent

That’s all this is about.

Chapter 13

I don’t know if it’s the salt in the air or the way the full moon shines down on us like a spotlight, watching our every move. But I’m feeling some kind of way. Ben gets a call on the way back to my hotel in Malibu and apologizes, says he has to take it. He’s only on for a few minutes and he grunts a fewyeahsandnosthen ends the call, throwing his phone like it personally offended him.

“Everything all right?”

“Oh yeah. Superb,” he grunts, looking at me and growing a little softer. “You know how it is when you’re dealing with people who just send you running around in circles.”

“I’ve come across a few of those in my line of work.”

His hands tighten on the steering wheel and he pulls in a sharp breath. Whatever is going on, it’s personal. Not business related. Since he’s already tense, I figure it’s a good time to ask him what I want to ask.

“So, Danny is your sister’s son, and Ethan was the one who was kidnapped?”

“Yeah.” He tosses a look my way.

“And … who is Mason?”

A heavy silence grows between us. Ben is still as a corpse as he replies. “Who told you about Mason?”

“Your sister.” I would think that would be easy to deduce, Mr.I Have Mad Deduction Skills.

“Shit,” he grits out, scraping a hand through his hair.

“If it’s none of my business …”

“No. It’s not that. She gets drunk and has to vent about everything.”

“She didn’t vent so much as she just mentioned you missing him. Sorry if I brought up a sore subject.” I can’t imagine who he is. But Ben is acting way too tense for it to be his dad. Maybe Mason was a friend, or his brother. Could have been a dog. Guys tend to get real emotional when their dogs die. I only need to know who Mason is if it’s relevant to finding King.

“Mason was my son.”

“Your son?”

“Yes.”

Icy daggers weave through my chest. He’s quiet, doesn’t elaborate. The fact that he said ‘was’ implies that Mason is no longer alive. I feel like I should say something, ask something. If I don’t, it feels rude. But it seems rude to probe, too, so … things feel jumbled up in my head. A newfound revulsion swims inside of me.

I glance his way, gauging who he is versus who he’s trying to be. Mountains whip past us on one side, a cliff that drops to the ocean on the other. This feeling of being surrounded by things you can either climb or fall from is thrust upon me.

I don’t know if this man sitting next to me is different than my mother or the same. But it looks like he took out his own kid, and his nephew. More victims of King that I never heard about.

I clasp my fingers together in my lap, run my tongue over the scar on my lip. The urge is strong right now. Like something sharp and bitter, nipping at me. The thing that really sucks is that I’m going to have to let him live because I promised Rigger I would. And I don’t break promises to Rigger.

We pull into the hotel parking lot, walled off from one another by this tension. I’ve ruined this night with one simple question. It’s obvious he won’t want to stay for that walk. So I need to find a way to prod him gently, make him open up to me.

“You want to come up while I change clothes for our walk?” Just asking the question makes me sick inside after what happened when he was in my condo. But given his current mood, I don’t think he’ll try to take advantage of me.

“You sure you want me to?” he asks, tossing a hand over the back of the seat and looking at me with weary eyes.

“I mean, I’m just gonna change clothes. I’m okay with it. Unless you want to wait for me here.”

His eyes flit to the side. “I’ll wait here. I want to make a call while you change.”

“Okay. Be right back.”

If this is how most dudes act on first dates it’s no wonder women are complaining all the time. That Devin believed I was all about the dick seems really hilarious right now. If I ever was curious, that curiosity has just been demolished.

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