CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

I dressed in all black. Remembering I’d left my car parked all weekend down the street from Mason’s house, I walked to my destination and arrived without a minute to spare.

I figured the gate separating Mason’s back yard from Mrs. Garrison’s would be unlocked to allow him entrance for their ten o’clock rendezvous. And I was right. My heart pounded as I stole across her neatly trimmed lawn to her back door, which had also been left unlocked for him.

Scared half out of my mind, and yet excited that the time was here—I was really freaking doing this—I eased the back door shut behind me, hoping she hadn’t heard me enter.

Music played from somewhere on the second story. I paused, listening to the muffled jazzy tune I could barely hear over my own harsh breathing. I couldn’t believe I was seriously ~inside~ the devil’s den. The air was warm and sticky and made me feel slightly suffocated in my dark-from-head-to-toe clothes.

Mind kicking into gear, I glanced around, not sure where to start my search.

~Come on, Reese, think. If you were the computer of a slutty middle-age cougar who liked to blackmail her neighbor boy into having sex with her, where would you hide out all day?~

My first guess would be the bedroom—obviously—but she was probably there right now, dolling herself up. For Mason.

I gagged at the thought.

He was so never going anywhere near that again.

Motivated by the thought, I stepped forward and glanced cautiously through the doorway of the back laundry room and into a dimly lit, state-of-the-art kitchen. I almost passed out when I saw a closed laptop sitting on her bar.

No freaking way. I couldn’t possibly be that lucky.

Oh, well. I wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I darted into the kitchen and seated my rump onto a barstool in front of her Dell. After cracking my knuckles and rolling my shoulders as if to pop my neck, I held my breath and reached for the lid.

No alarms sounded. No metal bars crashed down around me. No hidden trap in the floor opened up and dropped me into her dungeon below.

I was in the witch’s computer. And the idiot witch hadn’t even set a password. ~Score.~

I stared sightlessly at her home screen a good minute, listening and practically waiting for footsteps, certain Mrs. Garrison would arrive now and murder me. But the first floor of the house remained silent.

Finally, blowing out a breath, I focused on step three of Operation Save Mason.

Clicking on the email icon, I rolled my eyes when I was sent straight to her inbox. Jesus, did the woman password protect ~nothing~? You’d think she’d be a little more paranoid since she was so shady herself.

I shrugged again. Her loss. My gain.

Composing a new letter, I typed Jeremy’s address, [email protected], into the ~To~ box.

In the subject line, I wrote: ~Looking for Teresa Nolan?~

And in the body of the message I typed in my new name and mailing address. I was just entering the town and state when I heard high heels on the stairs.

My veins jolted with a surge of adrenaline.

But really. This was so awesome. I couldn’t have scheduled her arrival any better than if I’d sent her an itinerary.

Enter one skanky landlady, stage left.

I was just finishing up the zip code when she strolled into the kitchen, carrying an empty wine glass and wearing a slinky green and black teddy.

Which Mason would ~never~ see her wearing.

She skidded to a halt when she spotted me, her stilettoes making her stumble. It was kind of comical, so I grinned as I waved at her in the most affable manner ever. “Hey. Cute nighty. ~Victoria’s Secret~, am I right?”

Then I laughed as I pointedly pushed the send button right in front of her.

“What the hell are you doing?” She stormed forward, jerking her laptop out of my hands and sliding it around to face her so she could see what I’d done.

“Oh, I just thought I’d come over to let you know Mason wouldn’t be able to make it tonight.” With a shrug and guilty roll of my eyes, I confessed, “I kind of intercepted the text you sent him this morning.” Wrinkling my nose, I sent her an apologetic cringe. “Sorry, but he never saw it.”

“What…” Mrs. Garrison was too busy staring at her screen in confusion to listen to me. “What did you do on my computer?”

“I emailed Jeremy. Told him where I was and what name I was going under. I mean, wasn’t that what you kept threating to do if Mason didn’t keep ~servicing~ you?” This time I nailed a shocked expression like a pro. “My God, you weren’t bullshitting him, were you?”

Mrs. Garrison clicked into her send history, and her mouth fell open as she read the message I’d just sent. “What…why…” She shook her head, at a total loss for words.

“Okay, I have to know,” I said in a conversational manner as her face flamed red with confusion and anger. “Are those ~genuine~ Christian Louboutin shoes or knock-offs? Because I have ~always~ wanted to own a genuine Louboutin heel. And I would be pea green with envy if I knew you owned a pair. Are they very comfortable? Not that comfort really matters when your feet are wrapped in a pair of—”

“Are you ~totally insane~? Why…why would you tell him where you are? You should be scared to death of this psycho.”

“Oh, trust me, I am. But insane?” I snorted and waved an unconcerned hand. “What a subjective term. I mean, what one person might consider totally normal—like, I don’t know…forcing her young, unwilling neighbor to have sex with her repeatedly—another person might think is totally repugnant. So, from ~your~ point of view, yeah, I probably look pretty much off my rocker right about now for sacrificing my own safety for the sake of saving the man I love from being blackmailed by a sick, vindictive, ~old~ spinster.”

Mrs. Garrison’s jaw tensed. “You’re as annoying as you are crazy.”

I pretended to think about it for a moment. “Meh. Maybe. My parents do keep trying to send me to a therapist. For the crazy part, not the annoying one. And I guess I can see where they’re coming from. I mean, being pinned against a wall with a knife to my throat by someone I thought loved me did kind of mess with my head for a while. But, you know what, I’m kind of glad I did email him…oops.”

I covered my mouth and giggled. “I mean, I’m glad ~you~ emailed him and told him where I was. I was seriously getting tired of always being afraid, of always glancing over my shoulder and expecting him to be hiding in every shadow.” I let out a refreshed sigh. “I’m glad this is almost over, you know. And hey, if he kills me this time, ~you’ll~ catch some of the blame for telling him where I was.”

Vibrating with fury, Mrs. Garrison hissed at me. “Get out of my house.”

I narrowed my eyes. “With pleasure.” Tossing my hair, I slid off her bar stool. “Oh, but one more thing.” I whipped out my hand and slapped her as hard as I could, actually wrenching her face to the side with the force of my blow. “Don’t ever touch Mason again. Or I swear to God, I’ll go even more psycho on your ass.”

Mrs. Garrison straightened and wiped her face just below her nose with a trembling hand. When she came away with blood on her fingers, I gaped. Holy swinging palms, Batman; I’d drawn blood.

Cool.

“I hope Walden kills you slowly,” she snarled, her hazel eyes glowing with hatred.

I grinned pleasantly. “If he does, I’ll make sure to come back as a nasty poltergeist just to brutally haunt you.” Twirling away, I strolled out of her house.

Mrs. Garrison had actually kind of disappointed me. She’d let me go without a fight. Humph. ~Chicken~. I’d been all keyed up to kick some cougar ass, too.

Oh, well, such was life. ~C’est la vie~. Maybe I could beat up the next woman who tried to hurt my man.

I drove home, feeling truly powerful for the first time in too long. As all those women had taken a piece of control away from Mason and made him feel cheap and used, Jeremy had taken away the same thing from me.

Fighting back, standing up for myself, taking control again felt nice. Felt good. Felt like I totally needed to celebrate somehow.

As luck would have it, a familiar Jeep sat parked in my spot when I pulled into the Mercers’ driveway. When I saw the sexy owner of said Jeep sitting on the top step in front of my apartment, waiting for me, I grinned.

Parking my car beside his, I killed the engine and leapt from the driver’s seat, full of smiles.

“Mason,” I squealed as I flew up all fifteen steps. “What’re you doing here?” I crawled right into his lap and wrapped my arms around him. “Oh, my God. You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

Kissing him before he could answer, I took control of his mouth, much the same way I’d just taken control of Mrs. Garrison. I showed them both who was boss. Oh, yes, I did.

Mason didn’t seem to mind as he kissed me back, thrusting with his tongue just as heartily as I was and entwining it with mine. Then, scooping me up by the butt, he cupped both cheeks and stood.

See, I told you he had some impressive muscles.

Not even breaking the kiss, he swung us toward my front door. “I couldn’t stay away,” he managed to explain breathlessly between kisses. “I couldn’t leave things like they were. Jesus, where the ~hell~ have you been?”

“I’ll explain later.”

“Mmph.” He seemed fine with that and kicked the door shut behind us as soon as we gained entrance.

We attacked each other. Right there against the door of my apartment.

I think I needed to release some of the adrenaline still thrumming through my system after my one and only stint of B & E as badly as he needed reassurance that I wasn’t still freaked out over the text I’d read earlier.

“Wow,” I said as soon as my tongue would allow me to speak intelligible words again. “I had no idea breaking the law could make a girl so crazy horny.”

I wilted down the surface of the door until I was sitting on the welcome mat, pleasantly dazed by how amazing the evening had turned out.

Mason slumped down beside me. “Do I even want to know what you mean by that?”

I grinned. And told him everything.

His mouth fell open. “You did ~what~? But, you…she…~how~ could you send him your new identity? Are you ~insane~?”

He sounded a little too much like his landlady, so I scowled. Then I remembered I ~had~ sent that email, hadn’t I?

“Oh, that reminds me. I’d better check my inbox of that new account I set up this morning.”

I crawled to my purse I’d dropped beside the welcome mat and dug around inside until I found my cell phone. “I created it under the name Jeremy Walden. Need to check if I have any incoming messages.” As I clicked my way into the inbox, I winked at Mason. “And what do you know, I do.”

I turned the screen to show him the email from Patricia Garrison.

He gaped before sending me a stunned glance. “You faked her out.”

I tossed my hair and preened. “Yep. Now…how would Jeremy respond to this letter?” Tapping my chin, I contemplated. “If you were a psycho stalker ex-boyfriend, what would you say?”

Mason scooted closer to be a part of the planning process. “Thanks?” he suggested.

“Perfect.” I kissed his cheek and got a little distracted, needing to kiss his nose next, then his mouth. Before I totally lost my focus, I pulled back, bit my lip, and started typing.

~Thanks. I owe you one.~

“There.” I pushed send and looked up. “That sounds like something he’d say. I’ll delete the account later, just to make sure she doesn’t reply.”

Mason appeared overcome. “This was dangerous, Reese. I can’t believe you risked so much just to free me from her.”

“Hey.” Cupping his face in my hands, I admitted, “I would risk it a thousand times over to help you any way I could.”

He pressed his forehead against mine. “I still don’t deserve you.”

“But I’m here anyway,” I teased, tipping my face so that I could flutter my lashes against his cheek in a butterfly kiss. “Whatever will you do with me now?”

Tugging me closer, he settled my body against his and brushed the hair out of my face. “I guess I’ll just have to cherish you with every breath I have.”