In His Sights Read online

  Not sure what to make of Mason’s sudden mood, Noah forced himself to focus on their current predicament. They needed to get out of there. Noah grabbed his backpack, then moved his hand to Mason’s hand and guided him quickly out of the bar. Thankfully, Mason didn’t try to fight him this time. Once out in the main area, they headed for a place to talk. They settled in a quiet corner.

  “If you’re not flying, how’d you end up through security?”

  “Used my badge. Wanted to walk my sister to her plane.” Mason sounded defensive as he pulled his hand out of Noah’s grip. Mason whipped it away as if something awful had touched him. Mason folded his arm and rubbed the hand Noah had held with his other hand.

  A cold chill raced down Noah’s back. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

  “Yes,” Mason said, his voice harsh.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to grip your hand so tight.”

  “It’s not my hand that you hurt, asshole.”

  It took Noah a second to understand what Mason meant. He must have been referring to when Noah left town. But that didn’t make sense. Noah understood that he’d been rude when he left, and Mason might have been mad, but why would he have been hurt? They’d only been fucking around, and besides, Noah had been scheduled to leave the next night anyway. Wrapped in his thoughts, Noah almost missed Mason’s actions—his gaze darted around the room, his leg bounced, and his hands fisted—he planned to run. Noah needed to stop getting stuck in his head with the thoughts of the past and figure out what he was going to do now. He peered up at the departure board and saw he still had a little over two hours before he needed to catch his next flight. He hoped that was long enough.

  “How did you get here?” Noah asked, already knowing the answer.

  “I drove.”

  Noah braced for a fight. “We need to find you a cab so you can go home.”

  “I’m not fucking leaving my truck here.” Mason pushed himself up off the chair, but before standing, he lost his balance and fell back into the seat.

  Noah moved his hand toward Mason’s.

  “You can’t drive.”

  Mason resituated himself on the seat so he was out of Noah’s reach.

  “That may be true, but it doesn’t matter. My truck is not staying here without me.”

  “So what?” Noah’s irritation began to spike. Mason was being an ass, but calling him on his actions right then would waste a whole lot of time. “You plan on sleeping in your truck tonight; out in the airport parking lot?”

  “Fuck you. Nothing here for you to worry about. Why don’t you take off? Again.” The anger in Mason’s voice was palpable.

  The last thing Noah wanted to do was fight with Mason, but something had Mason raring to go. Noah thought back to what the goon in the bar had said. That Mason should watch what the hell he says. That comment told Noah that Mason was more than likely the one who started the fight. But why? Why three guys? Why in the airport?

  And that was another thing. Why was Mason hanging out in the airport bar? Sure, he said he’d dropped his sister off, but then he should have gone home. Or if he wanted to drink, he could have left and gone to the bar closer to home. Hanging out in the airport didn’t make sense.

  Noah stared at Mason’s bloodshot eyes and his tensed body and knew he wouldn’t be answering questions any time soon. Noah needed instead to focus on his mission for the night—making sure Mason made it home. Safe.

  Noah did some calculations in his head. If he ran Mason straight home and came right back, he might just return on time for his flight. But then add that into the fact he’d need to grab a taxi back, then he’d have to go through security again, and that brought his chances of boarding his plane down to a tossup between doubtful and not a chance. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It didn’t matter how long he stood there thinking, he only had one choice. He’d take Mason home, regardless of how the trip interfered with his flight.

  Chapter 11

  Noah held tight onto Mason’s hand and headed toward the airport exit. Once again, he’d need to leave his luggage behind to be picked up in Seattle when he returned.

  The farther they walked, the slower Mason moved. The adrenaline that had kept Mason standing and ready to fight finally wore off, and now the effects of the alcohol took its place. Great. Just great. Noah realized rather quickly that pulling Mason behind him wasn’t going to work. Mason needed to lean on Noah, or he’d end up in a heap on the ground in the middle of the airport. Mason was that drunk. And that fact led to Noah’s next possible problem.

  “Mason, do you have any idea where you parked?”

  Mason closed his eyes and remained quiet. When he finally said, “Yep,” Noah released the breath he’d held.

  “Where?”

  “In the parking lot.” Mason pointed with his free hand. Unfortunately, it was toward the baggage claim. Not much help.

  “Do you know where in the parking lot?”

  “Township parking.”

  Thank you, God. That answer should get them close enough to spot Mason’s bright yellow truck. Once outside, Noah spied a baggage handler and asked her for the correct direction.

  It was a hike, and Noah practically carried Mason by the time they made it to the vehicle. When they arrived, Noah propped Mason against the truck and searched his pockets for the keys. Once he found them, Noah pulled them out and opened the door. Mason’s body slumped against the truck. Noah picked him up, then situated him in the passenger seat. When Noah started the engine, Mason didn’t stir.

  “Do you live in the same house?”

  Mason answered with a grunt, and Noah took it as a yes.

  Noah maneuvered his way out of the airport parking lot and made it to the highway without any problems. Thankfully, he remembered the directions to Mason’s house. The ride took longer than Noah had planned; the exit they should have gotten off at had been closed for roadwork. Noah ended up winging it through back roads.

  Noah parked in the driveway, then turned toward Mason who lay motionless on the seat. Noah stepped out of the truck and walked around to the passenger side. He opened the door and was shocked to find Mason’s staring at him.

  “What the fuck,” Mason said, his words less slurred than earlier.

  “We’re home. Come on.”

  Mason didn’t move, his stare intense on Noah. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Noah gave some thought to what to say. He decided to try and avoid any arguments. So, he stretched the truth. “We met up at the airport. They canceled my plane, and you invited me to stay the night.”

  “Again?”

  Thankful that Mason had bought the story, Noah’s shoulders relaxed. One less argument to deal with. “Yeah. Damn airlines. Come on, let’s get you inside.”

  “Yeah. Let’s do that. I can use a drink.”

  “Think you’ve had enough.” Noah’s barely whispered words set Mason off.

  “Who the fuck are you, my father?” Mason stood tall and pushed Noah’s helping hand out of the way. “No, because even he wouldn’t tell me what the fuck to do.”

  So much for avoiding a disagreement.

  Mason hopped out of the truck and made his way to the door while patting down his pockets, looking for the keys.

  “The house key with the car keys?” Noah asked.

  “Um hmm,” Mason grunted.

  “Then I have them here.” Noah held up the keys, and Mason grabbed them out of Noah’s hands.

  Mason fumbled for a few seconds, then found the right key. He opened the door, went inside, and let the door slam on Noah.

  Noah didn’t take it personally. Mason’s mood sucked, and right then Noah was the closest target for Mason to hit. Noah just needed to be more careful with what he said.

  The house stood dark. Noah turned on the lights in time to watch Mason open the cabinet Noah remembered Mason kept his liquor in.

  “What are you doing?” Noah walked over to where Mason checked through his inventory.

  “
Trying to find the damn Jack Daniels. I know I have a full bottle, but it’s not here.”

  “I think that’s a sign you need to stop drinking for the night.”

  “Either help me find it, and have a drink with me, or shut the hell up. No one’s holding you captive here.” Mason’s voice sounded gravelly. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

  “Got it.” Noah had no plans to leave, not while Mason remained in this state. He just wished he could figure out what caused Mason’s attitude. Something big had to have set him off.

  “There it is, hiding in the back.” Mason moved some of the bottles around before he pulled one out. “Come to papa.” With bottle in hand, Mason headed to the kitchen.

  “You having some of this, or you just watching?”

  “I’ll pass,” Noah said. It’d be a long night, and he’d need to keep his wits about him. At least one of them would.

  Noah watched as Mason poured the whiskey into the glass.

  Even though it might start a war, it was too hard for Noah not to ask. “So, what’s got you in such a shitty mood and drinking like a fish?”

  “Fuck you. You don’t like my mood, leave.” Mason stared right into Noah’s eyes. The venom in his voice shocked Noah.

  “That’s the second time you’ve told me to get out tonight. You really don’t want me here?” Noah didn’t want to leave Mason in his condition, but if any part of his anger was attributable to Noah, he would.

  “I don’t give a fuck.” Mason’s voice remained harsh, but this time he wouldn’t make eye contact with Noah. “About anything.”

  Noah’s concern went up a notch and any choice he thought he had to leave dissipated. Noah needed to try to defuse the situation. He believed it’d be the only way to get Mason to talk about what bothered him. “Thought you’d be in a good mood, with Ellen just visiting. How long did she stay?”

  Mason’s face scrunched up as if he were in pain. Noah realized instantly he’d asked the wrong question. Dammit.

  Mason remained quiet, and Noah didn’t think he planned to answer, but then Mason spoke, his words barely above a whisper. “She came for two days. She came to visit her big brother who’s supposed to protect her. Motherfucker.” Mason threw his glass across the room, the liquid spraying everywhere. The glass hit with a loud crash and fell to the floor in pieces.

  Surprised by the action, Noah stood still for a moment. His gaze slid over to Mason, who stood with his shoulders hunched over and his jaw clenched; he appeared ready to crack.

  “What the hell? Mason, are you okay?” Noah kept his distance and his voice low. He didn’t want to spook Mason. He wasn’t sure exactly what set Mason off, only that it had something to do with Mason’s sister, and with Mason’s attitude, Noah couldn’t ask what.

  Mason’s gaze remained on the shattered glass, then shifted to his hands. His lips tight and hands fisted, he appeared as if he were trying to get answers.

  Noah held still, waiting him out.

  Finally, Mason glanced up and over to Noah. “Fuck.”

  “Yeah,” Noah agreed.

  “I need another drink.”

  “That’s not a good idea. Why don’t you tell me what the hell is going on?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s top secret.”

  At least now Noah understood it had something to do with work, but he still couldn’t figure out why his asking about Ellen would set Mason off. And what did he mean by ‘he needed to protect her’? From what?

  “Mason, what’s going on with Ellen?”

  “I made her a promise. A fucking promise.” Mason’s voice cracked. He leaned over and put his hands on his thighs. Noah made his way over to him and carefully put his hand on Mason’s back and rubbed. Thankfully, Mason didn’t pull away.

  “Hey, Mas, it’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay. Come sit on the couch.”

  Mason straightened up, and Noah guided him to the couch. They both sat. Mason leaned his head back and closed his eyes. They sat that way, neither speaking. Noah fought against saying anything. Whatever happened had to come from Mason. Noah would stay to listen when Mason felt ready to talk, but he wouldn’t push him into talking.

  After a while, Noah thought Mason might have fallen asleep. His uneven breaths told Noah he wasn’t so lucky. Mason grumbled something, and when Noah turned toward him, Mason opened his eyes and leaned forward. He sat that way, staring straight ahead, for what seemed like forever.

  Noah pushed up off the couch, ready to try to put Mason to bed.

  “I’m supposed to protect people, and instead they’re dying because I can’t do my job. Their blood is on my hands.” Noah sat back down, while Mason sat inspecting his hands as if he were looking for the actual blood. “What am I supposed to do? What can I do?” Tears welled in Mason’s eyes, and his body began to shake. Noah wanted to reach out to him. Take Mason in his arms and tell him everything would be all right. But could he say that? What right did he have?

  What he should have done, instead of listening to what Mason had to say, was put Mason in bed. Get him to sleep off whatever was messing with his head. Get him to shut up before he said anything more damaging. Noah had no doubt in his mind that all the shit Mason spewed had to do with work. Had to do with something top secret he was doing at work. And Noah sitting there, becoming privy to the information Mason had, could lead Mason into a shit-ton of trouble. Something Noah wanted to help his friend avoid.

  Noah stood up and turned to Mason. “Come on, Mas, why don’t we get you to bed? Start fresh tomorrow.”

  Mason jumped up from the couch and stood in Noah’s face. His hands fisted like he was ready for a fight. And Noah had half a mind to take it there. Hell, if he thought it would help Mason, Noah would gladly let him take a swing. But that would only make Mason feel worse than he already did.

  “Why am I the one alive? Why do I get a fresh start?” Mason pushed into Noah’s chest as he screamed.

  “Listen, Mas. I think it’s a wise idea you stop now. Before you say something you shouldn’t.”

  “I don’t give a fuck what I say.” Mason’s body shook as he spoke. “It doesn’t matter. What are they going to do? Take me off my case? They already did that. Put me on a mandatory leave? Yeah, they did that, too.”

  What the hell was going on? It was one thing to shut down a case, but to force the guy in charge to take a leave wasn’t usually how it was handled. Noah’s SEAL senses buzzed again. And Noah had to do all he could to hold them down. Causing Mason to say anything more, give Noah any more details, was a shitty thing to do to his friend.

  Mason had said something, but Noah, caught in his head, missed it. Noah hesitated to ask Mason to repeat whatever he said, but when he peered into Mason’s eyes and he actually felt Mason’s pain, Noah needed to find out what put it there.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I had to look my sister in the eyes and tell her I couldn’t do anything to help her—help her family. I couldn’t bring her husband back. Couldn’t catch the men who killed him. Couldn’t make them pay. The motherfuckers pulled me from the game. They said I was obsessed. That I needed time to get a grip. Since when is doing your job an obsession? I’m close. So damn close. I know I am. And now they want me to just pull the plug on the whole thing. Stop my investigation and hand everything over to the other guys. You know what the other team will do with my intel? They’ll be like, Sure, we’ll take your findings under advisement. That’s code for they’ll just chuck ‘em in the file under ‘not our goddamn business.’ Never give any of it the time of day. Why should they, anyway? My own team thinks our findings were a waste. How could they not understand how close we were? How close we were to showing these guys were working on their own?”

  Fuck. Mason was crossing the line. If he kept going, Noah had no doubt that Mason would start sharing top secret information, that if someone found out Mason had leaked would mean the end of his career. Maybe even wor
se. But even after all Mason just said, Noah couldn’t understand how Ellen fit in. And if she did in fact lose her husband, how did that play into what Noah had just learned?

  Against better judgment, Noah was about to ask just that when Mason let out a guttural cry.

  “I made her a promise.” Mason’s voice sounded like a wounded animal.

  Mason stared at Noah, but it was hard to tell if he could actually see him. Noah wanted to again pull Mason into his arms, but he held his ground. His fear of spooking Mason was too great.

  “I promised I’d catch who killed Tom.”

  Noah’s stomach twisted, and his heartbeat raced. Noah asked the next thing that popped in his mind, not even worrying about the line they’d crossed. “Do you know who killed him?”

  “Yes—no—I don’t fucking know anymore. I thought I did. I had the proof. It’s fucked up. And I can’t figure it out. And now I really can’t because they pulled me from the case.”

  Noah was lost in what Mason said. Noah believed this all had something to do with the current case Mason had worked on. But that couldn’t be. They’d never allow an agent to work on a family member’s case. But that’s sure as hell what it sounded like to Noah. And for some reason, the higher-ups had pulled Mason from the case. That would definitely make for his foul mood.

  Noah debated whether he should ask any more questions. He knew he’d already passed the point of skating on a thin line; he was submerged deep in the freezing water.

  The room remained quiet, Mason seeming to be deep in thought for what felt like hours, but was merely minutes.

  “They killed Tom and now I can’t do anything about it. Can’t stop them from killing someone else. Can’t catch them for what they did. Can’t give Ellen closure.” Mason seemed to beg Noah, but for what, Noah didn’t have a clue. “They took me off the case. Told me to take ten days off. No, they didn’t tell me to, they ordered me to, and want me to come back minus my obsession. They actually called my wanting to catch these fuckers an obsession. It’s not a fucking obsession. It’s my goddamn job.”