In His Sights Page 2

  “Fuck.” Navy peered down at the bar.

  Well, that answered the question of whether or not Navy had recognized Mason. Now Mason wanted to know why Navy had been faking not knowing him.

  Mason sat quietly for a moment, wondering if Navy would say anything in his own defense. The silence stretched, and so did Mason’s nerves. Why was he playing dumb, and still trying to deny he knew Mason?

  “So how have you’ve been?” That was as good as a spot to start as any.

  “Fine.” Navy took a sip of his beer instead of going into details.

  Great. Let’s try a new line of questioning. “You try to be outnumbered in a fight every time you fly?”

  “Most.” Navy smiled.

  “Yeah. I bet.”

  Chapter 2

  Mason’s expression forced Noah to smile. But it was gone quick. What were the odds of running into Mason, and why did it have to happen right then?

  “So, you going to tell me what was going through your brain when you started in with those four guys?” Mason asked again.

  The question was one Noah hadn’t wanted to answer. But that was tough shit; Mason wouldn’t give up until Noah talked—that much was obvious. He could feign being drunk, which he really wouldn’t have to play too hard at. He’d already had a few too many drinks.

  With Mason’s keen eyes staring at him, Noah hadn’t thought he’d get away with using drinking as an excuse, regardless that he was currently feeling no pain. And that’s part of my problem.

  Mason remained silent, waiting for an answer. Playing ignorant wouldn’t work, so the next best thing was to exaggerate the story a bit.

  “They came over and started with me. It wasn’t the other way around.”

  “All right,” Mason said. “But it wasn’t something you could’ve ignored?”

  “Not when some assholes come up to me and start talking shit about our troops overseas.”

  “Oh,” was all Mason said, but it was enough. Noah knew Mason got it.

  “Still…four to one, you didn’t seem fazed.”

  “Should I have been?” Noah asked, confused.

  “Guess not,” Mason was quick to concede. “Over and done. Let’s talk about something else. What have you been up to? You’re still with the teams.”

  Noah hated that it was a statement. That it was a foregone conclusion that he was still a SEAL. It should have been. But because of one night, it was all over—his dream, his life, his destiny. Not wanting to answer, he forced the words out through dry lips. “No. Not anymore.”

  “What? Thought you were a lifer.”

  “Yeah, me, too.” Fuck. He hadn’t meant to say that. All that would do is open the subject to further conversation. Noah needed to stop it before it got started. “How about you. You still a Marine?”

  “Always a Marine, man. Always a Marine.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s all good. And the answer to the question I guess you’re asking is no, I’m not in the Corps anymore. When it was time to re-up, I went for a less regimented position.”

  “Really? What are you doing now?” Noah was surprised Mason was no longer active in the Corps. He couldn’t imagine what job had lured him away.

  “I’m with the FBI. I’m working with the Joint Terrorist Task Force.”

  That would do it. “Wow. That’s great.” Noah felt an emptiness in his chest. A sense of longing that he’d never fulfill. His days of fighting the really bad people of the world were over.

  Noah let the quiet sit for too long, and Mason was back asking questions. “What are you up to now?”

  More of what Noah had been dreading. “I’m not too sure. Still looking at my options. I’ve only been out three months. Had a few things I needed to take care of, and now I’m actually scheduled to catch a containership traveling to Africa. I’m part of the security detail.” His cheeks warmed. He was a glorified babysitter.

  “That sounds cool.”

  “I guess.” Not. “We’ll see.” Noah took a sip of his drink.

  “What are you doing in New York?” Mason asked.

  “Layover.”

  “Where’s your final destination?” Mason was like a sniper with his target in his sights. He wouldn’t let up on the trigger.

  Just what Noah didn’t want to deal with. “I’m heading to Maryland to meet up with the ship.” Noah tried to come up with something to ask Mason, but before he had a chance, Mason had more questions.

  “Oh. They’re not going to leave without you? I assume your flight was canceled, too?”

  Noah finished his drink and waved to the bartender for another one. Might as well get a little lit. He had a long night in the airport ahead of him. He’d stay at the bar until they kicked him out, then go hang out over by the gate, and wait until morning for his new flight—they’d keep the place open with so many cancelations. “Think all the planes are grounded. But I have four days before the boat heads out. Figured I’d travel down early to check things out.” And because I don’t have anything else to do.

  “That’s a good thing, then.”

  The bartender brought over Noah’s fresh drink and asked Mason if he wanted another. Passing on the refill, Mason stared at Noah. Trying to figure out what he was looking for had Noah’s skin crawling.

  Seeing Mason was about to speak, Noah asked, “Where were you headed?”

  “Up north to meet a friend.”

  “Where’d you start?”

  “Here,” Mason said. “I live thirty minutes away.”

  “That’s perfect. You can head home and come back tomorrow; try again.”

  “I’ll have to check on the available flights. There’s only one a day to Rutland, Vermont. If I’m not guaranteed on it, I’ll have to shut down the whole trip.”

  Noah was surprised. “You’re headed to Vermont? What’s up there this time of year?”

  “A friend.”

  It took a moment for it to dawn on Noah. “Oh.”

  “Exactly. He’s not going to be too happy when he finds out I’m not coming.”

  Noah must have misunderstood. Mason wasn’t going north to see a fuck buddy, just some friend. Why had sex automatically popped in Noah’s head?

  “He’s going to be pissed. I missed the last two times because of work. He’s going to think I’m avoiding him. Or have someone else on the side.”

  What the hell? Noah took a gulp of his drink. Had Mason just outed himself to Noah? That couldn’t be. Mason wasn’t gay. There was no way he was gay. Noah took another sip as the bartender walked over to ask Mason if he was ready for a refill. Mason wasn’t, but Noah sure was. Or maybe not, as he’d already started to hallucinate.

  “So, what are your plans for the night?” Mason asked.

  Plan on getting fucked up, then sleep at the gate until my flight is ready to take off. Or…“I’m going to hang for a bit longer, then head over to one of the hotels the flight attendants had mentioned. Heard them say a few had shuttles to the airport.”

  “All right.” Mason seemed to want to say more, but for some reason he hesitated.

  “You going to head out?” Noah asked, believing Mason felt bad about leaving him there. That was ridiculous.

  “I’m thinking you can come with me. I have a spare room and can run you back here first thing in the morning. What do you say?”

  Noah hadn’t seen that coming. What do I say? “I’ll be fine. Thought I’d hang around for a bit, and be ready to crash when I get to a hotel.”

  “Well, it’s not really hopping here. And if Guinness is your drink of choice, I’ve got plenty at home.”

  “I don’t want to be a bother.”

  “No bother. Like I said, I have the room. Bringing you here tomorrow is not a big deal.”

  Noah wasn’t sure why he was so uncertain about going with Mason. A soft bed in a warm, quiet house played better than an uncomfortable seat in a cold, noisy airport.

  “Um. Yeah. Thanks.”

  Mason’s smile grew. �
��Good. Finish that drink, and let’s head out. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

  Damn. Noah had made a mistake.

  Mason laughed. Confused, Noah just watched him.

  “You should have seen your face. You turned white as a sheet.” Mason let out a hearty laugh. “Relax. I’m not going to make you play twenty questions. Okay?”

  Noah was an ass. Mason was kidding, and Noah was having a heart attack. Jesus. When had he gotten so freaked out by talking? Six months, three days and about twenty-two hours ago. Right before his life fell to shit.

  They walked out of the airport and over to township parking to get Mason’s truck. It was a bumblebee yellow Dodge 1500 SRT, with a black racing stripe and custom chrome rims. Everything about it screamed, “Here I come.” It wasn’t exactly what Noah had expected, remembering the subdued personality of the Mason he’d met over in the desert.

  “This is an amazing ride,” Noah said, not holding back any of his awe.

  “Thanks. Something I always wanted. It was a gift to myself for making it back home in one piece.”

  “Well deserved.” Noah glanced around the outside of the truck, then got in and was as amazed at the inside as he had been of the out. It was like he sat inside the sun. All the leather was yellow, outlined by black. The stereo was state of the art, although at this point, Noah wouldn’t expect anything less. He sat back and sank into the soft leather of the seat.

  “This is really amazing.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Bet this is a hell of a ride four-wheeling.”

  Mason’s face lit up like a little kid’s. “It is. Just not so efficient with gas.”

  “I bet. But you probably don’t have a long commute.”

  “Not so bad. Sometimes I have to head to DC, and I hate the train.”

  “How often?” Noah peered at Mason.

  “Often enough that I got a bike for lengthy road trips.” Mason turned to Noah and smiled. “And for beautiful days.”

  “What do you have?”

  “2012 Harley-Davidson Deluxe FLSTN,” Mason said, with pride in his voice.

  “Let me guess. Sun yellow and a black stripe.”

  “Na. That’s too flashy. It’s black with yellow accents.”

  Noah laughed. “I love my bike. Just don’t get enough time to ride with the crazy Seattle weather.”

  “That sucks. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t use it when I wanted to. Granted winter months are out, but most other seasons come with a day or two when taking it out is doable.”

  “Kind of figure when I do take it out, it’s just that much more special.”

  “What have you got?” Mason asked, as he accelerated onto the highway.

  “I had a Super Low but changed it for an Iron 883 XL883N. Chocolate brown.”

  “Nice. That’s a smooth ride.”

  For the rest of the drive they talked more about bikes, cars, and trucks. Topics Noah was comfortable with. Before long, they pulled up to Mason’s house.

  Even though the night was dark, Noah could see the home was a quaint two-story, with a wraparound porch and two chimneys poking out the top. Its conservative appearance was in deep contrast to Mason’s ride.

  Noah followed Mason up the three steps leading to the porch. He looked around, taking in the scene. Two rocking chairs sat center stage, surrounded by a multitude of plants and flowers. Noah wasn’t only impressed by the sight; he was also amazed that the plants were alive and thriving.

  Mason clearing his throat was Noah’s clue that he’d stood gaping too long. He turned toward Mason, who smiled at the opened door. Mason peered at the plants. “Most of the time I forget about them, and my neighbor has to come over and revive them.”

  From the pretty pink hue of Mason’s expression, Noah had a feeling he was being modest.

  “They’re beautiful.” Noah followed Mason into the house. The first impression he got was cozy. He’d expected something more of a bachelor pad, much like his own home, an area devoid of personal touches, but this was far from. Just inside the foyer stood a table filled with pictures and a colorful pottery bowl, where Mason dropped his keys. As Noah strode farther into the house, he was again struck by Mason’s sense of color. The hall was bright, what Noah considered royal purple—the color making it both cool and calming. That led to what Noah assumed was the living room, but they passed it too quickly for him to get much of a look.

  They moved on to the kitchen, and Mason turned on the light. Noah stood still, blown away. The house from the outside appeared rather small, but this room alone told a different story. The room was huge and painted in what Noah thought of as a tomato red. The white cabinets hung over a bluish-gray countertop. Above the center island hung a pot rack holding what seemed like enough pots to cook a feast for twenty. This was definitely a kitchen of someone who liked to cook. Another aspect of Mason that Noah wouldn’t have picked up on knowing just hours ago.

  Mason strode over toward the refrigerator. “You ready for a Guinness?”

  “Actually, I think I’ll pass. Feeling a little tired.” Or maybe just a little tense about answering any more questions.

  Mason looked at the clock. “Shit. Didn’t realize it was that late. Let’s get you set up for the night.” Mason moved past Noah and back into the hall. Noah followed.

  When they got to the stairs, Mason turned, and headed up. “Your room’s this way.”

  Chapter 3

  Noah opened his eyes. Spotting the brown walls, he closed them again. Where the hell am I? He rolled over, carefully moving his hands to see if he’d find something. Another body maybe. Nothing. He opened one eye and peered around the room. He wasn’t sure where he was, but the aroma of coffee wafting through the air told him he wasn’t alone.

  Noah got up and found his clothes lying in the chair next to the bed. A good sign. He put them on, then stood listening at the door. Nothing but silence. Shit. Should he try to sneak out, or man up and find out who was at the other end of that endearing smell? He used to be a SEAL, dammit. “I can handle this.” Besides, what did he expect to find? Probably some chick he’d picked up last night trying to convince himself he was still a man.

  Noah closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened the door. Bright purple accosted his gaze, and it all came back to him. His Marine, and the man’s love for eccentric home and motor vehicle colors. His Marine? What? He needed coffee. Right now. He maneuvered himself toward the smell, not exactly remembering the way to the kitchen from the room he stayed in. Once at the stairs, he followed the aroma down and to the left. Then turned a corner and ta da. There, right in front of him, facing the opposite way, stood Mason, wearing nothing but a pair of baggy shorts. When he turned around, Noah noticed he had on a smile, too.

  “Good morning, sleepy head.”

  “What time is it?” Noah asked, his gaze fighting to go down to get another peek at Mason’s chest, his ripped muscles, and pointed nipples.

  “It’s 05:00.”

  “Yeah. Guess I slept in.” Noah said, and they both laughed. “Did you hear anything from the airline?”

  “Nothing yet. The terminals usually open at 07:00, but after last night, I’m thinking they’ll be there a little earlier. I’ll call in a bit, see what we can find out.”

  “Sounds good,” Noah agreed.

  “In the meantime, you want something to eat?” Mason went to the refrigerator and grabbed the cream for the coffee, then handed the carton to Noah.

  Noah’s gut twisted. Food right then didn’t sound too good. “I got a hankering for a run before I eat. Sweat some of last night’s alcohol out of my body.”

  “A run sounds great. Mind if I join you?” Mason took a sip of his coffee, and his smile grew.

  “Nope.”

  Mason put down his cup, and leaned back against the counter, his arms folded in front of him. “Do you want a pair of sweats and T-shirt to borrow? Can’t be fun running in tight jeans like that.”

  Noah couldn’
t look away. His insides burned. If he kept gawking at Mason, it wouldn’t take long for him to start sporting some wood. He padded over to where the center island would give him cover and put his coffee down. “That’d be great. Thanks.”

  “No problem, I’ll be right back.” Mason left the room.

  It gave Noah a moment to cool down. Just what he needed. Staring at Mason’s muscled body, and knowing the damage it could do, gave him little chance to keep his hormones in check. Damn, he’s built.

  Mason walked back in and handed Noah a pair of Marine sweat pants, a plain black T-shirt, and a matching Marine hoodie. Noah would be a running advertisement for the Corps. Why did he think Mason had done that intentionally? When Noah glanced over at Mason, he couldn’t miss the laughter in Mason’s eyes. Yeah. Definitely done on purpose. Noah couldn’t help but smile.

  “I’ll be right back.” Noah headed back to his room. On his way upstairs, he took in more of his surroundings. Pictures hung on the walls. One was of two little boys, another of Mason with a woman, his arm around her. I must’ve misunderstood him last night. He has a girlfriend, he can’t be gay. Noah’s thought moved to another one. One where Noah had been in a relationship trying to hide the fact that he liked men. He shut his mind down as he shut the door to his room. He dressed as fast as he could, blaming all of his rogue thoughts on his drinking the night before.

  When Noah came back in the kitchen, he found Mason at the coffee maker, refilling his cup.

  “You going to be up for this?” Noah asked.

  “Absolutely. Just need a little more go-go juice. Then I’ll kick your ass.”

  Noah shook his head. “In your dreams, buddy. In your dreams.”

  “What do you feel up to?” Mason asked. “There’s a lake up the block—the trail’s about five miles around. That’s where I run.”

  “That’ll work.”

  “We should have enough time to get through it before the airport opens. I’d say we could run there, but that’s another three miles each way. Think we should put that off for another day.”

  Another day? Sure. “Sounds good.”