Read Online Mason: The Sinner Saints #4 by Adrienne Bell - Free Book Online Page A

chomping down on a chip. “They named me after the Hope Diamond—the only jewel my parents were unsuccessful in stealing.”
    “Not the Evening Star?” Mason asked, his brows arching.
    “They never made an attempt on that one. It was always locked up tight in a private collection,” she answered. “Okay. My turn.”
    “Wait. That wasn’t my first question.”
    “Then you shouldn’t have asked it,” she said, putting the rest of her dinner back down on the table. “Why did you help me escape from the police?”
    “Because I know I can help you get your mom and dad back better than they can.”
    Sara shook her head. “Now who’s the liar?”
    “It’s true,” he said. “I’ve had years of experience in hostage situations.”
    “I don’t doubt that.” He exuded the kind of calm control that was vital in a negotiator. “It’s the bit where you expect me to believe that you care what happens to a couple of criminals.”
    “I care about what happens to your parents.”
    “Why?”
    “Technically, that’s your third question.”
    “Answer anyway.”
    His eyes took on that same steady intensity they’d had back in the alley. “Because where I come from we don’t leave people behind. No matter who they are.”
    Sara straightened at his answer. She knew better than to trust a slick-talking Face Man, but damn if that didn’t sound like the truth.
    Or maybe she just wanted it to be.
    Either way, he didn’t waste any time before asking his own question.
    “Why did you try to throw the Russian off my scent back in the alley?”
    Sara shrugged her shoulders. Wasn’t it obvious?
    “I was worried that he might hurt you,” she said. “Of course, that was before I found out you could take care of yourself. Where did you learn to fight like that anyway?”
    “Army Special Forces.”
    “Oh.” Sara’s lips pulled together. “That’s…terrifying.”
    “Only if you’re my enemy.”
    “That’s the thing,” Sara said. “I’m not exactly sure where I stand.”
    He leaned forward a few inches. “I would never hurt you, Sara.”
    “But what if things had gone to plan, and I had been the one who’d stolen l’étoile tonight? Would I have been your enemy then?”
    “No.” He slowly shook his head. “The second you walked into the museum this morning, I could see that something was wrong.”
    “How?”
    “It was written all over your face. Your body. The tension in your jaw. The line of your shoulders. The stiffness in your hips as you walked.” Awareness swept through Sara as Mason’s gaze lingered on the parts he described. “You didn’t want to be there.”
    Sara cleared her throat. “You’re very observant.”
    “I just see what’s in front of me,” he said. “So, tell me about Malcolm.”
    “He’s a scary son of a bitch.”
    “People have said the same thing about me.”
    After seeing him take down the Russian, Sara didn’t doubt it. If Mason really did have a Special Forces background, she had a feeling that she’d only seen a fraction of what he was capable of. Still, it was a hell of a long way from shattering the nose of one nameless hitman to taking down Malcolm Van Zandt.
    Mason must have sensed her doubt because he leaned closer and covered her hand with his. There was nothing overtly flirtatious in his touch. She didn’t feel anything but comfort, didn’t see anything but sympathy in his eyes. So, why did her skin practically sizzle with heat?
    “Sara, I can’t help you if I don’t know who we’re up against. You said so yourself.”
    “Fine,” she said and let out a long sigh. He was right. He was better off knowing the truth. Maybe then he’d finally see the futility of this fight for himself. “Malcolm runs the West Coast art black market.”
    “Sounds impressive,” Mason said. “But hardly untouchable.”
    “That’s because you don’t know the man,” she said. “Other people build operations. Malcolm’s built a damned empire, one that moves