judge a fellow soldier. Everyone had their nightmares, and everyone had their own way of trying to find the light again. He could help people onto what he saw as the right path, but judging was beyond his authority.
“You can come in,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “The second I think anything is weird about you, I'll call the cops and tell them you did this to me.”
He nodded curtly, and released his hold on the door so that she could close it and take off the chain. He expected the sound of her throwing the bolt followed by a maniacal laughter, but instead the door closed and then opened again.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Trish stepped away from the door, walking down the hall and into a galley kitchen. He stepped inside, closed the door, and bolted it. He followed her down to the hall and sat at the bar seats. She poured two glasses of iced tea, and he smiled quietly. Some things never changed.
The way she added an inch of whiskey to her glass was new, though.
“How much do you know?” she asked. “I don’t want to waste your time telling you shit you’ve already figured out.”
“All I know is that they’re there. And that they’re young.”
She chuckled to herself as she sat down next to him. “Of course that would jumpstart your sense of justice.”
“It doesn’t piss you off?”
“Don’t be an asshole,” she snapped. “Of course it does. I put up with the drugs because—well, look at me, who the fuck am I to judge? But the girls… he promised me that they were willing college students dancing for tuition and shit. And then I found out where the club was, and I went to go see—”
Her eyes were far away, in that warzone. He knew the look painfully well. “He wasn’t lying, not exactly. But he was omitting the truth in a big way. They’re refugee kids. Ones who came here with their families and then ran away, or ones who had no families back home and lied about relatives to get out of the camps. Vulnerable. Some of them don’t even speak English.”
She rubbed at her right eye. “I freaked out, Mason, just like I’m sure you did. I told him I was getting CPS involved. He didn’t appreciate that suggestion.”
“When did this happen?”
She shrugged. “Last night, I think. I obliterated myself afterwards. It’s always nice to find out how much of a coward you are.”
He reached out and touched her hand, avoiding the bruises where she’d tried to defend herself. He was glad to see that. It was when people stopped trying to even defend themselves that they were as good as dead. She was still fighting, somewhere deep down.
“Trish, if you were a coward, you wouldn’t be helping me. You wouldn’t have let me in. You wouldn’t be agreeing to tell CPS what you know about the girls, once I let you know Declan’s out of the picture.” He watched her carefully, gauging her reaction as much as her words.
The snort of laughter surprised him. Not at all what he was expecting. “You’re taking on Declan? Mason, you didn’t even want to lead the way down the street when we were going to a movie. You’re not taking over the fucking Fallen Angels.”
“I’m not trying to. But Declan is a rabid dog.”
“And a rabid dog needs to be put down?”
He nodded.
“Why should I help you? How does that help me? I’ll lose everything.”
“Except your pride. Except your ability to heal, and start over.”
She was trembling on the edge of something, and she finally looked up, meeting his eyes again. “Kiss me.”
“Trish—what?”
“You know you want to, darlin’, you always have. I’ve seen you watching me, seen you watching how I move, how I shake my ass when I dance.” She slipped in close to Mason, her hands just below his shoulders, her hips pressed close to his.
He willed his cock to relax, but he’d wanted her in an idle, friendly way for so many years—and she
“You can come in,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “The second I think anything is weird about you, I'll call the cops and tell them you did this to me.”
He nodded curtly, and released his hold on the door so that she could close it and take off the chain. He expected the sound of her throwing the bolt followed by a maniacal laughter, but instead the door closed and then opened again.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Trish stepped away from the door, walking down the hall and into a galley kitchen. He stepped inside, closed the door, and bolted it. He followed her down to the hall and sat at the bar seats. She poured two glasses of iced tea, and he smiled quietly. Some things never changed.
The way she added an inch of whiskey to her glass was new, though.
“How much do you know?” she asked. “I don’t want to waste your time telling you shit you’ve already figured out.”
“All I know is that they’re there. And that they’re young.”
She chuckled to herself as she sat down next to him. “Of course that would jumpstart your sense of justice.”
“It doesn’t piss you off?”
“Don’t be an asshole,” she snapped. “Of course it does. I put up with the drugs because—well, look at me, who the fuck am I to judge? But the girls… he promised me that they were willing college students dancing for tuition and shit. And then I found out where the club was, and I went to go see—”
Her eyes were far away, in that warzone. He knew the look painfully well. “He wasn’t lying, not exactly. But he was omitting the truth in a big way. They’re refugee kids. Ones who came here with their families and then ran away, or ones who had no families back home and lied about relatives to get out of the camps. Vulnerable. Some of them don’t even speak English.”
She rubbed at her right eye. “I freaked out, Mason, just like I’m sure you did. I told him I was getting CPS involved. He didn’t appreciate that suggestion.”
“When did this happen?”
She shrugged. “Last night, I think. I obliterated myself afterwards. It’s always nice to find out how much of a coward you are.”
He reached out and touched her hand, avoiding the bruises where she’d tried to defend herself. He was glad to see that. It was when people stopped trying to even defend themselves that they were as good as dead. She was still fighting, somewhere deep down.
“Trish, if you were a coward, you wouldn’t be helping me. You wouldn’t have let me in. You wouldn’t be agreeing to tell CPS what you know about the girls, once I let you know Declan’s out of the picture.” He watched her carefully, gauging her reaction as much as her words.
The snort of laughter surprised him. Not at all what he was expecting. “You’re taking on Declan? Mason, you didn’t even want to lead the way down the street when we were going to a movie. You’re not taking over the fucking Fallen Angels.”
“I’m not trying to. But Declan is a rabid dog.”
“And a rabid dog needs to be put down?”
He nodded.
“Why should I help you? How does that help me? I’ll lose everything.”
“Except your pride. Except your ability to heal, and start over.”
She was trembling on the edge of something, and she finally looked up, meeting his eyes again. “Kiss me.”
“Trish—what?”
“You know you want to, darlin’, you always have. I’ve seen you watching me, seen you watching how I move, how I shake my ass when I dance.” She slipped in close to Mason, her hands just below his shoulders, her hips pressed close to his.
He willed his cock to relax, but he’d wanted her in an idle, friendly way for so many years—and she
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