Текст книги "Exposed"

Автор книги: Ivy Stone

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Lindsey

To have trust is to have faith. I have neither. I no longer trust myself, not around him. I’m drowning in doubt and suddenly, I don’t remember how to swim.

The bell chimes, waitresses’ heads turn. I look around, searching for eyes as dark as death. Without even seeing him, I can feel him. Ice frosts my skin and I flick my head around and find him eyeing me from a few booths away.

In careful strides, I make my way over, sliding into the seat opposite him.

Clasping my hands together in front of me on the table, I glare at him, eyes tight.

“Start talking.”

He stabs his fork into the food on his plate. “She was there that morning at Sweet Tarts, Adriana stashed her drugs in Ali’s locker so when they got busted it would be Alison caught with them not her. And before you ask, your sister did know about it.”

My grip tightens, my knuckles turning white. “What? Why?”

Rossi shrugs, shoveling food into his mouth. “Ivy league colleges don’t take criminal activity of that kind lightly. She’d lose her place there, her job. It would have all been taken away from her.”

It all clicks into place.

My eyes widen. I twist my neck and blow out a breath. “Ali was willing to go down for her.”

Without any movement, not even a twitch of emotion, he looks me dead in the eyes. “She was.”

Adriana and Ali don’t mean anything to this cold-hearted monster, which begs the question, what does he get out of this? And how the hell did Adriana know the cops were going to show up that morning?

Anger. Pride. Injustice. It hits hard, the blow ricocheting off my heart into pieces of a problem no amount of money can fix. I was so mad at Ali that day. The drugs, the job, the attitude, it never fucking stops with her and I’ve become so tired of the same cycle of never-ending drama that not once, not even once did the possibility of those drugs not being hers cross my raging mind. I’ve always believed she’s a junkie not searching for a cure, but that day, she didn’t take the addict’s way out; instead, she showed me her first steps to recovery.

“I need something from you.” His dead voice searching for my help sends a shiver down my spine.

“No.” I reply, clear and sharp, voice full of conviction leaving no room for compromise.

Rossi frowns, his eyes shooting me down. “Before you say no, just think about it. This will benefit you and your sister. Plus, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.” A menacing smile plays on his lips.

I fold my arms across myself and tilt my head to the side. “Adriana Marino is no enemy of mine.”

He sits up straighter in his seat as if proud of himself. “She’s not. But Giuseppe is.”

“And what makes you think I want to get my hands dirty in anything to do with him?”

Enzo sits forward leaning his elbows on the table, eyes level with mine. “Because it’s the life, Lindsey. The one he got you into. It’s all because of him you now enjoy what you do. That’s why you still do it.”

My lips curve up into a smirk, knowing he’s got it all wrong. “Is that right?”

“I bet you make peace with what you’ve done. You justify it in your head that you didn’t take an innocent life so it’s okay. It was just another criminal. You crave the adrenaline rush that spikes right before you kill. I bet it even turns you on.”

His words resonate and if this were a year or two ago I’d have to agree with him. But I don’t, because as each word leaves his mouth, Mason’s face becomes clearer in my head. I don’t thirst for the thrill anymore. I haven’t in a long time. Every life I’ve taken, person I screw over in the process, marks my soul with permanent ink. I’m just good at hiding it.

I lean in, matching Enzo’s intensity. “I don’t particularly care what you believe. So tell me your plan or I walk out of here right now.”

“I’ll get Adriana Marino out of the way. She’ll admit to the ice being hers and then the police have no choice but to drop the drug charges. You help me rob Giuseppe Marino for all he’s worth and your sister will be a free woman when she gets out of rehab. Bank job, in and out.”

I stay silent, contemplating my options. Olly will hate the idea, but I can’t deny how enticing it sounds. Ali will be free and clean. This could be a fresh start for both of us. For her, no more drugs or whoring, for me, no more killing. So much blood had been spilled we could drown in it. It’s either that or spill more.

Running my hands through my hair I flip it over my shoulder. “Or. I can just kill you.”

Enzo’s laugh booms through the diner. “Oh, Lindsey. Come on, it doesn’t need to come to that.”

“How do you know all of this about Adriana? How did she know the cops were going to raid the club? Better yet, why should I believe you can get her to fess up? I don’t want any harm to come to her over this. If you plan to hurt her, I won’t agree to anything.”

“You don’t get to ask questions, Lindsey. Take it or leave it,” he says, tone void of any emotion.

“Fine. I’m in.”

My muscles tense. I have a feeling I’m going to regret this.

Mason

Tapping my pen on the dark oak desk, I scan over the paperwork in front of me for the tenth time. My mind is scattered, too preoccupied by the other night with Lindsey, that I don’t even notice Roam until he shoves a rap sheet under my nose.

“Dude, what’s going on with you today?” he asks, obviously noticing my head’s not on the job today.

I shake it off because I really don’t feel in the mood to cop shit from Roam about Lindsey. “Nothing, man.”

“Well in that case, I need you to hear me out.” He gestures to the records he just gave me.

I flick open the file, briefly checking out the details and mug shot attached. “Why am I looking at a cold case file, Roam?”

Roam points to the photo. “That is Lorenzo Baccarelli. Alive and fucking well, my friend. The guy looks pretty fucking good for a guy who’s supposed to be six feet under.”

I inspect the photo closer. “No fucking way.”

It is him. My eyes aren’t lying. Lorenzo Baccarelli, the prince of the Baccarelli crime family. Or rather, he was the prince, until seven years ago when the Marino family declared war and in one bloody massacre, every member of the Baccarelli family was wiped out of New York City. Lorenzo was just a kid then. If it really is him in the photo, he’d have to be in his mid-twenties now.

“Yeah, man. Had techs run it through facial recognition. It’s him all right. Except now he goes by the alias Enzo Rossi. Rossi also happens to be his mother’s maiden name.” He waves his arms around as he speaks. “My question is, why would he be so fucking stupid as to get this close to any Marino property?” He shoves a finger forward at the surveillance footage that appears to be of the parking lot behind the back of Sweet Tarts.

He’s in a black sedan, window down just enough to make an ID, and opening up his passenger side door is Adriana Marino. I sit up straighter, my interest piquing. What was going down here?

“My guess is mafia princess there is fraternizing with the enemy, and we sure as fuck know Daddy wouldn’t approve. I’d say that’s why she’s running out the back where she knew no one would see her.”

I sit back in my chair, thinking it over. “Still, that was a risky move for both of them.”

“Not really, boss, these just came in.”

Hearing a voice by the door, Roam and I both turn to see Cassidy with documents in her hand. She grips them tightly, flicking her gaze between the paper in her hands and me. What the fuck?

“What’ve you got, Cassidy?”

She looks down again at the paper in front of her before hesitantly passing it over to Roamyn, who practically rips it out of her hands.

She shakes her head, dropping her gaze to the floor. “You’re not gonna like it.”

“Motherfucker.” Roamyn whispers, brows furrowing, anger brewing on his face.

“What is it?” I ask.

Roamyn glances up, and just from his look, I know it can’t be good. My gut twists.

“Well, it’s safe to say Baccarelli is doing the dirty with Adriana Marino.” He trails off, not finishing whatever it is he has to say.

“But?” My eyes widen, gesturing for him to hurry the fuck up.

“Well, after he’d been with her, he met with another woman.”

“Roamyn, spit it the fuck out before I rip the goddamn photos out of your hands,” I reply, patience wearing thin.

“Woman in these photos is Lindsey Jenkins.”

My breath catches in my throat and a lump forms the size of fucking Earth.

Lindsey

A knock sounds, followed by “Linds, it’s me.”

“Coming!” I call out, recognizing Olly’s voice at my door.

I greet him with a smile as he enters but it quickly fades. The handsome face staring back at me is marred with stress lines.

I fold my arms over one another. “What’s wrong?”

He slides a hand through his thick dark hair and paces the room.

I shove a glass of water in front of him and he takes a huge gulp, tugging on his tie to loosen it.

“You know if you don’t feel safe just call and I’ll come stay over. I don’t mind.”

I eye him eerily, his offer for protection coming out from nowhere and completely unnecessary. He looks in no shape to protect himself, let alone me, if I actually needed it. “Thanks, and I know, but I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine. Are you okay though? You look kind of stressed.”

“So no one strange has been hanging around?” He looks around the room as if a murderer is going to step out from behind the curtains.

“Honestly, no. You don’t need to worry, I’ve got this. What’s up with you though?” I rest both my hands on his shoulders and search his eyes.

He shakes his head. “I’m fine. Just been worrying about you.”

I wave an arm around the room. “Well, I promise nothing stranger than the usual is happening around here. The day of the court case I could have sworn someone was following me when I’d stepped out for air, but apart from that day, everything has been normal. Not going to deny still being on edge but I’ve got it covered. And with Mason worrying over me too, I think I’ve got all the protection I don’t even need.”

“Mason, huh?” Olly taunts, a tiny excuse of a grin threatens to appear and I take whatever shit he’s about to throw me because it’s the lightest I’ve seen him look in days.

“You’re on a first name basis now with that cop from the bar?”

“Kind of,” I respond nonchalantly while in my head I replay the memories of just how friendly we became during our last encounter.

Olly raises a brow, questions written all over his face. “Wait. Did he stay with you after court? Is that why you never called me?”

I sigh. He’s onto me and knowing Olly, he won’t give up until he’s rid me of all secret information.

I walk into kitchen. “Fine, okay, yes. He stayed, not that the guy gave me much choice in the matter anyway. He was my protection detail for that night. I couldn’t very well tell him he wasn’t needed, it would have looked suspicious.”

“And?” He stares at me, waiting for more details.

“He may have made himself comfortable in my bed at some ungodly hour of the morning.” I halt in my step. Turning around to Olly, I point in his direction. “Nothing happened, before you ask.”

“Lindsey, you’re practically sleeping with the enemy. What if he finds out you’re a gun for hire?”

I narrow my gaze at him, and sweep my hand in front of me. “He won’t find out. I’m not marrying the guy, Olly. Nor am I seeing him again, at least not until Ali’s court hearing and that’s been adjourned until she is out of rehab.”

“He’s a cop, Lindsey. It’s his job to sniff out liars and while you’d probably rock the orange jumpsuit, I can’t picture you happily swapping your Dior threads for it.” He waves a hand up and down the length of me.

I roll my eyes. “Oh, come on.”

He throws his hands up in defense. “Playing with fire, babe.”

He’s right. While entertaining the idea of one steamy night with Mason seemed like a doable option, deep down I knew the man ignited a fire in me I could get used to. One night could do irreparable damage to both of us.

Mason

Unease winds its way up my body, clogging up my veins with tension. I don’t have a good feeling about this. And my gut is usually right. Seeing her face near his made me see red as I gripped the file tighter in my hands. He’s a dangerous man. Did she know who she was dealing with?

The devil was on the other side of the table. Did she realize she could be his next meal? He’d swallow the mercy from her soul and chew her out, just to watch her burn.

“You okay?” Roamyn asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

I regain focus on the photos spread over my desk. “Yeah, man, just can’t for the life of me even find a connection between these two.” I look up, making eye contact with Roam. “You find anything?”

He shakes his head, eyebrows drawn in. “Nah, she’s clean.” He trails off. “Maybe it’s something innocent. She may have no clue who the guy is. It’s likely she doesn’t. Can’t say she seems the type to be having a casual coffee date with a dead mafia man.”

He’s got a point. Lindsey tensed up whenever she had been in the same room with any of the Marino men, so why would she feel comfortable with a Baccarelli?

I run a hand through my hair. I was missing something and no matter how long I stared at these photos and records, I wasn’t getting any closer to answers. “She did mention hating the fact they had Alison under their thumb.”

He puts his hands out, huge fake–ass smile plastered on his face. “See, probably innocent.”

I frown back at him. “You’re shit at trying to be positive, you know that?”

Roamyn slaps me on the side of my arm. “Come on, man, you know what it’s like. We’re cops. The shit we see doesn’t leave us looking on the bright side of things. It fucks with us until all we see is the bad. All I know is this woman is the first one in years I’ve seen you make an ounce of effort with. You’re a good judge of character. Have some faith she’s one of the good ones.”

“Hope you’re right.”

“Always am.” He smiles and this time it’s real.

“Cocky bastard.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Lindsey

Love. Just saying the word makes me twist in agony. He makes me feel too at ease, too comfortable. Comfortable develops into feelings, and feelings create unachievable hopes and dreams to consume the heart with love. A love that will eventually be ruined, leaving no one liable for my own stupidity but myself. How can I allow myself to feel such a way in the first place? Why do we yearn for something we know will always hurt us?

“Can I help you, hun?” an elderly woman asks when I reach the reception area of the clinic.

I clasp my hands together, resting them on the sleek modern counter in front of me. “Hi, I’m here to see my sister, Alison Jenkins.”

“Alison sure is a lucky girl today.” She sifts through paperwork on the desk before handing me a pen and clipboard with a visitors’ log attached. “Just sign in here with your name and date and then these two gentlemen,”—she motions toward the two NYPD officers sitting behind the counter further down from her—“they will check your ID. When you’re done, just head through to room nine, that’s hers.”

“Thanks.” I take the log from her hesitantly, my mind preoccupied by her previous comment.

“Why is Ali a lucky girl?” I ask, confused.

She beams at me a sweet smile. “You’re her second visitor for the day.”

The pen fumbles in my hand and I drop it to the ground. “I’m her second visitor?”

“Yes, that sweet man of hers keeps coming to visit. He’s such a charmer. I think we all look forward to the days he visits.”

Quickly, I pick the pen up off the floor and find the next available line to write on. Scrolling down the list, I freeze when I recognize a name.

What was he doing here?

***

The corridors are all the same, white walls, trims and doors. Yet as I walk by rooms with opened doors, each is different on the inside. Much like the people living in the rooms. To everyone else, they all looked the same. Lifeless, bloodshot eyes, pale skin and scrawny figures. But on the inside is where their reality is, where they choose to hide. I just have to hope Alison is prepared to let me in.

I stop in front of room nine, raising my hand in front of me ready to knock. Before I can do so the door is pulled open from the other side and I’m face to face with a sober Ali.

“Linds! You’re here. Finally.” Ali squeals and jumps onto me, hugging me like she hasn’t seen me in years.

I wrap my arms around her, appreciating not only her excitement to see me but the fact she also looks happy. “I’m sorry I haven’t been by yet. I’m a terrible sister. I’ve been so caught up with work. I never stopped worrying about you though.”

She pulls back and waves nonchalantly in front of herself. “It’s all good. It’s not like you haven’t called or anything. I’m just glad to see you. Let’s go out to the courtyard and chat. It’s nice out there.” She grabs a jacket off the hook beside her and shuts the door behind us. Ali then leads us out to a gorgeous little courtyard with a few table settings and a vertical vegetable garden attached to the back wall of the fence.

“How are you doing?” I ask, rubbing my hands together for warmth. It may be cute and comfortable out here, but it’s still winter. My hands are ice cold.

“Actually, I’m good I think. It’s not easy. I still feel sick. But after the first few days, it started to get better. Don’t get me wrong, every day is a struggle. It always will be. But if I stay on track, I think I’ll be okay.”

A weight lifts from my chest just hearing those words and as I look at Ali now, I see hope staring back at me. Finally, there’s light at the end of the tunnel.

I smile. “You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that. I’m so proud of you for doing this.”

Ali shrugs, looking down to the ground. “I needed to. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to accept that.” She goes quiet, and I don’t know how to respond. She did need this; she’s right. She wasn’t just pushing herself to the edge of no return. She was dragging me along with her, which eventually, I decided I was not okay with.

“And sorry for being a giant pain in the ass,” she adds with a hint of humor.

I chuckle. She’ll always find a way to lighten a serious conversation. “It’s okay, babe. We all make mistakes. What matters is what we learn from them, to be better next time.”

A young man in the clinic’s uniform passes by our table and his blond hair and toned body remind me of another blond man who’s taken to visiting Ali.

“So I’m a little concerned about why the staff are overly excited about the recent male attention you’re getting here.” Crossing my legs, I lean back into the chair. “And I hear he visits almost daily. Care to share?”

Ali shakes her head, averting her gaze. “It’s nothing really. Roamyn checks in with the cops on shift to protect me. He brings me chocolate and stays awhile. We talk and then he leaves.”

“I didn’t realize you two knew each other well,” I state, my tone questioning.

“We didn’t really, not until he started visiting me.” She picks at her nails, a telltale trait of hers. She’s nervous.

“I met him years ago. Saw him on and off. Before a few weeks ago, I don’t think I’d seen him for about two years.” She waves her arm around, gesturing to the clinic. “Last week he just showed up and he’s been by nearly every day since.”

“That’s kinda weird.” I rub my chin, uneasy about the motive behind these visits of Roamyn’s, not that I’d tell Ali that.

She responds, a gleam in her eye recognizable in any girl crushing on a boy. “It’s also kinda nice.”

Ali gets us both a cup of hot tea and as we sip our drinks we talk and laugh. Catching up like we haven’t done in years. My heart’s still heavy with concern about the blowback we have yet to receive, but our saving grace is the round-the-clock security that Ali is getting from the NYPD. She’s being protected. I just hope their armor is strong enough to fight the impending assault, and win.

***

The number five illuminates on the elevator wall and I step out onto my level, digging around in my purse for the keys. A chill ripples over my skin. Something feels off. I halt my step. I creep around the corner as quietly as I can but my heart is thumping so hard I’m sure it can be heard. I grab my phone out of my bag when I notice my door open. Not by much, but still slightly ajar. Someone’s inside.

I flick off my heels to be discreet and head for my loft, at the same time dialing the one person I know will get here the fastest.

“Mason. Somebody’s broken into my place, I’m in–”

Whoosh.

I’m airborne, floating for a fraction of time without a moment to breathe, to think. I land on the polished tiles with a loud thud. Pain illuminates the side of my face. The swelling is instant; along with what I’m positive will be a nasty bruise. I scramble to my feet and turn around, bracing my arms in front of me, fists ready. My gun’s inside. If I can just get to my room. My attacker runs toward me, broad and muscular, hiding behind a balaclava and top-to-toe black clothing.

Oomph.

I double over in agony, bile threatens to rise from the searing pain of a punch to my stomach. “Motherfucker.”  I recover quickly, refusing to let this asshole win because of a few cheap shots. He may be stronger, but I’m fast. Adrenaline courses through my veins, flight or fight instincts kick in. I run using every ounce of strength I can find to attack him with.

Crunch.

A kick to his chest throws him back and he lands on the ground after my counter attack. I round to his other side and kick him in the ribs. Once, twice, three times. He stumbles up, groaning in pain but he isn’t quick enough. I kick him again, right in the sternum, pushing him backwards, and out the door. I shut my door swiftly, locking it straight away. I glance around and grab the first makeshift weapon in reach. The lamp on my side table is heavy in my hands but I know it will do some damage. I raise my arms preparing to bring it down on the asshole’s head when he comes through the door.

I wait, chest heaving from exertion, body shaking, hair sweaty and sticking to my skin. Nothing, he doesn’t come back. My racing heart slows and after five full minutes of nothing but silence, I creep to the door, and turn the handle without making a sound. Lamp in hand, I open the door ready for him. A vacant hall greets me. I check the rest of the floor and the elevator, but he’s nowhere in sight. A disturbing silence coats my skin with ice and I shiver.

My neighbors mustn’t be home because no one’s opened their doors to find where the pounding of flesh was coming from. Clear from my attacker, I rush back into the safety of my home, shutting the door behind me and shoving a chair under the door to act as a lock. I dump the lamp on the island counter and search the freezer for something cold to use on my body.

The frozen bag of vegetables on my cheek dulls the swelling as I hobble to the couch. I just sit down when a pounding thumps loudly on the door, startling me into another frenzied state. Is he back? The thought causes me to jump from my seat and bolt for the lamp still sitting on the counter top. My body screams in agony but I prepare for the worst.

“Lindsey!”

The knocking continues but I stop in my tracks when I hear my name.

“Shit.” I mutter, exhaling a breath of relief I didn’t realize I was holding.

Mason.

I put down the lamp and grab the frozen bag from where it sits on the couch. My ribs protest, throbbing with every step I take. Sucking up the pain, I wince when I lift my top, applying the coldness to my bruised ribs.

Thumping sounds again at the door, but this time louder.

I yell out while hobbling to let Mason in. “I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t break down my freaking door.”

I turn the handle and Mason’s on me, his large hands cupping my face as he gently turns my head to the side, inspecting the damage from my attack. “Jesus. Look at you.” His eyes narrow and fire rages behind his stony expression. “Go lay down. Why did you get up? You’re in fucking pain.”

He turns me around and helps me make it to the couch without putting too much extra stress on my wounded body. I grimace and suck in a breath as I sit down. It hurts too much for a rib or two not to be broken.

I groan. “I wasn’t exactly keen about leaving the door wide open for my attacker to waltz back in and finish what he started.”

“That’s not what I mean. You should’ve just called out. I would have kicked the door down. You’re hurt badly. We should take you to the hospital, have you checked out.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” I lie. I don’t want to move another inch, let alone leave the loft to be poked and prodded at by a doctor who won’t give me anything but painkillers.

“Fine, but I’m not letting you stay here alone and you can’t stay here anyway. This place has been trashed. I’ll call it in and then you’re coming to stay at my place.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone.

I glance around the loft. He’s right. I can’t stay here. I’m shaking, hurt and if I’m being honest, the last thing I want is to be alone. But being around Mason for too long means using strength I don’t currently have to resist him if he gets too close.

Mason shakes his head. “Not about to let you stay here hurt and scared so you can forget it. I can see that shit spinning in your head.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m not scared. I’m just not exactly comfortable going home with you either. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

Lie. I’ll get too comfortable. That’s what I’m truly scared of.

“Not saying you can’t, sweetheart. I know you like to play badass, but for once, just let someone else look out for you. Just for the night.” He bends down in front of me, grasping my chin between his finger and thumb, forcing me to look him in the eyes and fall for his natural charm.

I race to think of an excuse, but I can’t because when he’s touching me, all rational thoughts seem to fly out the window.

“What about your daughter?”

“What about Charlotte?”

“Won’t she find it the slightest bit odd you’re bringing a strange woman into her home and letting her stay the night?”

His posture loosens and he smirks. “Linds, she’s nine years old, not two. I tell her what the deal is, she’ll understand. She’s a good kid. She’ll go with it.”

I frown, losing hope that I can come up with anything he won’t have an answer for. I’m then lifted into the air, held by strong arms. “Mason, what the hell are you doing? Put me down.”

He carries me, arm under my knees, the other around my back and while it’s painful I can see he’s trying his hardest not to hurt me. “We’re going to my place.”

“You just don’t take no for an answer, do you?” I ask, astonished by the care he is once again showing me. His bossiness is completely irritating, yet at the same time, admirable, because his orders always come from a good place, his kind heart.

He looks down at me. “Not when it comes to something I want.”

***

“Daddy, you’re home!” A child’s high-pitched voice booms through the open plan apartment when we walk inside. Mason opens his arms just in time to catch the young dark-haired girl as she throws herself into him. This must be Charlotte.

Embraced in the security of her daddy’s arms, even my emotionally imbalanced heart can’t help but swoon at the sight. Mason kisses the top of Charlotte’s head while holding her tightly. He closes his eyes for just a second before reopening them. He still looks tired but without the strain always worrying him.

“Hey, baby girl,” he muffles into her hair. Looking up, Mason greets the woman who’s smiling at them. “Thanks for today, Cora. I owe you one.”

She waves him off and grabs her purse from the counter in the kitchen off to the left before joining us near the door. “No worries, you know she’s always an angel for me.”

A curious little face swings my way and I clutch the dog tags I can feel on the inside of my shirt. My legs become restless, ready to flee with just one look from the mini Mason. Will Charlotte be okay with me being here?

“Who’s that lady, Dad?” Charlotte whispers rather loudly.

I chuckle because she was far from quiet and I’m standing a mere foot away, definitely within hearing distance.

Mason looks in my direction, his lips forming a devilish smirk before spinning back around to an inquisitive Charlotte. “Charlotte and Cora, this is Lindsey. Lindsey, meet my daughter, Charlotte, and life saver, Cora.”

I hold my breath, waiting to see Charlotte’s response. After eying me warily for a minute, a full-blown smile beams from her and I exhale a sigh of relief. Who knew child approval could hold so much value?

“Nice to meet you.” I wave to Cora before turning back to Charlotte. “I hope you don’t mind me coming over.” I attempt a smile but it’s an epic fail. The pain in my side too explosively hot, the burn worsening every second I’m standing.

“That’s okay. Are you all right?” Charlotte clings to her father, face contorted with concern. I flick my gaze from her to Mason. He jumps in, replying to her before I open my mouth and say the wrong thing. I’ve never been around young children except for my sister, since stepping out into the world on my two feet. I’ve not purposely avoided them, I just don’t come into contact with children often.

“Lindsey’s all right. She’s just a little sore. She needs a place to stay tonight so I told her she could stay here. That okay with you?”

And the smile is back shining brighter than before on Charlotte’s little olive-skinned face, the one part of her that differs from Mason.

She shifts out of his grip. “Sure, sounds good to me.” Skipping off, she stops at the granite island counter in Mason’s large kitchen. Banging sounds fill the space as she digs into cupboards and pulls out utensils. “It’s pasta night tonight and Dad always cooks way too much. So if you stay, you’ll be able to help us eat it all.”

“Oh, really, is your dad a good cook?”

Mason comes up behind me, his hands softly land on my hips and I freeze, my eyes locking onto Charlotte. Hers follow her father’s movements and her smile never falters.

“Yep. The best!”

“All right, baby girl, I’m just going to show Lindsey where the bathroom is then I’ll be out to help with dinner.” Mason pipes up beside my ear.

Guiding me into the bathroom, Mason takes most of my weight on him as I hobble in pain. He moves me to the oversized bathtub, sitting me on the side. “You okay?”