Mason: The Sinner Saints #4 Page 3

  “You have to believe me.” The words tumbled out of her mouth.

  “Why?” Mason cocked his chin to the side. “Give me a reason, Sara. Tell me what has you hiding in shadows. Tell me who you’re working for. Tell me who you were chasing down this street.”

  “No one,” she said too quickly.

  His brows dipped down and his gaze became sharper.

  “Then tell me what has you so scared,” he said, inching closer. “And don’t say nothing. I’ve had my eyes on you for the last hour and a half, remember? And I know what fear looks like, Sara. Real fear. And it’s in your eyes. Someone is pulling your strings. That much is obvious. But who? And why? I want to help you, Sara, but I can’t unless you tell me.”

  It wasn’t until the end of his little speech that Sara realized that she was holding her breath. Damn, he was good. She almost wanted to trust him, to believe for just a moment that he—that anyone—could help her.

  But no one could.

  Just then a car turned around the corner and she had to squint her eyes to keep from being blinded by its headlights. It slowed down a little as it passed by, probably curious about the couple arguing in the street. But somehow the reminder that they weren’t totally alone brought her back to herself.

  What was she doing wallowing in self-pity? She had a job to do. And as long as her heart was still beating, there was always a way out.

  She squared her shoulders and held up her hand, stopping Mason in his tracks.

  “You don’t know a thing about me. So stop pretending that you do,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice even. “And, more importantly, I know you can’t have a shred of evidence tying me to that robbery. So, why don’t you slink back to the museum until you can try this again with a couple of real cops and a warrant?”

  He cocked a brow, not looking particularly threatened by her sudden show of bravado. “And if I don’t?”

  “Then I will run and I will scream until a mob comes to stop you,” she said, lifting her chin. “And this time when I disappear into the crowd, I promise that you will never find me a—”

  The words froze in Sara’s mouth the instant her phone started to ring.

  No.

  No. No. No.

  It was too early. She still had time. He shouldn’t be calling. Not yet.

  Not unless he already knew that she didn’t have the necklace.

  Sara instantly forgot Mason. He didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did…except buying more time.

  Her fingers trembled as she dug into her pocket. Her hand was shaking so hard, she could barely keep her grip as she pushed the button to talk.

  “I still have twenty minutes.” The words rushed from her lips.

  “Yes. You do.” The voice on the other end was as hard and cold as they came. “But that hardly matters anymore does it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You can’t believe I haven’t been watching you, Sara,” Malcolm said. His voice was soft and low and deadly. “I know you didn’t go inside the museum tonight. I know you ran instead. Now you’re talking to someone I don’t know, and I warned you what would happen if you did those things.”

  Sara’s breath froze in her lungs when she heard the sharp metallic click of a gun being cocked on the other end of the line.

  ***

  Mason didn’t have to hear the other side of the conversation to know that something was terribly wrong. The way the color had drained from Sara’s face the moment her phone had gone off told him everything he needed to know.

  Well, maybe not everything.

  “N-no, don’t,” she sputtered desperately into the phone. “Someone else got to the necklace before I could get inside. He was the reason I took off. I was following him.”

  A slight pause, while the other person spoke. She turned her back to Mason, but didn’t bother dropping her voice. “I can get it back. I will. I just need a little more time to find the guy who took it.”

  She might not be scared of him or of the law, but she was obviously terrified of whoever was on the phone. Her voice was so desperate it almost hurt to listen to her. Her shoulders were shaking. Mason might not be able to see her face, but he was willing to bet that there were tears welling up in her eyes.

  But at least she was talking, and if she kept it up for just a little while longer, he might be able to fill in a few more gaps.

  He’d already learned more about Sara Baumgartner in the last twenty seconds than he had in the last twelve hours. She was working for someone…someone who had near-total control over her. But who? And how?

  Mason had spent the afternoon scouring the web for information about Sara, but there wasn’t much to find. As far as he could tell, she didn’t owe anyone money, she wasn’t in trouble with the law, and she didn’t have many connections beyond her immediate family, who were already known criminals—none of the usual blackmail fodder.

  “Just don’t hurt them. Please. I’ll do anything, just let them go.”

  Mason froze.

  Shit.

  He should have known. He’d spent the last hour watching her face. Sure, he’d caught the tension and fear, but he’d dismissed it as superficial. Just nerves, nothing more. There was no excuse for his mistake. He was too experienced not to see past that adorable pert little nose and those wide brown eyes to the churning panic underneath.

  Someone wasn’t twisting her arm. They were holding a gun to the head of someone she loved. This wasn’t simple extortion. It was a kidnapping.

  Don’t hurt them.

  More than someone. Two people.

  It wasn’t a big leap to guess who they were. Sara wasn’t associated with many people. No spouse. No kids. That didn’t leave a lot of other choices.

  Just her parents.

  Mason knew that Sara had fought against his help before, but this changed everything. Two people’s lives were in danger—three, if he counted Sara’s. The choice was no longer hers to make.

  Mason took a step forward and placed his hand on her shoulder. Sara twisted her head around and pierced him with a glare.

  “Him?” she said, her voice shaking even harder. “He’s no one. Just a pain in the ass. I can shake him.”

  In any other situation, Mason would have chuckled at her description of him—and she was talking about him, there was no doubt of that—but her words only made his blood run colder. If someone was asking questions it meant they had eyes close by.

  Eyes, and God only knew what else.

  “Give me the phone, Sara,” he demanded.

  She gave a terse shake of her head before turning back around and scurrying down the street. She only made it a few steps before Mason caught up with her.

  This time he didn’t ask for permission. He simply darted his hand over her shoulder and snatched the phone. She spun around, her expression frantic. In an instant, she turned wild on him, flailing and clawing at his chest and arms. Not that it did her much good. She was slight enough that Mason only needed to use a single arm to keep her at bay as he lifted the phone to his ear.

  “Sara is right. There’s no need to harm Mr. and Mrs. Baumgartner,” he said, using a controlled tone that he’d practiced in the field dozens of times. “I’m sure that we can come to an arrangement.”

  A long pause stretched on the other end, but at least there wasn’t dead silence. Mason could still make out the faint rise and fall of breath, the subtle sound of shuffling steps. He may have caught the kidnapper off guard, but he hadn’t rattled him. He was still there, listening.

  “Who is this?” The man’s voice was calm and measured, but also biting. He wasn’t asking a question. He was issuing a demand. And, by the sound of it, he wasn’t used to having his orders refused.

  So, he was dealing with a man that valued power and control. That was good to know. Useful.

  Mason didn’t mind bowing his head for a negotiation, but he wasn’t about to fall to his knees.

  “I’m an associate of Sara’s,” he said.<
br />
  “An associate,” the voice said. “I believe that she described you as a pain in the ass.”

  “And I am,” Mason said smoothly. “But a necessary one if you don’t want to lose the Evening Star.”

  On the other end, the man sucked in a long breath. Another pause that gave Mason even more insight into the person he was dealing with. He had to be greedy to send Sara after the necklace in the first place, but it was pure pride that was pushing him now. Something told Mason he wasn’t the kind of person who could live with coming in second.

  “And how do I know that you weren’t the one who stole the necklace in the first place?” the voice asked.

  “You don’t,” Mason answered honestly. “You’re just going to have to take my word for it. Just like I’m going to have to take your word that you didn’t double-cross Sara as a convenient excuse to rid yourself of your hostages.”

  “Are you asking for proof of life?”

  “You’re welcome to think of it as providing Miss Baumgartner with continued motivation to recover the diamonds if it makes you feel better.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Mason focused intently as a series of background sounds made their way through the phone—a long series of hard, staccato steps on concrete, sixteen to be exact, the metallic groan of turning gears, and the low creak of sliding shafts. Wherever the Baumgartners were being held, it was heavily fortified.

  A moment later a whoosh of air swept past the other phone’s receiver, as though it were being tossed across a room.

  “Say hello,” the voice said in the distance.

  “Sara?” A woman’s breathy voice came on the line.

  Mason immediately handed the phone over. Tears overflowed Sara’s eyes, spilling down her cheeks.

  “M-Mom,” she sputtered. “Are you all right?”

  Sara balled her hand into a fist and pressed it against the center of her chest as her mother answered.

  “I’m going to get you out of there, Mom,” she said. Her voice might be shaky, but there was no denying the resolve that shone through in every word. “I swear to God. I don’t care what I have to do. I’m going to get you and Dad out. No, don’t go. Not yet.”

  Mason reached over and tried to take the phone back. He had to pry it from her tight grip, but at least she didn’t fight him this time. The hysteria that had raged out of control in her eyes just a few minutes ago was nearly extinguished, leaving only the charred remains of fear and weariness behind.

  But he could deal with that later…after he was finished with the matter at hand.

  “Satisfied?” the man asked as Mason pressed the phone to his ear.

  “For now.”

  “Good,” the man’s voice grew colder. “Then we can move on to my demands.”

  Mason straightened his shoulders. He’d known this was coming. In fact, he’d counted on it. Every word the man said gave him more clues about who he was dealing with…and how Mason would eventually bring him down.

  “My original arrangement with Sara was that she was not to bring any outside parties in to assist with the heist,” the voice went on. “But since she has disregarded our agreement, I have no choice but to do the same. Before, I was perfectly content to allow her to serve out her sentence for this single crime, but now I’m afraid that arrangement will no longer be sufficient.”

  Mason’s teeth ground together. So, that’s why Sara had said that she wasn’t trying to get away with anything this morning. She knew all along that she would be taking the fall for the theft. It was all part of the plan.

  “What are you proposing?” Mason asked.

  A long low laugh sounded in his ear. “I’m not proposing anything. This isn’t a negotiation. It’s a simple ultimatum, and one that I’m not certain Miss Baumgartner deserves after breaking her part of the bargain.”

  Mason’s attention snapped to Sara as she tugged on his jacket. She looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. The tip of her nose was bright pink, both from the wind and her tears. She looked battered and worn down, but not defeated. Not yet anyway.

  “What does he want?” she asked.

  “Go on,” Mason said through tight lips.

  “Now she will have to confess to the Kelham job as well,” the man said.

  Mason had no idea what the man meant, but the razor-sharp glee in his voice made Mason’s stomach churn. Whatever he was asking for, it couldn’t be good.

  “He wants you to take responsibility for the Kelham job,” he repeated.

  Mason’s fears were confirmed the moment that all the color drained from Sara’s face. He opened his mouth to tell the bastard no deal, but Sara stopped him before a single word came out.

  “Tell him I’ll do it,” she said.

  Mason narrowed his eyes. He pressed his lips together tight. She was in no condition to agree to anything.

  Sara must have sensed his hesitation because she leaned forward and practically shouted into the mouthpiece.

  “I’ll do it.”

  Mason puffed out his chest as he slid back a step.

  “There you go,” he said with an evenness he wasn’t feeling. “You have your deal.”

  “Not quite,” the man said cryptically. “We still need to arrange your end of the bargain.”

  “All right.”

  It didn’t matter what the kidnapper said. This wasn’t going to be any different than any other hostage situation he’d dealt with. He just needed to stick to the script—placate the kidnapper, show all signs that you’re going along with his plan, all the while secretly exploiting his weaknesses until the moment you can take him out.

  Mason was already thinking ahead. The moment he was off the phone he’d assemble the team at Macmillan Security and convince Sara to fill them in on the rest of the details. They’d be able to take it from there.

  “You have seventy-two hours to deliver l’étoile du soir,” the voice said.

  “And if I need more time?”

  “Don’t.”

  Mason gave a curt nod. Three days. It was a generous amount of time as demands went.

  “And you will receive nothing from me for your efforts but the gift of being allowed to walk away,” the man went on. “But, on the other hand, if you fail to deliver the necklace…”

  Something in the man’s voice made the hairs on Mason’s neck bristle. He’d been in too many highly-charged combat situations not to recognize the subtle warning in his tone.

  Mason acted on instinct, letting go of the phone and rushing forward. He wrapped his arms around Sara’s waist and pulled her down to the hard surface of the sidewalk just as three sharp cracks exploded from across the street. Shards of paint and plaster rained down on their bodies as bullets embedded in the shop wall just a few feet above their heads.

  A second later, the squeal of spinning rubber filled the air. Mason turned his head just in time to catch a glimpse of the black sedan that had passed by a few minutes ago before it careened around the corner.

  Once they were gone, Mason turned his attention to Sara. Her eyes were wide, and her breathing was ragged, but she appeared unharmed.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, gently brushing a line of dust off her forehead. “They’re gone. You’re all right now.”

  Her caramel-colored eyes narrowed as her shock dissipated. She glared daggers up at him from the cold pavement. “Get off me, you idiot.”

  Chapter Three

  “What the hell were you thinking?” Sara growled the moment Mason rolled off her.

  “A simple thank you would’ve been fine.” In one smooth move he rose to his feet. A half second later, he offered Sara his hand.

  She ignored it and scrambled to her feet, quickly sweeping the debris off her crumpled clothes. She grimaced a little when her hands came away dirty. Damn it. After everything that had happened, she probably looked a hot mess.

  Not that she cared how she looked to Mason, but now that the Evening Star had been stolen, the city was probably crawling with co
ps and she was suspect number one. If ever there was a time to be inconspicuous, this was it.

  But she would make do, just like she always did. All she needed was twenty seconds and a mirror and she could get herself back together again.

  But before she could fix herself, she needed to deal with the problem right in front of her.

  She drew in a steadying breath and raised her head to look Mason in the eye. He looked every bit as put together as he had that morning at the museum. He didn’t seem to have even a single wrinkle on his suit.

  Of course he didn’t.

  “And what exactly am I supposed to be thanking you for?” she asked with a sneer. “You just ruined everything.”

  His brows shot up, but the corners of his lips quirked just a touch. Somehow the hint of a smile made him both more attractive and more infuriating all at once.

  “Seems your plans were already in flames long before I showed up,” he said. “You need my help. Admit it.”

  “Your help just made me lose track of the necklace.”

  “I saved your life.”

  Sara shook her head as she glanced at the wall behind her. The bullet holes were eight feet off the ground.

  “Unless Malcolm had us confused with a pair of giraffes, those were warning shots.”

  “I just bought your parents three more days.”

  Sara pressed her lips together tight. Even she had to admit that three days was better than twenty minutes. And now that the trail of the thief had gone cold, she was going to need every second.

  Too bad the luxury of time came at one hell of a cost.

  “And bought me a one-way ticket to the gas chamber in the process,” she muttered.

  All humor fled his eyes in an instant. He moved closer. “What does that mean?”

  “It means I can’t afford any more of your help, Mr. Wright,” she said. Police sirens sounded in the distance. Someone must have already called in the gunshots.