The Price of Mason (Forbidden Men 10)

“You’re mine,” she argued. “That’s what you are.”

“What?” I blinked once and then sputtered, “The fuck if I am. You’re the one who sent me off to other women in the first place.”

Rolling her eyes and fluttering a hand as if that were not the issue at all, she said, “I was just borrowing you out, like loaning a scarf to a friend in need.”

“I’m not a fucking scarf,” I growled, baring my teeth at her. “And I’m not yours. I never was; I never will be. And all that shit you said just now to describe me… Well, it’s not true anymore either. You’ve fucked me over enough times, manipulating me into getting what you wanted, that I could no longer be a compliant little toy, even if I tried. You successfully killed that kid. Now get the fuck out of my house before I physically make you.”

I stepped toward her, rage seeping from my pores. I must’ve looked pissed off enough because her eyes widened as she skidded a step back toward the exit. But then her face darkened, and she suddenly stood her ground.

“No,” she snarled. “I made you, little boy. You are my creation. And we’re not done until I say we’re done. No one, especially that bright-eyed, bushy-tailed little cheerleader you’re drooling over, is going to get her hands on my property, without my permission. Now… Unless you want me to ruin your precious Reese—”

“Wow,” I interrupted dryly, rolling my eyes. “Threatening someone you think is close to me, just like you did with my mom. And my sister. And that coworker of mine from the Country Club you got fired because I hung out at his house one afternoon instead of answering your summons? Call me shocked. It’s as if you have no other weapon in your arsenal of evil except to threaten my friends. So, trust me, I know the drill well. You’ll ruin her and make her wish she were never born unless I do whatever you say. Sound about right? And not that it’s any of your damn business, but Reese and I are only friends. So you’re wasting your breath on her, anyway.”

When she opened her mouth, probably to refute my claim, I pounced. “Now get the fuck out of my house.”

Grabbing her arm tightly, I dragged her, stumbling and cursing, toward the door where I opened it with my free hand and shoved her out into the dark night. Then I shut and locked her out before turning away and re-entering the kitchen.

But holy fuck; that had felt good. That had felt freeing, and just…amazing. I’d always wanted to bitch her out just like that but I’d always been too cowed by everything she was threatening me with.

I guess I’d just met my limit of threats from her. Except, shit… Maybe I hadn’t. Because, suddenly, the doubt rolled in.

I thought about my friend, Thad, who really had gotten fired because of her. He’d never talked to me again after that. And I knew it was Patricia who’d called social services on Mom, telling them she was an unfit mother, which had caused all kinds of people to invade our house, investigating her, until they’d finally cleared her.

And I swore Patricia had intercepted some of our mail before, confiscating bills so that we’d been turned into a collection agency, which had trashed my mom’s credit score—making it basically impossible for us to try to move away and rent or buy elsewhere. I knew I was old enough now that we could rent under my name, but I didn’t want to go that route yet, not unless we had to or until I felt we were safe enough. And right now, I didn’t feel safe at all.

Because my bitch of a landlady was a nasty, spiteful woman, who kept me perpetually afraid. And I’d pretty much just unleashed her on Reese.

God, I sucked.

No longer feeling good or free about everything I’d just said to Patricia, I sank back against the kitchen table and buried my face in shaking hands.

Reese, I silently begged, please forgive me for whatever I just did to you.

Confession #20: I had a hard time listening to good advice, even when it threatened me.

Five days passed. I kept my distance from Reese, even though it probably didn’t matter what I did at this point. Patricia knew exactly who she was and how important she was to me.

But even if the wicked witch wasn’t part of the equation, I was not the kind of person Reese needed in her life.

Not that it mattered how far away I stayed, because the physical distance had become only a technicality. Now that I had her number in my phone, we started texting. Daily. And through those messages, I think we ended up actually growing closer than ever.

I knew I should’ve stopped. But I couldn’t seem to help myself. No one could make me smile like Reese did whenever she went and called me nonsensical names like goober or buzzkill.

So I found myself skimming back through and rereading our playful banter during a lull at the Country Club one night when a ball of brown fur darted toward me, yapping out a happy greeting.

I blinked dumbly at it before saying, “Gidget?” It had to be; she even had that same pink bow attached to her fur.

Holy shit, where had she come from?

I knelt beside the pooch

, and she licked my hand, panting up at me in adoration.

“What’re you doing here?” I asked in wonder as if I actually expected an answer, just as some guy came jogging up.

“I am so sorry,” he gushed. “She got away from her leash. Damn thing is way too big for her neck, but the wife adores it, so…”

I looked from the man’s brown loafers to his face just in time to catch a chagrined shrug. Transferring my gaze to a familiar bejeweled collar in his hand, I gave a painful swallow, remembering the thing squeezing my throat all too well not too long ago.