Chapter Eight
JACOB
Mason turns, staring at me with wide eyes, and picks up the drinks the bartender just brought over. “I take back every mean thing I’ve ever said about you. You are a god.”
I respond with a blank stare and then heave out a heavy sigh. It’s been a long fucking night and I just had to put a dog to sleep. The dog lived a good, long life and it was time to let him go peacefully. But it was the heartbreaking cries of the children that got to me. They had the dog their whole lives and nothing prepares you for saying goodbye to your best friend.
“Seriously,” Mason goes on. “Why don’t you put those powers to good use?”
“And by good use you’re suggesting I fuck Mrs. McAllister. Who’s married. And has a family.”
Mason motions to the drinks, which Mrs. McAllister bought for us after stopping by and thanking me for figuring out that her cat was having an allergic reaction to the laundry detergent she’d been using, and that’s what caused her to obsessively over-groom.
“She is a MILF.” Mason takes a sip of his Old Fashioned. “And she sprung for the top shelf whiskey. Look at her.” He eyes Mrs. McAllister, dressed in office clothes and looking rather out of place at La Cantina, the only bar open past ten PM in Silver Ridge. “I bet she’s a freak in bed.”
“Don’t try to find out. She’s married.”
“Good point. I shouldn’t break up a happy home. Unless she’s not happy and has been waiting for someone to come in and save her.”
“Loving and leaving isn’t saving.”
“At least I get some.” He elbows me. “What about you? It’s been, what, years?”
“It hasn’t been that long,” I immediately retort, though it has been a lot longer than I’m willing to admit. I don’t particularly like people in general, let alone trust them. One-night stands serve their purpose, but I prefer something more.
Something deeper.
Something emotional.
And I’ll take that to the grave before confessing it to my younger brother.
“Fine. She’s married and probably thinks about you while she’s screwing her husband, but she’s off limits. There are other women here who aren’t married,” Mason goes on.
“Which you’ll find. Though, there’s a good chance you’ve already fucked anyone willing in Silver Ridge by now.”
“Curse of a small town. My body count was low until I got out.”
“Rory is right to say you’re a lost cause.”
Mason narrows his eyes and takes another drink. “You know I like to give you shit. But I want you to be happy. We all do.”
“We all do?” I bring my glass to my lips, glad now that Sam and Chloe didn’t come out with us after dinner. I can only take so much heckling before I snap. “If you tell me Mom put you up to this, I’m leaving.”
“It really is a wonder why that charming personality doesn’t attract women,” he quips. “And no, she didn’t. Is it that out of the question for me to care about my brother?”
I take another drink. “Fine. If we’re expressing our concern, what about you?”
“What about me?”
I raise my eyebrows. “I can smell the infection festering in that cut in your arm from here.”
“Hilarious,” he deadpans but then brings his arm to his face, sniffing, and I laugh.
“You are up to date on your vaccines at least, right?”
“Yes, doctor,” he replies flatly. “You gonna ask if I’m still on heart worm preventative too?”
“That probably wouldn’t be a bad idea. With your lifestyle, I’d suggest a stronger wormer too.”
Mason lets out a snort of laughter and looks out at the crowded bar again. This place is always packed and is busier than ever on a Friday night.
“We need to focus on what’s important,” Mason starts and pulls out his phone. “The bachelor party. If we want to go the classic fake kidnapping route, I have access to a windowless van.”
“Using government property for our personal entertainment?” I tip my head. “That’s a plan I can get behind, actually.”
Mason nods enthusiastically. “I’ll get Sam’s schedule from Chloe and we can grab him in the hospital parking garage.”
“What if people think we’re actually kidnapping him and call the cops?” I ask, seeing it play out before me. It’s almost humorous, though it would be frightening to think you’ve just witnessed a legitimate kidnapping.
“Dude. I’m a federal agent. I can handle the local police.”
“Right. So, we kidnap him and then what, drive right to the airport?”
“I like the way you think. And if Chloe can pack his shit beforehand, this can be a total surprise.”
“Now we just have to figure out scheduling. Along with us, I’m assuming Sam will want Archer and Dean there. Archer’s also a doctor,” I say, eluding to Sam’s friend Archer’s schedule being just as tight as mine and Sam’s. Dean, who runs a construction company with his father, is the only one out of the five of us who can take off easily, that lucky bastard.