The Price of Mason (Forbidden Men 10)

“Well, well, well,” Patricia murmured, strolling forward. “Look who’s grown a backbone. How cute.” But her smile turned dark when she stopped in front of me and flicked me under the chin with a sharp-tipped fingernail, feeling as if she slic

ed skin open. “Remind me to punish you extra-long for that quip the next time I have you on my bed and you’re asking me what my fantasy is.”

As I scowled and swiped the back of my hand across my chin before checking myself for blood, her two minions laughed.

“Come along, my darlings,” Patricia told her posse, hooking her arms through theirs. “Mason’s too moody to play tonight.”

Deborah lifted her chin. “Apparently.”

Monica batted her lashes. “He must not have recovered from our last round in my office. Have you, sweetness?”

I narrowed my eyes at her, silently warning her not to fuck with me, even as my stomach churned with unease because I realized she really had been the last person I’d been with. It made me want to go home and take another twenty showers, scrubbing myself with bleach and a wire brush.

Surprisingly, the glare I sent her worked. Monica paled and shrank back, only for Patricia to step forward, blocking her, as if to protect the weak link of her little threesome.

“Keep up the disrespectful act, boy, and I’ll be forced to report your behavior to your supervisor.” She arched an eyebrow. “His name’s Tyler, isn’t it?”

Shit, she was right. I had to behave at the Country Club and be pleasant to customers. Glancing away, I blatantly ignored her.

She and Deborah laughed as if amused by my surrender, and Deborah brushed her hand along my arm before the three of them went inside. Once they were gone, I finally grimaced after them, wishing I could do something to truly convince them how much they disgusted me.

“Hey,” Landon called, walking up from the parking garage. “You going to park that thing or not?”

I glanced at Deborah’s car still idling beside me. Loath to go near it, I pulled the keys along with the twenty she’d given me from my pocket and held it out to him.

“They actually requested you as their valet.”

“Really?” Landon’s eyebrows popped up with interest as he eyed the money. “Sweet.”

He took the keys and cash and hopped into the Lexus. I blew out a breath of relief, glad I didn’t have to get into that vehicle as Landon pulled it away from the valet station. About the time he returned, Mac—the third valet working tonight—had returned from his supper break, and the three of us shot the shit a few minutes, waiting for someone to pull up when my cell phone rang.

I grimaced, figuring it was probably Patricia. But when I checked my screen, I didn’t recognize the number.

She must’ve borrowed her friend Deborah’s phone. I rolled my eyes and considered ignoring it. But then the front doors of the club opened, and Patricia reappeared arm in arm with Deborah and Monica, and none of them had a phone out.

Curious who was calling me, I frowned and pulled the phone from my pocket again. Clients never called—they texted—so that eliminated just about any foreign number that showed up.

“Hello?” I asked cautiously, preparing to hear a telemarketer.

“Mason!” the caller blurted, her voice high-pitched and frantic, in full-on panic mode. “I need you; I don’t know what to do. Sarah’s having a seizure, and I don’t know what to do. She won’t stop shaking, and Dawn’s not answering her phone. I’m so freaked out right now. I don’t know what to do.”

At first, it was hard for me to understand what she had even said. Each word ran into the next, making a huge, long, run-on sentence with no pause for air.

A second later, I was able to at least recognize her voice. “Reese?” I blurted in utter shock. I glanced up and made eye contact with Patricia, who’d obviously heard me, so I turned my back to her and walked a ways away, letting Mac or Landon deal with them.

“Yes!” Reese screeched. “Who the hell do you think it is? Did you hear me? I said your sister’s having a SEIZURE.”

Oh, shit. “Yeah, okay. I heard. I think. Just… First of all, calm down.”

I glanced back and waved at Mac before pointing at my phone and mouthing a quick explanation, letting him know I had a family emergency before I raced off in the direction of my parked Jeep.

Meanwhile, Reese was yelling, “Calm down? Calm down?”

I nodded, smiling a little over her hysteria. “You can’t help her if you’re flipping out. Did you get her out of her wheelchair? Is she lying down?”

“Yes,” she babbled, tears in her voice. “We’re on the floor in the hall. I was giving her a bath when—”

“Good,” I said. “Keep her there and just stay with her. Talk to her. Let her know she’s not alone. I’ll be home in a minute.”