Free Mason: The Sinner Saints #4 by Adrienne Bell

become unaware of what was happening around him.
    Like the groan of rusted hinges opening just outside the window.
    His eyes popped open, and he slid off the couch. He pressed against the wall as he pulled the blinds back. The first light of dawn was just starting to filter over the hills, bathing everything in a faint golden light.
    From this angle, he couldn’t see a soul in the narrow walkway that ran between Sara’s building and the next. But he could hear someone.
    Two distinct heavy footsteps sounded on the hard pavement. Whoever was down there didn’t seem overly concerned with stealth. The reason came a moment later when the unmistakable clatter of garbage cans being moved echoed off the walls.
    Mason let his shoulders fall.
    So, he was jumping at garbage men now.
    He doubted anyone would blame him. Not after everything that had happened last night. Sara Baumgartner knew how to land herself in some serious trouble, even if she wasn’t a thief.
    And Mason was certain that she wasn’t. Any doubt had disappeared within a few minutes of stepping foot in her apartment.
    It wasn’t just that the place was small, it was that everything inside was so clearly hers. The books in the case were all time-worn paperbacks with deeply creased spines. The framed posters and pictures on the wall were obviously personal—family photos, keepsakes from concerts, snapshots from her travels, no place far. Even the trinkets decorating the corners were worn and inexpensive, feeling more sentimental than valuable. Nothing in the apartment felt out of place, everything was Sara.
    She wasn’t someone who stole for a living. He could tell just by looking in her eyes that she was the kind of woman that had earned every last thing she had. Which admittedly wasn’t much.
    He didn’t fully understand why yet. With her skills and knowledge she could be living in a place much nicer than this. So, why wasn’t she? What had made her forsake the family business? Of course, he’d have to wait until she woke up to figure that one out.
    Not that he was in any rush. She needed the sleep, and he was still holding out hope that it had been exhaustion talking last night when she’d tried to get rid of him again. After all, it had taken her forty whole minutes to give up the fight and fall asleep on the couch. She’d barely stirred when he’d slipped his arms underneath her and carried her to bed. Maybe a few hours of solid sleep would help clear her head, help her listen to reason.
    Because Mason had a feeling if this Malcolm Van Zandt was half as dangerous as she believed, then Sara was going to need the full force of Macmillan Security behind her if she and her parents had any chance of surviving.
    He had already texted Charlie with leads he needed researched. He’d wait until the daylight grew a little stronger before calling Carter with updates. Something told him, the Captain wasn’t going to be too happy about this turn of events.
    What else was new?
    Then Mason caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. He froze, straining to listen to the sounds outside…but there was nothing to hear.
    No footsteps. No rolling wheels. No metal hinges. Nothing at all.
    That wasn’t exactly true. He could make out a faint scratching noise, except it wasn’t coming from the walkway outside. It was coming from Sara’s front door.
    Mason snapped his head just in time to see the door knob jiggle.
    Damn it. The pair had split up. Now he was facing a double-pronged attack. Suddenly, he was grateful that Sara’s place was so small. Closer quarters gave him an advantage. Not a huge one, but he’d take what he could get.
    Taking care not to make a sound, Mason stepped from his position by the wall and entered her kitchen area. He wrapped a hand around the largest knife on her counter and slowly slid it out of the block.
    She must eat a lot of take out, because the thing looked practically unused and factory sharp. Perfect.
    Keeping his back to