Free Mason: The Sinner Saints #4 by Adrienne Bell Page B

truth was the guy was scared.
    Mason could see it in his eyes. He didn’t want to die on a stranger’s floor. He just needed a little nudge to realize that bitter truth.
    “I’d hurry if I were you,” Mason prompted him. “I already hear sirens.”
    The man bit his bottom lip and arched his neck in agony.
    “Fine,” he growled in a heavy accent—South African by the sound of it.
    “What do you want?”
    “Like you don’t know,” the man snarled.
    Mason snapped the end of the sheet between his hands. “Humor me.”
    The intruder narrowed his eyes. “Same thing that everyone else does.”
    “You think we have the Evening Star?” Mason asked.
    “Who else would?” The man gave a grim laugh. “News travels fast. Word is Baumgartner’s the only one ballsy enough to double-cross Malcolm.” He craned his head her way. “Ballsy but stupid.”
    “We’ll see about that,” Sara shot back.
    Mason kicked the man’s leg. “Hey. Eyes on me.”
    The intruder ignored his words. A twisted smile curled his lips. “I found you without breaking a sweat.”
    “And that turned out great for you,” Mason said, crouching down on his haunches. The distant sirens weren’t a lie anymore.
    He made quick work of wrapping the man’s wounds. It wasn’t his best work, but true to his word, it would hold until the paramedics arrived.
    “Get your stuff,” Mason said. “We’ve got to move.”
    Sara gave a distracted nod as she jumped from the mattress, careful not to land in the puddle of blood soaking her carpet.
    She didn’t waste any time. She grabbed only what she needed—shoes, jacket and purse—and met him at the door.
    Fear shone bright in her eyes as she looked at him, but somehow she managed to keep it under control. Probably because this wasn’t the first time she had run, he realized.
    “Let’s go,” she said, swinging open her front door.
    They’d hardly taken a step into the hallway when a familiar voice rang out.
    “Miss Hope, is that you?”
    Sara let out a loud sigh, but kept walking. “Go back inside, Mrs. Dorsky.”
    Her gray-haired neighbor didn’t listen. If anything, she leaned further into the hallway.
    “What’s going on? I thought I heard gunshots,” she said. “Did you hear them?”
    Sara stopped in her tracks, piercing the old woman with an earnest look. “You need to go inside, Mrs. Dorsky.”
    Mason grabbed her hand. They didn’t have time for this. “We have to go now .”
    “Lock your door.” Sara dug in her heels as he tried to pull her down the hall. “And don’t open it for anyone without a badge. Understand?”
    Mason glanced behind him just in time to see Mrs. Dorsky’s face go pale, her head bobbing up and down in a hurried nod. A second later, he heard the click of her latch and the slide of her deadbolt.
    “Now can we go?” he asked.
    “Yeah,” she said.
    She didn’t fight him as he led her to his car. In fact, she didn’t say a single word as they jumped inside, and he gunned the car down the hill and toward the lake.
    Just in time, too. Mason spotted the red and blue flash of lights a few blocks behind him as he rounded the curve onto Lakeshore Avenue. Sara let out a long breath when the cops didn’t follow his car, but instead took the turn toward her apartment.
    He reached over and cupped his hand around her knee. “It’s okay.”
    “The hell it is,” she said, but she didn’t try to brush him away. “What do we do now?”
    “First thing, we need to get someplace safe,” he said.
    “And where’s that?” she asked. “Let me guess—your place.”
    “Actually, I had somewhere else in mind.”
    “ Somewhere else ?” The corners of her mouth pulled down. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”
    “No,” he answered honestly, slowly shaking his head. “I don’t think you are.”
     
     
    ***
     
     
    Sara pressed her lips together as she stared at the massive glass double doors in front of her. She balled her hands into fists and propped