Free Chasing Bristol (The Finding Trilogy Book 2) by Shane Morgan Page A

his food and sliced into a dumpling after
dipping it in sauce.
    “Um…” I mumbled, feeling a little too
excited by the way he licked the sauce off his bottom lip. “Uh, did I pull you
away from anything important?” I stuck my hair behind my ears, something I only
did when I was with him.
    Mason turned to me, his Adam’s apple
bobbing as he swallowed before answering me. “Not at all. I do little when I’m
off duty.”
    “Oh,” I muttered. “I see. So, um, are
your parents still in New Hampshire?”
    His shoulders drooped, as if he’d been
struck by a sudden feeling of sadness. “Yeah.” His voice came out low.
    I wanted to ask what was wrong, but it
wasn’t my place so I changed the topic instead. “Any regrets about being a
cop?”
    An infectious grin resurfaced as he
said, “None. I was meant to do it.”
    “Good for you.”
    We talked some more until I started to
feel sleepy. I looked at the time on the TV: it was after eleven. I didn’t want
Mason to leave. It was so normal with him, as if we’d been hanging out for
years. Whatever this feeling was, it helped me to relax.
    Uncontrollably, I yawned a few times
within minutes. Mason pushed to his feet. “I’ll take off so you can get some
rest,” he said.
    “No…” I whined like a clingy girlfriend.
“I mean…” I stood and got a hold of myself. “Thank you so much for staying. I
really appreciate it.”
    He raised his shoulders in a shrug.
“Just doing my job.”
    That stung like a direct prick to the
heart. Was he only doing his job, and it meant nothing else? What did it matter
anyway? Until a week before, I’d been in a relationship that I’d once believed
would last.
    Mason motioned for the door. I ambled
over with him. He opened it and waited in the hallway. “Remember that security
camera. Call me if you—”
    A car alarm blared, followed by
terrifying sounds of glass smashing. We both jumped.
    The cop in Mason became alerted. “Stay
here!” He spun and ran for the stairs.
    I stepped into the hallway. The note
from Sunday popped up in my head—what if it was my admirer making a point?
    Shit! Why hadn’t I
told Mason?
    Afraid that he might get hurt, I closed
the door to my apartment and rushed down the stairs. When I reached the entry,
I pushed the doors open and dashed out of the building.
    I instantly froze in my tracks. My mouth
fell open. The damage to Mason’s car was so clear under the bright light coming
from the post in front of it.
    “Oh no!” I gasped, covering my mouth.
    Mason was pacing back and forth on his
cellphone, reporting what had occurred. There was yellow and blue paint all
over his Corolla, the tires were punctured, and the windshield was shattered. I
looked at the other cars in the parking lot.
    They were all fine.
    People started coming out of the
apartment building to see what had happened.
    “Yeah, I’ll be here,” Mason said
angrily, ending the call.
    I hurried up to him. “I’m so sorry.”
    He squinted at me, puzzled. “What? Why?”
He nodded to his car. “Looks like the work of some punk.”
    “No, he—” I hesitated.
    “What?” Mason pressed. “What is it,
Bristol?”
    Releasing a long breath, I told him,
“When I got back from our walk on Sunday, I found another note.”
    “What did it say?” he asked, inching
closer.
    I cleared the tightness in my throat.
“To stay away from you or he’d…get upset.”
    A frustrated sigh spewed from his lips.
His hands flared. “That’s a threat. Why didn’t you tell me?”
    “Because…” I reminded him, “What can we do? No face, no name, remember?”
    Mason looked at his car again. He kicked
at the gravel and cursed furiously. We didn’t say another word to each other
until the cops showed up.  
    They questioned me about the break-ins
and the weird stuff I’d been receiving. Some of the people in the apartment
building were questioned too. None of them had seen anything or anyone
suspicious. It was late, so it had been easy for