Chapter Thirty-four
Mason
Only Harrison occupied the driveway when they arrived. Maybe her attacker had seen her on the phone and fled? Please, God, don’t let him have taken Ashlyn with him, Mason prayed silently, throwing the car into park.
“We should—”
He didn’t have time for Jay’s plans. He needed inside that house. Now. A soft chime spilled into the night air as he bailed from the vehicle, leaving the door open and the keys in the ignition.
Jay jogged around the side of the house as Mason bounded up the porch steps. A quick glimpse through the front window revealed nothing. He grabbed the handle and pushed, but the door refused to budge and the damn keys were in the car. Shit.
Aiming high, he planted a solid kick. The frame cracked, but the door stuck. Mason leaned back and kicked again, this time imagining the blank face of the bastard who dared threaten and attack the girl he loved. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to tell her yet. No way was it ending like this. Come hell or high water, he was getting in that house and he was going to tear the son of a bitch apart with his bare hands.
The frame splintered and the door blasted open, slamming against the far wall. “Ashlyn!”
His alarm heightened with every passing moment he didn’t receive a response.
“Ash—” A dark figure stepped into the hallway.
Mason peered through the shadows, but the face was impossible to distinguish.
“Ashlyn? Is that you?”
The figure drifted closer, eerily quiet. Something wasn’t right. Mason moved deeper into the house, coming to a stop near the back of the couch when the figure stepped into the light. Or figures.
Ashlyn faced him, wide-eyed and paler than death, but behind her stood another. Someone he vaguely recognized, but couldn’t quite place.
“Ash?” With just her name, he asked everything he needed to know. Who was this guy? What was going on? Was she in danger? Most importantly, was she hurt?
“Where are your manners?” Her companion’s voice was high, slightly nasally. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
“Roger . . . this is Mason. Mason . . . Roger.” The introduction was formal even though she choked on uneven breaths. Her lips were pinched and her pulse fluttered on the side of her neck, but otherwise she appeared unharmed.
“Are you alright?” Mason glanced behind them, but there was no sign of Jay.
Ashlyn’s eyes darted down and to the right a couple times. He followed her line of sight, but saw nothing. Where the hell was Jay?
“She’s fine.” Roger stepped closer, shielding himself with her body as his right hand lifted to press a gun to the side of her neck. “For now.”
Time froze. The entire goddamn world stopped spinning.
“No.” He meant it as an order, filled with threat and malice. Instead it fell from his lips as a terrified whisper. A hard swallow lent strength to his voice. “Don’t do this. Please. Just let her go.”
“Let her go?” Roger’s laughter bordered on maniacal. “That’s exactly what I’ve been doing. For years. You have no idea how hard I’ve tried to let her go. I tried to be her friend. I protected her. Defended her honor. But . . . seeing her with you, watching her let you into her home, her bed . . . I can’t excuse that kind of blatant disregard for my feelings. I’m done letting her go. She’s mine.”
Roger leaned forward, the gun digging deeper into Ashlyn’s skin, and her frightened whimper shredded Mason’s soul. “Please . . . take me.”
“No! Mason, don’t—” Ashlyn’s eyes widened and she tried to step towards him only to be yanked backward against Roger’s chest.
“Shut up,” Mason snapped, offering her only a glance before returning his attention to Roger, trying his best to bury his fury. “I’m the one that took her from you. Let her go. Take me.”
Ashlyn Wells didn’t beg. Not her mother or father when they cut her off. Not her boss when she desperately needed the extra hours. Not even the utility companies when they threatened to shut off her power. Not anyone. Ever. But her eyes silently begged him now.
“Ashlyn,” Roger tisked. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you. I tried to keep things from going this far. For God’s sakes, I bought a gun for you. Do you know where I had to go to get this thing? I hoped the shooting would end with that monstrous truck, but . . .”
Roger yanked on her hair, eliciting a pained gasp as her head bent back at an awkward angle. Mason’s fingers twitched. If he had that gun there was no doubt in his mind he would have shot the bastard smack in the forehead.
“No matter. I’ll simply remove the distractions.” Roger’s crazed gaze collided with Mason’s. “Then you’ll see.”