Chapter Five
Mason
“Alright, Dad, I’ll see you . . . later.” Shutting the front door, Mason strode across the driveway. “What the hell?”
His new silver 4x4 was still parked right where he’d left it, but the long red streak curving around the rear bumper definitely hadn’t been there last night. If some punk kid thought it would be funny to—
Mason rounded the truck and froze solid. ‘Back off or she’ll be sorry’ was scrawled in sloppy red spray paint across his tailgate. All the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. That was no prank. It was a threat.
When he’d given his statement to the police last month and agreed to testify against the piece of shit asshole that terrified Em and beat on Jay for years, he’d never imagined something like this would happen. Jay’s father was a loser with anger management issues, but he wasn’t part of the friggin’ mafia.
A threat against who, though? Back off or she’ll be sorry. Not Jay, then. Em? Or . . .
“Shit.” Mason dug his phone out of his pocket and dialed. He wasn’t the only one willing to help put that bastard behind bars. “Answer the damn phone, Ash.”
Ring-Ring-Ring-Click.
“Either I missed your call or I ignored it. Either way, by the time I get around to checking my messages I probably won’t be calling anyone back.” Her recorded greeting—if it could be called that—streamed down the line. So blunt and honest, it was just like Ashlyn. Most times it made him smile. Today it had him grinding his teeth in frustration.
“Dammit.” Engaging the Bluetooth, he climbed behind the wheel and dialed again.
He’d called four more times—each with the same result—before swerving into her driveway. It was empty, but that didn’t mean anything. Her car was still in the shop. The hunk of junk was a lost cause, but for some reason he couldn’t fathom Ashlyn flat-out refused to put it out of its misery.
Gravel crunched under his boots as he sprinted up onto the porch and slammed to a stop.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
His heartrate tripled and he banged on her door in a frenzy to match.
“Ashlyn!” He jiggled the doorknob, but it was locked. “Ash, open the door! Are you in there?”
He nearly toppled onto her when the door flew open. A quick head-to-toe scan revealed a white tee that read ‘Live Everyday Like It’s Taco Tuesday’ over flannel pajama pants and bare feet. Nothing to indicate she was in any sort of trouble. Or couldn’t answer her goddamn phone.
“Mason?” The television played quietly in the living room, where a bowl of cereal sat abandoned on the coffee table. “Are you okay? What’s the matter?”
“Why didn’t you answer my calls?”
“Oh.” Surprise flashed over her face and she turned to survey the room. “I must have left my phone plugged in in the bedroom. Why? What’s going on?”
“You haven’t seen it?”
Her brows drew together. “Seen what? How many cups of coffee have you had this morning? You’re acting a little—”
“Ashlyn,” he snapped, checking the urge to shake her. “Just look.”
He waved at the red paint sprayed across the front of her house below the mailbox. Less than a foot from her door. The son of a bitch had been that close.
‘Decisions have consequences. Yours will destroy you.’
He’d been wrong earlier. What was written on his truck was a warning. This was a threat.
Sunlight glinted off her hot-pink toe polish as she joined him on the porch. A sharp intake of breath was the only warning he got before she stepped back, right into him, nearly sending both of them toppling down the stairs. One hand shot out, clutching the railing, while the other wrapped around her waist, securing her to his chest.
“What is that?”
“Come on. Let’s go inside.” He had no idea if the asshole who did this was still around, getting his jollies by watching her reaction to his handiwork, but if he was, Mason wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.
Despite looking perfectly calm, Ashlyn didn’t argue. She let him take the lead. And when he had her situated on the couch, she pushed away the half-full bowl of Captain Crunch. All clear signs of just how freaked out she really was.
“I found something similar on my truck this morning.” But that had been parked in the driveway, a good twenty yards from the house. Whoever it was, they’d been right outside Ashlyn’s front door. The thought curled his fingers until his nails bit into his palms. “You didn’t hear anything?”
“No. It must have happened last night. While I was sleeping.” A shudder wracked her body and without thinking, Mason wrapped her hand in his.
“It’s alright. Probably just some half-assed attempt to scare us off, but I think maybe I should give Jay a call. Make sure they’re alright.”
She nodded absently, eyes fixed on a bare spot on the wall. There were a lot of things about that girl that drove him crazy, but his inability to tell what she was thinking half the time was at the top of the list.
“Hey.” Tucking a finger beneath her chin, he lifted her face until her gaze connected with his. “You okay?”
She stared up at him for a long moment, looking . . . lost. Not a sentiment he was accustomed to seeing from her and it tugged at something in him. Then she blinked and the spell was broken.
Shaking off his touch, she huffed and stood. “I’m fine. Just pissed some asshole thinks he can violate my house like that and get away with it. Call Jay. I’m going to see what cleaning supplies I have.”