Chapter 16
TD Gardens bustled with activity between the first and second periods of the Bruins-Sharks hockey game. Mason wasn’t a fan of either team—a diehard Rangers fan himself—but then again, he wasn’t there to watch the game.
He was there to catch terrorists. To make them pay for hurting Jess, and for killing her friends.
He popped the last bits of a hot dog into his mouth, and scanned the concourse for anyone who looked out of place. So many bodies were crammed in the space, like sheep being herded around some chaotic obstacle course. People lined up for food, beer, and restrooms. And every single one of them was talking. Others huddled in groups, blissfully ignorant that potential terrorists were moving amongst them. The noise was a loud hum.
White noise.
Riley was across the concourse, leaning against a wall. She stuck out like a sore thumb in a Pavel Datysuk Red Wings jersey. But what really made her look odd—at least to him—was her dark brown hair. He was so used to her red mane that the brunette wig looked odd on her.
The thumb drive left at Alicia Baylor’s home had contained instructions for how to get her returned home, alive—and to hand over Jess. Everyone agreed that there was no way they were heeding terrorist demands and giving up Jess, so they decided Riley would masquerade as Jess, and draw out the bad guys.
Everyone except Jess—who was just as insistent that she be the one to take the risks. They all took a stab at talking her down, but she still insisted she be allowed to go to Boston with the team. Since leaving her in Newport would’ve dictated one of the team staying behind with her (which would put the team at a disadvantage) it was decided she would come along.
Over Mason’s very loud protests.
But, he knew it was the right decision. If nothing else, his mind wasn’t in Newport. She was across the street from the arena, in a bar safe with Sean and his K-9, Appollo. The bar was just as packed as the arena, but Sean knew to keep her tucked into a booth and not let her out of his sight until the danger had passed.
A group of guys in Bruins jerseys, slopping beer all over the place, surrounded Riley. Mason watched her out of the corner of his eye.
Lance was stationed across the concourse from Mason, and to the south. One of the guys circling Riley like she was fresh meat placed his arm around her shoulder. Lance shifted. His jaw was clenched tight enough to make the veins in his neck pop. Mason nearly busted out laughing. Lance had it bad for Riley. He knew the feeling, and tried to think about how he would feel if that were Jess, instead of Riley. His joviality slipped and a slight shiver overtook him.
He’d smash the fucker in the face.
Riley ducked from under the guy’s arm in one smooth movement. He grabbed her face with his free hand. Lance took a half step toward them, but stopped and tossed his trash into the receptacle next to him, quickly re-establishing his cover.
Mason turned his attention back to Riley. She grabbed the guy’s wrist and bent it back until he dropped to the floor. When she let go, his buddies pulled him away before she embarrassed him even more.
“Note to all of you,” Mason muttered over comms. “Riley just dropped some guy to his knees.” He sucked down the last bit of his drink and tossed the cup in the trash can. “She’s a fuckin’ badass.”
Mason heard a chuckle. Lance. “Yeah, she is.”
A man walked past Riley, did a double-take, said something to her, then walked away.
“Riley is one popular chick,” another voice added. Lucas. “If the tangos never show, at least she has some opportunities for after-hours action.”
“Bawm-chick-a-bawm-bawm,” a few voices chimed in. Lance’s head nearly exploded, and Mason choked down his laughter.
Riley abruptly turned and started walking away. The comms went silent.
Showtime.
* * *
Jess glanced at the large plate of nachos the waitress slide into the center of the table, and refilled Jess’s water glass. “Sure I can’t get you anything else to drink?” she asked Jess.
“Water’s fine,” Jess replied for what must’ve been the hundredth time since they sat down. Would she like to suck down a pitcher of beer all by herself? Hell, yes. But that would come later. After her mother was back and Riley was safe.
She hated that Riley was taking her place. She understood why—Riley was a trained CIA agent with mad skills—but it didn’t mean Jess had to like it. Too many people had been hurt and killed because of her recently. She didn’t want Riley to be the next name on that list.
Mason either, as a matter of fact.
The past few days, being with him, making love to him all night long, learning about his life. His dreams for the future. Discovering what types of food he loved while introducing him to some of her favorites. It had been hard to believe anything bad was looming just beyond their door.
Their door.
For the time being. Mason had gone above and beyond to make sure she thought of his apartment as her home, too. But it wasn’t true. None of this was real life. It was temporary. A life in flux. Tomorrow was not guaranteed. For either of them. Sure, they might actually make it out of this mess, but what did that mean for them? Was it feasible to believe that a relationship forged in a life-threatening situation could be sustainable?
Was what Mason felt for her even real? Or was he just interested in her because he had a need to protect, and she was desperate for his protection.
For that matter, was what she felt for him any more real?
Her heart raced as a vision of him, a look of wonder and emotions she had never seen on a man’s face before. She was sure she was falling in love with him.
What if once this was over, he didn’t feel the same? It was going to break her heart.
“You should eat something,” Sean said, as he shoved the meat, bean, and cheese drenched chips in his mouth.
How could guys eat in any situation?
The last thing on Jess’s mind was food. A know in her stomach was tied in the mother of all pretzels. “No, thanks. I’m good.”
“Suit yourself.” He passed a chip to his service dog, Apollo, who gobbled it up, and wagged his tail for another bite. She sucked down some more of her water, not really thirsty, but it was something to do. Of course, now she was squirming in her seat with a full bladder. She slid to the end of the bench.
“What are you doing?” Sean asked.
“Going to the restroom.”
He wagged his head back and forth. “You need to wait until we get the all clear from the team.”
Her mouth dropped open, and she hoped to hell he was joking. “Are you serious?”
His facial features hardened. “As a heart attack.”
Groaning, she slid back to the opposite corner and pouted. If she had known she would be restricted from peeing, she would’ve been more careful about her liquid intake.
She glared at Sean and grabbed a few nachos. First the waiting while everyone else risked their lives for her. Now, forced to cross her legs while her bladder was swimming.
Could the day get worse?