Page 20 of Fallen Hero

And that was when I found myself blinking so fast I was worried I was going to have a seizure.

“What?” I was worried my question came out as a squeak. My suspicion was confirmed when Mason smirked.

“I don’t bite.”

“Well, I do.” Inwardly, I cringed at my retort.

“How about we save the biting for later and you come lie down and rest. We have a busy day tomorrow.”

There was no way I was getting in that bed with him. “I have a better idea. You go back to your room, and I’ll rest when you’re gone.”

“I don’t trust you not to bail.”

That was fair. After all, he’d caught me mid-bail.

“I’ve changed my mind since then and come up with a new plan. One that includes you being my bodyguard, so I won’t be ditching you.”

Mason’s gaze latched onto mine. His mask slipped and showed me the lethal man beneath the veil. Weirdly, I felt more comfortable with the real Mason.

“I still don’t trust you.”

“Good, we have that in common,” I returned. “I don’t trust you either.”

“You shouldn’t.”

It was his quick honesty that had me walking to the foot of the bed and toeing off my shoes.

I put a knee to the bed.

Was I really doing this—crawling into a bed with a man I didn’t know, willingly lying down beside him, willingly putting myself into a vulnerable situation?

I totally needed a lobotomy.

When I made it to the pillow, I dragged it to my front and held it to my chest like a feathery shield and laid my head on the mattress. My hip was teetering on the edge. If I did manage to close my eyes, I hoped I wouldn’t move or I’d fall off the bed.

I was on my side, facing Mason. He was still on his back staring at the ceiling.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“For what?”

For telling me the truth. For not doing what everyone else in my life did and try to manipulate me. For not watching me crawl into bed.

“For being honest.”

Chapter Six

“I already miss America,” Fallon grumbled, and shoved the last of his beef bacon into his mouth.

From the ugliest brown leather low-back chair I’d ever seen, Calista smiled. “At least you get to go back to the States.”

Pete was watching Calista balance a plate on her thighs while she cut into her waffle. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of her since we’d arrived at the suite. Not that I blamed him. The woman was stunning even sleep deprived with purple shadows under her eyes, but that wasn’t why my friend was keeping an eye. He was sizing her up, looking for anything that revealed what she was thinking, weaknesses, lies.

I didn’t need to look. I’d already found her tells. Her fingers lightly drummed the outside of her thigh when she was thinking. Her left eye twitched ever so slightly when she was annoyed and trying to conceal her irritation.

If she had more, I’d find them, but not by watching her eat. She gave them freely when I pissed her off, and in some perverse place inside me, I enjoyed pushing her buttons. I liked that she didn’t back down. I liked that she wasn’t afraid to shovel shit back at me. She gave as good as she got and didn’t bend.

“About that,” Fallon ventured. “Those warrants are still valid.”