Chapter 4
Mason
Being outside brought almost instant relief. Just getting away from all the music, people and noise, started to calm my jangled nerves.
Night was falling quickly, and cars flew by on the interstate at a distant hum.
Above us, I saw stars beginning to peek out of the indigo sky, but the oppressive heat seemed to sink into my skin.
It had to be at least nine o’clock by now.
I was exhausted from the day, and super edgy after everything that had gone wrong.
I could feel my heart racing and sweat beading up on my forehead. I kept looking at every person who passed us, terrified I would see Dreyven or one of his men.
I knew it wasn’t logical, but logic didn’t slow my frantically beating heart. This was the closest I’d been to Milwaukee since I’d escaped him. It was my first public event, and while there was no way he could connect Mason Cameron and Mason Malone, my brain wasn’t convinced.
I doubted Ricky had even known my middle name, much less Dreyven. I took a deep breath and tried to focus on the relaxation apps on my phone. I needed to make this work.
We loaded my things into the back of the Jeep, and I forced myself to re-enter the car, in the front seat this time. Lee seemed surprised when I did, but I ignored his glance and settled in for the drive.
Lee started the SUV, and the air conditioning blew icy air into my face, which felt good, and fortunately Lee didn’t seem like he wanted to talk.
I was able to zone out a bit as he got us back onto the interstate.
Fortunately, he didn’t start up the radio or anything, allowing me to focus on the soothing noise coming through my earbuds.
Was he being considerate? I thought he had caught on something was wrong.
I was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.
I’d had them multiple times after I’d escaped from Milwaukee, but I hadn’t had one in a couple of years.
I wasn’t sure what was setting it off… the travel problems, all the new people, or just being away from home, maybe?
I wasn’t sure, but I knew I needed to get some alone time, and soon.
We drove about twenty minutes before pulling off the interstate and into a place with a sign that said “Mogadore Minute Motel”. It wasn’t even a lighted sign, just faded and peeling paint spelling out the name against a white background.
Lee stopped outside the motel office for a moment, eyeing the sketchy-looking place dubiously.
“Are you sure you want to try this place?” Lee asked skeptically.
“Yep, it’s fine,” I answered quickly, hardly even glancing around. I really needed that alone time.
When he came out of the office the look on his face almost made me laugh. He looked like he had just beaten the end game boss and won the trophy, or in this case, a room key.
“I got you the last room,” he called triumphantly, tossing me a metal key through the open window. I fumbled to catch it, then looked at it suspiciously. I didn’t think hotels even used actual keys anymore.
He got back in the SUV and we rolled down a long driveway. The motel was set up more like a campground than an actual hotel. Small cabins dotted the road, which we followed about a quarter of a mile before we found cabin eleven.
The cabin paint was faded and the wooden shutters were dilapidated.
An overgrown path led to the ancient front door and wooden railroad ties were buried into the side of a small hill to provide makeshift steps.
As we walked up to the tired looking building our shadows stretched crazily, dark figures cast by a single light near the end of the gravel drive.
I put the key in the door, but froze, unable to turn it, some unnamed terror gripped me, and I couldn’t move.
Lee glanced at me, his arms filled with my luggage as mere annoyance became exasperation apparent on his face, as I stood. He finally dropped my backpack and shook his head. Reaching around me, he turned the key in the lock and threw the door open.
“Here you go, Your Highness. Home sweet home,” he growled.
Inside, a small bedside lamp threw shadowy fingers across the doorway and terror spread through my veins.
“No…” I whispered, my breath catching in my throat as I took in the layout of the room.
It appeared to be almost an exact duplicate of the motel room in Milwaukee.
The same room I’d spent three of the worst days of my life, and had almost died in.
The bed was in the same spot, the bathroom.
It even smelled the same, like cigarette smoke, stale sex and cat piss.
“No,” I said again, this time the whisper turning to a moan.
My vision darkened and my sight telescoped to a pinpoint focusing on the bed, my heart pounding so loudly it was all I could hear.
Everything disappeared except the terror, the absolute certainty, that Dreyven was behind me and was about to drag me back to Milwaukee.
“No!” I yelled, backing out of the room, stumbling into someone behind me. I shoved away from them with all my might and ran.
I didn’t know or care where I was going, I just needed to get away. I darted for the gravel road, ignoring the voice that called after me. There were no other buildings nearby, nowhere to hide, just a field across the gravel road with weeds, a few trees, and some bushes up ahead.
My feet hit the gravel without slowing. My breath heaved in my chest, the air a wheezing rattle I just ignored.
My legs stung as branches whipped out and struck me as I ran.
A tiny voice in the back of my head asked me why the hell I was wearing shorts?
I could feel blood running down my legs from scratches, but I didn’t care.
The oppressive need to escape overrode everything else.
I heard the crunching sound of feet racing across the gravel behind me, so I ran faster.
A part of me knew I wasn’t in Milwaukee, but I couldn’t think clearly about what was happening, and I couldn’t escape the certainty that I was back, that Dreyven was after me and was trying to drag me back to that old life.
I didn’t know how long I ran before I felt, more than heard, someone pound up next to me. Strong hands wrapped around my body and carried me almost gently to the ground.
While our speed made us hit hard, I felt those arms wrap around me protectively, my captor struggling to keep me from escaping. I fought the grip that encircled me with everything I had, screaming, struggling, even biting at one point.
Despite my efforts, the arms holding me were like steel bands pinning me to the ground beneath a male body that had to weigh a thousand pounds.
Things went black for a long time as I yelled and fought the monster that held me, his strength unrelenting. I cursed, I swore, and I screamed, but I couldn’t escape.
Finally, after what felt like hours, my body exhausted, I collapsed, shuddering and crying. I waited for it, waited for the groping hands, the sloppy kisses, the pain… but it never came.
And slowly, I came back to myself.
Sound came first. I heard a low voice saying my name, whispering over and over, telling me it was okay, that I was all right, that no one would hurt me.
Then came touch. I felt arms that were gently but firmly holding me up against a body that I dimly realized couldn’t have belonged to Dreyven or Ricky.
Ricky was dead, and Dreyven had been shorter and heavier, a little more prone to fat.
This was a firm, muscled body, and heat ran off of it in waves.
Sight returned last. I saw stars beginning to twinkle against the dark blue sky, and a crescent moon peeking up from the horizon.
I took a deep breath, and the voice murmuring to me paused. I realized that the arms wrapped around me belonged to Lee Devereaux. We were propped up against the base of a tree, the cabins of the motel a silhouette in the distance against the setting sun.
I was leaning back against him, one of his arms wrapped around my chest, the other stroking softly through my hair. He had his legs twined with mine to keep me from escaping. The realization of what had happened drove home, and I froze.
The first thought that came to my mind was, I was such a god damn fuck up. I tried to blink my eyes clear of the crusted tears that clung to them. My hand came up to wipe my face and the grip around my chest tightened.
The second thought that came to my mind was…
How could I possibly be getting an erection in this situation?
I felt the straining of my cock against the zipper of my shorts as I rested in the safety of his arms, and was really glad it was dark enough that he wouldn’t see the effect his grip had on me.
“You… you can let me go,” I whispered, my voice hoarse from screaming, my nose congested and snotty from crying.
I felt the change in him when I spoke. He’d been relaxed when I first came back to myself, his arm wrapped loosely across my chest. That changed when I spoke.
He’d stiffened when I’d moved, then slowly relaxed his grip.
“You sure about that?” he asked. His voice rumbled beneath me and I could swear to god, part of me wanted to just turn into his arms and bury my head against him like a little kid. But I wasn’t a kid, had never really been a kid. I could do this.
“Fuck,” I sighed. “Yes, I’m sure.”
He released me slowly, almost hesitantly, which I couldn’t blame him for, really. He probably didn’t want to have to chase my ass again. I scooted off his lap and onto the grass a short way from him.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” I began, unable to meet his eyes. Fuck. So much for my career. Once word got out about how I’d missed my first major event, and then went completely mental over something as simple as a bad hotel room, I’d be lucky to sell a caricature at a street fair, much less a graphic novel.
“For what?” he asked, his voice calm and gentle. “Being human?”
His response startled me into actually looking up at him.
He sat in partial shadows, the last rays of the setting sun playing golden rays on his face, making his green eyes glow like emeralds.
I wasn’t sure exactly what I expected to see in his face.
Derision? Anger? Disgust? I didn’t see any of that.
Instead, his eyes seemed to hold… understanding. Concern. Compassion.
“I’m sorry for being an idiot,” I said, wiping one hand across my eyes before turning to blow my nose in the napkin I’d found wadded in my pocket. “Sorry for thinking I could do this in the first place.”
I sighed, stuffed the tissue back in my pocket and looked away, unable to add anything else.
“My younger brother, Bishop, used to have panic attacks all the time,” Devereaux said, slowly getting to his feet. “I should be the one apologizing. I saw all the signs at the hotel and I should have put two and two together.”
“There was no way you could have known I’m fucking crazy,” I began, raking my fingers through my hair in a vain effort to get it out of my face, but he waved me off.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m still sorry,” he said. “And you’re not crazy.”
How would he know? What was it with this guy? Did I really need to make a list of all the ways I was a broken human being?
“But I was being a dick,” I began. “About the plane, the hotel, everything. Even before I spazzed out on you and ran.”
“Maybe,” he smirked at me, humor gleaming in his eyes. “But many of my best friends are dicks, and all of my brothers,” he laughed.
I didn’t know if it was the endorphins from the panic attack, or if his laugh was just that infectious, but I felt myself begin to chuckle.
“I also wasn’t being very understanding,” he continued. “Maybe… maybe we could try this again?” he asked. His green eyes held mine in the dying light and he held his hand out to me.
“Lee Devereaux, nice to meet you,” he said expectantly.
I eyed the outstretched hand, a combination of fear and hope in my gut.
I realized I had a choice. I could stay hidden, stay stuck inside my safe little bubble, hope that I could find a publisher that wouldn’t push me.
Or… or I could step up. Take a chance. Do the same thing I told all my fans, be brave.
I slid my hand shakily into his, that same electric shock zinging through me.
“Mason Cameron, nice to meet you, too.”
The smile that spread across his face warmed me to my core, thawing something deep inside me that I didn’t realize was frozen. Lee pulled me to my feet and we made our way back to the cabin.
“So, got a thing about hotels?” he asked as we walked slowly back toward the car.
“You could say that,” I muttered. “Bad memories.”
He just nodded, thankfully choosing not to probe further.
My heart began to speed up the closer we got to the hotel. By some miracle, my laptop and other luggage still lay piled in front of the cabin. In Seattle or Milwaukee it would have been long gone by now.
By the time we got to the car my hands were shaking and I was beginning to hyperventilate. I could feel Lee’s eyes on me as I stopped.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling my throat constrict the closer to the open cabin door we got. “I don’t think I can--”
“S’okay,” Lee interrupted me as he came to some kind of decision. “You’re not staying here.”
Before I knew it, he had grabbed the luggage and loaded it, for the third time, into the back of the Jeep. He opened the passenger door and gently guided me to the seat.
“But where…" I started to protest as he handed me my laptop.
“My place,” Lee said.