11. Mason #2
I can’t fucking calm down being so far away from her.
She’s safe , I tell myself repeatedly.
“Stop,” I say into the phone, halting my father midsentence. “Do you think I don’t know it was you?” My tone is menacing.
“What was me? Are you still on about the … incident?”
Rage pushes down the accusations.
“You have something and I have something. I’ll be damned if you’re going to screw me on this deal, Mason.
Think with your fucking head for once!” He scolds me like he used to, his anger on full display.
“I thought we had a deal after I let her walk out with you. Was the understanding not clear?” There’s silence after the unspoken threat.
“Attempting to have her murdered is a part of your deal?” I ask him evenly, although my pulse betrays any calmness I attempt to maintain.
“Jesus Christ, Mason! Why won’t you get over it?”
“So you wouldn’t hurt her? You wouldn’t threaten her life?” The recent events play in my vision as the syringe in my hand taps back and forth on the table.
He snuck in. He had a syringe. He had a gun but didn’t use it.
“I meant to scare her. But I …” he trails off and the strength leaves my father’s voice. “I made a mistake before and maybe I am a little heavy handed, but whatever she was going to say, she didn’t. You can’t be angry with me for that.”
“The hell I can’t. And if you ever hurt her, I’ll kill you.” I don’t bother mincing my words; we’re well past thinly veiled threats. “If anything happens to her,” I say as my blood runs cold as I swallow thickly before continuing, “I’ll kill you myself.”
All I can hear on the other line is a long exhale. “You control her, Mason,” my father says and continues with business. He carries on like this conversation didn’t include a threat to his life. All the while, I stare at the sharp silver needle of the syringe.
If my father didn’t do this, who did?
“Something happened.” My throat dries up and I lean forward, hating that I’m relying on him. Hating that I’m in such deep shit I can’t get out myself. I take in a heavy breath before saying, “Someone came here.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “Where’s here? Your home?”
“Yes, someone broke in; I don’t know how. Someone with a gun and he tried?—”
“Are you all right?” my father asks, not letting me finish, and he sounds genuinely concerned.
“I’ll be all right when he’s dead,” I answer him coldly, and it’s the truth. “And if I find out you had anything to do with it?—”
“I didn’t,” he says, his sharp tone meant to assure me.
I don’t respond, not knowing any longer what to believe.
“Are you sure you want to discuss this over the phone?” he asks after a moment of quiet, and I already know I shouldn’t. I pause, and he continues.
“Do you know who it was?” my father asks, but there’s something in his voice that’s off. Something that makes my blood turn cold. “Was there anything on him?” he asks me with a hint of desperation. The line is silent as I look at the syringe on the table.
“No,” I say, my voice falling flat.
“Where is he?” he asks me.
I clear my throat and say, “There wasn’t anything on him.”
“Tell me his location, I’ll take care of this. You don’t have to worry?—”
“He’s gone!” I scream into the phone, feeling increasingly angrier.
A hit man. I only know one man who’s ever hired a hit man, and he’s on the other end of the phone.
The front door was locked. Someone made that bastard a key. I was only downstairs in the office to talk to my lawyers about the separation of the business. I was preoccupied as he crept up the stairs.
My father knew about the call. He knew. My vision turns to red and even though, for a small moment, I questioned if it could be him, it has to be.
It was my father. All the logical pieces click together, fitting nice and pretty as my father’s voice comes through the phone. He just happens to call when the bastard got away? I don’t fucking believe in coincidences.
I stare at the syringe on my desk. An overdose of something. That’s why there was no gunshot. Too messy. The gun was for protection only.
He was here to murder Jules in a clean way so that no one would know, not even me.
My father set me up. I grip the phone tighter. He tried to kill her. A dark whisper deep in the back of my head hisses , Just like he killed your mother .
“It was you.” The words come out of my mouth as an accusation. “You’re fucking dead.”
“Me?” My father’s voice echoes with disbelief. “You can’t be serious, Mason!”
My skin feels like it’s on fire; I try to contain my rage, but it’s useless.
“Never,” he says on the other end. “I would never hurt her. She’s yours, Mason. I’m very aware of that,” he tells me, and he sounds so sincere.
I don’t respond, thinking. Trying to think who would want to hurt her.
Or maybe me. Maybe the asshole was after me.
He didn’t shoot her. He could have, but he didn’t.
Maybe the syringe was meant for me. Maybe the man was hired by whomever left the note.
For all I know, that man is the one who left the note.
“Scare her, yes. Yes I would and if she ever did anything to hurt you, she’d be there on my list, Mason. But I would tell you. It would be your call.”
My father disgusts me. Just the thought of what he’s done and what he’s willing to do is sickening. But he’s saying this wasn’t his doing. If it wasn’t him, I have no clue where to look next. Nothing but a note with no name and this syringe.
“Who then?” I finally say and as I do, I hear Jules’s faint steps as she comes down the stairs. I turn in my seat in the dining room to watch as she walks down slowly and then freezes when she sees me.
Her large eyes plead with me, and I instantly rise to meet her.
“Upstairs, sweetheart,” I tell her as my father speaks.
“Has she upset anyone? What was she at the station for? You need to be honest with me.”
I place my hand on the small of her back and lead her up the stairs. Her eyes dart to the phone as my father talks, and I know she can hear.
“No, she hasn’t upset anyone,” I tell him. “Her going to the station was a mistake.”
“Well, someone knows something, Mason.” He says it like it’s obvious. “What about Liam?” he asks me. “He knew we’d be having the conference about the division of the assets. He has a motive.” Jules nearly trips on the stairs. She shouldn’t be listening to this shit.
I grab her hip to keep her from falling and almost drop the phone.
“I have to call you back,” I tell him, content with the fact that it wasn’t my father.
Someone knows what I did, and they’re after me. They may also be after Jules. Especially now that she’s seen this. We both saw his face. She’s woven so deeply into my mess.
My father continues speaking into the phone but his words turn to white noise, and I simply end the call. My focus is entirely on Jules.
Her grip on me is tight, and she lets me hold her as I drop the phone to the ground and simply pull her into my lap to sit on the stairs.
Maybe it’s the shock, maybe it’s something else.
But I don’t want to let go of her.
I don’t want her to let go of me either.
“I’ll find out who did this, Jules,” I whisper in her hair. “I’ll find them, and I’ll kill them.”