“Here. Take this.” He’s standing next to my bed with a glass of water and two aspirin.
I toss them back and then take a sip of the water before handing it back to him. He places it on my nightstand and pulls the covers up to my neck. Then he runs his warm hand over my forehead.
“Thank you,” I whisper. My eyes growing heavy again. It could be the loss of adrenaline or the drinks that I had. Possibly a combination of the two.
He smiles down at me, his perfectly straight teeth glowing in the soft light from my window. “I’m always here for you, April.”
“I like you,” I admit without shame. The sober me would have a red face but drunk April doesn’t give a shit. It’s why I don’t drink very often; the truth will always bite you in the ass the next day. That’s how I ended things with Derek. I was drunk and told him that although the sex was good, I didn’t see us having a future. Thankfully, he was able to still be my friend.
He chuckles. “I’m glad to hear that because I like you too.”
I sit up, placing my face right up against his. His panty-dropping smile disappears instantly. I reach out and run my hand down his shirt. I can feel his muscles tense underneath it. “April …”
“Shh,” I say against his lips. “I want you.” And lean into him. My lips pressing against his as my heavy eyes close.
His hand cups my face, and he kisses me softly, delicately. I open my mouth for him to deepen the kiss, but he pulls away. I take a deep breath. “We shouldn’t. Not tonight.” He breathes, placing his forehead to mine.
“Grave …”
My cell ringing in my purse on the floor interrupts me. He gets up from the bed, walking over to it, and I lie back down. My heart pounds, my mind foggy and pussy wet. This is not how I pictured my night going.
“Hello?” I hear him answer it. I don’t even bother to ask who it is. “Yeah.” He lowers his voice and turns his back to me, but I can still hear him. “Can you come over to April’s and stay with her tonight?” He pauses. “We went out, and she had a few drinks …” I snort at that lie. “Thank you.” He hangs up and walks over to the side of the bed again, placing my cell on my nightstand. The screen is busted, but it still works. I’ll have to go buy a new one in the morning. “That was Jasmine. She’s on her way to stay with you.”
“Why can’t you stay with me?” I ask through a yawn.
“I have somewhere to be.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
GRAVE
THE AIRPORT IS to the Mason brothers as Kingdom is to us Kings. They rule their domain. But the Kings run shit through a legit casino whereas the Mason boys run most of theirs illegally.
I pull up into the parking lot that back in the day was filled with rental cars.
The Mason brothers live like the Kings. Nothing is out of reach. They live like the billionaires they are. Running a multi-billion-dollar business has its perks.
Getting out, I walk through the parking lot and up to the double doors in the back like I own the place.
“Grave, didn’t know you were fighting tonight,” a man by the name of Miles says when I walk by.
“I’m not,” I call out, walking over to the elevator. It takes me up to the fifth level, and when I get out, two men meet me with machine guns pointed right at me.
“Oh,” Harry says. “Sorry, Grave.”
“No worries,” I say as they lower their weapons. The brothers keep this place highly guarded for many reasons. One is that there are always a few million dollars on-site. Cash that they keep in a safe room, but still. Over the years, men have tried to gain access to it. The place was even set on fire once, but not one penny was stolen. All four men were hung the following night.
The Mason brothers used them as an example.
I nod to the two guys and shoulder past them. Coming to the door at the end of the hall, I open it and enter. Four guys sitting at a round table. Trey Mason looks up at me. His dark eyes crinkle around the edges from his wide smile. He wears his shoulder holster with a Desert Eagle in each one. They look too big for his smaller build. Leaning back in his seat, he takes a drag from his cigarette before blowing it out. “Grave.”
The man who stands at the table to the right, stuffing guns into cases, turns and looks at me. It’s Tanner Mason. He’s the eldest brother, and I thought he was in prison. Without another word, he goes back to packaging the weapons.