“I don’t know. She’s really not told me much about her background.” Curiosity filled her. From the moment she met Suzanne, she’d been intrigued. There was a mysterious air about her. She acted like she had something to hide. Or that she was scared. Of something. Or someone.
Maybe there was more to it than Blake realized. And didn’t that make her feel like a fool?
“Right. That confirms it. I don’t think it’s safe, hanging out with her. We don’t know who she is or what she wants from you.” Mason’s expression hardened. “I don’t trust her. I’ll conduct a more thorough investigation and find out what I can about her first thing tomorrow.”
Frustration filled her. “Oh come on, Mason. She’s harmless. Maybe she’s running from some jerky guy. She did tell me how she recently got out of a really bad relationship before she ended up here. Maybe he was abusive and she’s in hiding from him.”
“And maybe she’s some sort of criminal on the run from the authorities. Now that she’s friends with the vice president’s daughter, she’s thinking how she can use you to get out of doing time for her crimes,” Mason threw back at her.
His remark stung. She winced, hating the fact that she wondered if he was right. Was Suzanne using her? She wouldn’t be the first person to pretend to be her friend, that was for sure.
But Suzanne had started talking to her before she even realized who she was. Or maybe she’d known all along...
“That was cruel,”
Blake said quietly and she saw the flash of regret on Mason’s face. “She’s a nice woman. Lonely and sad and you’re acting like she’s some sort of thief or runaway murderer.”
He immediately appeared contrite. “I’m just looking out for your safety. You know sometimes you don’t...”
“Make the best choices, I know. Trust me, I get it. You’ve told me before.” Blake was irritated. She pushed away from the counter and stood, grabbing her plate.
Setting the plate in the sink with a satisfying clank, she silently fumed as she stared out the window. Even in the darkness, she could see the tree branches sway, could feel the wind blow hard against the walls of the cabin.
Mason had been right. A storm was coming and it looked like a big one. She felt like that brewing storm. Gathering up a simmering anger, preparing to unleash it all on him and damn the consequences.
She hated how he doubted her ability to—jeez, function in the world. He treated her like she wasn’t capable of making good choices. Yes, fine. She’d given him reason for his doubt in the past, but her friendship with Suzanne was genuine. And she didn’t want to ruin it because of Mason’s doubt.
“Hey.” He approached her from behind and she turned, saw him standing before her with his half-full plate clutched in his hands. “I didn’t mean to make you mad.”
She tilted her chin. “Well, you did. I’m not a child, Mason. I can make decisions that won’t put me in harm’s way.”
“I’m just doing—”
“Your job, I know,” she interrupted. She took the plate from him and dumped the remains in the garbage, then set the plate in the sink.
Big hands settled on her shoulders and she stopped, held herself still has he began to massage the tight muscles there. God, she was weak, caving in to his brief touch, wanting nothing more than to stop the talking and start the kissing and touching and everything else that came with it.
“I don’t want you to get hurt. I have to keep you safe.” He drew her close, his hard, warm body pressed against hers and she weakened, her limbs melting as she settled against him.
“I know,” she whispered, closing her eyes when she felt his hot mouth touch her neck. She tilted her head, gave him better access and he took it, his slow-moving lips and tongue whipping her into a fevered state in an instant.
He had her. Just like that.
And she hated it.
Chapter Twelve
“Why isn’t she here? You promised, damn it.”
Suzanne startled at the sound of the beer bottle smashing against the wall, bits of amber glass raining upon the beat up hardwood floor. She crouched down on the couch, her arms over her head in a protective gesture when Rich Bentley lunged for her, his fist raised, his face a mask of rage. She watched it all, peeking from beneath her arm.
“She’s busy, she couldn’t come over,” Suzanne cried, her voice muffled by her drawn up knees. She felt a glancing blow atop her head and winced, thankful she’d curled up into herself.
She’d learned the pose years ago, after the first few beatings from Rich. Her husband who’d finally found her on the island yesterday.
Like a ghost walking back into her life, he’d appeared, striding into the little café she worked at as if he belonged there. She’d very nearly dropped the full coffee pot she carried on her toes but somehow she’d kept a grip on it. She’d even managed to smile pleasantly in his direction when he sat at a table with that smug expression on his face she’d fought so hard to banish from her memory.
How he found her, she had no clue. She’d been so careful to cover her tracks. It had taken months of careful planning and organization. When she’d finally gathered the documents, money and courage, she’d fled.