“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, trying to calm his racing heart. He hid his service weapon behind his back and knelt to bring the anxious shepherd to his chest. “That was insane, huh, girl? We’re okay? Holy shit.” He wasn’t sure if he was convincing himself or her.
Pixie shoved her muzzle against his shoulder as if she was expressing how irresponsible she thought her sitter was. “We’re gonna keep this a sworn secret between us, girl. Your dad doesn’t need to know about our little adventure tonight, okay?”
Mason listened to the sound of squad cars flying up and down the street a few blocks over. As long as he didn’t hear any more gunshots, he was fine. Mason jogged the rest of the way to his house and didn’t tuck his weapon away until he and Pixie were secured inside. He was about to slide down his door in sheer relief when the thought of Free jolted him into action. He flipped the light on in the kitchen and plugged his phone into the charger on the breakfast bar. He stared at it impatiently as he waited for the one percent to appear so he could power it back on.
Free seemed to answer before it rang. “If you are not dead, Mase, I’m going to kill you myself.”
Mason finally cracked a shaky smile and let loose a long sigh. “I know that’s supposed to be a threat, but with that accent it sounds rather—”
“Mason,” Free growled in warning.
“I told you the phone was going dead, Free. How was I supp—”
“I saw men on your ass, then you fall for Pete’s sake. I had no way to help you… I just had to watch them close in,” Free argued. It was the first time Mason had heard him speak in that tone… as if he was angry… but more so, afraid.
“I’m sorry. I got out of there, okay? And I’m home safe.” Mason was embarrassed about the fall. Sure, one of God’s enforcers, Ruxs or Green, probably would’ve hurdled the goddamn grill and never lost stride, but it was dark and Mason hadn’t seen it until it was too late. He’d also made that foolish mistake because he had an innocent dog with him that he couldn’t let get caught in the crossfire because he was trying to score some important information.
He was absently petting Pixie’s head that lay resting on his thigh while he sat on a tall stool, getting his lecture. Mason decided to let her stay with him at his place until it was time for her sitter to arrive just in case she was still afraid.
“Are you even listening to me?” his friend continued to shout.
Mason rubbed at his temples, realizing he was coming down with an adrenaline headache. “Yes, Free, I’m listening. But… can we talk later, okay? I wanna go shower and take some pain reliever.”
“Are you hurt, Mase? Let me send a paramedic.”
“No. I’m fine, Free.” Mason grimaced, not liking how he was being coddled. He may not have been a SWAT captain or a task force detective, but he wasn’t a rookie either. He had great instincts. “It was just a fall.”
“Good. Tell him I wanna see him in my office, alone, before he goes on shift tomorrow,” Mason heard God’s overwhelming voice demand in the background. Free didn’t need to relay the message.
“I heard him.” Mason felt a shiver run down his spine. “Tell him I’ll be there.”
Jesse
The day stretched out long and bitterly cold as Jesse waited hunkered down behind a storage container at the dead end of Chastain Street. He thought of all he’d been through in the last twenty hours and dropped his head back with a heavy sigh. The sky was gray and gloomy like a mocking mirror of his situation. He’d watched for activity for a long time before he knocked, then banged on the front door for a solid ten minutes before a neighbor stuck her nosy red head out of her door.
“Mr. Markinson ain’t home. He’s at work until late,” she hollered from behind her long cigarette.
Crap. It was already after six; how much longer? “Have you seen his son around here at all today?” Jesse asked.
She stepped further onto her porch and pulled hard enough on her cigarette that the cherry burned as bright as her hair. She flicked the butt over the side of her porch rail with a practiced ease and eyed Jesse as if she was becoming suspicious.
“No. Haven’t seen him in a couple days.” She scowled. “Who’s asking?”
Jesse tiredly made his way closer, trying to appear as non-threatening as he could. Friendly. He smiled despite how he felt and tried to turn on a bit of charm, “I’m Jesse, a friend of Wor—I mean, of Felix, Mr. Markinson’s son. I’m just stopping by while in town. We grew up in Baltimore together.”