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A sharp rap at the window causes me to let out a squeak and throw myself back in the seat like I’ve been shot, but . . . it’s Mason, staring down at me like he’s studying a map to some forbidden treasure hereallydoesn’t want to go out and find, that makes my heart hammer in my chest.
Like he’s already regretting what he’s about to say.
My heart bottoms out, laying in shambles in the pit of my chest as I prepare myself for more of the mental lashing that comes with Mason Carpenter and roll down the window.
“Be here at nine. Don’t be late or you’re on your own.”
My mouth falls open like a chicken waiting for rain. Unfortunately, he doesn’t give me time to ask questions because he turns and stalks off back down the sidewalk. All six foot, five inches of him.
Scrambling, I hurl myself from the car, banging my head painfully on the doorframe, but I don’t stop.
“You’ll help me? Tomorrow?”
He stops up the sidewalk, turns around, and regards me with a bored expression. One that says he really doesn’t care if I show up or not.
“If that’s a problem for you, you’re welcome to continue searching on your own.”
Jesus. He’s so harsh now.
“Nope,” I say, popping theP.I really want to tell him to shove it, but I need his help if I’m ever going to find Missy. “I’ll be here, bright and early.”
I hate early mornings.
He doesn’t say anything else, but his gaze lingers for a second longer than it should. As if he’s looking for something. Waiting for some biggotchamoment or for Missy to pop out of the trunk like a mentally ill Jack in the box.
Then he shuts the garage door behind him.
What the fuck just happened?
Did I just get rejected and then . . . I don’t know . . .unrejected all in the course of ten minutes?
By Mason Carpenter, no less? The man who’s haunted both my wildest dreams and my darkest nightmares since I met him?
This is either going to go really, really bad. Or . . . really good. I’m hoping for the latter. I’m betting on the first.
With Mason, there is no in-between.
“I’m going to find you, Missy,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to my fingertips and then pressing those same fingers to her picture. “I promise.”
PART ONE
THEN
Mason
3 years ago, May
Ifucking hate Malibu.
The money, oozing out of every mansion. The people with their high society standards and self-entitlement. The fucking secrets.
I can’t remember the last time I was here. Probably when Savannah graduated high school two years ago. It’s just not the place for me. While I try to be there for my sisters whenever they need me, I also prefer to stay in my half of LA, far away from Parker Estate and my stepfather with a penchant for illegal activities.
I’ve got enough problems.
But . . . Bailey— the first out of three sisters— is celebrating her graduation from college and not even Marcus Parker could force me to miss it.
So, here I am, cruising down the busy streets toward the shiny mansion Mom and the girls moved into after she married Parker. The one place that makes my fucking skin crawl like I’m covered in a thousand fire ants.
