The Mercenary Next Door (Rogues and Rescuers #2) - Lucy Leroux Page 0,40
can’t wear makeup to work,” Laila protested. The heat from the ovens made it run into her eyes, and Joseph was picking her up directly after her shift.
Rosamie came back, then handed her the earrings.
“Let me see the eye shadow,” she told Jasmine. Jas opened the case, displaying a colorful palette.
Rosamie whistled. “Those are perfect. Good choice.”
“Again, I can’t wear makeup near the ovens unless I want to go blind,” Laila reminded them.
“Don’t put it on until you are ready to leave,” Rosamie said, handing her the case. “Trust me—it will make this dress.”
“If you insist,” Laila conceded, throwing the palette into her bag.
Rosamie smirked. “I always do.”
Chapter Seventeen
Laila didn’t answer her door. Mason knocked for a solid five minutes before he gave up, vowing to try again once he’d settled in. It was midmorning on a Saturday. She would be at work, serving the wealthy patrons of Gardullo’s their weekend indulgences.
Frustrated to be so close to his goal, yet still so far, he set down his bag, struggling to insert his key in the lock with his left hand. His right arm rested in a sling against his chest, still useless for the time being.
The arm should have been fine by now. However, a few weeks into his recovery, X-rays had shown the break wasn’t healing right. They’d had to re-break his bones to reset them properly. Thankfully, they’d given him ample drugs at the time, so it hadn’t been unbearable. But it had extended his stay in Mexico.
The full chest and arm cast had come off a few weeks ago. Now, a smaller plaster cast kept his arm immobile. Mason was dying to get the damn thing off, but he was following the doctor’s orders to the letter. He didn’t want to risk his future mobility by being impatient.
When he finally opened his door, he sucked in a breath of pained surprise. His plants were dead. Almost all were shriveled and wilted.
Fuck. Scrubbing his face with his good hand, he reminded himself he’d been half-expecting this. Ransom hadn’t been able to get ahold of his neighbor the entire time Mason had been laid up. His friend had even stopped by the building personally, but Laila hadn’t been home either time.
Mason hadn’t thought to send his key along with Ransom, so he hadn’t been forewarned about the state of his apartment. Tossing his bag on the couch, he spun around in a slow circle, taking stock.
He really couldn’t blame Laila for not watering the plants. Given the way she steadfastly refused all his calls and texts over the last few months, it was obvious that she wanted nothing to do with him. It still hurt, though.
After taking a moment to regroup, Mason ordered take-out before fishing a few garbage bags of out his supply closet. He started to throw away the dead plants, salvaging the few that might be revived.
That was a little weird, he thought, stacking the now-empty pots. All the plants were in bad shape, but it almost appeared as if some had been watered a bit more recently than he’d supposed. If Laila hadn’t set foot in here since he left, then all the greenery would be dead. Even the trees.
At a loss to make sense of it, he finished cleaning up, taking the full garbage bags down to the dumpster.
When he got back upstairs, Laila’s door was swinging shut. Mason knocked, his heart hammering as footsteps approached.
The door swung open, revealing a short, bespeckled Asian man. The stranger blinked up at Mason. “Yeah? Can I help you?”
Mason’s lips parted. He took a step back. “Is Laila here?”
Confusion wrinkled the man’s brow. “Who?”
The fear this was Laila’s new live-in boyfriend dissipated. Shoulders slumping in relief, Mason explained. “Laila James. She lives here…”
The man shrugged. “Not anymore, man.”
He was about to close the door when Mason forestalled him, gesturing behind him. “Hey, that’s my place over there, but I was away for a while. How long have you been living here?”
“More than three months,” the man volunteered, sticking out his left hand before retracting it in chagrin.
“Sorry,” he said, waving at Mason’s brace. “It’s, um, nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, nice to meet you,” Mason said, his mind racing. Laila must have moved out a few weeks after he left. “I guess I have to track her down.”
The guy stood there, staring at him. “Okay, then. Bye.”
He began to close the door before yanking it back open. “Hey, I do have some mail addressed to the previous tenant.