The Mercenary Next Door (Rogues and Rescuers #2) - Lucy Leroux Page 0,8
Shrugging, Rosamie twined an arm through hers. “Let’s get this over with.”
With a sigh, Laila trudged after her friend, wishing she had Mason’s muscles between her and the drunken gauntlet of jerks who made up Alpha Omega.
Chapter Five
“You better not light that thing in here,” Mason scolded, snatching the fat Cuban cigar out of Ransom’s good hand.
His friend and coworker waved the other arm, sling and all. “What? You’ve got enough plants in here. They’ll absorb the smoke. That’s why you have so many freaking plants, right—because they clean the air? Or so you keep saying.”
Mason grunted noncommittally. “Are you even allowed to drink or smoke? Aren’t you still on antibiotics? What did Doc Valentine say?” he asked, naming the physician Auric Security kept on retainer stateside.
Ransom wrinkled his nose, picking up a beer. “He said to take my fucking pills, and I shouldn’t scratch under the bandages,” he replied, proceeding to do just that.
Mason didn’t blame him. He’d been shot before, too, and he knew how itchy a healing bullet hole could get at this stage. Picking up his beer, he turned to the living room. The rest of his Auric team was milling about, setting up the poker table.
Ransom, Jace, Klein, Wes, Tyler, and Collins came over weekly whenever they were in town. But tonight promised to be more than their standard poker game—some of the guys had brought girls.
Wes and Tyler had already pushed the couch to the wall. Someone had dragged the folding chairs out of the closet, but Mason wondered why they bothered. One of the girls had taken a call, giving someone directions to his place aloud. Tyler had connected his phone to the Bluetooth speakers, and he was actively scanning dance music playlists.
Mason suppressed a scowl. “When you said you wanted to come over tonight, I thought we’d have a quiet night in. It’s Wednesday,” he stressed. “I have neighbors.”
No sooner had he said the word than the image of Laila pinned underneath him flashed through his head. Her lips had been parted, and their unexpected lushness stayed front and center.
That had been a few days ago. Mason hadn’t run into Laila since. He was concerned she was avoiding him.
“We’ll keep it down.” Ransom waved his concern aside, swigging his beer.
“Right.” Grabbing one of the closed bottles of booze the guys had brought over, Mason headed to the door.
“Hey,” Collins called. “Where are you going with my Jack Daniels?”
Ignoring him, Mason stepped outside, knocking on his other neighbor’s—Old Man Tran—door. The bottle was accepted grudgingly, but Tran still threatened to call the cops if they got too loud.
“And tell your female friends to keep the screaming in the bedroom to a minimum. Don’t forget I hear everything,” Tran snapped before closing the door in Mason’s face.
Behind him, Ransom laughed. “What was that about?”
“Our places share a bedroom wall.”
Still laughing, Ransom rolled his eyes. “What a waste of whiskey.” He turned to Laila’s door. “And what are you going to give this one?”
An unwilling flush crawled up Mason’s neck. “Never mind,” he said, pointing to the door. “Go back inside. I’ll be right there.”
Mason lifted his hand to knock on the door, but he stopped when Ransom narrowed his eyes. “What?” Mason growled.
Leaning his good shoulder on the door with exaggerated casualness, Ransom smirked. “I’m curious about your mystery girl. This is the one you text whenever we’re heading back, right?”
“Because she waters my plants,” Mason said, lowering his voice. Though he’d never been inside, he knew Laila’s apartment was small. If she were in there, there was no way she could miss hearing this conversation.
“Small little thing, dark hair and eyes.” Ransom squinted as if he were scanning his memory. “Is she hot?”
“Go-back-in-side,” Mason gritted from behind clenched teeth.
Ransom snorted. “No way. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how cagey you’ve been about her. It’s like you don’t want us to know she exists. I’m dying to see her up close.”
“I never denied Laila exists,” Mason said.
Ransom raised a brow. “So, you’re not doing her?”
“What? No. And lower your fucking voice,” Mason hissed, casting a nervous glance at the door.
“Well, then invite her over.” Ransom shrugged. “The more, the merrier.”
“Hell, no,” Mason snapped.
“Why not?”
“Because,” he said, imagining Laila mingling with his team. If Ransom didn’t try to get in her pants, then Wes would be all over her. The only ones Mason could trust around her were Collins and Jace, but only because they were the ones who’d brought dates. Hell, maybe not even