My heart wrenches. I can’t take seeing him so overwrought. I want the irreverent, randy Mason back, but I’m overwhelmed by the level of truth he’s sharing. I want this every bit as much as I crave his touch, though I have no idea what I did to earn the raw honesty. Does the depth of connection I feel to him really run both ways?
I shift closer and grip his hand. “You don’t have to tell me everything right now. I heard enough last night to get that it can’t have been easy.”
His gaze is earnest and intent when he looks at me, squeezing my hand. “Callie, believe me, I want to tell you. Seeing you again brought back that day we met. I never forgot you, but deep down I believed we’d never have worked back then. I wasn’t the man I needed to be to deserve you. I don’t know if I am now, but I will never be if I don’t say this.”
“Why is it so difficult?” I whisper.
“Because two people died because of me. Two people I cared about. The fucker we’re after, Amador, attacked on Christmas day, trying to get to me. I’m the reason they died. Rafael and Emilia . . .” He closes his eyes and takes a deep, shuddering breath. “They were supposed to be her parents. I could only stomach fathering her because I knew I wouldn’t be the one raising her.” He opens his eyes and stares down at his forearm, flexing his hand into a fist tight enough to make veins and tendons bulge slightly beneath his skin.
The reality of his confession hits me in a cold rush. What he’d said last night about having rock star sperm . . . He’d, what? Donated to his friends? And the result had been . . .
My breath departs in a rush and chills wash over me. “Oh my god. Zoe is your daughter.” But then a darker feeling sinks in and I grit my teeth. “Mason, if your friends died, where is she?”
21 Mason
Getting the words out is hard, but easier than I thought it’d be. Part of me is resistant to burdening Callie with it at all, since we’ve barely begun getting to know each other, and it’s a lot to lay on someone even if they’re a close friend. But I’m tired of secrets, and despite my excuse that she’s a distraction, a way to kill time, I want more. I want to leave the door open to something deeper if I ever manage to free myself from being hunted, if I ever make it back to LA and my old life.
But her question jabs a knife into my gut and twists. It’s irrational, because I have no control over the situation, yet I hate the perception that I’m doing nothing.
“Zavala has her,” I manage to grate out, the words leaving my throat raw. “César Zavala has Zoe.”
Her incredulous look deepens my shame and I pull the blanket up a little, then bury my nose in the mug, taking a deep swallow to cut the jagged edge off this feeling.
“Before you ask, yes, I’m doing something about it—the only fucking thing I can do. He’s using her as leverage to get me to be his fucking errand boy. To bring this deal he wants to the Feds. But what he’s asking for isn’t easy. Shit like that doesn’t happen overnight, so I have to bide my time and wait. Believe me, if there was more I could do, I would.”
She seems to settle a bit, then sighs. “I believe you. I take it that’s why you wanted to spend the weekend with me—to try to forget. Sorry I made you dredge it up.”
“Don’t be, sweetness. I needed to get it out. Just like that bullet that was in my spine. It was paralyzing me to hold onto it. I got this tattoo the other day because it was the only way I could purge the guilt at the time. Guilt over not being able to say the word.”
“What word is that?” she asks, her expression so gentle, so open, I want to lean in and kiss her. But starting down that road under the circumstances doesn’t make sense. The moment will come soon enough, especially with the looks she keeps casting at my body when she thinks I’m not paying attention.
I take a deep breath, bracing myself, but for the first time ready.
“Daughter,” I finally say, pausing to absorb the experience of simply referring to her that way for the first time. It’s terrifying, but at the same time liberating. I exhale and smile a little, then look Callie in the eyes and say it again. “Zoe is my daughter. I’m her father. And I will do every fucking thing in my goddamn power to get her back, to make sure she’s safe. If this contact doesn’t come through for me, then I’ll just have to go kill Zavala myself.”
I mentally chastise myself for the small omission of exactly who that contact is. I put together Callie’s link to the senator the second she shared her full name. I don’t want her to think I asked to spend time with her because of her mother’s involvement in this whole deal. More than that, I don’t want to give her a reason to run, even though it’d probably be better for her if she did.
But the two of us have an undeniable connection, and there’s no way in hell I’m giving up on this chance to explore it. I’ve never been with a woman before who fit me so fucking perfectly.
She winces and shakes her head, then sighs. “God, why do the best men in my life all
