Freeze Frame (Faerily Imperfect, Book 3)
By Mia Watts
Sage let out a long, low whistle. â€œThis oneâ€™s a brute, bro.â€
â€œYeah.â€ Dillâ€™s lips twitched with a hint of pride. His arms folded across his chest, he was the standoff-ish version of his brotherâ€™s stance. â€œThis is the guy you assigned to me.â€
Sage relaxed with his hands on his hips.
â€œDid you call Mom?â€ Dill asked.
â€œSheâ€™s coming. She has to pick up some mini-quiche for her class,â€ Sage said. He motioned to Mason. â€œWhat happened?â€
â€œBeat-down swarm. What class?â€
â€œYour Vagina: The Cave of Creation,â€ Sage answered.
The two men looked at each other and shuddered.
â€œGod, vaginas and mushy food with cheese? Who thought of that?â€ Dill asked.
â€œFuck if I know.â€ Sage motioned to Masonâ€™s sleeping form by way of changing the subject. â€œCan we get back to this guy?â€
He didnâ€™t want to. Mason would want privacy and Dill wanted to give it to him. The truth was, Mason was still a mark. He was their contract. No matter how much Dill wanted to protect him, he wasnâ€™t the reason they were there. Jenson Price was.
He pulled back the sheet, revealing the gauze which already showed red from the seeping wound in Masonâ€™s side. â€œHe took a knife.â€
Sage looked at Dill askance. â€œThe best place for him is the hospital.â€
â€œTheyâ€™d ask questions, call the police.â€
â€œItâ€™s not your problem,â€ Sage said. â€œYou shouldnâ€™t have touched him.â€
â€œYou arenâ€™t that cold, and neither am I.â€
â€œNo, but it complicates the job by a lot,â€ Sage pointed out. â€œIf nothing else, you can get your sample and turn it in. That was your job. Now itâ€™s over.â€
He thought about the blood soaked gauze in the sterile bag. He didnâ€™t know why Jenson wanted it. It wasnâ€™t his business to know why, just to do. Well, heâ€™d done. He could have just taken Masonâ€™s shirt and sent it off to Jenson instead of washing it. He told himself it was because he didnâ€™t want Mason to know someone was testing his blood.
It came down to shame. Dill liked what heâ€™d seen of Mason. Every last sneer and each unforgiving edge of roughness he longed to soothe. A guy like Mason wouldnâ€™t forgive him for invading his space, stealing his fucking DNA, and sending it off to a stranger. Hell, Dill didnâ€™t forgive himself for doing what he knew he had to do.
â€œItâ€™s not,â€ Dill said, trying to think of a reason to keep watching Mason, reasons to stay near him.
â€œWalk away, Dill.â€