Freeze Frame (Faerily Imperfect, Book 3)
By Mia Watts
Sage let out a long, low whistle. “This one’s a brute, bro.”
“Yeah.” Dill’s lips twitched with a hint of pride. His arms folded across his chest, he was the standoff-ish version of his brother’s stance. “This is the guy you assigned to me.”
Sage relaxed with his hands on his hips.
“Did you call Mom?” Dill asked.
“She’s coming. She has to pick up some mini-quiche for her class,” Sage said. He motioned to Mason. “What happened?”
“Beat-down swarm. What class?”
“Your Vagina: The Cave of Creation,” Sage answered.
The two men looked at each other and shuddered.
“God, vaginas and mushy food with cheese? Who thought of that?” Dill asked.
“Fuck if I know.” Sage motioned to Mason’s sleeping form by way of changing the subject. “Can we get back to this guy?”
He didn’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 wasn’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 Mason’s side. “He took a knife.”
Sage looked at Dill askance. “The best place for him is the hospital.”
“They’d ask questions, call the police.”
“It’s not your problem,” Sage said. “You shouldn’t have touched him.”
“You aren’t that cold, and neither am I.”
“No, but it complicates the job by a lot,” Sage pointed out. “If nothing else, you can get your sample and turn it in. That was your job. Now it’s over.”
He thought about the blood soaked gauze in the sterile bag. He didn’t know why Jenson wanted it. It wasn’t his business to know why, just to do. Well, he’d done. He could have just taken Mason’s shirt and sent it off to Jenson instead of washing it. He told himself it was because he didn’t want Mason to know someone was testing his blood.
It came down to shame. Dill liked what he’d seen of Mason. Every last sneer and each unforgiving edge of roughness he longed to soothe. A guy like Mason wouldn’t forgive him for invading his space, stealing his fucking DNA, and sending it off to a stranger. Hell, Dill didn’t forgive himself for doing what he knew he had to do.
“It’s not,” Dill said, trying to think of a reason to keep watching Mason, reasons to stay near him.
“Walk away, Dill.”