Beauty and the Billionaire - Page 243

I’m all alone. Unfortunately, with the increased heart rate, the open wound on my forehead is just gushing, and I seriously doubt anyone is going to let me into their cab like this.

It’s not too far to walk home from here. I just hope I don’t run into any neighbors on the way.

My body shivers a little and I realize that, in all the confusion, I never bothered to put my shirt on. I think I had it when I came out the back window, but I can’t really be sure. In all the chaos and confusion, the shirt wasn’t really the first thing on my mind.

I look back in the direction from which I came, but if it’s back there somewhere, I’m not seeing it.

Looking down, now, I’m trying to think of any excuse I could give for my general appearance other than the obvious. If tonight were Halloween, it wouldn’t be a problem. People would just ask how I got the cut on my head to look so real.

Unfortunately, between my black trunks, bare feet and tape-wrapped hands, I don’t think there’s any way I can walk down the street without looking like exactly what I am.

Given the fact there was just a police raid on an underground fight, now’s probably not such a good time to not have real clothes.

I’m walking back home using back alleys as much as possible. When it does become necessary to come out onto the sidewalk for a block or two, I try to move as quickly as I possibly can until I’m back where people can’t see me so easily.

When I get within sight of my house, though, I stop.

I don’t know how they knew where to find me or why they’d go to such lengths over something like this, but there’s a police cruiser going up and down the street.

I don’t have my keys, my phone, anything. What’s really on my mind right now, though, is the police car coming from the other direction.

Seriously, don’t these guys have anything better to do with their time?

I can’t go home, at least not yet. I can’t very well stay out here on the streets, either. Besides, it’s barely spring and Wisconsin gets cold.

I’ve got a buddy that lives about half a mile from here. He’s a bit of a pain in the ass, but I don’t have too many other options at the moment, so I start walking.

I get between buildings as soon as I can. The cop hadn’t seen me, but if they’ve got my ID, they know what I look like. Even if they didn’t, I’m still a guy walking around in nothing but trunks and some hand tape with blood all over him.

Coming to the sidewalk on the far side of this block, I glance down the street in both directions, making sure I don’t have the 5-0 coming down on me, and I go. My feet are starting to hurt.

“Mason?” a woman’s voice calls from down the sidewalk as I reach the other side of the road.

I turn to run, but glance back first to see what I’m dealing with. Given who I see coming toward me, this might actually work out all right for me.

“Jana?” I ask the short, black-haired woman staring at me with her body half-turned like she’s trying to decide whether or not to grab the hand of the woman next to her and run.

I don’t know if Jana and I ever said the words boyfriend and girlfriend when we were whatever it was that we were, but she’s definitely my ex-something.

“What happened to you?” she asks, covering her mouth.

“Oh, just a little sporting event that got interrupted,” I answer and look to the brunette woman standing next to Jana, looking at me with raised eyebrows and a wide-open mouth. “Hi,” I say to the woman. “I’m Mason. I’d shake your hand, but, well…”

“You should go to the hospital,” the woman says. “That cut looks pretty bad.”

“Yeah, I was trying to head home, but…” I stop. I’m already terrifying enough right now just by my appearance. There?

?s no solid reason to tell them that I’m also on the run from the cops.

“But…?” Jana asks.

“…but I can’t,” I finish.

It’s a stupid explanation—not really an explanation at all. Still, though, it keeps the conversation moving and I don’t have a lot of time to stand here and talk.

“You should really get that cleaned up,” the woman standing next to Jana says.

“I’m on my way to do just that,” I answer. “Hey, it was nice to meet you, but I really should…”

Tags: Claire Adams Billionaire Romance
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