Stealth: Mason E-Book

Willow Fox

• Herausgeber: Slow Burn Publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

Sold to the mafia. I’m nothing more than a piece of property to my brother. Forced into an arranged marriage, I enlist the help of Eagle Tactical.
Ariella
I moved in with Jaxson after the attack. It’s hard to keep my hands off him, but he’s my boss. He’s given me a job at Eagle Tactical as his subordinate.

I don’t take orders well, especially from a grumpy boss. He's about just as grumpy as his toddler when she skips her afternoon nap.

Jaxson
I vowed to protect Ariella. That’s how much she means to me, but she’s gotten under my skin with her know everything attitude and sassy hip sway that has my body in overdrive.

I swore I’d never do a one-night stand. Is that what she thinks we shared? Is that why she hates me? I don’t know how much longer I can wake up under the same roof, go to work with her, and not throw her down on the bed.

We have a mission that takes priority, but how can I keep my mind on the job when she’s always in the room, and I want to bend her over the desk?

Stealth: Mason is a special forces romance and ends with a HFN and a guaranteed series HEA. It is recommended that you read this series in order. Stealth: Mason is book two in the Eagle Tactical series.

Leseprobe

STEALTH: MASON

EAGLE TACTICAL BOOK TWO

WILLOW FOX

Stealth: Mason

Eagle Tactical Book Two

Willow Fox

Published by Slow Burn Publishing

© 2021

Cover by GetCovers

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

CONTENTS

About the Book

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Epilogue

Giveaways, Free Books, and More Goodies!

About the Author

Also by Willow Fox

ABOUT THE BOOK

STEALTH: Eagle Tactical Book Two

Sold to the mafia. I’m nothing more than a piece of property to my brother. Forced into an arranged marriage, I enlist the help of Eagle Tactical.

Ariella

I moved in with Jaxson after the attack. It’s hard to keep my hands off him, but he’s my boss. He’s given me a job at Eagle Tactical as his subordinate.

I don’t take orders well, especially from a grumpy bosshole.

Jaxson

I vowed to protect Ariella. That’s how much she means to me, but she’s gotten under my skin with her know everything attitude and sassy hip sway that has my body in overdrive.

I swore I’d never do a one-night stand. Is that what she thinks we shared? Is that why she hates me?

I don’t know how much longer I can wake up under the same roof, go to work with her, and not throw her down on the bed.

We have a mission that takes priority, but how can I keep my mind on the job when she’s always in the room, and I want to bend her over the desk?

STEALTH is book two in Eagle Tactical series and ends with a HFN and a guaranteed series HEA. While this book can be read as a standalone, it is recommended that you read the series in order.

CHAPTERONE

Hazel

I didn’t dare gaze into the eyes of the man who bought me. Thanks to my stepbrother, Nikolai, I belonged to Franco, his second in command in the mafia.

“Next week, you’ll be my bride,” Franco said, his teeth yellowing and crooked.

He grabbed my jaw and yanked my face closer to his for a kiss. His breath smelled of vomit. My stomach recoiled.

We stood outside his black sedan, the door open.

I was to go with him. I’d sooner starve myself to death. That was still a possibility after I went with the man to whom I was engaged to marry.

Bile rose to my throat, and I swallowed the burning acid as it slid back down. I kept my mouth sealed shut, but it didn’t stop him from planting his thick, dry lips against mine. His tongue pushed at my mouth, rough and forceful, but I refused to grant him access.

The scum-sucking vermin could kiss the soles of my feet.

I wanted to kill my stepbrother but not before I took out Franco.

Franco’s thick hand palmed my hair, his fingers tangled in my locks before he yanked hard, bringing my face to his. “Other girls should be as lucky as you.”

My stepbrother was nowhere to be found. Typical. Sell me and move on, like I meant nothing to him. I was a piece of property. That was it.

Franco shoved me toward the back door of his sedan.

Oh hell, no. I had the upper hand now, with only Franco and his driver.

If I made it to his house, who knew the danger that awaited, how many men I’d be forced to fight or what other security measures would exist.

“Get off me!” I slammed my elbow into his stomach and stomped on his toes before kneeing him in the crotch.

His driver lifted his gun, pointing it at my head.

“Please, you’d be doing me a favor,” I said. I’d sooner die than marry him.

“Don’t shoot her!” Franco pushed the gun away from the driver, lowering the barrel.

I pulled back my fist, landing another blow, this one to Franco’s face before his hand yanked my hair and slammed my head into the side of the car.

The world spun and nausea swept over me.

He shoved my body into the back of the vehicle, slammed the door shut, and stomped around to the front passenger side.

“Don’t puke on the interior, bitch.”

The car engine started.

My vision blurred, but I felt for the door handle and gave it a hard pull. Damn child safety locks. It didn’t open.

Roar.

I flew back against the seat as the driver slammed on the gas. The tires squealed, and my nose tickled with the scent of burning rubber.

The skyline grew smaller in the distance as we tore out of the city.

Where the hell were we going? Where did Franco live?

“Where are you taking me?” I rubbed my eyes, confused and tired. The blurred vision was getting better, but I still felt like I’d been run over by a car.

“Home sweet home, darling. We’re going to Russia.”

Russia wasn’t my home.

I’d never been out of the country.

My fingers stroked the white gold locket against my neck, the only token of my mother that I had left, a gift from my deceased father.

I wasn’t going to Russia or any other country with Franco.

I shoved my hand into my pocket and retrieved my cell phone. I turned it on silent and sent out a text requesting help.

I didn’t know how long I had until the flight or until they searched me. I’d been foolish not to bring a knife or, at the very least, mace, some kind of weapon to defend myself.

I had memorized Mason’s number, having stalked him online. It had been years since we’d seen each other.

We’d gone to boarding school together. He had joined the army after high school, and I had been sent to live with my father.

It was no secret he worked for the security firm Eagle Tactical. I couldn’t call them. It would be too risky.

I hoped that their business line could receive texts. I didn’t have Mason’s personal number; it appeared to be unlisted.

Mason, I need your help. Please track my phone and come for me. I wouldn’t ask if this wasn’t life or death—my death. Hazel

It was short and to the point. It was all I could do. I hoped it would go through and he’d come for me.

CHAPTERTWO

Ariella

Sunlight filtered in through the skylight casting the kitchen in a warm golden tone.

The aroma of coffee filled the room, and I hurried to the pot, grabbed a cup, and poured myself a drink.

Izzie sat at the kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal. It was the quietest I’d ever seen her, except when she napped.

Jaxson clomped down the stairs, dressed and ready to go.

I still needed to shower, but I’d be quick. “Are we driving into work together?” I asked.

“No.” His response was short, his tone cold, emotionless.

Had I done something to piss him off?

We hadn’t talked about that night when he’d found me in the shower, curled up with water pounding over me. I’d been unable to move, shaken to the core. He’d dressed me, carried me to bed, and slept beside me.

It was the only night I’d slept in that bedroom. I was now delegated to the guest room, which I guess made sense.

We agreed that if he was going to be my boss, we had to keep things platonic.

That wasn’t what I wanted, but I had mixed feelings. He hadn’t stuck around after the one night we shared at my place before the fire burned my house to the ground. We also hadn’t spoken about it, and now it seemed pointless to rehash a relationship that couldn’t ever be.

I stared at him, the cup of coffee poised at my lips, two hands on my mug.

The tremors were under control, and while my house had burned down, I was able to get a prescription from the local doctor for the medications I needed for my battle with autonomic dysfunction. I was managing for the most part.

His cell phone rang and he grabbed it off the kitchen counter.

“Morning, Declan. What’s up?” He waltzed into the living room for privacy, at least some semblance of it.

I sipped my coffee and sat down at the kitchen table across from Izzie. “Is that good?” I asked, trying to make polite conversation with a three-year-old.

* * *

It was my first week on the job, and Jaxson was buried in his office.

I wasn’t sure if he was ignoring me or giving me space and not preferential treatment.

Lucy hadn’t so much as acknowledged my existence or the fact that Eagle Tactical now employed me. While she was at the front desk at the building entrance, I was shoved at the breakroom table with my laptop plugged into the nearest outlet.

It was clear they had made room for me to join them, and I’d take what I could get, office or not. I probably was lucky I even had a computer to work on; the keyboard was faded and worn.

The hallway was fine, it was a place to work.

I could almost see Jaxson if I leaned back in my desk chair, which I kept doing, the chair squeaking.

Lucy glanced over her shoulder at me, glaring with narrow eyes and a sharp jaw.

So maybe we weren’t going to be friends like Emma and I had become.

I was okay with that, as long as she didn’t bury me under paperwork.

A message popped up on the screen.

Mason, I need your help. Please track my phone and come for me. I wouldn’t ask if this wasn’t life or death—my death. Hazel

Who was Hazel, and why was I getting her message?

I still wasn’t that friendly with Mason. We’d come to an understanding, or maybe it was the fact my cabin burned down that I had forgiven him.

It wasn’t his fault for the fire, and the anger that I held toward him for selling me that crappy place seemed stupid now. Plus, he hadn’t kept me from getting employed and helped Jaxson with the off-gridders who had threatened me.

We were almost friends. Well, not quite. He didn’t hate me, and I didn’t despise him, at least not anymore.

I stood, and the chair squeaked.

Lucy spun around in her seat, eyes wide. “Do you mind? Some of us are trying to get work done!” she snapped.

I didn’t have a ton to do, granted it was my first week, and no one had assigned me any surveillance or backgrounds to research. I held my tongue.

I didn’t need a new enemy. I had enough of them from my past.

My boots clunked over the tile floor, and I sauntered over to Mason’s office. I knocked on the open door, not wanting to barge in unannounced.

“Yes, Ariella?” Mason glanced up from his computer. “What can I do for you?”

He didn’t sound thrilled that I was bothering him, but I needed to make sure the message wasn’t a joke, and it was real.

“I need you to see something that popped up on my computer,” I said. I didn’t want to elaborate. I wasn’t sure who Hazel was to him, if anyone at all, and the doors were all open. The guys could all hear our conversation. I was trying to be discreet, for his sake.

His attention that had been on me briefly returned to his computer, his right hand clicking and scrolling with the mouse. “Declan can help you if you’re having computer troubles.”

“You need to see this,” I said. When he didn’t glance up or get up, I tried again. I guess I did need to spell it out for him. “Do you know someone by the name of Hazel? It sounds like she’s in trouble.”

He leaped out of the chair like it was on fire and followed me to my desk. He hunched forward, reading the message that remained on my screen.

“So?” I asked.

He studied the message for longer than necessary before he folded his arms across his chest. “Track her phone from the text. You can do that, can’t you?”

Apparently, it was rhetorical. Before I could answer, he gave off orders.

“Send me her coordinates. If she’s near Chicago, like I think she is, then I’ll call one of my buddies with the U.S. Marshal’s office, Colton. He’ll lend us a hand.”

“Will do.” I sat back down at the desk and opened up a new window as I started a backend trace from the phone number where the text originated. Once I finished that, I was able to ping its location off the cell towers. Sure enough, Chicago.

I texted Mason the information from within our private network.

“Send her a text back. Let her know to go along with it.”

I had no idea what Mason was talking about, but I relayed the message via text. I opened up a second window as I accessed the surveillance cameras along the highway. The vehicle they were in was headed for O’Hare International Airport.

“Where are you going?” I said to myself as I watched the screen.

Footsteps thumped inside Mason’s office, and then the door slammed abruptly. Had I been that loud? I opened my mouth to apologize, but it didn’t happen.

Mason was on the phone with someone. I could hear his muffled, gruff voice through the wall. He was talking to someone, perhaps this person Colton whom he had mentioned earlier.

How would the U.S. Marshals be able to help?

What had Hazel gotten herself into?

Hopefully, it wasn’t a hoax, but the look that crossed Mason’s face when he’d read the message on my laptop—it had to be authentic and she was in danger.

I wanted to do more. I couldn’t let it go. I opened up the text message window for Hazel and sent another reply.

Can you tell me what’s going on?

Maybe I could offer more help if we had more information. They were heading to the airport. If I knew what flight, perhaps I could hack into the ticketing system and put them on the no-fly list.

Mason?

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

Yes.

I texted back a little too quickly. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be upset that I lied. She wouldn’t ever have to know. And if I could help, why shouldn’t I try?

What’s my favorite color?

Shit. How was I supposed to know that? Was this a trick question? Radio silence. I didn’t answer. She didn’t respond. I screwed up.

Mason swung open the office door and stepped into the hallway. “Quit sending texts to Hazel. I can see everything on your monitor.”

My stomach tanked.

Shit.

From where he stood, he couldn’t see my computer screen. The only explanation was that he decided to hack my computer. When had he done that, after Hazel sent me the first message?

Mason threw on his coat and headed down the hall toward the front entrance. “Answer her. Tell her rainbow,” Mason shouted to me over his shoulder.

Rainbow.

I breathed a sigh of relief. My fingers drummed against the desk. I waited for her to answer while I kept an eye on the monitor.

There were several surveillance cameras outside the airport. The black sedan she was in passed through the last one with no further exits. I linked into one of the satellite feeds, narrowed in on her coordinates. I needed to be with her, to see what was going on.

Where the hell had Mason gone? Didn’t he want to watch?

I shifted uncomfortably in the seat, and Lucy glanced back over her shoulder at me, another death glare.

I grimaced but shrugged in response. I wasn’t apologizing for my concern for Hazel or the squeakiness of the chair.

Two black SUVs swerved toward the sedan, forcing the vehicle to come to an abrupt halt.

I held my breath and watched as four men jumped out with guns draw and yanked open the back door.

The feed turned snowy and went dead.

CHAPTERTHREE

Hazel

With my head bent down, I’d been quietly texting on my cell phone, when Franco spun around in his seat and yanked the phone from my grasp.

“Hey! Give that back!” From the backseat, I lurched forward.

Franco rolled down the window with the touch of a button and tossed my cell phone out onto the highway.

“You bastard!”

“You don’t need a phone in Russia,” Franco said. He rolled the window back up.

From the side mirror, I could see the smug look cross his face, pleased with his actions toward me.

I wasn’t going to Russia, but time was running out.

We passed the last exit and drew closer to the airport’s departures and arrivals. He didn’t seem the kind of guy who would have us fly commercial, but it was a long flight.

If he forced me into the airport, I’d kick, fight, and threaten that I have a bomb, anything to keep me from going with him.

Why did he want me to go to Russia? Was that where he lived? Did my brother even care that Franco was taking me out of the country?

Two SUVs pulled up alongside us before one trapped the car at the front and the other around the back. The driver slammed on the brakes to keep from colliding with the SUVs. The sedan would have been no match.

Four men in street clothes, guns drawn, rushed at our vehicle.

One of them yanked the back door open—my saving grace.

“Hazel Agron, you’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent.”

What the hell?

I thought they were helping me?

Go along with it. The words played over in my mind. Was this Mason’s idea of a joke?

The man nearest to me dragged me out of the sedan and pushed me down onto the asphalt, face first. He held my hands behind my back, incapacitating me as he handcuffed me and read me my rights.

“Don’t say anything!” Franco shouted at me.

Was he worried about himself or me? I doubted that he cared about what happened to me. He could buy a new bride. He’d find someone else to replace me, and I was fine with that.

The metal cuffs dug into my wrists as the man searched me for weapons before hoisting me to my feet. He escorted me to the back of his SUV and shoved me inside, handcuffs still on, my hands secured behind my back.

The man who had snapped on the cuffs was the first to speak. “Mason sent us.” He shut the door and walked around to the opposite side before he climbed in beside me. “Sorry about the theatrics, but we had to make it look convincing.”

“Can you get these off me?”

The SUV lurched forward, and he undid the cuffs. My wrists hurt from the metal. I rubbed the marks, hoping they’d vanish.

We circled the airport before heading for the highway. “I’m Colton Carr with the U.S. Marshals. We don’t usually kidnap people from thugs.”

“Maybe you should,” I said and laughed softly. “Thanks for saving my life.”

“Don’t thank us yet. Those guys won’t just go away. I’ve worked all my life to put guys like that behind bars,” Colton said.

“Yeah.” I glanced out the window as we pulled onto the interstate. What was the plan? Where would I go? “What happens now?”

I couldn’t go home. Nikolai would hand me right back to Franco.

“We’re taking you to a safe location.”

“Like witness protection?” I asked. I could handle not talking to my brother ever again.

“We’ll get papers for you and set you up with a new identity. Agent Stanford and Blakely will drive you across the country. It’s too risky to put you on an airplane right now, and I spoke with Mason. We both agree it’s best if you’re far from Chicago.”

* * *

I’d fallen asleep.

Big mistake.

The screech of tires woke me.

A strong and heavy scent of smoke filled the car, as I ducked in the backseat of the black SUV. I averted my stare.

Gunfire erupted from every side.

The driver, U.S. Marshal Stanford, who had been rather quiet for the past several hours, bled profusely from the chest, gasping and moaning, struggling to breathe.

I couldn’t do much from the backseat.

The second agent, U.S. Marshal Blakely, who had been seated on the passenger side of the vehicle, was now slumped over from a bullet to the head.

The dark-haired driver gasped for breath. “Hold on,” he shouted, his foot stomping on the gas as he steered us into the men with guns blazing, ramming into one of the black SUVs before backing up and doing it again.

My body jolted around in the SUV. My heart hammered in my chest.

The driver hit the vehicle’s gas hard in reverse. I glanced over my shoulder out the broken back window as we catapulted past the men, the vehicles, and kept going away from the men who wanted me dead.

The pounding in my heart hadn’t ceased. The moment of agony stretching onward.

I wanted to escape, to reach for the door and throw myself outside into the unknown and pray that I could outrun the bastards.

Nearly twenty hours ago, they’d wanted me in their possession like property, and Franco wanted to marry me.

Now bullets were spraying all around me. It seemed he changed his mind about the arranged marriage.

While I wanted to be brave, I was terrified. Shaking profusely in the back of the vehicle, I crawled onto the floor in a ball, sobbing as the SUV continued its course in reverse. U.S. Marshal Stanford no longer gasped for breath. He too was slumped over like U.S. Marshal Blakely, not offering me the least bit of protection.

I needed to get my shit together. I hadn’t come this far, escaped the Russian mafia, only to wind up dead in the middle of nowhere.

My arm stretched out in an attempt to unfasten the U.S. Marshal’s weapon. He no longer had any use for it. My fingers stretched, fiddling with the holster from my position on the floor, the vehicle still hauling backward toward who the hell knew what.

With a hard thud, the vehicle jolted and bounced, the suspension making me feel like we were on a springboard.

What the hell did they hit? I didn’t dare glance up. The men and their gunshots sounded farther in the distance, faded and forgotten. Except they wouldn’t have given up unless he’d injured them and forced them unable to follow when he hit the vehicles.

I couldn’t quite remember how many impacts I had felt, at least three. Had there been four collisions? My body still jarred, my neck sore, and my stomach ached, but that had more to do with terror than anything else.

I carefully peered up, glancing out the back window.

Shit. We were heading toward a ravine.

“Stop! You have to stop the truck!” I didn’t know why I screamed it at Stanford. He was dead. He couldn’t help me. His foot remained like lead on the pedal, refusing to lighten up.

I couldn’t tell how far the drop was, but the grass was gone, and there were mountains in the distance. It didn’t look promising.

Forgoing the gun, I was out of time. I reached for the handle of the back door and popped it open.

The grass rushed by, the crisp winter air hit my cheeks. I had to do this if I wanted a chance at survival, and I did, more than anything.

I wanted a second chance at life.

I climbed with haste from the floor to position myself on the seat. I took two quick breaths before flinging myself out of the vehicle, hearing the crunch of metal down below.

I rolled as best I could out of the truck. My cheeks burned, my knees ached, and I had a terrible headache, but I was alive.

Gasping for breath, I lay staring up at the sky, grateful to still be alive.

After several seconds, I pulled myself from my reverie and stalked toward the ravine, staring down at the ledge where the vehicle had gone.

Down below, the SUV lay on its ceiling, crushed.