Page 23 of Mason

I tap a finger to my lips a few times dramatically. “Hm, it seems like only a moron would mouth off to the person who brought them food and water. Maybe I should let you drink out of the toilet like a dog?”

Her dark eyes widen, but she keeps that sour look plastered on her face like her life depends on it. “Only a fucking moron would kidnap a girl and sign his own life away. Hope it was worth it.”

I don’t know how old this brat is, but I’m already tired of babysitting Anthony’s headache. “You swear a lot for a little girl.”

She’s not a little girl by any means. I’ve seen her curves, and based on when Anthony’s last trial was, she has to be nineteen or twenty by now. But I know calling her one will piss her off, and it does.

Her full lips twitch. “You make a lot of fucking mistakes for an adult.” She throws air quotes around adult, and I lose it.

Anger takes control.

Tossing the plastic bag of supplies to the floor, I move to her, unsure of what the fuck I’m doing before my fingers find her face, gripping her chin and tilting it up so she has to look at me. She’ll have a hard time insulting me from her fucking knees.

But rather than submit, like I expect, she springs into action like a wildcat in waiting, swinging her legs out and connecting them with my ankles, sweeping me off my feet and sending me hurdling backward.

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