Page 60 of Chief's Addiction

I pouted my lips and he ducked down, biting at the puckered flesh. When he went to pull away, I tightened my arms until he changed directions. When his lips touched mine again, I kissed him long, deep, and wet.

Pulling away, breathless, he asked, “What was that for?”

“Because you may be a pain in my ass sometimes,” I brushed my thumb along his lower lip, “but you’re a good man, Mason. Even when you’re being overprotective and secretive and driving me absolutely crazy.”

He caught my chin in his hand before I could pull away, and pressed his lips to mine again. The kiss was shorter but it still managed to curl my toes. Jesus, the man knew exactly what to do to me, exactly how to touch me to make my knees weak.

“Be careful.” His voice was softer.

“I will,” I assured him, already backing toward the door.

“And Cora?” His expression shifted, the desire replaced with something serious. “Keep your phone on you. Answer if I call. No exceptions.”

I patted my pocket. “Got it right here. I’ll text when we get there and when we leave.”

He nodded, looking like he wanted to say more but stopped himself. For a brief moment, the mask of control slipped, and I saw a hint of fear in his eyes before he blinked it away.

I found Beckett in the living room, sprawled across the couch playing some game on the PlayStation Mason had brought home a few days ago. The bruise around his eye had faded to a faded yellowy-green, and he looked happier than I’d ever seen him.

“Hey, kid,” I called.

His head came up.

“Get your shoes on. We’re going out.”

Brows drawn together, he reminded me, “Mason said we had to stay inside.”

“Mason changed his mind.” I grinned, feeling a little smug. “Hurry up before he changes it again.”

Beckett didn’t need to be told twice. He was off the couch and shoving his feet into his worn sneakers faster than I could blink.

Ten minutes later, we were climbing into the backseat of Mason’s truck with Lid behind the wheel and Cueball riding shotgun.

Mason was watching us from the porch, phone pressed to his ear, looking like he regretted his decision already. The worry etched into his features made my stomach twist with guilt, but I pushed it aside. We’d be fine. He was overreacting.

“So,” I said as we pulled away from the house, “what kind of clothes are you thinking? Any specific style?”

Beckett shrugged, that teenage nonchalance masking his excitement. “I don’t care.”

“Well, I think we should get you some button-downs too. Maybe a couple nice pairs of pants,” I mused, already planning his wardrobe in my head. “And definitely new shoes. Those are about to disintegrate.”

“I don’t need anything fancy,” he mumbled.

The drive to St. Johns Town Center took just under twenty minutes, with Lid checking his mirrors way more often than was necessary.

“You guys okay up there?” I asked, leaning forward between the front seats. “You look like you’re expecting the boogeyman to jump out at any second.”

“Just following orders,” Lid answered tightly, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror again.

When we arrived at the mall, Lid drove around the parking lot twice before finally finding a spot close to the entrance. He killed the engine but made no move to get out.

“Wait here,” he instructed, his tone dead serious. “Let me and Cue check things out first.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s a mall. The only danger is me spending too much of Mason’s money.”

Ignoring me, they climbed out, scanning the parking lot like we were in some kind of spy movie.

Beckett shot me an amused look. “They’re hardcore.”

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