Behind The Mask Ch 15

All characters are at least 18 years old.

------

"Are you serious?" Drew barked. "Something like that happens, and you're not gonna explain?"

He was almost walking sideways, focused on me as I stormed out of the prison. I didn't have time for this. I liked him, he was a great guy, but right now he was a nuisance potentially wasting my time. "It's fine, Drew. I've got it handled."

"No you don't," he insisted. "Somebody's trying to

kill

you, Lex. Los Cuatro Jinetes. That's that cartel, isn't it?"

"Not for long..." I muttered.

"What does that even...? Alright, so Andras was with the Jinetes, but he was just a chump frontman that dealt with the cops for them. Locking him up, doing all that shit to him, that's nothing compared to now. This is one of their leaders."

"I'm aware, Drew."

"Y'know, I talk and I talk, and I just don't think you listen."

"That's because you never stop talking!"

We stopped in the parking lot, with him watching me and me trying not to have a migraine. I fixed my gaze on the ground, going over all the details. With how cagey Muerte likely was, I doubted my men on the ground would get any intel on him. I could try to start a war between the Jinetes and another gang, though that ran the risk of collateral damage, and it would only buy time instead of acting as a final solution. Not to mention the possibility of Muerte having me killed anyway in the chaos. The authorities had nothing on him so they wouldn't even know where to start, and asking for a security detail would likewise only buy some time.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled. "I didn't mean that."

"I know." After a pause, Drew pulled me into a hug, and I rested my forehead against his chest. "Do you have a plan?"

"Lexi always has a plan," I lied.

If I just cut and ran, I'd lose the club while also leaving my friends, risking their safety to the Jinetes. Telling them all to run with me was both unfair and unlikely. I could ask Charles for help--

Hell no. He might've even been the one who ordered the hit.

It wasn't Charles. He had nothing to gain by doing so, and it would render his plan of marrying me to August moot. But either way, there was no way I was asking him for help. Yeah, I staked my pride on my life. Nobody's perfect.

No, it wasn't Charles. I had a few enemies, but based on the timing, it had to be Barnes.

"So... what

is

the plan?" Drew asked as I pulled away from him and continued on to my car. A plan

was

forming. It was half-baked, but we work with the tools and time we're given.

"Parley."

--

It took longer than I'd liked talking Drew out of my car. He wanted to see Taboo behind the scenes, and I was nowhere near ready for that. Besides, I didn't want him getting in the way of any plans I had.

August's call came as I was walking down the corridor to my office. "Please tell me you found something."

"Nothing," he said grimly. It stopped me in place at my door as I felt myself begin to panic again. No, trust the plan. Even that traitor Alain believed in me. "We've got files on Pestilencia, Guerra, and Hambruna. A lot, actually, on each. But like absolutely zilch on Muerte. As if nobody had ever looked into him."

"How is that possible?" I growled. "It's the

Four

Horsemen."

"I know, right? Your turn."

"Muerte's gunning for me. I don't know what this face-to-face thing is. Maybe professional courtesy before the games begin. Probably wants to see my rack for himself," I chuckled.

"Lexi, seriously. This isn't a game--"

"Everything is a game," I stated. "You just need to know the rules well enough to break them in a way you don't get in trouble."

He sighed. "That's what I told you."

"You've literally never said that to me. When would you have said that, Boy Scout?"

There was a pause, and I could practically see him frowning. "Coulda sworn... Anyway. So what are you gonna do?"

"I think I know who put Muerte up to this. Senator William Barnes and I had some pretty mercenary negotiations, and I might've poked the hornets' nest with my leverage." I sighed as I leaned back in my chair. "Turns out he's not as smart as I thought. Cunning enough, though. But honestly, I'll never understand. Why have enemies when you could have friends?"

"You're seriously messing around with senators?" he groaned.

"Gotta get that lobby money. The club doesn't pay for itself and the corners I need to cover."

"And you wonder why he ordered a hit on you. Alright, what's the plan?"

"Don't freak out, okay?"

"I love plans that come with disclaimers."

"I was thinking we could go see a movie."

There was silence on his end, and I almost laughed picturing what was going through his mind. When he finally spoke, he said, "You want to draw his men out so that when they attack you, you have a SWAT member with you."

"Great guess, but no."

"You're trying to determine if somebody's tailing you."

"Another great guess, but no."

"You're trying to manipulate me into getting my commander and team to help you deal with Muerte."

"Man, you're on a roll. But still no."

"Damn, then I've got nothing. What the hell are you doing, Lexi?"

"Don't worry, it's gonna work."

"Right now?" he asked incredulously.

"Right now."

He grumbled a bit, probably checking something. "Fine, I'll figure something out. I'll meet you at the theater. What are we watching?"

A soft smile spread across my face. "You know an actor called Draco?"

--

I was glad I wasn't very into pacing. I was nervous for a plethora of reasons, and I couldn't let August see in case he figured out any of them. He arrived after me, wearing a black button-down with his sleeves rolled up, paired with dark jeans. It was a look I very much enjoyed. It also just so happened to remind me of my cousin.

"Hey," he greeted. "So we're watching Rebel? Jesus, how many things has Draco been in the past two years? His career really took off."

"He deserves it, doesn't he?" I replied, looping my arm in his. He glanced down but made no comment, and we walked into the theater.

"I guess so. Pretty damn good actor. What's this movie about again?"

"He plays a patriot who switches sides and becomes a revolutionary. It shows how his beliefs changed over the course of... I think ten years? To the point where he would become a mole for the rebellion."

August was barely listening, warily looking around and assessing our surroundings. I walked us over to the popcorn stand and ordered some, patting his arm while the attendant filled a bucket.

"Hey. Relax. Just... enjoy the date," I murmured.

"Easy for you to say," he muttered back. "And this is a date now?"

"Do you not want it to be?"

He thought for a moment, then did another scan of the place before replying. "It'd be... nice, to have a real date finally. We really did everything backwards, didn't we?"

He grinned, and I couldn't help but follow suit. "If we actually started from the end, we'd already have a kid," I pointed out, and he laughed while shaking his head distastefully.

We found our seats and sat down, munching on popcorn as the movie started. Draco was in top form, playing the fresh-faced greenhorn recruited by the national intelligence agency to root out moles among their ranks. Naturally intuitive, observant, and clever, he managed to help his commander force the rebels' hand during a rescue mission. He even ingratiated himself with the enemy, wooing one of their agents in order to get closer to the man in charge. But as he watched the nationalists' methods, he began to waver. Injustice after injustice finally made him turn, and after climbing the ranks he was in the perfect position to become a high-value mole working for the rebellion.

I loved the whole thing. I had an affinity for spy films, likely because of what I did. Social positioning, rooting out secrets, it was all my bread and butter. My only caveat was that in the movies, it was so clean and predictable. Look at Senator Barnes. The idiot had spooked, and instead of just letting everything fade away, he had done something everybody was going to regret. It looked like, after I dealt with Muerte, I was going to have to use the Pigeon after all. But first things first.

"You look like you liked it," August commented as the credits started rolling.

I smirked. "Very much so. What 'bout you?"

He nodded contemplatively. "Surprisingly realistic. People getting fucked over on the back of bad intel."

I winced. Poor taste to bring a soldier to a war movie, wasn't it? He looked like he was okay, but it sounded like I might have dredged up bad memories. "I'm sorry. Should I have picked something else?"

He chuckled and shook his head, moving to stand. We continued talking as we exited. "Nah, it's not like that. It was a pretty accurate portrayal of what it's like out there, and I think that's a good thing. None of that 'guns and glory' stuff. Draco's character Nathan didn't want to fight, throughout the whole thing. Bit of an idealist at the beginning, but that's to be expected. Afterwards, for him, it was all about doing the most good with the least number of casualties, on both sides. I wish more people in war were like that," he finished quietly.

"Anything we can do to achieve that?" He was baring himself, and it only made all this harder. I was having second thoughts about my plan, but decided that ultimately this was the best course of action.

"Absolutely nothing," he murmured. "As long as we are human, we will always fight. Think about it. We fight against something as inevitable as death. Why

wouldn't

we fight each other?" He glanced at me then chuckled. "Sorry. I don't mean to drag the date down--"

"It's alright. I..." I gulped. "I like seeing this side of you."

"And I like seeing this side of you. You're not often this open." I swallowed. "You're usually so guarded, deflecting with sarcasm and stuff. Are you sick or something?"

I laughed, then weaved my fingers with his. "I just want to enjoy this."

"Oh no. It's cancer. You're terminal." His delivery was so grave, and it made me laugh harder.

"Did you forget the hit ordered on me?" I chuckled, and he rolled his eyes.

"As if I would let anything happen to you."

I pressed myself against him, hands on his chest while looking up at him. "My hero."

"Yeah, yeah. So what's our next step?"

All business, this guy. I was genuinely disappointed, but I understood. He wanted to set aside a moment of leisure to make sure I was safe. Bless his heart.

"Could you drive me home?" I asked. My voice had almost broken; stupid emotions were bubbling up.

He hesitated, and I could see him wondering if I was ending the date so early -- without having dinner together, for example -- or if part of my plan actually involved going home. He answered with a simple "Sure."

He walked me over to his car and we got in. It was a Honda Civic, and an old one at that. Public servants really were paid shit all. He didn't press for any more details on the way home, probably settling for waiting to see when I deemed the time was right. God, he was making this so hard.

I led him inside and to my bedroom, and I could see he expected for us to hop onto my computer so I could show him something. Oh, I was gonna show him something, alright. I slipped the straps of my dress off my shoulders, and he froze.

"Lexi," he managed, averting his eyes. "It's not even six yet."

"So what? Do you feel like doing it in daylight? My curtains are shut. Would music help?"

"It's not that," he stammered. "Just... Jesus, I don't even--" Suddenly he met my eyes, his expression suspicious. "Why does this feel like goodbye?" He was angry, angry that I would leave him behind. My heart thundered in my chest. "Nothing's going to happen to you. I'll make sure of it."

"I know." I began slipping my dress down, exposing my bra-clad breasts. "So until then..."

"Why are you doing this." It was more like a statement. He knew I wouldn't answer. The dress slipped to my ankles, and I turned one of my knees inward, accentuating my figure. I used one of my hands to pull my other arm close, and his frown twitched with sadness. I was preying on his protective nature by appearing vulnerable and he knew it. His will faltered and his gaze swept over me, anointing him with temptation.

"Just... Please."

His breath hitched, and he looked mournful. "Damn you," he whispered, then strode forward and swept me into his arms. We kissed tenderly, his lips yielding and gentle. He clutched me to his body, one hand cradling my neck as he walked me to the bed. Laying me back slowly, he started a trail of kisses along my collarbone. I began unbuttoning his shirt, made harder as he moved down my body. Burying his face in my breasts, I felt his lips nip at the soft flesh and I gasped, arching up into him. His hands glided up my back, fingers expertly unclasping the garment that separated him from his goal.

More kisses followed as he lingered in my cleavage before he continued south. He seemed to savor my midriff, because he spared nothing as he laid kisses all across my abdomen. I shivered as he reached my groin, and when he pressed his nose against my nub, it made my toes curl. I lifted my hips, and he pulled my panties off with agonizing slowness. I could feel his breath on me, and my legs spread for him on their own.

He rumbled with appreciation before delving into me, and I groaned while grabbing fistfuls of my bedsheets. He certainly knew what he was doing, for it was as if he had already mapped out all my sensitive spots. In embarrassingly record time, my legs were trembling as I crested over a rolling wave of pleasure. My head lifted off the bed as I curled up a bit, breath shuddering as spasms pulsed through me. When it was over, I laid there while he undressed, still left wanting. He pulled a layer of protection over himself before climbing over me, positioned and ready. A hand cupped my face. And the way he looked at me... I saw Jordan all over again. Christ, he loved me. Christ, did I love him? It was too soon, but why else was I doing all this?

I kissed him as he entered me, my fist balling in his hair and pulling him close. As soon as he was all the way in, I wrapped my legs around him, and he began moving. Like the first time, I could feel everything. My sensitivity was too much, and I clenched down on him as sparks flashed behind my eyes again. I was left gasping again, and he resumed his thrusts. This was too close. I was going to cry if it kept on like this.

Taking one of his hands in mine, I placed it around my neck and wrapped his fingers around it. He complied and began squeezing gently. After all the stress I'd experienced earlier, it was a relief to hand control over to somebody. I was safe in his hands; that was the truth. But hard truths cut both ways.

His grip intensified along with his thrusts, and I looked up at him meekly. And my hunch was correct: it would push him over the edge. "Yes," I whispered.

"God..." he groaned, drunk on pleasure. I could feel the tip of the condom fill with his warmth, and I got caught up in bliss again.

"Yes... Give it to me, Jordan..."

In that moment, everything stopped. His eyes snapped open, cold and accusing. "What did you just say?"

"I--"

He pushed up away from me, glaring at me at arm's length. "What did you just call me?"

"August, I--" I stammered.

He looked more hurt than angry. As if that was any better. August pulled out of me and stood, backing away toward his clothes. "Who the hell is Jordan?" His voice was trembling, and I couldn't tell what from. God damn it, how could I have done this? "You know what? Doesn't matter." He scooped up his clothes and stared at them sadly, his fist clenched so hard around them that veins were standing out. "How could I be so stupid."

I couldn't even say anything as he walked out of my room. Possibly out of my life. I finally noticed the tears running down my face, and drew the blanket around me. Fuck, why did I do that?

Why?

Why?

Why?

"I know why I did it."

By the time I uttered the words, it was almost nine. My eyes were dry and aching, and I felt a dullness through my whole being. Maybe I really did love August. Was it because we got along? Because he was a good man? Flimsy. Unlikely. I didn't know. Either way, everything was ready.

I picked up my phone and dialed. The glass of my phone was cold on my face. Like my heart. Too much angst, not enough results.

"Alain. Arrange the meet."