“Are you kidding me? How—”

  Lucky tapped his earpiece. “Everyone, move in. Proceed with caution. The man who just entered the building may not be Angelo Ruiz.” He had no idea how the thief planned on getting past the retina scan, but Lucky wasn’t about to wait around to find out. He snatched the tablet off the console and shoved it into one of the deep pockets of his black combat pants. “Stay close.”

  “Yeah, I’ve done this before, hotshot.”

  “Good. Then you know not to take stupid risks.” Lucky hurried to the door of the truck, threw it open, and jumped over the stairs. He hit the ground running, Mason on his heels. They joined the armed security team, and Lucky nodded to Johnson, who motioned for some of his agents to cover the exits of the building. He swiped his key card to get them into the lobby. With Glock in hand, Lucky waited for the team to go in first. Johnson motioned for half the team to take the stairs while the others took the elevator with him. Lucky signaled that he and Mason would take the emergency stairwell.

  Reaching the door to the emergency exit, Lucky removed his tablet, entered his credentials, and turned off the alarm just to the lobby door. He didn’t want to turn off all the alarms and alert Dirk—or whoever the hell it was—to their presence. With that done, he returned the tablet to his pockets, and gun at the ready, they hurried up the stairs. Lucky had a sneaking suspicion their thief wasn’t going to walk out the front door with the box.

  They’d reached the ninth floor when Lucky heard a click. He put his fist up, motioning for Mason to stop. Gingerly, Lucky approached the railing. Safety off, he leaned over to look up. A bullet pinged against the steel rail, and he darted back. Mason grabbed his arm.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” Lucky tapped his earpiece as a door slammed somewhere above them. “He’s on the tenth floor. Be careful. He’s armed.” He took off, Mason right behind him. Lucky took the left side of the door and motioned for Mason to take the right. When he nodded, Mason grabbed hold of the door handle and opened it. No bullets flew through, so Lucky peeked inside. The floor appeared deserted, but he knew better than that. He motioned for Mason to follow, and they both took cover behind one of the desks. A door opened, and Lucky sneaked a glance, relieved to see it was the security team. They fanned out, concealing themselves behind office furniture and equipment. Johnson’s voice came through Lucky’s earpiece.

  “The authorities are en route.”

  With a quick thanks, Lucky removed his tablet from his pocket and brought up the building’s security feeds, logging into the tenth floor. “Well, hello, Mr. Not-Ruiz,” Lucky whispered at the video of their thief. “He’s in the men’s room.” Lucky frowned. “He’s trying to get to the window.”

  “That’s crazy. We’re on the tenth floor. What the hell’s he planning to do? Jump?”

  The hairs on the back of Lucky’s neck stood on end, and he tapped away at his tablet, his eyes going wide when he saw the open dumpster conveniently located beneath the bathroom window. It looked like it was filled with some kind of foam or padding. “Shit. He’s tossing it out the window!” Lucky took off toward the men’s room, slammed through the door, and launched himself at the thief, who’d been balancing on the garbage can, giving Lucky enough time to tackle him, but not before the man tossed the box out the window.

  They hit the tiled floor hard, and the thief kneed Lucky in his ribs. Thankfully, his vest cushioned the blow, leaving him free to block a right hook aimed at his head. He slammed the man’s hand into the floor, making him cry out, his gun toppling out of his grip. Lucky punched the guy in the face, cringing when part of his face melted.

  “What the fuck?”

  Mason joined them, his gun aimed at their thief. “Don’t move!” Tilting his head, Mason scrunched up his nose. “What did you do to his face? That’s not… that ain’t right.”

  As the security team flooded into the bathroom, Lucky poked the guy’s cheek. “Wait, this is….” He tugged on the guy’s shirt collar, his eyes going wide. Taking hold of the seam, he pulled at the latex and peeled off the man’s face—or rather an exceptionally detailed mask.

  “Well, damn.” Mason let out a whistle as he helped Lucky roll the guy onto his stomach. “That is some Mission Impossible shit right there.”

  Once the zip ties were secure around the guy’s wrists, Lucky rolled him onto his back and smiled down at him. “Hello, Mr. Grant. That was very clever, you know? But now you will be going to jail.” He grabbed Dirk’s arm and stood, hauling the man up with him.

  Dirk’s grin was smug. “You’re too late. The box has been delivered.”

  “Oh, good. Then the employer you stole for will also be joining you in prison. Hey, maybe you’ll be cell buddies.”

  “What?” Dirk’s face went ashen. “What are you talking about?”

  “The only thing in that box worth any money is the tracking device hidden inside.” Lucky’s grin was all teeth. “Surprise!”

  Dirk shook his head in horror. “No. That’s not possible.”

  “I’m afraid it is. The prototype never existed.” Lucky booped the tip of Dirk’s nose. “Much like the chances of you getting away with your thieving.” He handed Dirk over to the police officers who swarmed the bathroom. Clapping a hand on Mason’s shoulder, Lucky motioned toward the door.

  “Let’s go, Cowboy. Now the real fun starts.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. I’m sure you’re very familiar with this particular procedure. It’s called filling out a shit ton of paperwork.”

  Mason groaned. “And here I thought it was all fun and games with you Kings.”

  Lucky’s laughter echoed through the empty office floor as they headed for the elevator. “You’re adorable.”

  “That’s what I keep telling you,” Mason teased. “But you didn’t want to listen.”

  “Ass.” Lucky chuckled. He thanked the team waiting outside and told them to have a good night. He was very pleased with how this whole evening had gone.

  “What about the box?” Mason asked. “Who’s tracking it?”

  “A second team.” Lucky removed his tablet from his pocket, logged in, and accessed the secure feed with the tracking information for the device inside the prototype box. He showed it to Mason. “The red dot is the box. The green dot is our team, who is in communication with the police. The moment the team gives the word, the police will move in, and from the direction they’re heading, my guess is they’re going straight to the rival company. Someone is in for a very bad night.”

  A couple of police officers approached, along with the real Angelo Ruiz, who was looking a little beat-up. Apparently, Dirk thought the best way to get the prototype was to kidnap Angelo, which would explain how Dirk had managed to get past the retina scan. He and his accomplice used high-tech software to scan Angelo’s retina on Dirk’s phone, which could then be displayed for scanning at the safe room. Angelo had no idea who’d kidnapped him, but once Dirk had the box, he’d given the all-clear to his partner, and Angelo had been released. The plan was to walk out with the box, drop it off in the bin, drive off, and show up to work the next day as if nothing had happened.

  Angelo held out his hand to Lucky, who took it. “Thank you so much, Mr. Morales. You and your team have helped save my company.”

  “We’re very glad we could help,” Lucky replied.

  Angelo shook Mason’s hand and thanked him before moving on to thank the rest of the team.

  Checking traffic, Lucky crossed the street. The sound of tires burning rubber caught his attention, and he turned in time to see an SUV with pitch-black tinted windows speeding down the street. Mason was almost to the sidewalk when the SUV made straight for him.

  “Mason!” Lucky launched himself at Mason, grabbing hold of his vest and throwing his weight into the maneuver, sending them soaring through the air. They hit the asphalt hard, Mason’s full weight landing on Lucky and knocking the wind out of him. The SUV careened around the corner and disappeared, followed by one of the police cars that had been parked outside the office building. Mason scrambled up, getting off Lucky, and gently cupping his face.

  “Fuck. Are you okay? Darlin’, talk to me.”

  “I’m okay,” Lucky wheezed, letting Mason help him sit up. He touched his temple and winced.

  “You’re hurt.”

  “It’s just a scrape,” Lucky promised. “I’m good.”

  Mason didn’t look convinced. He checked Lucky over to make sure before standing and helping him to his feet. The team came running, and Lucky held up a hand.

  “I’m okay. Johnson, I want to know if the police catch up with that asshole, and I want to know who they are.”

  “It was probably some drunk idiot,” Mason offered.

  “They could have killed you,” Lucky growled before turning his attention back to Johnson. “Keep me informed.”

  Johnson nodded and ran off.

  If the cops didn’t find the guy, their team would. The last thing Lucky wanted was to hear about that bastard running down some poor innocent person. Jesus, what if Lucky hadn’t gotten to Mason in time?

  “Everyone, go home.” Lucky headed to the truck with Mason at his side, his hand on Lucky’s shoulder, as if he was afraid of letting him out of his sight. As soon as they were in the truck, Mason pointed to one of the seats at the console.

  “Sit. I assume there’s a first aid kit or portable hospital in this rig?”

  Lucky snorted. “Do you really think Red would let us go anywhere without a kit he’s personally put together?” He pointed to one of the cabinets, and Mason shook his head in amusement when he saw what was inside.

  “You fellas really don’t do anything by halves. It’s like a mini ER in here.” He removed the duffel bag and unzipped it, then pulled out one of the small compact first aid kits. “What’s this?” He lifted a vintage-style tin of bandages. “Bravery Bandages?”

  Lucky snickered. “Yes. Red loves those things.” They were bandages that looked like military medals, each one with a cute saying like “I’ve Had Worse” or “Suffered Valiantly.”

  “It’s just a scratch,” Lucky repeated. “I’ve had much worse, believe me.”

  “I’m sure you have, soldier, but how about you let me fuss over you for a sec, huh?”

  Lucky held back a smile and nodded. If Mason wanted to fuss over him, so be it. It’s not like Lucky wasn’t used to being fussed over. He came from a Cuban family, after all. He sat very still, observing Mason’s every move as he pulled on gloves and brought over one of the disinfectant wipes. Standing over Lucky, Mason dabbed at Lucky’s temple.

  “Wow, didn’t even flinch at the sting. Bet you laugh in the face of paper cuts.”

  Lucky chuckled and did his best to ignore how close Mason was, how tender his touch. “Oh no, Cowboy. Paper cuts are serious business. You should see Joker when he gets one. You’d think he was about to lose a limb.”

  Mason’s laugh was soft and squeezed at Lucky’s heart. What would it be like to be with a man like Mason? To be important to him?

  “Hey.”

  The soft-spoken word made the butterflies in Lucky’s stomach flap wildly, but not as much as when Mason placed a sweet kiss on his lips. Their eyes met, and Mason’s smile stole Lucky’s breath away.

  “Thank you for saving my life, darlin’.”

  “You’re welcome.” Lucky’s words were no more than a whisper, but Mason heard him. He dropped his gaze to Lucky’s lips before leaning in for another kiss. Like a sucker, Lucky allowed it. Who was he kidding? He needed it. Parting his lips in invitation, Lucky welcomed Mason’s tongue inside his mouth. His lips were warm, soft, and tasted heavenly. Mason cupped Lucky’s jaw, deepening the kiss, but keeping it gentle, like he was determined to kill Lucky with tenderness. When Mason pulled back, Lucky’s heart was in his throat. Fuck, he was so beautiful. “We should go,” Lucky murmured, relieved when Mason smiled warmly at him.

  “Okay, darlin’. Vamos a casa.”

  Casa.

  Home.

  If Lucky wasn’t careful, he might just give into his temptation and ask Mason to come home with him, especially after the day they’d had. He needed to go home. Alone.

  Tomorrow everything would be different.

  Chapter 5

  Fuck, he was exhausted.

  Mason tossed his keys onto the small table by the door and headed for the kitchen but stopped halfway there when he got this odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something was… off, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Following his gut, he quickly but carefully checked his apartment. He went to his bedroom first, paused in the doorway and scanned the room. Checking his nightstand, he was relieved to find his personal Glock still secured in its locked box. Nothing looked out of place or missing. With the bedroom clear, he moved on to his bathroom, the hall closet, and from there headed back into the small dining area, living room, and kitchen. The whole process took only a few minutes. As a cop, he trusted his gut, but he could find nothing. No strange noises, no movements—everything exactly as he’d left it.

  It was most likely his head messing with him after the incident with the SUV. Holy shit, if Lucky hadn’t moved as fast as he had…. Shit. He couldn’t think about that. It was probably what had him on edge now. That and how tired he was. Why the hell was he so damned tired?

  That’s one hell of a dumb question.

  Other than spending most of the day sitting on his ass, there was the tiny matter of him fucking Lucky. As Mason walked into the middle of his tiny kitchen, it struck him—holy shit, he’d fucked Lucky. He rubbed his hands over his face. Not only had he had sex with Ace’s cousin, but Lucky was like a brother to King. King, who’d have his balls if he got so much as a hint of what Mason had done with Lucky while on the job. Technically they’d been on a break, but Mason had a feeling that wasn’t going to fly with King.

  “I’m a fucking dead man,” Mason groaned. He needed to eat something, shower, get into bed, and forget this whole mess even happened. Yeah, good luck with that, asshole.

  Never in his life had he been this damned turned around over a guy. Most of the time, he didn’t know whether he wanted to strangle Lucky or fuck him. Lately the urge to do the latter had been winning out, but he’d thought he had a handle on it. How wrong he’d been. It didn’t help that Lucky had a habit of ending up in his space, or that Mason loved it when he did. Bastard drove him up the fucking wall.

  Maybe he was overthinking things. For all he knew, he’d taken the first step in getting Eduardo Morales out of his system. Maybe now he could move on. This was good, right? For months they’d been flirting, the heat and sexual tension building between them, and they finally did something about it. It was explosive and hot as hell. This was it. Now things would go back to normal, or who knew? Maybe they were on their way to an actual friendship.

  Mason felt lighter at the thought. Lucky was probably feeling the same way. It had stung when Lucky brushed him off after they had sex, but Mason should be thanking him. Things were less complicated now. Of course, the second the thought entered his mind, he recalled their kiss at the end of the night. It had been sweet, tender, and the way Lucky had responded to him, opened up to him, had been incredible, not to mention surprising. He hadn’t known what to expect when he’d kissed Lucky. Best-case scenario, a rejection. Worst-case, a punch in the balls. He never knew with Lucky. Damn, but the man was beautiful with his fuckable pouting lips, long lashes, and those rich brown eyes that turned the color of whiskey when the light hit them right. He was all long legs with a spectacular ass and a toned athletic body Mason wanted to run his hands all over. Lucky was also complicated, and Mason tended to avoid complicated.

  His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten all day. Things had moved so quickly after the armored truck showed up that Mason had forgotten all about food. He removed a TV dinner from the freezer, smiling to himself at the thought of what Lucky would say about his dinner. His phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket. It was like he’d conjured Lucky up.

  “Hey, Lucky.”

  “Hi. I wanted to apologize.”

  “For what?” Mason tore open the frozen dinner box and poked holes in the film.

  “For not feeding you.”

  “It’s okay. I’m a big boy.” He popped his dinner into the microwave and set the timer.

  “Are you eating now?”

  “Yep. Heating dinner as we speak.”

  “What are you making?”

  “Um, I don’t think I want to tell you.”

  There was a pause before Lucky spoke up, his tone suspicious. “Why don’t you want to tell me?”

  Mason cringed. “Because I know you. You’re gonna get all indignant.”

  “I will if you don’t tell me.”

  “Frozen TV dinner.”

  Rustling noises were followed by muffled curses in both English and Spanish.

  “You okay?” Mason asked, holding back a laugh.

  Lucky let out a strangled noise that was probably supposed to be some kind of acknowledgment. He breathed heavily into the phone. “It’s okay. I’m okay. No judgment.”

  “Glad to hear that. I mean, I’m not entirely sure what the Salisbury steak is made of, but I’m sure the gravy will cover up any odd textures. The mash potatoes are looking a little translucent, but some butter should help with that.”

  “¡Madrecita mía, ayúdame con este hombre!”

  “It’s fine. There are also peas and carrots. No, wait, it’s mostly peas. Are carrots supposed to be black?”

  “Do not eat that!”

  “Well, it’s kinda late, and I’m really too tired to whip something up.”

  “Mason, do not eat whatever horror is in your microwave right now. Food is coming.”

  Mason blinked. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that? For a moment there, I thought you said food was coming.”

  “Yes. It’s very good food. You’ll like it. Do not tip the delivery guy, no matter what he says to you. Tell him I said to kiss my ass.”