“Hey, sweetheart.” Mason kissed her cheek, smiling when Nash came out to greet him with a hug and pat on the back. “Hey, Nash.”

  Nash’s expression turned somber, his voice quiet so as not to be overheard by Lucky, who was deep in conversation with King across the room. “I’m really sorry about that mess with Oscar. I’m not excusing his behavior, but he’s not had a great run with guys lately, and I think he sort of set his heart on you, not realizing your heart was set on someone else. He feels awful about the night at the club and wants to make it up to you and Lucky.”

  “How’s Lucky feel about that?”

  Nash pulled Bibi to his side and kissed the top of her head. “He’s being very magnanimous, which is good for all parties involved. Must be your influence, Cowboy.”

  Mason shook his head. “No, sir. If anyone’s a good influence on anyone, it’s him on me.” He laughed when Nash squinted at him.

  “Did you lose a bet? Is that what’s got you spouting nonsense?”

  “Speaking of bets,” Bibi chimed in cheerfully, dramatically sweeping her arms toward the big blackboard behind the counter. “May I direct your attention to the board.”

  Mason let out a bark of laughter when Nash let his head hang in defeat. “Aw, I’m sorry, Nash,” Mason said, patting his back. “Looks like you’ve been defeated.”

  Bibi scoffed. “Defeated? More like annihilated.”

  Poor Nash. Looked like his winning streak was finally over.

  “Wow.” Mason let out a whistle as he looked at the scores. “She’s kicked your ass something fierce, huh?”

  “That’s what I get for betting on a freaking wedding,” Nash grumbled.

  “Wedding?” Mason asked, puzzled.

  “My cousin’s wedding,” Lucky said, stepping up beside Mason, his smile wide. “Quinn and Spencer were supposed to be getting married this month, but they postponed it because Quinn was hurt on the job.”

  “Shit. He okay?” Mason asked. Lucky didn’t look worried, so he was going to guess the answer to that was yes.

  “He is. It was more of a close call. He was knocked out, but other than a few hours in the hospital, he was fine. Spencer, he was not so fine. He worries for Quinn. They decided to postpone the wedding until February. Quinn is giving Spencer a Valentine’s Day wedding.”

  “Which was one of the bets I lost,” Nash said with a huff. “I thought they were going to have a winter wedding.”

  “Nah.” Bibi waved a hand in dismissal. “Quinn’s too much of a romantic sap, especially when it comes to Spencer.”

  Lucky nodded. “It’s true. They are very sweet together. I think maybe Quinn is thinking of retiring. The job down there is getting very dangerous. Oh, I was going to ask you if you would like to come to the wedding with me?”

  Mason’s smile couldn’t get any bigger. “You bet.”

  “Okay.” Lucky returned his grin as Bibi sighed dreamily.

  “Aw, you two are so cute. Also, I won that bet.”

  Lucky rolled his eyes. “You two need to find another hobby that isn’t betting on the Kings.”

  “But it’s so much fun,” Bibi whined.

  Nash crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s because you’re winning.”

  “Okay, we need to go. You ready, Cowboy? We have a pretty long drive to Palm Beach. I had Bibi make us some sandwiches and café con leche to go.” He narrowed his eyes as Bibi handed Mason a large brown paper bag. “Let me guess, you had toast for breakfast and your burnt-bean water.”

  Mason chuckled. “You know me too well, darlin’.”

  Lucky rolled his eyes and muttered something in Spanish under his breath before thanking Nash for the two large coffees. They said their goodbyes, Lucky told King they’d see him when they got to the hotel in Palm Beach, and they headed out to Mason’s truck. Lucky climbed in, placed their coffees in the cupholders, then chucked his duffel bag in the back seat. He took the bag of sandwiches before Mason ran around to the driver’s side and slid in behind the wheel. Good food, good coffee, and a good man at his side. What a great way to start the day.

  Mason buckled up as Lucky picked up his coffee, his lips pulling down into a frown when he dropped his gaze to the cupholder.

  “What’s this?”

  Mason clicked his seat belt into place. “Oh, I found that in my apartment.”

  “Um, okay.” Lucky looked puzzled.

  “What?”

  “Didn’t know you knew any Marines.”

  What the hell was Lucky on about? “I don’t know any Marines.”

  Lucky held the coin up to Mason. “This is a Marines challenge coin.”

  “Wait, I thought it was yours.”

  “No.” Lucky reached into his pocket and pulled out another coin. “This is mine.” He showed it to Mason. “See? United States Army. Special Forces.”

  “Who the hell does this belong to, then? And how did it get in my apartment?”

  Lucky’s brows furrowed as he studied the coin. “This is not something someone would just leave lying around. You said you found it inside your apartment?”

  “Yeah. By the door. You know, I’ve been getting this weird feeling lately.”

  Lucky’s head shot up. “Weird? Weird how?”

  “I don’t know. Like something’s been off. I’ve felt it a couple of times in my apartment, then our hotel room in Orlando, and a couple of other places, but there’s nothing. I mean, I would’ve known if someone broke into my place. The first night I felt it, I checked the whole apartment, and nothing.”

  “You wouldn’t know if I broke in. Or King, or Ace. We were trained to get into places undetected.”

  “What, then? You think a Marine broke into my apartment? That they’ve been following me around?”

  “I don’t know anything other than you found a challenge coin inside your apartment, and your instincts have been trying to tell you something. Fuck’s sake, Mason, why didn’t you say something? You’re a detective. If your gut is telling you something is not right, you need to listen.”

  “I’m sorry, I just didn’t think it was related. I mean my life’s been pretty fucking off for weeks. When I checked my apartment, nothing was stolen or out of place. No one rifled through my drawers. I mean, my place is a tiny shithole. You’d notice if someone touched or moved something.”

  “Maybe this isn’t about you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t know any Marines. Maybe this is about the Kings. Hold on.” Lucky undid his seat belt and got out of the car. Mason followed, his brows drawn together as Lucky started inspecting the truck.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for something.”

  “For what?”

  “For anything that shouldn’t be there.” Lucky sat on the ground, lay down, and disappeared under the truck. He cursed under his breath, and when he dragged himself out, he had something small and black in his palm.

  “Shit. Is that what I think it is?”

  “A tracker.”

  Just as he said the words, King came out of Bibi’s, his expression concerned. “What’s going on?”

  Lucky turned to King and showed him the tracker he’d pulled out from under Mason’s truck before apprising him of the situation. King’s jaw muscles tightened as he checked the device over. He handed it back to Lucky.

  “Put it back where you found it.”

  Mason arched an eyebrow at that. “Someone’s been trailing me, and you just want them to keep on doing it?”

  “We’ll get Jack to have a look at it when you get to Palm Beach, but in the meantime, we don’t want whoever planted it there to suspect you know about it. We’ll have a better chance of finding who it belongs to that way. Ace is on his way to pick me up and drive us down to Palm Beach, so I’ll do some poking around on the ride over and let you know what I come up with.”

  “Okay. Shit. I don’t get it. If this is about you fellas, why would someone be following me? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Maybe they are trying to get to me through you,” Lucky said, looking thoughtful. “We have been spending most of our time together, so it makes sense.”

  “Who’d you piss off?” Mason teased.

  Lucky let out a snort. “An easier question would be who didn’t I piss off?”

  King shook his head before meeting Mason’s gaze. “We can’t rule out that you’re the intended target. Just because you don’t know anyone in the military other than us, doesn’t mean whoever this is wasn’t hired by someone to keep an eye on you or track you down. You know anyone who might be looking for you?”

  Mason let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah. My folks.” He was grateful when King didn’t ask why his family didn’t know where he lived or why he clearly didn’t want them knowing.

  “Would your parents go as far as hiring someone to find you?”

  Mason nodded. If his father wanted it bad enough, there was nothing he wouldn’t do to track Mason down. And here he’d thought maybe they’d realized he didn’t want to be found and had given up.

  “Okay. Head to the hotel, and we’ll see what we come up with. If anything out of the ordinary happens, I want to know about it.”

  They thanked King and got back in the truck, the truck plunged in silence until they got on I-95.

  “Do you think it’s your father?” Lucky asked. “You said he has money, so he could hire someone experienced to find you.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that, but the guy clearly found me, so why hang around? Why not just call my folks and tell them where I am? That coin wasn’t there last time I was at my apartment. It’s been weeks. Why wait?”

  Lucky released a heavy sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just hoping it is your parents.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because the alternative is not so good.”

  Lucky had a point. With a grunt, Mason motioned to the radio. “Put some music on, will ya? I’ll drive myself crazy thinking about this, and there ain’t nothing I can do about it right now.”

  “Sure.” Lucky turned on the radio and snorted at the country music that flooded the car. “Really?”

  “What? Come on, darlin’, who doesn’t love a little Blake Shelton?” Mason started singing “Sure Be Cool If You Did” to Lucky, and Lucky threw his head back and laughed. He snickered, then appeared to be listening to the lyrics, his smile turning soft, and his eyes filling with affection. Mason reached out and laced their fingers together, his heart swelling when Lucky squeezed his hand and left his hand in Mason’s. Mason sang along, aware of Lucky tapping his hand to the beat. When Lucky had enough of sappy love songs, he changed the station, and they both sang along to everything from classic rock to Latin pop songs. Well, Lucky sang along to the Latin pop songs, and Mason tried to make sense of the lyrics, making out bits about falling in love, dancing, and music. There were a couple of lyrics in English, which he understood.

  “How do you do that?” Mason asked, keeping his focus on the highway, but seeing Lucky from the corner of his eye.

  “Do what?”

  “Dance like that?”

  Lucky was moving his upper body, but it was smooth liquid. Boneless.

  “I don’t know. I’ve been dancing since I can remember. I feel the music, and my body responds, and we know how good my body is at responding,” Lucky purred.

  “Christ.” Mason shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “When we get there, how long do we have before we report to King?”

  Lucky chuckled. “About three hours or so?”

  “Okay, good.”

  “That so? You have something in mind, Cowboy?”

  Mason waggled his eyebrows. “Oh yeah.”

  The trip to Palm Beach took a little over three and a half hours, and the hotel Jay booked for everyone was just five-minutes down the road from the shindig at the exclusive members-only yacht club they’d be providing security for. No one batted an eye when Lucky informed Jay he and Mason were sharing a room. King roomed on his own, which wasn’t a surprise to Mason, and Ace—who normally shared with Lucky—roomed with Red, while Jack and Joker roomed together like they always did.

  As soon as they arrived at the hotel, Mason handed his keys over to the valet attendant, grabbed their bags, and headed inside. Thanks to early check-in, they were in their room in record time, and the second Lucky closed the door, Mason pounced.

  Lucky laughed as Mason grabbed him, pulled him hard against him, and nipped at his neck. When he kissed Lucky, their playful mood quickly descended into scorching need. They clawed at each other’s clothes until they were naked and panting. Lucky stopped trying to consume Mason long enough to grab lube, and then he was all over Mason again, fingers tugging at Mason’s hair as they fumbled their way over to the bed. Lucky shoved Mason, and he fell back onto the mattress. With a wicked smile, Mason rolled onto his stomach, and got onto his hands and knees, his ass on offer.

  “I think it’s time your cowboy rode you, darlin’.”

  “Oh fuck.” Lucky didn’t bother asking if Mason was sure, and that sent a shiver of pleasure through Mason. If he hadn’t wanted it, he wouldn’t have offered, and Lucky knew that, knew him.

  Lucky climbed onto the bed behind Mason, and he trembled at the feel of Lucky’s lube-slicked finger pressed to his hole. His muscles tightened, and he grabbed fistfuls of the duvet as Lucky folded over him, his weight on Mason both comforting and arousing. Mason closed his eyes, allowing himself to be swept away in the maelstrom that was the man he loved. Lucky trailed scorching kisses up Mason’s back as he breached him while he reached around with his free hand and palmed Mason’s painfully hard leaking cock. A low groan escaped Mason as Lucky stretched him, first with one finger then two, his strokes on Mason’s dick matching the rhythm of his fingers as he fucked his hole. By the time he added a third finger, Mason was ready to come apart. Sweat dripped down the side of his brow, and he let out a growl.

  “Darlin’, I really need you to fuck me.”

  Lucky took hold of his chin, and turned his face to kiss the breath out of Mason. He gasped for air, and Lucky moved in behind him. Looking over his shoulder, Mason shuddered at the sight of Lucky lining himself up. His skin was flushed as he pushed the head of his cock inside Mason, and Mason let out a string of curses.

  “Fuck, that burns so good,” Mason breathed.

  “You ready for this ride, Cowboy?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  Lucky sank down to the root, his thighs pressed to the back of Mason’s, and it felt amazing. He was so damned full. Then Lucky started moving, and Mason was a hot mess.

  “Oh fuck. Fuck, yes.” Mason groaned long and deep as Lucky dug his fingers into Mason’s hips. “That’s it, baby. Let me feel you.”

  Lucky took Mason’s words as a personal challenge, and snapped his hips forward, burying himself deep and hard inside Mason. With every thrust, Mason urged Lucky on, begging for harder and deeper. The sound of their skin smacking together filled the room along with Mason’s filthy encouragement, not that Lucky needed it. His man was the very picture of ecstasy, his plump lips parted, and his brows furrowed as he pounded into Mason.

  “Fuck, Mason, I’m gonna come.”

  “Fill me up, darlin’. I want to feel your come drip out of me.”

  Lucky’s thrusts turned frantic as he drove himself inside Mason over and over, his movements wild. As Mason pumped his own cock, his orgasm exploded through him when Lucky slammed his hips into him, Lucky’s hot come filling Mason. Lucky cried out, his curses in both English and Spanish as he fucked Mason through their release. Mason’s arm gave out, and he collapsed on the bed, Lucky sprawled on his back. He didn’t even care that he was lying on his own come. He couldn’t move, and not because of Lucky’s weight on him.

  The sound of the air conditioner kicking on accompanied their panting, and Mason smiled at Lucky stroking his hair, his cheek pressed to Mason’s back. He let out a contented sigh, and Lucky placed a kiss to his shoulder in response. A hiss escaped Lucky as he pulled out of Mason, but neither of them dared move.

  “We should shower,” Lucky murmured, but he didn’t budge.

  Mason hummed, content to stay where he was, Lucky sprawled over him. God, he was so in love with this man. It was a little terrifying. Lucky hadn’t said the words, but Mason felt it in Lucky’s tenderness, in the way he caressed Mason’s side, left sweet kisses on his skin, or murmured lovingly in Spanish. Mason couldn’t understand a good deal of it, but he got the most important bits, like “Mi amor,” “Cariño,” “Mi corazón.” My love, darling, my heart.

  Eventually they got up and showered, where Mason made love to Lucky all over again because he couldn’t get enough of Lucky. Like they were making up for lost time. Then they had to get to work.

  As soon as they arrived at their meeting with the rest of the Kings, Jack and Joker, Lucky handed the tracker over to Jack.

  “It’s not high-end stuff, but not something you can order off Amazon,” Jack replied, inspecting the tiny device. “I’ll look into it.”

  Unfortunately, Jack wouldn’t be able to really delve into it until after they were done working the case. King did some digging and confirmed Mason’s father had indeed hired someone to track Mason down, but the private investigator did not possess a military background. That wasn’t to say it couldn’t be the same guy; the presence of the coin was odd. When they returned to St. Augustine and Kings headquarters, King would do some more digging, which Mason appreciated. Mason also intended to investigate as soon as he was back at his desk on Monday. For now, he’d concentrate on the job before him.

  One of the top executives of a large Fortune 500 company was having a huge anniversary shindig with several hundred guests in attendance, folks who didn’t blink at shelling out thousands of dollars a year to park their big fancy boats at the club marina. It was all caviar and dinner jackets. There’d been a mix-up with the security company the client originally hired, leaving the company double booked and the client without security. Pulling a few strings, the client managed to personally get a last-minute contract with the Kings. Considering all the Kings’ personnel on site doing a risk assessment and putting together a battle plan, Mason would hazard a guess the client wasn’t sweating the cost.