Razor: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance(57)

Garbed in costume, the entire town seemed to be out on the streets celebrating, making for a festive atmosphere that almost made me forget about the predicament we were in.

The day couldn’t have been better for it either, hot with clear, vivid blue skies.

I probably would have been enjoying myself a lot more if it wasn’t hot as f*cking hell. So hot that I was practically dripping sweat from body parts I dare not mention.

It wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't for all the crowds of people and the ridiculous SAW mask Mason was forcing me to wear.

Luckily, he’d informed me that I didn't have to wear the damn thing much longer — just until we made it to the meeting place Mason's hacker buddy had set up for us.

"We'll meet them first, let ‘em know that we're here, and then go enjoy the faire," he had said once we arrived in the border city.

Apparently, Los Santos had a black market filled with people who were willing to smuggle people in and out of the U.S. all the time — for a sizable fee.

When I asked Mason how much it was going to cost, he wouldn't say. I figured it was another one of 'those' things that he simply wouldn't discuss.

“This thing is itching like crazy,” I complained, scratching at the skin under my mask as we weaved our way through a crowd of chattering people. I hated wearing the stupid Mask in the blistering heat, but I was doing it to make Mason happy. Besides, he was just trying to be safe and take every precaution, so I couldn't blame him. “I might scratch my face off, if it doesn’t melt first.”

Mason eyed me through his mask and I could see the amusement in his eyes, though I couldn't see his smile. “Oh stop it. You look so damn cute with that on."

"You really think this shit is funny, don’t you?" I snorted, rolling my eyes. "I look like a f*cking moron, you mean. Do you see what these other people are wearing?" I said, gesturing at the people milling about around us. "We look like we’re auditioning for a horror movie — a fricken D-list one at that."

Mason said people dressed up in all kinds of costumes for the faire, but these people were mostly dressed in a more festive manner with a lot of the costumes being colorful and bright.

Mason laughed. "Lighten up, C. You'll be able to take it off in a little while when we reach our destination."

I scowled at him. "Don't call me that."

"What?"

"Don't call me 'C'. Don't reduce me to a single letter." Mason had never called me that before, and it was lame. I'm sure he was just trying to be funny.

"Alright, alright," he laughed. "You know I was just playing. Lighten up, will ya? We’re already in a depressing enough situation as it is, and it won’t help matters if you’re pissed off."

"Sorry, but I'm not amused," I said flatly.

"But damn you're sexy when you're mad, especially with that mask on."

I flushed. It was funny how easily Mason could take my anger away with a compliment.

"Whatever."

We continued on, sluggishly moving through the crowds and viewing the sights. There were all sorts of activities and food vendors lined up throughout the area and street performers of every type.

We'd made it several blocks before I saw something that made my mouth instantly go dry.

The Police.

And a lot of them.

Though I knew it was protocol for law enforcement to attend such events to ensure public safety, just the sight made my heart pound in my chest.

"Mason," I whispered fearfully.

Mason glanced over at me as we avoided a crowd of people watching a juggling clown. "What?"

I nodded up the street. "Do you see all those men in uniform?"

He followed my nod. "Yeah, so?"

I swallowed. "What if they see us?"

"That's why we're wearing these masks," Mason said. “We don’t look any different than anyone else — just a young couple enjoying the festivities.”

It was hard to shake my sudden anxiety and share Mason’s optimism. "But what if they come up to us and demand we take them off?"

"Seriously? And you said I was the paranoid one."

"I don't like this at all," I said, my voice tinged with panic, my breathing ragged. I was seriously starting to sweat even more and the crowds were starting to make me dizzy with anxiety.

"Look Carly,” Mason whispered in my ear. “They're not going to come up to us. We’ll be just fine — if you stop acting like something is wrong."

I tried to heed his words, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong.

My anxiety only grew stronger with each step we took, and I only made it to the next block before I tugged on his arm with urgency.

Mason stared at me, concern in his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I c-c-can't do this,” I rasped, shaking my head. "The crowds, this stupid mask, the heat, those policeman . . .”

"Fuck," Mason muttered. He stared at me, assessing my condition. "Let's get you cool and maybe something to drink,” he decided. “I'll let you rest and pull yourself together before heading to the meeting. Okay?"

"Okay," I agreed, feeling relieved.