The Second Life of Nick Mason (Nick Mason #1)(58)

“I just want you to know,” he said, “that all I ever wanted to do was to be with you every day. All I wanted to do was be your daddy.”

She thought about it for a while. “Did the jail have metal bars?”

Mason almost laughed. “Metal bars for the first four years,” he said. “Glass for the last year.”

“A glass jail cell? Weren’t they afraid it would get broken?”

He smiled again. “It was pretty thick glass.”

She looked up at her mother again. Then back to Mason. “I bet you’re glad you’re out of jail.”

He looked down at her. “I am.”

“We should go to bed,” Gina said.

Mason wiped his face. “Can I have a hug before I go?”

Gina hesitated but then let go of Adriana’s shoulder.

His daughter came to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Mason closed his eyes and rubbed her back.

Then Adriana let go.

He watched her turn around and walk up the stairs with her mother.

Mason watched her until she disappeared. The two men stood there in the entranceway. They didn’t say another word to each other. Brad nodded his head and that was all Mason needed. He went back out into the night.

He sat in the car for a while, still feeling his daughter’s arms around him. Then he wiped his face again and turned the key.

I’m ready, he said to himself. Whatever comes next, I’m ready.





28




Holding his daughter for the first time in five years had made Nick Mason more determined than ever to find a way out of this nightmare. It was the one thing giving him the strength to keep moving.

When he was near the city limits, his cell phone rang.

“Restaurant,” Quintero said. “Now.”

The call ended.

The restaurant meant one thing—Diana and the possibility that she was in as much danger as he was.

She’s just as connected to Cole as I am, Mason thought. Sandoval said as much himself.

But she has no idea who may be coming after her.

He gunned the Camaro down the expressway, crossed the Kinzie Street Bridge, and turned up Rush Street.

Quintero’s Escalade was waiting in the parking lot. The driver’s-side window slid down as Mason pulled in next to the SUV and got out.

“Where is she?” Mason asked.

“She’s safe,” Quintero said. “Inside, working. Don’t worry about her.”

“What did you call me for?”

“You need to find that woman who was with Harris.”

Mason thought back to the strip club. The blonde who ran interference with the bodyguard and gave Mason his chance at Harris alone in the bathroom.

“What about her?”

“Track her down and give her this,” Quintero said.

He reached over to the passenger’s-side seat, picked up a black leather carry-on bag, and handed it to Mason. The bag wasn’t big, but it was densely packed with something and had to weigh twenty pounds. Mason didn’t ask how much money was inside.

“She was supposed to bring something to me,” Quintero said. “Now she’s disappeared. If you find her, make sure you get what she has and bring it to me right away. Do not waste a minute, you understand?”

Mason thought about the routine he’d seen over the two days of following them. “There’s only one place I can think of finding her. If she’s not there, I got no idea.”

“Then you better hope she’s there. Her name’s Angela.”

“You gotta listen to me,” Mason said. “I don’t know what this woman has that you want so bad, but I’ve got something a lot bigger to worry about.”

“No you don’t,” Quintero said. “Stop wasting time, because the same people after you are after her.”

Mason didn’t bother asking him anything else. He’d been dealing with these cops for years and he must have known what would happen once Mason started doing his job.

Would have been nice if somebody had told me, Mason said to himself as he looped the bag over his shoulder.

“Hey,” Quintero said. “Before you go, what the f*ck were you doing getting arrested today?”

Mason remembered what Quintero had said to him. That first day, sitting in his car in front of the town house. You get picked up for anything, now you’ve got two problems. The one you got picked up for . . . and me.

“He went after my daughter,” Mason said.

“If you were held overnight,” Quintero said, “then everything would be f*cked right now.”

Mason put a hand on the car and leaned in. “Did you hear what I said? It was my daughter.”

“What’s his name?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“What’s his f*cking name?”

“McManus. Jimmy McManus.”

“The best thing you can do for your family is to do your job,” Quintero said. “My job is to handle anything that gets in the way of you doing that. McManus is my problem now.”

Mason looked him in the eye. He didn’t know exactly what that meant, but it probably wasn’t good news for McManus.

“Go find that woman,” Quintero said. Then he backed out and drove away.