FIFTY FOUR – PLAYING DIRTY

MIRA

We finally touch down on the roof top of a gleaming skyscraper in the heart of the city. I look out my window at the breathtaking view of the Hawaiian strip, momentarily forgetting my fear of heights.

Mason hasn't spoken to me since my uncoordinated confession a few minutes ago. Now, he walks over and unbuckles my seatbelt, his eyes still radiating cold.

I stare at his profile, willing him to look at me. When he still doesn't, I feel the stirrings of frustration and annoyance in my veins.

"I didn't hurt Dutch."

He pauses, finally looking at me. His stormy grays pin me in place, and I almost lose my confidence. Almost.

"It wasn't right for you to blame me because I would never do something like that."

Mason eases to his feet, grabbing my hand and taking me with him.

"We will have this conversation in the house, Mira. Not out here."

His tone is gruff and serious, so I wisely clamp my mouth shut and let him lead the way off the plane.

We pass through a hole in the roof, down a fli