Kyle's pov
This was agonizing. Pretending to be Mason Smythe made me physically ill. A goody two shoes that did everything by the book and was always so cheerful he wanted to make me puke. I do not know how I managed to room with him for so long; let alone BE him. But I had a few comforts. Such as what was going on with the real Mason this very moment, a slow and painful, not to mention frantic and guilt-ridden death. And then the only one left to cross off my list was the boy scout himself, Prince Charming Jamie Reagan. This knight would be knocked off his high horse from the inside, and he would never rise again. I would make sure of it.
As for Mason, his fate was being sealed and seen to fruition by none other than my leading lady, the Bonnie to my Clyde; Sydney Davenport. Yes, the same one who dumped Reagan for becoming a cop after they got engaged. Revenge really WAS sweet. Not only did I take his girl, but I would take his life using the face of his best friend, while offing him too with my right hand lady. And if I had a little something to do with a police investigation gone wrong concerning a corrupt secret police fraternity that ended up with an officer down that was particularly close to Jamie... Well, that's not exactly a confession; so don't make assumptions. This was going to be so much fun! I have been getting radio silence from Syddy so far; I wonder how our victim was doing; wondering if he could still be used as a pawn if my secret was discovered before I could hurt Jamie. Let me be clear. I would still hurt him. I just could not pass up the opportunity; it felt so right!
Those were the fulfilling thoughts that were dancing around in my mind as I sat with the Reagan's to eat breakfast, and before I could get a spoonful of cereal in my mouth; Danny spoke up
"Mason, you look a bit different. You ok? Getting sick? We're on the edge of winter, and the Big Apple offers some serious coldness. We have some thermal clothes if you forgot to pack any."
I smiled. They would never catch onto my grand plan. I internally scoffed. THESE are NYPD's finest? No wonder my plan is working...
Mason's pov
I did not have a watch or any source of time on me, so I could only estimate it had been five minutes give or take since I had been confined to this car, an Audi R8; a sports car known for its slim to none policy on trunk space; which was bad. Not only because I was running out of air, but because I was dangerously knew this. And now, it was coming back to bite me in the butt.
My claustrophobia was engaged in a constant battle with my brain over the matter of conserving what little air I had left versus having an involuntary but uncontrollable full-blown claustrophobia attack; which would annihilate my oxygen in seconds. This was truly a nightmare. The only other sound that harmonizes with my gasps, whimpers and shaky breaths are the sighs and occasional words spoken into a cellphone. Female voice, near the car; as if standing guard over me so I would not escape. Even though the only way out was to undo my handcuff and shackle, though I did not have the keys; and get the stupid trunk open so I could breathe and let air fill my already deprived and burning lungs once more, to soothe their desperate desire for fresh air. But, of course, the trunk only opened from the outside. After a few moments, I could barely believe my ears as I recognized the voice of the woman keeping me captive. This was NOT good!