by Kara Parker
Grace took him gently by the arm and pulled him up into a standing position. He couldn’t help but list against her like a sinking ship as she struggled to get him into the house. With her arm around Falcon as she half-supported him she pulled out her keys and opened her bright red front door. They took a step inside and Falcon looked up and saw a house with white walls and dark hardwood floors. She turned to the right and they walked past her bedroom before she pulled him into her bathroom.
He stood up in the harsh glare of the bathroom light and looked at his own reflection in Grace’s mirror. He didn’t recognize himself. It was a Neanderthal that looked back at him from the other side. His face was swollen and misshapen and he barely recognized himself.
“Here,” Grace said and she reached for the hem of Falcon’s shirt, but he pushed her hand away.
“I can do it,” he said, avoiding her eye contact.
“Okay,” Grace said, tucking a non-existent stray lock behind her ear. She turned on the shower and they were surrounded by the noise of falling water. “I’ll wait outside; I’ll bring some clean clothes in for you.”
“Fine,” Falcon said. She turned and walked out the door, closing it behind her. The bathroom was filling with steam as Falcon struggled out of his shirt. It ached for him to lift his arms above his head and he bit back a cry of pain as he finally managed to remove his shirt.
His torso was covered in yellow and purple bruises; in the mirror he saw that they extended around his back. He undid his pants and slipped out his shoes, letting his pants slide down onto the floor. He took off his boxer briefs and stepped into the steaming hot shower. He winced as the water hit his many cuts before it washed away the blood and the dirt and he sighed in pleasure and leaned against the wall.
He soaped up his arms and legs and watched as the water went from tinged with red to clear and finally he was done. Falcon stepped out of the shower and saw Grace had left a pair of sweatpants and a black t-shirt in the bathroom for him. He dried off and dressed and stepped out into the house.
He walked past her bedroom and then the kitchen and then he was in the living room. He dropped onto a paisley blue couch next to a leather chair. The room had large windows and bright daylight was flooding through the room illuminating the dancing dust moats.
Falcon sat on the edge of the chair and put his face in his hands as he looked around her living room. It was sparse and barely decorated, a large flat screen TV that sat across from the couch and a few paintings on the wall. After a few moments Grace appeared in front of him with a professional looking first aid kit. She knelt down and opened the kit taking out gauze and bandages and antiseptic and lining them up on the coffee table. She had a glass of water and she handed Falcon two white pills and he took them both without even asking what they were. He drank the water, chugging it down in thirsty, desperate gulps.
“More,” he said, handing Grace the glass.
“In a minute. You need to give your stomach time to absorb what’s there. If you drink too much you might get sick,” she said, setting the glass down on a coffee table.
“I feel thirstier than before,” Falcon said as Grace began gently wiping the remaining dried blood from Falcon’s lip. He winced, but she was patient and took her time.
She let the water soak into the blood so it would wipe away easily. From there she moved onto his still swollen shut eye. She placed her hand gently on his chin as she guided his face up and down as she tried to fix him.
There was worry in her eyes. A pained sort of worry. Sometimes she would open her mouth as if there was something she wanted to say and then her eyes would flick to Falcon’s and she would change her mind and snap her mouth shut. A troubled look would cross her face as she sought out some other scar or bruise she could soothe.
Finally, when his face, neck, and arms were bandaged up she stopped what she was doing and looked up at him. “What about your chest? Does it hurt badly,”
Falcon scoffed and shook his head, looking away from her. “A couple of cracked ribs, nothing too serious,” he answered.
“Let me bandage them up,” she implored him. “It will help you heal faster.”
He rolled his eyes, but he lifted his arms above his head and bit back as a cry as he pulled off the black shirt. Grace’s soft fingers touched his chest as she tested his bruises. For a moment he thought he could see a tear in her eyes, but she looked away quickly and he couldn’t be sure.
Chapter Thirty-Six
She wrapped the gauze around his torso pulling it tight, but not too tight. Once she was done, she helped Falcon back into his shirt and brought him a second glass of water. As he chugged, she sat down next to him on the couch; she sat close to him, but not too close.
“I’m so sorry this happened, Falcon,” she said, shaking her head.
“There was a shoot-out on the road. Why didn’t you call me? I was screwed, they had me surrounded, and I had no chance of getting out of there.”
“I didn’t hear about it until it was too late,” Grace said. “It was the beat cops manning the entrance to the highway. All they were supposed to do was wait for the signal and then close the entrance. But a couple of bikers saw them and they panicked and shot at them. Then they tried to cover it up and not tell anyone it happened. But a civilian reported the noise. By the time it came to me, it had already been an hour and you hadn’t shown up. I knew I was screwed. I thought about calling or texting, but I was worried that a call at that moment would look suspicious,” she was begging him. Her hand was resting on his knee and she was gripping it tightly as she spoke.
“I was down there living like a dog for days,” Falcon spit, pushing her hand off of him. He missed her touch immediately.
“I didn’t know how to get to you. We scouted the club, but there was no sign of you or your bike. We traced your phone and the trace led to clubhouse, but we didn’t know if you were in there. We didn’t want to raid the clubhouse; we were worried it would turn into a shootout and we didn’t have enough evidence to warrant one. Plus, if there was a shootout, we were sure you would be the first to die. We didn’t know if you were there. It’s hard to do the right thing when you don’t have all the information you need. The pigeons were just a gamble that paid off,” she continued, holding both of his hands in hers as she leaned closer to him. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. I feel so guilty. I haven't slept in days; I broke a lot of laws-”
Falcon ripped his hands away from hers and leaned back on the couch. He was feeling dizzy and lightheaded and he couldn’t listen to any more of this. He hadn’t slept in days and his brain was barely operating. He didn’t know if he should believe her or not, he didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t anymore.
“Come to bed,” she whispered to him.
“No,” Falcon said. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“Falcon, don’t be ridiculous. You’ve been in a cell for days and you deserve a soft bed. I’ll take the couch.”
“I’m not arguing about it,” Falcon said as he laid back on the couch and a blissful sensation of relaxation spilled through him. Finally, the bruises stopped throbbing and the cuts stopped stinging and he was barely conscious as Grace stood him up to put sheets down on the couch. He lay down on the soft cushions and let the warm blanket encircle his body. He was asleep in seconds.
In the middle of the night he was jerked awake by a deep throbbing pain in his head and ribs. He stared around him at the darkened house and was immediately aware of where he was and what his options were. He could leave. He could rob her. He could take her gun and her badge and her car and really go to town. The thought was tempting. She had fucked up his life; why shouldn’t he get to fuck up hers?
He turned his head and saw a glass of water and two more white pills. He had no memory of Grace leaving them for him, but he wasn't going to let them go to waste. He drank the water and swallowed the pills and before he even knew what happened he had sunk back to sleep.
He awoke in the morning
to a cup of coffee and a plate of bacon and eggs waiting for him. He devoured the food as his appetite suddenly returned. He felt better. He had slept for fourteen hours and the pills had numbed the pain. Some of the swelling had gone down and he could finally open both of his eyes.
“What happened in there, Falcon?” Grace asked him as they sat drinking coffee in the early afternoon’s light.
“What do you think happened?” Falcon asked. “They beat the shit out of me and then they stuffed me in a box for days without food or water, just time.”
“They questioned you, right?” She leaned forward as if to touch him, but then remembering earlier she sat back and gave him his space. “Did you tell them anything?”
“No. I denied everything.”
“And they believed you?”
“Obviously not. They beat me up and then they put me in the cell. I think they were trying to wait me out. I think they wanted to break me. I was in pain, I was starving, I couldn’t sleep, and I had no idea what was going on in the outside world. I had no sense of time. I thought it would last forever,” he took a deep breath and steadied himself as he spoke. “But they never questioned me after that first time.”
“You did the right thing denying it. And it took strength to not tell them everything in hope of some relief. You’re acting like it was nothing, Falcon, but I know what kind of strength that took. I know how hard that was. I know how much you must be hurting right now.”
He turned away crossed his arms, ignoring the pain. “You don’t need to feel bad for me. It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“Really? Because it looks really bad.”
“Like I said, I’m fine,” Falcon said. He drank his coffee and looked at Grace where she sat across from him. It seemed like she was always there staring at him and pleading with him for something. But it was too late. He knew better than to get involved with her. She was right; they were chaotic and dangerous when they were together and they were going to ruin everything.
She had abandoned him when he needed her most. Were it the other way around and she were the one locked up he wouldn't have let anything stop him. He would have gone in guns blazing if it had been her.
“Talk to me, Falcon,” she begged him. “I know that had to be horrible for you. You can tell me about it. I’ll understand.”
“There’s nothing to say. It’s over. I don’t dwell on things. They happen and you have to move on.”
“All right,” Grace said. “But I’m here if you change your mind.”
Falcon stood and tested his leg. He stretched out and took a few steps around the living room. It was getting easier to move around. He hurt less than he used to, already he felt better. He wanted to keep up his strength, but when he leaned against the wall to do an easy push up his arms and abs shoulders screamed in pain. He was up and moving, but he wasn’t in any state to fight.
“So, what’s the plan now?” Falcon asked.
“You need to focus on getting better. You need to rest and recover and then we’ll take it from there.”
“They’re looking for me; do they know you’re on the case?” Falcon asked.
“I don’t think so. The investigation is high up and you need a security clearance just to know what it’s called. I don’t think we have anyone who could tell the Screaming Eagles where I am.”
“We’ll see,” Falcon said. “How is Sophie?”
“She’s fine. We haven't seen anyone around her or looking for her.”
“Good,” Falcon said with a sigh.
“You should lie down,” Grace said. “Are you sure you want to sleep out here?”
“Yes,” Falcon answered without thinking. He couldn’t let himself start to think about it because then he would start rationalizing it and he would give himself reasons why sleeping in her bed made so much sense. He could reach out and touch her, gather her in her arms and feel her sleeping form resting against his. No, it was far too dangerous; he would have to get better on the couch.
Grace nodded and walked out of the room, turning off the light as she left. It was still early and Falcon could see a deep blue sky outside of the window. He could hear Grace rustling about in the house and he wanted to call out to her, but then he heard her enter her bedroom and shut the door behind her.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Falcon could feel the exact moment the pills took effect. All at once he felt himself grow lighter as the pain subsided and he floated in a hazy comfortable stillness. Grace’s living room was bathed in pale moonlight making a few odds and ends stand out: the dark chestnut color of her coffee table, the white gleam from the glass on a picture frame. He was actually outside of his cell, he had been given a second chance and a reprieve, and now he needed to make something of it.
He heard the creaking of a floorboard and the soft tread of footsteps coming towards him. But Falcon wasn’t afraid; he recognized the footfalls as Grace’s and in a moment she was leaning over him.
“How are you feeling?” she whispered as she sat at the edge of her coffee table.
“Good. The pills are kicking in, so the pain is gone,” Falcon said and he struggled to sit up, finally managing to pull himself into a seated position on the couch. He reached over for a glass of water and downed it easily.
“I wish you would sleep in my bed,” Grace said. “I feel terrible about sticking you on my couch.” She looked like an angel in the moonlight. The light was shining from behind her making it appear as if a halo encircled her head. Her hair, still messy from the bed, shone in the moonlight and she was only wearing a short pair of shorts and a tank top. Falcon could see the outlines of the muscles in her shoulders and the curves of her hips and he wanted to reach over and pull her to him.
“The couch is very comfortable,” Falcon finally said. He remembered his own promise to himself in the cell. He had promised that he would be done with Grace. She had failed him when he needed her most. He couldn’t let himself get close to her again.
Her hand rested on his knee as she looked up at him, “You’re hiding something from me. You’re holding something back. You can tell me anything, Falcon. What is it? Why won’t you come to me?”
“You let them get me,” Falcon said, staring right into her green eyes. He ignored the pain he saw there, ignored her quickly growing tears. “There was a shootout on the road and you didn’t call me. They took me captive and I sat for four days. I know you were only doing what you could, but I would never have let that happen to you.”
She hung her head, but her hand was still on his knee. When she finally looked back up at him there were tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could have warned you. I wish I could have gotten to you sooner. I can look back and see a million ways I could have handled this better, but I know that doesn’t help. I fucked up. I was wrong, and I’m so, so sorry, Falcon. That’s all I can say. I’m sorry I put you in that position. I’m sorry I allowed it to happen. Please forgive me.”
He looked down at her, but he knew he had already forgiven her. She was smart and talented and she was a cop; she had rules she had to follow. “It’s okay,” he said with a nod. “You did save me. If it weren’t for you I would still probably be stuck in that dungeon slowly starving to death.” He reached out and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.
She closed her eyes and leaned into him and he could feel the wetness from her tears on her impeccable face.
“Come here,” Falcon said, pulling her next to him on the couch. She sat down gingerly and took his hand in hers. Falcon turned his head and leaned towards her and kissed her gently, his tongue running along her lower lip as she moaned in pleasure. She tasted like mint and he kissed her passionately and wrapped his hands in her hair and remembered what it was like to be with another person.
Grace brought her hands up to his shoulder and gently rested them there as he continued to kiss her deeply. He plunged his tongue into her mouth and felt hers as it slid along his. His hand was grazing the smooth
skin of her thigh going higher with every second that passed. Meanwhile her hand was slowly moving down his chest until it rested in his lap and found his already hard cock waiting for her.
He twitched as her restless fingers began to glide over his cock in long, slow motions. There were two layers of clothes between her fingers and him and he wanted direct contact. As her gentle fingers stroked a fire of passion within him Falcon discarded every promise he had made to stay away from her.
What kind of fool would stay away from this? What kind of madman would tell a woman like Grace to stop? Her fingers on his cock were driving him wild, her tongue against his was driving him crazy; he had to have her.
