Follow Me Down

by Melissa Toppen

  “I take it you approve?” I look up to find Titus watching me.

  “Oh, I approve all right.” I bite my bottom lip excitedly.

  “You’re adorable when you’re excited,” he tells me, catching my chin between his index finger and thumb as he steps in front of me. He looks down at me for a long moment. “I fucking love you, Fallon.”

  Before I have time to process his words, his lips press to mine, silencing what I would say if I knew what to say. I’m at a loss, completely consumed by the moment.

  Did he just tell me he loves me?

  Did he mean it like he loves me loves me? Or in the way that you might say to a friend or family member. Like I love you, but I’m not in love with you?

  When he pulls back, his gaze is still locked firmly on mine. I’m still not sure I heard him right or that I fully understand the meaning behind what he said.

  “Come on.” He grabs my hand again. “There’s a water target game over here calling my name.” With that, he tugs me into the crowd, the sound of his words echoing in my ears long after the moment has passed.

  ——

  “So, as far as celebrations go, how would you rate tonight?” Titus glances at me from the driver’s seat, his eyes bouncing between me and the road.

  “I give it a solid nine point five out of ten.” I grin, relaxing my head back against the seat.

  We spent hours at the fair. Riding rides, watching the derby, playing so many games I’m convinced Titus spent a hundred dollars or more, with nothing to show for it other than a tiny little stuffed monkey he managed to win by popping a balloon with a dart.

  “Guess I’ll have to make up that point five I’m missing at home.” He reaches across the seat and squeezes my thigh right above my knee. My skin instantly heats.

  “Why wait until we get home?” I brazenly say, feeling daring and adventurous. Something I’ve never really felt before.

  I don’t know who I am anymore. And I like the feeling. More than I could ever verbally express.

  Without a word, Titus pulls the truck over the first chance he gets, parking on a little patch of gravel along the side of the dark country road.

  I’m out of my seatbelt and moving toward him before he even has the truck in park, throwing my leg over his lap seconds after he kills the engine.

  “Fallon.” He groans against my lips when I lay a wet kiss to his mouth. “You really want to do this right here?” he asks, a hum of pleasure vibrating through him when I arch back against the steering wheel and grind down.

  “I’m very sure.” I smile, pulling down the straps of my dress to reveal the lacy bra I’m wearing underneath.

  His mouth instantly goes to the swell of my chest, licking and sucking his way along the thin material.

  I reach between us, somehow managing to get his pants undone in the restricted confines of the truck. I slide my hand over his erection, not missing the way his breath hitches at the contact.

  I love feeling like I have power over him. Like one touch is all it takes and he completely comes undone beneath me.

  His hand wraps around the back of my neck and he tugs my face back down to his, kissing me so deeply I swear there’s not an inch of my mouth his tongue doesn’t touch.

  Heat creeps up my back, spreading across my limbs.

  I pump my hand up and down, feeling him grow impossibly hard under my touch as I work him through the material of his boxers.

  “Wait.” His hand closes around my wrist, halting my movements. “I don’t have any condoms in here,” he pants, as lost in the moment as I am.

  “What do you mean you don’t have any condoms in here? You have condoms everywhere.”

  “I took them out the other day. Didn’t see any reason to keep them in here.”

  I understand what he’s telling me. He’s done with random hook ups and one-night stands. He’s done picking up women, fucking them, and moving on. And I know the significance of that one action.

  “Well, lucky for you, we don’t need one.” I slide his thick erection from the confines of his boxers and gently run my fingers from root to tip.

  “What do you mean we don’t need one?” He groans again, this time from deep in his throat.

  “I have an IUD.” I move my hand inward, pushing my panties haphazardly to the side as I work to line him at my entrance. “It’s a birth control implant,” I tell him in case he doesn’t know what that is.

  “You’re sure about this?” he asks when I run his bare heat through my folds.

  “I am.” I press my lips to his as I arch upward and slowly lower myself down onto him.

  We both moan in unison, the feeling of him bare inside of me more pleasurable than I ever thought it could be.

  “Fuck, Fallon.” He drops his head back, his eyes fluttering closed as he lets me take the reins.

  It’s not easy, given the steering wheel behind me, but I manage to find a comfortable rhythm, working up and down over top of him.

  His fingers bite into my hips as he helps me move, guiding me. I buck against him, my need for release growing more intense with every passing moment.

  “Fallon.” I look down to see his eyes on me. “I’m not going to last. You feel too fucking good.” His words sound almost pained, like it’s killing him to hold himself together.

  This only spurs me on further. And when I feel him tense against me, followed by the warm heat of his release, I fall apart, his name the last thing on my lips before everything goes fuzzy.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Fallon

  “So, ten out of ten?” Titus squeezes my hand, my head on his shoulder as I sit in the middle of the bench seat.

  After the amazing sex we just had, the thought of having even six inches between us felt like too much. I want to be near him. I always do.

  “Ten out of ten.” I smile lazily, nuzzling my face on his bicep. “Best night ever.”

  “Best ever?” I feel his head shift to look down at me, but I don’t look up to meet his gaze.

  “Best ever,” I confirm.

  We drive for several minutes in comfortable silence, the feeling of the warm summer night air blowing through the windows enough to nearly lull me to sleep.

  We’ve just turned down the road where the cabin is when flashing lights catch my eye. I sit up, realizing that they’re coming from the rearview mirror.

  “Um, Titus.” I turn my head to see not one but two police vehicles directly behind us, lights flashing.

  “I see them,” he says, completely at ease. He slows the truck, pulling it off the side of the road less than a mile from the cabin.

  “Why are they pulling us over?” I ask, straightening my posture.

  “No idea. I probably have a taillight out or something.” He shrugs, shoving the truck into park. “Good evening, officer. What seems to be the problem?” he asks when a middle aged, dark haired police officer steps up next to the driver’s side of the truck.

  “License and registration please,” the officer requests, his gaze cutting from Titus to me.

  “Of course.” Titus leans forward, grabbing the requested documents from his wallet before handing them to the man. “Mind if I ask what this is about?”

  The officer takes one look at Titus’ license before taking a full step back.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to get out of the truck,” he says, giving Titus enough room to get the door open.

  Titus hesitates, confusion tugging at his features.

  “Do you mind if I ask why?”

  “Just step out of the truck, please,” the officer repeats, his tone firm and harsh.

  With no other option, Titus does as the officer asks, throwing the door open seconds before stepping out of the truck.

  Another officer appears next to the first, asking Titus to follow him. I watch as the two men head back toward the cruisers, my heart beating a million miles a minute.

  “Ma’am, I’m going to need you to step out of the truck as well.” The fir
st officer pulls my attention to him. Swallowing hard, I unlatch my seatbelt and scoot across the driver’s seat as a third officer appears, shining a flashlight into my face as he approaches.

  I move to the side, not sure what to say or do when the two officers start searching the truck, the third standing next to his cruiser talking to Titus. They’re far enough away that I can’t hear what’s being said.

  I’m frozen in place, scared out of my mind as I watch the officers rifle through the glove box of Titus’ truck, looking underneath and behind the seats before pulling out a black duffle bag from behind the passenger side.

  Dropping the bag on the ground, one of the officers unzips it while the other stands above him, flashlight pointed at the bag. When he opens it and pulls out a large zip lock baggie filled with a white powdery substance, revealing several other bags beneath it, I swear the ground beneath me sways.

  Drugs?

  My mind swirls.

  Why would Titus have a bag of drugs in his truck?

  How would the cops have known this?

  They were clearly looking for something when they pulled us over, and they most certainly found it. But none of this makes sense. Titus isn’t a drug dealer. Hell, in the weeks that I’ve known him I’ve only ever seen him smoke marijuana once, and I smoked it with him.

  This doesn’t make sense.

  “Cuff ’em,” one of the officers says seconds before a hand closes around my wrist, my arm being pulled behind my back.

  “Wait, what?” I cry, fear causing my knees to shake.

  My eyes swing toward Titus. The third cop, a younger looking guy that stands a good foot shorter than Titus, has him pinned against the top of the car, snapping hand cuffs around each of his wrists.

  His face is turned away from me so I can’t see his expression.

  “Ma’am, I need you to calm down,” the police officer behind me says as the cool bite of metal closes down around my wrist.

  Calm down? Calm down? I’m being handcuffed right now. How the hell does he expect me to calm down?

  “I didn’t do anything wrong.” My voice trembles as I speak.

  “We’ll get this all sorted out at the police station.”

  “At the police station? But I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  The officer snaps the second cuff around my other wrist, this time closing it so tightly that I swear it cuts off the circulation to my hand.

  Titus is already in the back of one cop car as the burly police officer behind me leads me to the second. I’m trembling like a leaf when he lowers my head and guides me into the backseat.

  ——

  “What’s going on? Where’s Titus?” I stand from the small metal table in the room where I’ve been held for what feels like hours when a female officer enters the room, a cell phone clutched in her hand.

  “He’s next door talking to detectives.” She closes the door behind her.

  “Why? What’s going on?” I ask, panic clear in my voice.

  “Here.” She extends the phone to me. “You’re free to go but you have a phone call.”

  “A phone call?” I question, not sure who in the world could be on the other end to talk to me.

  With shaky hands, I retrieve the small device from her hand, pressing it to my ear.

  “Hello?” My voice cracks.

  “Fallon.” The sound of my father’s voice on the other end makes my stomach go queasy.

  “Dad,” I choke.

  “Listen to me very carefully,” he instructs. “They have Mr. Driscoll on some pretty serious drug charges, but you have the power to clear his name.”

  “What? How?”

  “There’s a black town car waiting for you in the parking lot. When we hang up, give the phone back to Officer Purdy, gather your things, and exit the station. Get in the car.”

  “What? Why?” I continue to ask one worded questions, not really processing a single thing that he’s saying.

  “Get in the car. It will bring you home.”

  “I... I can’t.” Emotion clogs my voice.

  “Yes you can, and you will. Unless you want to see your boyfriend spend the next ten years in federal prison.”

  “Ten years.” His words slam into me like a thousand-pound weight making me feel off balance.

  “If you get in the car, I will make all the charges disappear. Mr. Driscoll will be free to go in a matter of minutes. But only if you get in the car.”

  “I don’t... I don’t understand,” I stammer, the reality of the situation seeming to settle over me like a weighted blanket, cementing my feet to the floor. “You.” The word isn’t more than a whisper. “You did this,” I accuse.

  “I warned you what would happen. But you forced my hand. Now, if you don’t want that man to rot in jail because of your actions, I suggest you do as I say.” He pauses for a brief moment. “Get in the car. Once you’re on the road, I’ll give the word to let him go. Mr. Driscoll will walk free. But mark my words, Fallon. If you do not come home, if you ever try to contact him again, I’ll make sure he gets locked away for a very, very long time. Do you understand me?”

  His words echo through my head.

  Ten years.

  Federal prison.

  The thought of Titus behind bars is more than I can bear. Especially knowing that it’s my father that put him there.

  “You set him up.” It’s not a question. I already know the truth. “You had someone put that bag in his truck. You orchestrated this whole thing.”

  “I’ve told you what you have to do. Now do it. Or he pays the price.”

  With that, the phone goes dead.

  I pull the device away from my ear, and it clatters to the floor seconds later.

  I feel a panic attack coming on hard and strong, my lungs fighting to pull in air that doesn’t seem to exist. I clutch at my chest, tears welling in my eyes.

  I try to convince myself that he’s bluffing, that there’s no way he has that much power. But I already know that’s not true. I’ve seen the things he’s capable of, the people he can bend to his will. Why would I think his power wouldn’t extend to a small-town police station? Everyone has a price, after all. If my father has taught me anything, that is it. And right now, he’s found my price too. The one thing he knows I won’t be able to refuse.

  “Miss Buckley.” The female officer’s voice sounds far away, like she’s speaking through a tunnel. “Miss Buckley,” she says again and only then does my gaze snap to hers. “Come with me.” She pulls open the door and holds it that way until my feet figure out how to move.

  I follow her into the hallway, everything inside of me screaming to resist, but knowing that I can’t, not unless I want to see Titus behind bars for something he didn’t do.

  Anger and regret burn deep in my belly.

  This is my fault.

  I did this.

  And now it’s up to me to fix it.

  After collecting my purse from the front desk, Officer Purdy leads me out the front door, where, as my father said, there is a black town car waiting for me on the curb.

  I swallow past the bile rising in my throat, willing my legs to move. Willing myself to walk away from the only thing in my life that has ever felt like mine.

  Titus...

  I have no way of explaining. No way of telling him how sorry I am. He’ll walk out of this jail thinking I abandoned him. Thinking I believed him to be capable of something like this.

  He won’t understand that I’m doing this for him.

  Sucking in a sharp breath, I gather my resolve and make my way toward the car, taking one last look at the police station before tugging open the door and slipping inside.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Titus

  “Mr. Driscoll.” I look up when one of the arresting officers stops in front of the holding cell they’ve kept me in for the last several hours.

  My head aches and my eyes are heavy. I blink up at him, watching him unlock the cell.

  “You
’re free to go,” he tells me, swinging the cell door open.

  “Excuse me?” I croak, my throat dry and coarse.

  “You can collect your things from the front desk.” He takes a step back to let me pass when I push to my feet.

  “What’s happening? Were you able to confirm that the drugs weren’t mine?”

  “Just count your blessings and move on,” he says curtly, not giving me any real answers.

  I’m confused and have a million more questions, but all I want to do right now is get the hell out of here and get to Fallon. I have to explain. She has to know that I did not do this. That those drugs were not mine. I don’t know how they got there. I can only hope that she believes me.

  “Where’s Fallon?” I ask as I follow the officer to the front of the station.

  “She left a couple of hours ago.”

  “Left? Left where?”

  “A car picked her up out front shortly after she was released. That’s all I know.” He stops at the front desk where a female officer is sitting behind a computer. She stops what she’s doing and grabs my belongings from the desk next to her, setting my phone, wallet, and keys on the counter moments later.

  “Miss Buckley did ask that I give you a message,” she interjects. “She said to tell you that she went home to her father and not to try to contact her.”

  “She what?” I snap, anger lacing my voice. “Did she say anything else?”

  “No, I’m sorry. That’s all she said.” She seems sheepish under my intense glare and I have half a mind to rip into her and the dumb ass mother fucker standing next to me.

  I open my mouth but snap it closed, deciding it’s better to just get the hell out of here before I completely lose my shit.

  I spin on my heel and quickly exit the police station seconds later, still not sure if I’ve fully wrapped my head around what the hell happened tonight.

  I find my truck parked at the side of the lot. I’m honestly surprised they didn’t impound it. Just another reason why none of this makes any sense. I climb in, powering on my phone as I pull the door shut behind me. I punch in my house number and impatiently wait for someone to pick up. Unfortunately, no one does.