To hide.
Finally, she broke eye contact and closed her eyes. “Is he dead?”
Not yet. Tony flinched. “No. Jesus, no.”
Syd’s hands fell away from Fallyn’s back and hung at her sides, her body slumping into Fallyn as relief plowed through her. Fallyn held her tight, stroked the hair on the back of her head.
After a few seconds, Syd opened her eyes, backed away from Fallyn, and brought her chin up. “I took a cab over. I was afraid…”
She paused, shook her head.
“It’s okay,” Fallyn said. “That was smart.”
Sure was. No explanation necessary. Not for Tony anyway. Syd didn’t want to chance being behind the wheel in case the call shattering her life came in.
“How—” She cleared her throat, lifted her chin a little higher. “How is he?”
“There’s no update since I called you. He’s in surgery. He was in and out of consciousness once they got him here.”
“Did he say anything?”
Tony shook his head. “Nothing that made sense. A lot of mumbling.”
“What happened?”
Fallyn took that one, methodically giving Syd the edited version of the accident and how Tony saved them. Saved them. Fuck that.
A nurse who looked like she’d slept sometime last week approached and nodded at Syd, then Tony and Fallyn.
“Are you the family of Justice Greystone?” she asked.
And, oh shit. Tony’s stomach dropped. Everything dropped. All of it, gone. Shit, shit, shit.
He’s dead.
Syd raised her hand. “I’m his fiancé. I’ve called his father. He should be here soon. How is he?”
And, shit, shit, shit. Syd wasn’t family. Not yet. And if anything went sideways and decisions had to be made, there was all kinds of red tape that had to be dealt with. Did Grey have a living will? Instructions for what should be done if he were to become impaired?
Jesus.
Tony swallowed, jammed his hands in his pockets again because—just…fuck.
“He’s still in surgery,” the nurse said. “There are some consent forms we’d like to have signed. And then, if you’d like, you can wait in the OR waiting room and we’ll keep you updated.”
The nurse broke free of them, moved on to the desk where another nurse handed her a clipboard.
“Syd,” Tony finally said, “I’m so sorry.”
Her eyes flashed, but it wasn’t…anger. Wasn’t the rage he’d expect from a woman blaming him for her future husband’s life-threatening injuries.
She stepped closer, poked him in the chest. “You listen to me, Tony Gerard. This isn’t your fault. Grey is a pain in the ass. He does what he wants. And if he didn’t want to help Fallyn, he wouldn’t have. My man wants to be a hero as much as the rest of you Justice Team maniacs. I swear, I don’t know what makes you people tick, but whatever went on in that car, he knew what he was doing. So don’t you think you’ll steal his thunder and take the blame because when he wakes up, he’ll have a great story to tell.”
“Amen,” Fallyn said.
That wasn’t helping. Tony shot her a look and she flipped him the bird. Right there in the corridor while their friend fought for his life. What the hell?
“Syd’s right,” Fallyn said. “I was in that car with him and he was a rock star. He’s like us, Tony,” she grabbed his hand. “He’d rather run into the fray than away from it.”
“Ain’t it the truth,” Syd said. “If he survives, I’ll kill him myself.”
These people are nuts.
Syd shifted to her tiptoes, looped her arms around Tony and rested her forehead on his shoulder.
And, ah, dammit. One of the compartments in his brain, the one where he stored all that emotional shit he didn’t let anyone see, busted open. He held his breath until his chest tightened, all that good healthy oxygen trapped there. What the hell? What do I do?
First his father, then the judge, and now this. And him, a guy who’d never figured out how to process grief. For him, it was easier to pack that shit away and ignore it.
He raised his hands, dropped them. Hell with it. He exhaled—hard—squeezed his eyes shut in case he did any pansy-assed crying and held onto Syd. Pussy that he was, he needed it as much as she did.
“Please,” she said, “don’t blame yourself. He wouldn’t want that.”
Chapter Fourteen
The apartment over the garage at Fresh Start was little more than a loft that at one time had probably been a workshop. Maybe a storage attic. Either way, Syd had appointed the place with soft yellow curtains, some comfortable chairs, a television, and a four-poster bed in the small bedroom. A picture of St. Agnes hung over the headboard.
Fallyn studied the picture of the patron saint of virgins as she unpacked a fresh blouse and some jeans from her overnight bag. She was no virgin, but she’d take help from any saint who would have her.
She was trashed, mentally, physically, and emotionally. She wouldn’t let it show, though. Not to Tony. Not to anyone. The big lug was flagellating himself over Grey, and she shared that feeling. She hated herself at this moment for bringing any of them—all of them—into her warped, mixed up, and very dangerous world.
Caroline had shown up with her new husband, Mitch, in tow at the hospital. Fallyn loved Mitch from the moment he strode into the waiting room, all long legs and snarky attitude. He’d barely nodded at her, sizing up Tony’s shutdown body language and pulling him aside.
As Caroline embraced Fallyn and then Syd, Fallyn had watched Tony draw even farther into himself as he told Mitch in hushed tones what had happened. Mitch wasn’t hard to read; he was devastated. According to Tony, Grey was Mitch’s best friend. They’d been partners together all the way back to their FBI days.
And like Syd and Fallyn, Mitch had recognized Tony’s ridiculous self-blame game. He’d gripped Tony by the arm and told him to stop being stupid. “The Justice Team can only handle one idiot around here and that’s me,” Mitch had said. “Stop honing in on my territory, Gerard.”
Caroline, Mitch, Fallyn, and Tony talked for a few minutes, then fell silent. What was there to say? While Grey was in surgery, Tony had drifted off to sit alone in a pale blue, plastic hospital chair. Fallyn followed, taking his hand and weaving her fingers through it. She didn’t badger him anymore—the poor guy had been through enough. She simply sat with him as she turned her mental focus on herself.
She had to stop being so brash. Had to stop pretending she could handle the threats and the near misses. People were getting hurt.
Grey could die because of me.
She and Tony had sat that way for a long time. Hours probably, until an exhausted doctor emerged, letting them know the bleeding had been stopped and Grey was in recovery. He wasn’t safe yet though. The next hours would be critical.
The hospital only allowed two people at a time in Intensive Care. Caroline had insisted on staying with Sydney; Mitch wasn’t going anywhere either. So Fallyn and Tony had left, Tony silent and cold, his jaw hard as stone.
She’d seen him checking for tails, and she’d once again been on a tour of the city as he drove all over. He’d swung by the hotel and the doorman had brought her overnight bag to the truck. Once he was satisfied they weren’t being tailed, Tony had parked in the garage downstairs, walked her up to the apartment, and then disappeared, saying he had to call Teeg and give him an update. He also had to follow-up with the police. Blah, blah, blah. Fallyn knew he was wrestling with his demons and needed time alone.
Being alone wouldn’t ease the set of her shoulders, the sick feeling in her stomach. Fury burned a cutting edge through her veins, her bones, her bloodstream. She focused on it, keeping the fear creeping into her tight chest at bay. She would find whoever had done this and she would make them pay. For Grey, for Syd, for Tony.
Washing off in the bathroom, she ignored her bruised and battered body and put on the fresh clothes. She’d already alerted her team to what had happened, w
hat was happening, and what she wanted them to do. Now, she needed to get Tony out of his personal pity party and thinking about something else.
Like me.
Except, he was gone. He’d come upstairs with her, cleared the rooms and disappeared. Feet bare, she padded across the floor to the door that led down to the garage. Her heels were gone. The only other pair she had were at the hotel. Whoever had packed up her stuff had missed them.
The old wooden stairs were cold and gritty. The garage smelled like oil and dirt. Tony’s truck engine was still pinging as it cooled down.
As expected, she found him sitting stock-still behind the steering wheel, face drawn, eyes blank. Was he was reliving the accident?
When he finally registered her presence, his eyes snapped to hers and he bailed out of the truck, lickety-split. “Is everything okay?”
She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “Not exactly.”
“I told you to let the doctor have a look at you. Are you woozy? Sick to your stomach? He said you might have a concussion.”
“I’m not concussed. I’m horny.”
“Jesus, Fallyn.” He let out a relieved breath. Or exasperated. She wasn’t sure. “You almost died a couple hours ago.”
“But I didn’t. My near-death experience didn’t turn off my desire for you. If anything, it made me want you even more.”
“No.”
Bitter. That one word full of self-loathing.
She took a step closer. “What, you don’t believe that’s possible? That I watched you save Grey from going up in a ball of flames and it turned me on?”
“Stop it. You can’t turn this around and make out like I’m a hero. I hate that fucking word and the pity behind what you’re doing right now.”
“Pity?” This man. She thought she’d jump out of her skin, he was so damn irritating. “I don’t pity you, Tony Gerard, and the only reason I would is because you’re too damn stupid to see the truth.”
“If I’d gotten there faster or had you with me…” He shot a hand through his hair, making it stand up. “This wouldn’t have happened.”
She advanced on him, backing him up against the side of the truck. “If I hadn’t pissed off the president, if I hadn’t stirred the pot about Heather’s death, if I had never called you two mornings ago and asked for help…if, if, if. The current situation is as much my fault as it is yours.”
Reaching out, she tugged on a section of his hair that stood up like a soldier. “There are bad people out there. Evil people. They do terrible things. You can’t stop them, Tony.”
Her breath left her as he grabbed her by her upper arms, pulled in her close. “I am going to stop whoever did this. You gonna mother me to death or are you going to help me?”
Angry Tony. This is better. “Oh, I’m going to help you. Together we’re going to bring the SOB down. We make one hell of an unstoppable team, you and me, but after today, we work smarter at figuring this out. No more putting others in danger. Agreed?”
Tony nodded, started to say something and stopped. Then, “Just you and me.”
Fallyn went up on her toes to kiss him, realized she barely could reach his lips without the extra height of her heels. She wrapped her arms around his neck, brought his head down, and planted one on him.
The kiss was hot. Soul-scorching. He whirled her around, pinning her against the door of the truck. His hands found her breasts, a tiny gasp escaping from her mouth. Taking advantage of her parted lips, he swept his tongue inside, teasing her until she moaned.
Lord, the man could kiss.
His hands went to her jeans, fingers jerkily undoing the clasp and zipper, peeling the material down over her hips. She wiggled, helping him, and shivered when he ran his big hands up her bare legs. He tickled the insides of her knees, grazed her thighs, gaze locked on hers the whole time.
She was so ready for this. Ready to let him take her anywhere he wanted. Ready to help him release his worries and doubts, his frustration with himself. “I know you loved my stockings,” she said, her voice sounding breathy, “but they were toast—literally—after the accident.”
“I like you better naked.” He took her mouth in a fierce kiss, touching her everywhere. She could feel his blatant erection through her panties.
Kissing him back, she arched into him and reached for his belt. He grabbed both her wrists and broke the kiss. “I’m going to make you moan. But first, you have to do something for me.”
Panting, Fallyn nodded, her body on fire. Whatever he wanted her to do was just fine with her. “Anything.”
He released her wrists and ripped open the front of her shirt. Buttons flew. The silky material slid off her shoulders and down her arms.
Tony’s gaze locked on her breasts, her nipples pushing at the peach lace. “My God, you are beautiful.”
She almost detonated when he reached out and brushed his knuckles across one taut nipple.
“Tony, please,” she whispered.
And that’s when she saw it. The self-confidence. The control. The power. His eyes flashed and it was all suddenly back.
He was back. “I like it when you say please, Fallyn.”
The bastard was teasing her. “Well, then, let me say it again. Please, Tony. Is that clear enough for you? Please stop teasing me with your kisses and your fingers and tell me what you want.”
He reached out and ran his fingers under the edge of her panties, grazing her skin. Next thing she knew, she heard fabric ripping. Her panties fell to the ground, shredded.
Tony caught her up, lifting her from the ground and carried her to the front of his truck. Boosting her up, he sat her on the shiny hood, still warm from the engine. The truck sat high, bringing her knees level with his chest.
“Spread your legs.”
She obeyed, leaning back on her elbows and giving him the view he wanted, making her feel wanton and dangerous.
He trailed his fingers over her inner thighs, then slid them into her tight heat. She closed her eyes, quivering at the sensation. He brought them out, then sent those wicked fingers in deep again, his thumb finding her bud and circling it, building her desperate need to new heights.
Fallyn arched her back, enjoying the rhythm he built. Faster, deeper, taking her higher until she was begging him for release.
“Not yet,” he said, pressing her legs farther apart. She looked up in time to see him lower his head.
She cried out at the feel of his lips, his tongue. Her arms wouldn’t hold her any longer and she lay back, letting her thighs fall completely open.
“That’s right, Fallyn.” He held her legs down, his breath hot against her sensitive flesh. “Come for me.”
His tongue dove into her, nearly pushing her into an orgasm. He withdrew it, ran it over her bud, then slipped it back inside.
Nonsense noises came from her throat. She couldn’t help it, her mind blanked, her body existing only in this moment, only for him. A few more flicks of his tongue and she was gone. She swallowed a scream and dug her nails into the hood as a savage climax ripped through her.
The sweet bliss lasted forever, him milking her with his lips until the last shuddering spasm passed. Her legs were liquid, her body floating, weightless. When she could finally form words, she raised her head and looked at him through half-lidded eyes. “That was amazing.”
His smile was as fierce as the kisses he’d laid on her earlier. He swept her off the truck and carried her to the stairs. “Good, ’cuz we’re just getting started, sweetheart.”
* * *
At the top of the stairs, Tony’s hands were busy trying to unclasp Fallyn’s bra so he kicked at the door leading into the apartment.
Nothing.
Tell me this door is locked. Wouldn’t that be a craptastic interruption to what had started as an exceptional encounter.
Fallyn reached behind her, twisted the doorknob and—score—pushed the door open. A sliver of hazy moonlight illuminated the small kitchen and she gave him a wicked half-gr
in. “We are so good together.”
Fuck her blind. That’s what he’d do. Because Fallyn Pasche, on some primal level, understood him. Knew how to push his buttons just enough to motivate him rather than piss him off.
And right now? Highly motivated.
“Babe, you are going to howl before I’m finished with you.”
“Aren’t I the lucky girl?”
Getting his bearings, he hooked a left into the short hallway hoping to get to the bedroom before he exploded. Fallyn plastered herself against him, kissing the hell out of him, that amazing tongue making his mind race. Fuck her blind, fuck her blind, fuck her blind.
God, the woman would drive him to madness. No off switch. No brake pedal. Just go, go, go. Like him. Together? What a frickin’ disaster.
A hot, adrenaline fueled disaster that made him want more. Always.
How far was the goddamn bedroom?”
Still kissing him, Fallyn laughed. “Where the hell is the bedroom?”
“Just wondering that myself. Ow! Shit!”
He hit something. Damned darkness. He unclamped one hand from Fallyn’s ass and reached down. Sofa.
“Living room.”
“Good enough.” She grabbed onto his hair with both hands and tugged. “I want you inside me. Now.”
“Lucky boy,” he said, mimicking her voice. “We’ll find the bedroom later.”
Using one hand, he felt around, found the seat of the sofa and set her down. Immediately, like locked-on radar, she went for the waistband of his pants, looking up at him the whole time, smiling that wicked smile that made his already raging hard-on painful.
He slid his fingers along her jaw, stroking her smooth skin. “You’re amazing.”
And she was. Beautiful, smart, sassy. Gently, he ran his hands up her cheeks, through her hair, grabbed a fistful of it and tugged so she’d look up him. “I’m crazy about you.”
“Ditto, handsome.”
She jerked his fly down, sent his pants to his ankles and went to work on his boxers. “Come to mama, sweetheart.”
Protecting Justice (The Justice Series Book 4) Page 17
