Protecting Justice (The Justice Series Book 4)
Page 20
“You got it, boss.”
They disconnected and Fallyn sat looking at her phone. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. For some stupid reason, a memory of her mother shooting videos of them one summer flashed across her brain. She and Heather had been six or seven, splashing in a plastic pool one summer day. Their mother had a new video camera, one that sat on her shoulder as she filmed. “Look at momma, girls!” she called. Fallyn and Heather had made faces at her, splashed water on each other, laughed and giggled, and finally started splashing their mother when she got too close.
“Fallyn?”
Tony’s voice brought her out of her reverie. She shoved her phone in her bag and cleared her throat. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. “Heather sent me a USB with encrypted videos on it,” she said as they pulled up in front of the townhouse.
“Videos? Any idea what those could be?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. My tech person is going to work on them.”
“All right. Sit tight until I check on the house. Is your gun loaded?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Get it out. Anyone approaches, shoot their ass.”
It was good to be back in the present. With Tony. Solid, grounded Tony. “Shoot first, ask questions later?”
He winked at her. “Works for me.”
She waited for him to bail out before grabbing the gun, not wanting him to see her hands were shaking. Waiting was not her forte, but she forced herself to do as he’d asked. The second hand on her watch seemed unusually noisy as it tick, tick, ticked off the seconds.
Two minutes passed, then five. Fallyn scanned the front of the townhouse, watched the windows looking for Tony’s shadow.
Nothing.
Come on, Tony. Where are you?
Had someone been inside? Had they jumped him?
She was about to go storming in with gun raised when he appeared in the doorway. As he approached the truck, she tucked the gun away and sucked in a relieved breath.
A moment later, he escorted her inside. “Place is clear. Everything appears exactly how I left it yesterday.”
“Good.” She dropped her bag and her coat on the couch. She’d held it together until now, but the impending meltdown hovered just under her skin. “Whatever you see and hear for the next couple of moments, go with it, okay?”
One of Tony’s brows rose. “Dare I ask what you’re about to do?”
She grabbed a vase off the nearest display cabinet, an ugly thing Heather had no doubt brought back from some third-world country. “Nope,” she said and promptly flung it to the floor.
Crash! The vase smashed into a thousand pieces. Fallyn grabbed another knick-knack—an artsy porcelain cat statue—and fast-pitched it at the nearest wall.
Boom! Bits of porcelain rained down, joining the glass.
She took out the books and DVDs Jordan had so carefully put back into place, clearing a shelf with wild abandon before attacking the next. She beat her fists into the couch cushions and tore a picture from the wall so she could smash the glass against her knee.
When she was done, the living room looked worse than it had after the initial break-in and Fallyn sat, chest heaving, on the floor.
Her ears rang and her pulse raced. If she didn’t know better, she’d think she was having a panic attack.
Heather. Mother.
Gone.
The word was so final. One dead. The other dead to Fallyn, if not physically buried.
Carl. Dad.
Gone in a different way. One never there for her emotionally. The other there when she was growing up, but now he’d lied to her, betrayed her, as well.
The crunch of class echoed in her ear. In her peripheral vision, a man’s leg came into view.
Tony. He had to think she was crazy.
She glanced up, saw a crooked smile on his face. One big, strong hand reached down. “Shall we do the kitchen next?”
* * *
The following morning, while standing in the kitchen dumping the last batch of broken glass after Fallyn completely trashed her sister’s house, Tony’s phone beeped. He had no doubt this was one of four people.
People being his sisters.
Today was Mom’s party and they’d dogged him with reminders about getting candles, and—oh—they needed an extra disposable tablecloth for something or other. Hell if he knew. All he needed was a list. King of the List. That was him. With a list, he could get shit done. Fast.
He set the dustpan on top of the garbage can and retrieved the text that had just come in. Shannon. With an update to the list. An extra corkscrew. Sure. Why not? After the last few days with Fallyn and this nightmare scenario, the simplicity of checking off a list was a vacation.
Fallyn.
Shit. He dragged a hand down his face. With Grey in the hospital and Monroe hanging with Syd, who the hell would stay with Fallyn while he went to his mother’s party? Because, there was no way—no way—he could miss that party. Not only did he want to be there, but the abuse he’d take from Team Estrogen would be epic if he wasn’t.
He dipped his head back, stared at the ceiling where just above him footsteps creaked a floorboard. Twelve hours ago, after a much-deserved freak-out, Fallyn crashed hard, landing on top of her sister’s bed and passing out.
The woman was flat-out exhausted so he’d snagged her phone and let her sleep while he repaired the damage she’d done.
He’d even managed a catnap while playing bodyguard. He’d activated the alarm, pushed one of the living room chairs right up to the base of the stairs and slept. If anyone tried to get up those stairs, they’d have had to get through him.
Multitasker and King of the List. Atta, boy.
He tracked Fallyn’s footsteps, walking along with her. At the staircase, he looked up, spotted her at the top, still in yesterday’s clothes, her hair a rat’s nest and—wow—his body responded. In a big way.
The woman was a mess and yet, he wanted her. All day long.
“Good morning,” she croaked. “Did you steal my phone?”
“I did. You needed rest and that thing goes off constantly. I think the world did okay without you for a few hours.”
She came down the stairs, her eyes on him, and with the crazy hair she looked…demented. Straight out of a B-grade horror flick. If she wanted to yell at him about the phone, so be it. He’d do it again in a nanosecond.
Plus, he wasn’t afraid of her. When she got mad, it turned him on.
Warped.
Totally unhealthy. Had to be. The two together might land them a slot on one of those prime time crime shows after they killed each other. Breaking news folks, a Supreme Court police officer and a political spin-doctor fucked each other to death after an argument.
He laughed. Couldn’t help it.
Fallyn stopped on the first step and stood eye to eye with him. “What’s funny? Certainly not you confiscating my phone.”
“Certainly not. I was thinking about the insane hair you’re sporting and”—he waggled a finger at her—“the mean look in your eye, and I must be nuts because—guess what, babe?—it’s off-the-charts hot. I mean, how sick is that?”
She kissed him. Just bam, an immediate assault that included use of her tongue darting into his mouth and poking at his. Damned hot. Fallyn, no matter what, threw herself into a situation. Every time. No matter what.
This kiss? This lip scorching, soul-shattering monster that got him so hard he might explode, was no exception. He pulled her in, clamped his hands over her ass and gave her as good as he got while she and her tongue rocked his world.
Oh-kay! Good way to start off, considering he’d just insulted her. A good twenty seconds in, she ground her hips against him and—holy shit—they’d light this place up.
Afraid he’d humiliate himself and erupt on the steps, he backed away from the kiss, dropped little pecks along her jaw and moved to her ear. “I guess you’re not mad at me.”
“Keep that up and I won’t be.”
She stiffened and—whoopsie—not a good sign. Yeah, he’d killed the mood. He faced her again, let go of her ass and set his hands on her shoulders in case she tried any diversionary tactics. Like running up the stairs screaming.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “My mom’s party is today. I have to go.”
“Yes, you do. I’d be upset if you didn’t.”
“And Grey and Monroe aren’t…available.”
“To babysit me.”
“We’re not babysitting you. We’re helping. Big difference. So, I was thinking, while we wait on the reports from the medications and whatever that thumb drive was, we pop in at my mom’s party. Eat some good food and cake and chill for a couple of hours.”
“You want me to meet your mother.”
So, okay. Already she was freaking out. “Sure. Why not? But, I can see your wheels spinning and let’s not get crazy here. If you want, I’ll tell them I’m working your security and didn’t want to leave you alone. Personally, I don’t care what they know about us.” He leaned in, tugged on the ends of her hair and his knuckles skimmed the rise of her breast. “I’ll tell the world. That’s how crazy I am about you.”
Something in her eyes flashed—heat mixed with a lightness he hadn’t seen much of since he’d met her. He’d seen it the other night though. Right when he pushed inside her.
She slid her hands up his arms and the feel of her, the warmth of her skin against his mixed with his wicked thoughts, made his blood race.
“You’re crazy about me?”
“I sure am. Thought I proved that with all the body slamming the other night. In fact, you’re lucky I let you get any sleep at all last night.”
“Mmm. I see. Well, you know, since we have this party to go to, I’ll need to get showered. Maybe put something nice on.” She stopped that slow slide of her hands and let them rest on his biceps. “I’m feeling pretty grimy right now. I mean, really,” she moved closer, “really, dirty.”
Damn, he loved this woman. Intense one minute, playful the next. Just like him.
“Un-huh,” he said. “You’ll definitely need a shower then.”
“A long one. Hot one.”
Man, oh, man, he was so doing her before his mother’s party. And if his translation skills were still intact, it sounded like it might happen in the shower.
“I’ll…uh…need a shower too, you know.”
“We should save time. And water. Is that what you’re saying? Shower together? There are efficiencies there.”
At that he laughed. A good laugh. A laugh that, before Fallyn, he hadn’t had in weeks. She made him…happy. There. Admitted it to himself. Sure he was a fuckup sometimes, but somehow, crazy Fallyn Pasche made him happy.
“I’m all for efficiencies.” He spun her around, smacked her on the ass. “Now get upstairs, woman and let me make you scream.”
Chapter Seventeen
Fallyn had new shoes. Sure they were from a local box store and had cost all of fifteen bucks, but hey, a new pair of heels could do wonders for your outlook, regardless of the lack of a designer name.
Tony drove. The tangle of DC streets gave way to the interstate. A few miles past that, suburbia. His eyes kept cutting over to her feet.
“What?” she finally asked.
“Those shoes. They’re so…”
“Call Girl Special? It’s the latest fashion for political fixers.”
“Sparkly was the word I was going for, and God strike me down, I can’t believe I just said ‘sparkly.’ There’s just no other word for them. They look like the princess shoes my nieces wear when they play dress up.”
That pulled a laugh from her. She gave him an exaggerated thumbs-up. “Your mother will think I’m a tramp, but I’ll be in good with the five-year-old segment.”
He grabbed her hand in mid-air and pulled it to his lips. “My mother will love you,” he said against her knuckles, brushing a kiss over them.
And, oh boy, didn’t that make her ovaries do that now familiar dance. I want to have your baby.
Hold the phone. That was so wrong. She didn’t want kids, didn’t have time for a husband. God knew, she didn’t know thing one about being a mother after her own had lit out.
What is wrong with me?
She’d spewed all her stress on the walls and floor at Heather’s townhouse last night. Gotten all the bottled up shit out. Then she’d slept like a baby for twelve solid, blissful hours. She’d showered, eaten, had sex with her boy toy, showered again. Her makeup was on, her hair was decent, and she had shoes on her feet.
Life was good. Or at least manageable once more.
So what excuse did she have for her current thought process? Tony and babies. Ayiyi. “You did tell your mother why I was tagging along, right? She didn’t have a problem with it, did she?”
“Stop being nervous. I didn’t share specifics, but yes, I gave her the gist of the situation. She’s used to keeping mum about my work. I had to tell her enough to prep her and my sisters. It’s not like they won’t recognize you. Your face has been all over the news.”
“I still feel like I’m crashing the party.”
“Believe me. Team Estrogen will love having you show up.”
“Team Estrogen?”
“Growing up in a house with four women is amazing, but daunting. I had to grow big balls or I would’ve been wearing shoes like those everyday. I love them, but they gang up on me constantly. Hence, I often refer to them as Team E.”
She laughed and it felt good. No wonder he oozed testosterone like a wild stallion. “I promise to behave myself and stay in the background as much as possible.”
“That sounds boring, and there’s no way my sisters will allow that. I apologize ahead of time, but you’re about to experience the Spanish Inquisition.”
Great. She could hardly wait. Good thing she had on her sparkly princess shoes because with the level of emotional fatigue currently invading her body, she needed all the sparkle she could muster.
Teeg had found nothing else buried in the tablet. He’d made a clone of the tablet’s hard drive so Tony and Fallyn would pick it up after the party. Dani had texted to say she was almost done decrypting the USB video. Fallyn should have it within the hour. The really good news for the day was that Grey was recovering from his surgery, although he continued to go in and out of consciousness. Still, optimism for a full recovery reigned and Fallyn said a silent thanks for guardian angels.
She’d called and checked on her dad again. He was back to work at the restaurant, which was a good sign, so she left a message with his office gal. She’d heard nothing further from Hollister or Bronco and hoped they were playing nice together, along with the Capitol Police.
A half-hour after they left the city, Tony took a couple of turns and they ended up at a long paved road with white fencing running the length of it. Balloons and a happy birthday sign hung at the entrance. As Tony pulled up the lane, Fallyn saw immaculate barns in the distance and a big, old rambling plantation house at the end of the lane. Horses grazed in the green pasture to her right.
“This is beautiful,” she said. “Did you grow up here?”
“I did. Actually, my mom grew up here. When my grandparents died, she inherited the property. She’s done a lot to it over the years. It used to be a lot smaller. A ranch. After my dad died, Mom needed a distraction and renovating the house was it.”
“She turned a ranch into this?”
“Yep. Added the second story plus some.”
“Wow. Did you love having all that extra room?”
Tony looped around the curved drive, parked and stared up at the house for a second.
“I should have loved it.”
“But you didn’t?”
He looked at her, his eyes a little sad. “Not without m
y Dad. We would do stuff together all the time. Fishing, dealing with the horses, throwing a ball. Whatever. It was manly time in a house full of women and sometimes we both needed a break. Then he was gone.”
Gone? Just like that? “Stop it.”
“Honest to God. I was outside playing. Shooting hoops. I kept thinking it was the best day ever. The sun was out, we’d been out on the boat fishing that morning and I was loving life.”
Fishing. Boat. Sun.
“Your tattoo. It’s for your Dad, isn’t it?”
He looked over at her and grinned. “Very perceptive, Ms. Pasche.” He smacked at his arm. “The compass is a copy of the one he carried whenever we went on the boat. The sun is for that perfect sunny day and the roses are from his funeral. Anyway, I was shooting hoops and came inside for a drink and there he was on the kitchen floor. Massive heart attack. Boom. Gone.”
“Oh, Tony. I’m so sorry.”
He lifted one shoulder. “Eh. I adjusted. My uncle—Dad’s brother—helped. I’d have been screwed without him.” He laughed softly, the sound filled with sadness. “I’d have drowned in estrogen without him. Thus, the Team Estrogen line. My uncle gave me that one.”
A gaggle of kids emerged from the front door and ran down to greet them. “Tony! Uncle Tony!” they yelled, squealing and laughing as he picked up each girl and boy in turn and flew them up into the air.
One of the little girls—maybe four or five years old—stood off to the side, chewing on a nail and eyeing Fallyn.
She’d handled diplomats, actors, and leaders of first world countries, but she wasn’t sure what to say to a small human.
She stuck out a hand. “I’m Fallyn. What’s your name?”
“Esme.” The girl stopped chewing her nail and glanced down at Fallyn’s shoes. “It’s short for Esmeralda. I’m a princess. Where are your wings?”
“My wings?”
The girl pointed at Fallyn’s shoes. “You’re wearing fairy godmother shoes.”
Of course. She’d take fairy godmother over princess any day. “I left them at home. They needed cleaning.”