by F. G. Adams
There have been times when I didn’t realize the implications of something as simple as mentioning the waves at the beach or allowing someone close enough to become friends. It’s all the same in Roman’s world. Harper learned about her father the hard way.
Jill Lancaster was one of Roman’s first calling cards before I knew to keep my thoughts to myself. She was our next-door neighbor in Santa Fe and helped sit with Harper on occasions when I needed some ‘alone time.’ He tortured her for three days before he killed her. There wasn’t an inch of her body he didn’t inflict pain upon. She didn’t have the information he wanted. Jill was a warning. One I will never forget.
Somehow, someway, a package found its way to me from Roman. He always thrived on theatrics. The graphic video of Jill begging him was enclosed. Before I knew what it contained, Harper had seen too much.
His hands rest on his hips and he lowers himself to my height.
“How ‘bout you save me a dance, sugar?”
“Okay,” is all I’m able to get out before he starts to walk away.
After a few steps, he turns around and adds, “Ya know, sugar doesn’t suit you. Nope.” He shakes his head back and forth. “I’m gonna call you Vixen. Yeah, that’s better…Vixen.”
He says the word as if he’s trying it out on his tongue, seeing if he likes the way it moves around in his sexy mouth.
“At least ’til you’re ready to give me your name, little Vixen.”
He winks at me then at Harper and exits without another look back.
Her giggles draw my attention. I guess she thinks he’s cute or funny, or hell, I don’t know. The giant jerk wad.
Harper laughs again and comments, “Vixen. It’s perfect.”
What the?
I’m stunned.
Speechless.
7
Oliver
When you’ve lied so often and so well for so long, you actually believe your lie to be the truth. It becomes hard to see reality, even if it’s staring you right in the face. And before the truth can set you free, you need to recognize which lie is holding you hostage.
As I walk out the front doors of the grocery store, a smile emerges from my lips. I’ve won this round. She’ll be crushing on me for days. Well, maybe not crushing, but what do I care anyway?
I stop abruptly. What in the hell am I doing? The playful banter with Fallyn has me all twisted up.
“Fuck me silly,” I mumble to myself as I pick up the pace walking to the truck.
I shake my head and rub my temples. Trying to alleviate the confusion that’s coursing inside. The increasing need to get my head back in the game has me calling Lukas.
“Hey, man. What’s up? How’s the stalking, Rico Suave?” Lukas blurts out over the speaker.
Ignoring his lunatic ranting, I solicit a diversion instead.
“Need some perspective, man. Explain to me again the connection between Matilda Blackwood and the Cabriccis.”
We’ve been over this hundreds of times already, but right now, I need the distraction.
My mind keeps gravitating back to the innocent, scared look that appeared on Fallyn’s face right before she had a panic attack. The anxiety that formed in the creases of her delicate forehead, in her erratic breaths, in her round eyes.
Even with the contacts, I could see it. Fallyn is a victim. I wanted to hold her close and make her feel safe. No woman should carry that expression.
The rhythm of my heart beats furiously in my chest, thinking about what may or may not have happened to her.
When I reached out and touched her, she was skittish like a scared little fox being hunted by hounds.
A stark warning that she’s a casualty of war. Maybe not the kind of war I’ve been part of, but I recognize battle scars. It’s not enough that she’s been on the run and away from her family for over fifteen years. My somber little vixen has been through a conflict of monumental proportions. I guarantee it.
God help me, but her skin was soft. Just like I knew it would be. I should not have savored the beauty of it. Taken pleasure in such a simple gesture. Yet when I came in contact with her, it was electric.
Even in her panicked state, I felt the connection. A tenuous thread of trust shot from her eyes to mine, like she felt it, too. There one minute, gone the next. I’m in deep shit.
“So…I think that if you suck my right nut just a little harder, it might just get me off, dickface,” Lukas replies as I clue in to the conversation.
“What in the fuck are you talkin’ about, Jolly Green?” I complain about the delirious ranting he’s spouting from his mouth.
“Ah, you heard that, huh?”
“Course I did, Luc. I asked for the two families’ connection, not your family jewels,” I protest into the phone and snicker in the process.
Sometimes he’s a crayon in a tool box. Just not right.
“I did explain, Ols. You were somewhere else, man. I chatted for about five minutes before I realized you weren’t with me. You alright?” he questions.
“Funny, Luc. Ha. Ha. Well, thanks for the chat. I’m headin’ back to the woods to babysit for a little while. I’ll check in when I get back to the inn.”
I ignore Lukas and the obvious daydream I’m waking up from.
“Wait, Ollie. What’s going on?” Lukas pleads. “Something’s wrong. I need to know the situation.”
“Nothin’ to it, bro. It’s all good. I’m goin’ silent, but you can track me. I’ll catch up with ya tonight,” I finish up, ending the call before he can add anything else.
Putting the truck in reverse, I back the big machine up and out of the parking lot. As I pull onto the street, Fallyn and Harper exit the store with arms full of grocery bags weighing them down. Fallyn’s dainty arms are wrapped around the heavy bags, causing her to struggle as she walks down the sidewalk.
I want to stop and offer them a ride. A forgotten dream stirs and pierces my blackened heart. For some strange reason, I long to help ease the burden Fallyn carries by herself, but I don’t stop.
I don’t need any bad juju right now. She’s only my op, I remind myself. Bringing Fallyn and Harper back to Lakeview, to her family, has to be my only concern. This transference bullshit is driving me fucking crazy. I need to get my shit together, like yesterday. I need to remember Taylor. Right?
As I pass by Fallyn’s quaint house, I smile when I gaze into the forest across the street. Nothing like a long walk in the woods to free the unsettling feelings mixing up my emotions.
Later, I’m sitting atop a large branch with my goggles on top of my head, feeling content in my element, except for the fact I’ve been sitting in this position for about an hour.
The backs of my thighs taking the brunt of the weight are screaming at me to move a little. My hands resting on both sides of my legs keep me in balance and motionless.
Damn, Lukas may be right. I’ve been out of the gym too long.
Fallyn has exited the home three times since I arrived. Two times with bags of trash. The third time to crank her car. She revved the engine up a time or two just to shut it right back off. Which I found to be very curious. What’s going on in that pretty little head?
However, each time I caught a glimpse, she captivated my attention and tugged me in. The swaying of her hips and her full, round breasts bouncing caused me to twitch on the branch, nearly falling to the ground a couple of times. Fucking testosterone.
I wonder if she realizes the power she wields?
I’ve noticed a few things since I climbed up this tree that have me troubled.
Number one, Fallyn leaves her door open way too much. Anyone could walk up in there and she would not have a chance. Someone by the name of Roman Cabricci or one of his thugs, perhaps.
Number two, an old classic-model sedan with tinted out windows passed by four times in the past two hours. The hackles on the back of my neck rose to full salute the second time it passed. Something’s fishy. I snapped a picture of the license plate. I’ll sh
ow it to Lukas and have him run a check on it tonight.
By hour four, the sun has already begun it’s descent to the west and I have to move around. My limbs are screaming.
Not. An. Option.
Carefully, I descend from the tree and trek through the woods to take care of business and give my body a break from stealth mode in the treetops.
Once settled back into my stakeout position high up in the black walnut tree, I hunker down for a few more hours.
The cool breeze has turned colder, so I burrow down into the wedge of the trunk and branch. It lessens the coldness.
My eyes grow heavy. The birds chirping and the breeze whistling through the leaves act as a lullaby to my weary body. It’s been a helluva few days. Fuck, to be honest, a helluva few years.
Black clouds loom over the horizon as I begin to drift.
Pop. Pop.
I jerk upright. Luckily, the harness I used when I climbed up this time keeps me secure in the tree.
Pop.
Gunfire cracks loudly through the woods, about ten or fifteen klicks away. In my half-asleep state, I’m thrust back to the war in Afghanistan. The day that ended my career as a solider.
The cliffs hung eerily in the dark sky as we moved as one through the never-ending nothingness of the desert. A landscape filled sparsely with assorted trees, plants, and an enormous mountain range. The weather was ever changing in the pit of hell we were thrust into.
Our team was scoping out a secluded hideout of a known terrorist threat, hiding somewhere in the bowels of the largest mountain peak. The current situation was the task of collecting as much intel as possible without being detected. In. And. Out. That was the mission.
A loud crack flowed across the indigo sky, and we all froze in position. When the coast was clear, Keagan gave the signal to move forward. Sweat poured down my back, making the miserable tromp even worse. Body fatigue was at an all-time high. After all, we had been trekking at a slow pace since our drop-off fourteen hours earlier.
I peered to my left as Lukas emerged into my view. As I turned in the opposite direction, Keagan gave the halt gesture, and the entire team reacted. Awaiting instructions.
Again, Keagan glanced toward me. My senses told me nothing was amiss. The distant birds chirping gave cadence to the fact we were good to go. No danger. I’ve always trusted and respected nature. I returned the signal of all clear to Keagan.
Carlito and Jimbo made their way to the front, toward the rocky formation. It was their responsibility to find us a safe way up the cliff. It never ceased to amaze me. Those two could climb a slick wall while it’s raining. Natural monkeys, I always said. I’ve climbed a mountain or two in my day, but these guys are genius climbers.
As soon as they scaled a few meters high, the rest of us followed behind. Within minutes, the whole team was hanging off the side of the mountain, making our way to the top while hoping that we didn’t fall. It’s a funny feeling being out in the open, dangling, with your life in the balance.
When we were almost to the top, Jimbo faltered as he reached up for his next hold. Rocks and debris rained down upon us, but we all went completely still. Halting the progress of climbing. I held my breath. I didn’t want the dust from the falling rubbish to coat my already parched throat and lungs. The pain in my limbs caused me to suck air, but I remained silent. After a few brief excruciating moments, we proceeded to the landing a couple of yards away.
Once on stable ground, I surveyed the valley below. Reminded me of home a little. I walked over to the left of the ledge, away from the others, and basked in the killer view. I was engrossed in the beauty of the scenery. Familiar yet vastly different because of the turmoil and war that plagued the region. It created a feeling of sadness within me.
Caught up in my musings, I heard the bomb explode and Keagan yelling, but it was already too late. It all happened so quickly.
Blood.
Body parts flying.
Chaos.
More blood.
Before I could get my bearings, the second bomb went off. I was quick enough this time and ducked for cover, out of the way into a nearby crevice.
The wind was knocked out of me, but I managed to recover swiftly enough. I made my way back out into the open. Canvassing the area for the enemy. Keagan was leaning over a disfigured mound covered with blood. I realized quickly he was shouting at Lukas.
“Don’t leave me here, Luc!” Keagan roared.
“Not going anywhere, man,” Lukas mumbled, licking his lips. “I’ve got to steal your angel from home you keep talking about all the time.”
“You’re delirious, dude. I never said she was mine,” Keagan said as I stumbled up to the crime scene.
Yes, crime scene, because that’s exactly what it was. It was a horror movie on steroids. One that couldn’t be real.
“Yes. You did. Every day now for, damn… I don’t know how many years.”
His voice was straining, weak from the blood loss.
I reached out to grab Keagan’s shoulder, startling him. He rotated in my direction, and I was met with a Beretta drawn and aimed directly at me.
“Ollie, man, shit. Don’t sneak up on a brother like that.”
“I’ve been yellin’ at your ass for the last five minutes. Probably what woke Jolly Green Giant, here,” I said, grimacing as I moved to Luc’s other side.
“You’re bleeding really bad, Luc,” I tell him. Not leading with the pleasantries I usually passed around.
He looked lower and sighed.
“You’re losing a lot of blood, and we don’t know how long it will be before help arrives. We’ve got to tourniquet your leg or we could lose you,” Keagan panted.
“You might lose your leg,” I told him as I pulled my belt from around my waist.
“I’ll still have my pretty face for the ladies, so y’all don’t stand a chance,” Lukas halfway joked.
His face void of all jest.
“Always the ladies’ man,” I chided.
“Yep. I’ll be six feet under before I give that title up,” he whispered.
“Or the right woman will find you, and you’ll be a goner,” I called out in a swoon worthy way. Hoping for a reaction only Lukas could wield.
“Never gonna happen. I’m a free-roaming bull.”
He laughed, and his eyes glassed over in pain. The discomfort evident as he grimaced and groaned.
“One. Two. Three.”
Keagan tightened the belt. The piercing sound of his cries echoed out across the darkened sky.
A twig snapped nearby, and my head whipped around in that direction, to a nearby opening. Two masked soldiers appeared and walked closer to us. Before I could react, one of the men lifted his gun and fired off a shot.
Hitting his target. ME.
The impact from the bullet threw me backwards and then…lights out.
8
Fallyn
As I navigate down the narrow hallway, I silently curse the freaking bulky box marked ‘Fallyn’s Winter Wardrobe,’ when my hip connects with the mass and said hip begins to ache painfully.
“Klutz,” a sexy male voice replays loudly in my brain.
Oliver could have been right on point with that guess. Then again, surely, I’m not the only person to have this problem.
I really need to quit thinking about the sexy cowboy with his soulful eyes and dimples to die for. The chemistry between us sizzled enough to fry an egg on asphalt during a winter blizzard in Utica, New York.
What am I coming to when every thought circles back to our meeting? I can’t explain the magnetic pull. It could be his southern charm or the feeling of home he emits when he’s near.
Damn it!
Shoving the box to the side, I stop in my tracks. Grandma. God love her. The articles of clothing hanging neatly within aren’t from any of my past winters. They come from some anonymous department store. One she chooses to discreetly purchase the items from, then she washed, labeled, and boxed them, ready to be shipp
ed around the United States until they found their way to me, or in this instance, Rescue, Virginia.
She’s been providing this way for years. Any city she visits, she shops and buys items ranging from household goods to clothing, handbags to quilts, unmentionables to toiletries. Then she stashes the collection away in whatever city until I need it. Every box I open from her is like Christmas mornings from the past. You don’t have a clue what you are going to get, but the anticipation and excitement of ripping the unique gift open remains. A little welcome home hug of love without the arms attached.
I grab the current car keys off the granite countertop and slide the glass door open. Walking toward the sporty two-door automobile, I hit the unlock button and slide in. The new car smell engulfs me as I push the start button. The humming of the engine settles my antsy, jumbled nerves. I pump the gas pedal a few times, and my breathing returns to normal.
Crazy, right? Well, not if you’re running for your life and almost came face-to-face with your worst nightmare.
Roman was so close one night I could smell his rank cologne.
“Time is on my side, Fallyn. I can wait. You’ll get tired of running and make the mistake of relaxing. I’ll be there…waiting in the dark to bring you home,” Roman confidently jeers on the wind.
We barely made it out of Sleepy Hollow because the damn car wouldn’t turn over; the battery was dead. We ran on foot for miles until an elderly lady pulled over and offered us a ride to the nearest bus station.
We were lucky. Maybe it wasn’t luck but my guardian angel watching over us.
Whatever the reason, I can’t escape the fear of being stranded. So, every day since that god-awful night, I crank whatever means of transportation I have at my disposal, without fail. Rain, shine, sleet, or snow, I have to know my escape route is ready and available.
If I don’t, anxiousness spikes to an unhealthy level. I succumb to the vicious thoughts of what could happen, and before long, the snowball gains momentum and an avalanche of horrors occurs. Thus, cranking the car is at the top of my daily to-do list.
