by F. G. Adams
“You sell your paintings?”
I can feel the warmth from his body from behind. I yearn for him to wrap me in his arms and never let me go. His strength becoming mine.
“Not me. Grandma. She has a broker who handles everything,” I offer to appease the curiousness in his tone.
“It seems Matilda’s got her hands everywhere. I’m beginning to think there’s nothing she can’t handle. That woman has more eggs than baskets to carry them in. She’s one strong gal.”
“Her strength is her weakness…her family.”
I inwardly cringe upon reflection.
“Good point. She loves you so much, Fallyn.”
“I know she does. She’s been trying to make a right from something she did wrong so many years ago,” I mumble, distracted by the memory of Roman’s explanation.
“What do you mean?” Oliver leans over my shoulder and rests his chin.
“Nothing. It’s nothing,” I rush.
I’m on pins and needles at the thought of rehashing that nightmare. Telling Oliver about what Roman said and did. I just don’t want to go there. I’m in a good place.
“But—”
“Please, just forget I mentioned it,” I plead and hope he hears the desperation in my voice.
His comforting arms enclose me, and he pulls me into the warmth I’m craving.
“Tell you what”—he gently squeezes my chin, directing my gaze to his—“I’ll drop the subject. For now, okay? But sooner or later, you’re gonna have to explain to me what you meant. Deal?”
I look away from his watchful gaze. I don’t want him to see the truth in my eyes. “Maybe,” I reluctantly say.
He applies pressure to my chin to gain my attention, and I look back. Something passes between us. Maybe it’s the knowledge that I’m unsure, or maybe he knows not to push, but he releases me and places his chin on my shoulder again.
“Oh, yeah, speaking of family, how are you holding up? You wanna check on Harper?”
“God, yes! I miss her voice so much it hurts. This is so much harder than I thought it would be. But I really don’t have a choice. I want her safe.”
“And she is safe, Vixen. I talked to Lukas earlier, and they are at a safe house with secure lines, so if ya wanna chat, I can arrange it.”
“Yes. I really miss her terribly.”
He points at the easel.
“Your art reflects it.”
“She’s beautiful.”
“Just like her momma.”
“Come on, my beautiful vixen, let’s go call your cub.”
18
Oliver
Quiet is not always peaceful. When things go dark and silent, one of two things are in play.
One, a peace and calmness can manifest. Washing away all the ugliness out of life, like a spring rain.
Or two, it can provoke insecurities and self-doubt. Like a poisonous cloud of smoke smothering everything in its wake.
In the end, leaving a person full of serenity or suffering.
“It’s too quiet for me. I’ve got a bad feelin’, Ollie,” Keagan growls through the phone.
“Agreed. It makes me hinky, too, brother. Anything in your neck of the woods, Luc?” I ask and listen as I lean over to the window to peer out into the undisturbed woods.
“Nah, not a hair out of place, head-cheese. No worries, guys. We got this.”
I smile into the phone from Lukas’ gross and nutty remark. It grants me with the small belief that everything’s all clear for now.
Truth be told, though, I’m leery to the hundredth degree. We haven’t heard or seen hide nor hair of the Cabriccis since we made it to homestead. All the feelers have come back a negative. We’ve got zilch.
It’s like the information from Roman’s thugs was bogus. Even though the guys overheard the call to Roman. They listened to everything the perps said as well as Roman’s comments. It’s just not adding up.
“Still, I’m sending more reinforcements, just in case, Luc. We can’t be too careful,” Keagan says.
“Whatever you think, boss man. It would be good for a change of scenery for Mac. He won’t leave Harper’s side. If I were a betting man, I’d say that boy has got it bad for our baby girl. I’d swear he has jizzcock for brains.”
“Excuse me? Nah uh. You tell that sorry motherfucker to keep his eyes, hands, and other body parts to himself. You tell him I said, or else!” I shout into the phone. He’s obviously forgotten our talk.
The vein on my temple begins to bulge again. Shit. Spots flash across my vision.
“Now, don’t get your panties in a wad, Daddy-O. I got this covered. Do you really believe I’d let that happen? Not on my watch. So, calm the fuck down, dude.”
I gulp a deep inhale and exhale slowly. Lukas is right. He wouldn’t let anything happen to Harper.
“I know, man. My bad. It’s just, all this shit has got me going batshit crazy. Thanks, Luc.”
Ending the call, I’m in need of a release. Keagan’s posted outside the gates of the compound, while everyone else on the team is in place around the property, camping out in the various cabins scattered around. Waiting. No one’s getting in or out.
Fresh troops are en route to aid Lukas. I need to chill, and I know just what will help: target practice.
I text Keagan and let him know to signal the others. There’s going to be firing at the range. I have to find my sassy little vixen first. She needs to practice with me. Just in case.
I head up to the main house in pursuit of Fallyn. Ten minutes later, with my arsenal-stuffed duffle bag in hand, I find her. Exactly where she’s been the past few days, in the ‘art room’, according to her. Naming this room grants me the knowledge that she feels safe here. A small reprieve from her chaotic existence.
For a short period, I prop up against the door. I quietly stare, not making a sound or drawing breath. The way she moves the charcoal over the canvas momentarily affects the natural beating tempo of my heart.
From the looks of it, Fallyn’s started a new piece. I can just make out the outline of mountains when she turns around, startled, throwing her hands up, covering her work.
“Fuck! Oh. My. God, Oliver Bishop. You about scared the pee right out of me. Don’t you know how to knock?” Fallyn's exacerbated tone is followed by a chuckle from me.
“Now, where’s the fun in that? Besides, I enjoy watchin’ you when you don’t know I’m around.”
There’s laughter in my voice, but my body heats up and my playfulness masks my true desire.
“Well, you might just give me a heart attack one day.”
The smile on her face tells me she’s enjoying our banter.
“What’d you come up here for anyway?”
“I wanted to see if you were up for a walk,” I ask, hopeful that she’ll join me.
“Just a walk? Hmm.”
Fallyn uses the one word I know drives her crazy, and it registers in my lust-filled brain. She’s baiting me.
The smile that erupts all over her face is priceless. It causes a flood of testosterone to my system and my dick. An excited grin bubbles up and out of me, so wide my cheeks hurt.
“My little vixen wants to play, huh?”
Standing up, Fallyn wipes her hands off on a cloth, keeping her eyes trained on me, and covers up the art she’s been creating. With firm steps, I close the distance between us. Stopping right in front of her, not a smidgen of space separating us.
“Let’s do this,” she mutters out in a whisper but with a challenging gleam in her eye.
Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips, and I shiver with need.
She’s had me in knots since the other night in that motel. I crave more of her, need more from her. I’ve given her space. She’ll let me know when she’s ready, and I can wait.
I should take her back up to my room. Get Fallyn naked. Practice touching, tasting, and learning more about each other in the biblical sense.
Biting my lip from the image I’ve conjured in my
mind, I groan.
“Oh, what you do to me, Fallyn. But…it’ll have to wait,” I reply, because I really want to get her out on the shooting range.
My eye twitches from the uncertainty of her reaction as my mind races around the pros and cons. I hope she’ll enjoy it as much as I do.
I grab her hand along with her jacket and gloves before I change my mind, leading her out of the room, down the stairs.
Her giggles echo off the exposed monster log beam walls and ceiling. The whimsical laughter of her voice snares me, which helps to drown out all the unpleasant discussions from earlier. This is exactly how things should be.
Once outside, we follow the path to the left of the main house about half a mile into the woods until we reach a clearing.
Our hands are linked together and the wind blows wildly through the tops of the trees. I stop only once to zip up Fallyn’s jacket, buttoning the top clasp to keep her warm. The beautiful smile my actions illicit increases my own internal temperature. I’m nice and toasty.
As we walk up to the shooting house, Fallyn notices the large, round targets off in the distance at the other end of the opening.
“A shooting range? For reals, Ollie?”
Her giddy response is exactly what I was hoping for.
“Yeah? You up for it?”
“Are you kidding me? I haven’t got to shoot in forever. Eek! I’m tickled pink here.”
Fallyn jumps up and down like a toddler with a lollypop. This frisky, carefree side of Fallyn ignites the burn inside me even more, the attachment getting stronger by the minute.
“Huh?”
“What? Are you surprised that I like to shoot, Mac-daddy?”
Fallyn’s animated gesturing in full swing as she places her hands together and pretends to shoot me.
“You’re full of surprises, Fallyn. But I’m glad.”
“Good, so let’s get on with it,” Fallyn says, impatience lacing her voice.
“Okay, okay, hold your horses, baby. Let me get everything set up,” I say, chuckling, and begin to pull out the guns from my bag.
A few minutes later, I have all the weapons set up and ready to shoot. I hand the first shotgun to Fallyn and start to give her instructions, but I’m stopped before I can go any further.
“Hold up. I’ve got this. It isn’t my first rodeo, cowboy.”
Fallyn handles the gun like a pro.
I shouldn’t be surprised that she knows her way around firearms. After all, she grew up on a ranch. Grew up the daughter of Harold Blackwood, granddaughter of Matilda Blackwood. It’s apparent she’s knowledgeable in many things.
Fallyn cocks the shotgun and steadies it on the platform before leaning in to aim. When she draws in a deep breath and slowly begins to release it, a thundering shot sounds off loudly through the opening, followed by a ‘voomp'.
I grab the binoculars and search the target for contact. Right in the middle, bullseye.
That’s my fearless vixen.
My entire body hums from the astounding performance. Her skill and expertise are incredible. I latch onto her gaze as our eyes collide, revealing Fallyn’s expression. Illustrating a proud and boastful opponent.
“I told you. I’ve got this,” Fallyn answers in a haughty tone, and I want to sweep her up and spank her little ass red. My spunky little fairy.
“Not too bad, Vixen. Let’s try another.”
I hand over another rifle, then a few pistols. With every shot, Fallyn is flawless, precise. I’m in shock and awe by her complete and utter mastery.
Between her breaks, I take a turn dropping the hammer. Hands clasped around my weapon of choice, Old Faithful, a desert eagle .357 Magnum, I fire off several shots in succession. The steady beat of pulling the trigger loosens up the tightness in my chest, relieving my racing heartbeat a little. I'm settled.
I’m excited by the fact that Fallyn’s a good shot. It helps lessen my unstable emotions. If push comes to shove, she’ll be ready.
The easy conversation between us comes naturally. We continue into the afternoon with the friendly competition of who can out shoot the other.
If I’m being honest, it’s the most fun I’ve had with a woman outside of the bedroom. It’s as if we’ve been doing this forever. Which brings about a whole new level of sentiments. She’s chipping away at the last remnants of another time, another place, another love in my life.
The song and dance with Fallyn keeps me on my toes, and I can’t get enough of her. I’m constantly touching her, drawn in by her spirit. Conversing with each other on an ethereal plain. Existing for the other.
Until she asks a question I’m not yet prepared to answer.
“So, why is it that you, Oliver Bishop, don’t have a girlfriend? Or do you?” Fallyn questions between firing off her pistol. Her voice dips to just above a whisper on the last question.
I’m acutely aware of the uncertainty and insecurities billowing around her as she picks at a loose thread on her jeans.
A desire to erase all distance mobilizes me as I reach out to touch her, my body craving hers. Gently pushing a lock of her hair behind her ear, I study her tense hazel eyes.
“There is no one else, Fallyn. Hasn’t been since Ta…”— Fuck—“I mean for a long time,” I respond and immediately want to take it back.
A tightness in my chest followed by my own self-loathing takes hold. I feel physically ill, because I can’t tell her the truth. I’m not ready.
So, I quickly amend my statement, throwing it back on her, “How about you? You really haven’t had anyone else in your life?”
Fallyn looks off into the distance. A pained expression covering her lovely face.
“No.”
It’s all she says, and I don’t push further.
“I’m sorry.”
Shifting from foot to foot, I’m uncomfortable with the topic of conversation.
“It’s okay, Ollie. Really. I’ve learned to live with it,” Fallyn painfully offers with dull eyes. Then in an instant, her mask is back up as she squares her shoulders. She looks into my eyes when she inquires, “What I really want to know is, what’s your story.” Fallyn’s questioning is insatiable. She won’t give up.
My pensive body language portrays a man who is unwilling, closed off.
I long to share everything with this woman. She pulls at me, tugging me toward her, like we’re tethered by an invisible rope. But I can’t share. Not yet.
We both have our secret burdens to bear. One day soon. So, I go to my default. Basic, to the point but giving her a little more insight into who I am.
“Nothin’ to tell, really. I come from ‘round here. This place belongs to my mom and…me. We went into business together years ago.”
“What are you saying, Ollie? This is all yours?”
She throws her hands up in the air and rotates a complete three-sixty, then is back to face me.
“Yes.”
“Well, wonders never cease. I thought you were some mercenary, ex-military security guy. I had no idea,” Fallyn finishes.
An astonished expression travels over her face as her mouth gapes open then closes.
“Surprise?” I joke, trying to lighten up the mood.
I’ve thrown her for a loop, and it shows by her incredulous, dazed look.
“Uh, surprise is right. But you know what? That’s great, Ollie.”
Her voice rings of sarcasm at first. A quick change comes into her tone as she blows out a puff of air.
Loneliness creeps into her features as she continues, “Honestly. It’s awesome that you have all this and a family who supports you.”
Fallyn’s gaze wanders off into the woods again. The unfairness of the situation Fallyn was thrust into from the past presses down hard on my heart. Stepping into her space, I wrap my arms tightly around her.
“Someday, Vixen, I’m gonna hug you so tight that all your broken pieces will stick back together,” I mumble into her vanilla-scented hair.
“Yeah? Wouldn�
�t that be wonderful,” Fallyn remarks, longing in her speech.
We hold each other tightly. The cadence of the wildlife streaming from the surrounding woods soothing us both.
“Thank you, Ollie. For everything,” Fallyn breaks the silence that encircles us.
“Nah, no need for that. My momma taught me to be a gentleman to the ladies and always help someone in need. The army taught me the rest.” I laugh. “I’m really glad I’m the one who came to help you, Fallyn. I want you to be happy again.”
Securing her firmly to my chest, I squeeze gently against her dainty frame. Fate led me to Fallyn.
I continue to stroke her hair, caressing her flushed cheeks, and lightly kiss her lips. I want her to feel me. Believe in what I’m saying.
“Mmm. You make me believe the impossible is possible, Mr. Bishop. Just not sure if that will ever happen for me,” Fallyn concedes.
“Let me tell you somethin’, Fallyn. Anyone can give up on life; it’s the easiest thing in the world to do. But to hold it together when everyone else would understand if you fell apart, that’s true strength. And you, my beautiful Fallyn, have strength.”
The fact is, in Fallyn’s case, her confidence is a quiet calm. Her insecurities are loud and fierce.
Bundling into me further, she shudders, and I cuddle her up closer. The steady beating of her heart thumping powerfully against my abdomen. There’s not a stitch between us. And, like a punch in the gut, my addiction to Fallyn Blackwood overpowers everything else. Seizing my resolve in a vice.
Without a doubt, I will never let her go.
“C’mon, baby. Let’s get back to the cabin. My nuts are freezin’ off out here.”
My off-the-wall comment invokes another giggle. Music to my ears.
The wind has picked up, cold and chilling. I quickly disassemble the guns to pack them up. Fallyn helps by placing each piece into the duffle bag. We walk in silence back up the trail, hand in hand.
When we’re almost to the house, I ask, “How ‘bout I cook us some dinner on the grill tonight?”
