When I Fall

by Tamara Morgan

  There was no easy answer to anything right now, so he focused instead on the familiar sights of fall settling on the Connecticut countryside. Once upon a time, he’d loved it out here, would spend hours doing normal boyhood things like climbing trees and murdering insects with a magnifying glass. A quarry over one hillside had been a particular favorite once he’d reached the age where common sense took a backseat to his burgeoning sense of adventure.

  It was difficult, now, to remember when it was he’d lost his love for this place. He’d long since replaced climbing trees with clubbing, hiking the quarry with skiing in Switzerland.

  “Stop the car, Monty.”

  “What?” Monty slowed but didn’t stop. “Look, I’m sorry about mentioning your fiancée, okay? I didn’t mean it as an insult.”

  “Stop the car, Monty.”

  They rolled to a halt on the gravel side of the road. “I wasn’t demeaning her or your relationship, I swear. I can see now—”

  Jake made a shushing noise and peered out the window. What had seemed at first glance to be a sight of mild interest was now one that required his full focus. “Up there, at the top of the hill—do you see anything?”

  “Yes, now that you mention it. It looks like someone is yelling at a tree. Actually—” Monty shot Jake a nervous glance, “—it looks like Rebecca is yelling at a tree.”

  Jake sighed and unfolded himself from his seat. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “Am I allowed to ask?”

  “Unless I’m mistaken, she’s got a man treed up there.” And here he thought the cats were the ones who ended up in the branches. “Just cross your fingers it’s not Mean Max. I don’t relish the thought of getting him down.”

  * * *

  “Do I want to know why there’s a strange man in this tree, or should I just go get a ladder?”

  Becca wasn’t surprised to hear Jake’s low, cool voice at her ear. He had an uncanny way of showing up exactly when he was needed, a savior in form-fitting pants. She barely blinked when he took a spot next to her, glancing up at where Greg clung to a branch, a camera swinging from his neck.

  “No. No ladders.” Greg shook his head, and then thought better of it as the movement caused him to swing precariously to the right. “Don’t let her anywhere near me. She’s gone crazy.”

  “I’m not crazy.” In fact, she was being more than reasonable. She’d tapped four times on each wrist before she made any threats. If you asked her, things were going quite well. “All he has to do is hand over that camera and we can all go on our merry way. It’s his own fault he’s stuck up there.”

  “That seems a reasonable trade.” Jake held out a hand. “You heard the lady. She’d like your camera.”

  “Well, she can’t have it! And if I could reach my phone without falling to my death, I’d call the police. You can’t corner a man and make threats. This is America.”

  Becca had to laugh. Greg was acting as though she’d waved a gun in his face and forced him to scale walls. He’d already been in the tree when she walked past, enjoying a moment of quiet before she headed back into the house. She wasn’t sure which of them had been more surprised, but she suspected it was Greg.

  “You’re absolutely right. What was I thinking?” Jake gestured to Monty, who lurked a few steps behind, looking as confused as she was sure Jake felt. It was difficult not to compare the two men—and even more difficult not to realize how far superior Jake was to his elder brother. He might not have any idea what was going on, but no one watching the scene from afar would feel that Jake was in anything but complete control of himself.

  “This man is in America,” he said calmly. “Of course he wants to be paid for his camera. Bubbly Face, how much would you like to pay him for it? Monty rarely carries more than a few hundred at a time, so we may need to offer him a trade.”

  “I don’t want to pay him anything, Boo Bear.” She crossed her arms. “Don’t you recognize who that is?”

  “Should I?” Jake turned his attention back to the man, a look of concentration moving over his features as he tried to place him. “Hmm. He does look familiar.”

  “Pay very close attention to the scar on the forehead and that lovely scowl of his. He always wears it when he’s on the job.”

  She knew the exact moment Jake figured it out. It wasn’t so much a flash of recognition as an inferno of rage that swirled in his eyes. But as he always did, he kept his emotions in check, tightly reined, likely to cause him a heart attack well before he reached the age of fifty.

  “Hello, Greg,” he said, the ice in his voice giving lie to his fury. “I didn’t recognize you upside down. It was nice of you to come all this way to see us, but I think it might behoove you to do as my fiancée asks. If you think she’s crazy, I’m afraid you’re in for a big surprise when you discover what I’m about to do.”

  “You can’t have my camera!”

  “So you keep saying. But I think perhaps you’re underestimating how persuasive I can be when I’m feeling...shall we say annoyed?”

  “Do you want me to get Alex?” Monty seemed more concerned for his brother’s well-being than Greg’s. “Maybe we should let security handle this.”

  Jake didn’t look over, though Becca noted the firm set of his jaw. “Yes. That would be wise. Why don’t you take Becca and head back to the house. I’m not so sure I want witnesses for this next part.”

  “Oh, I’m not missing this,” Becca said. Not for the world. She might not mind Greg when she was at home or on vacation, where it was practically expected of him to pounce out of the bushes to catch her making a fool of herself, but out here at Montgomery Manor was a different story. Jake’s family was here. Serena’s children were here. “Just remember to be careful of his asthma.”

  “I’ll bear it in mind.” He began to slowly unclasp the watch from his wrist. “It’s always nice to know a man’s weaknesses before I head in.”

  Jake felt a strange sense of calm washing over him as he handed his watch to Becca for safekeeping. Nothing would make him happier right now than to forcibly remove this man’s camera through whatever means were necessary—the more gruesome, the better.

  This was his family estate. Private land. The one place where Becca should get a break from the constant vigilance of the media. Christ. They weren’t happy sitting back and waiting for her to snap. They were practically causing her to in the first place.

  “He has a backup SD card in his hip pouch,” Becca said as Jake circled the base of the oak tree, looking for a foothold. He didn’t recall ever climbing this particular variety before—he’d always been more of an orchard dweller, making off with fruit in exchange for his labors—but he was always willing to try new things. “I saw him slip it in there when he thought I wasn’t looking.”

  “It will be my honor to retrieve that as well.”

  Jake only got as far as the lowest branch, which he used as a sort of leverage bar to get his momentum going, when he felt himself lifted from below. He glanced down, startled, to find Monty giving him a boost.

  “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t kill him,” Monty said wryly. “If we hide any more bodies in the quarry, people are going to start asking questions.”

  A startled noise escaped Greg’s throat.

  “I’ll do my best,” Jake promised. “But we could always use the old mill pond if things get out of hand.”

  Climbing a tree was a lot like riding a bicycle, as it turned out. Jake wasn’t sure he’d touched those particular muscles anytime in the past two decades, but with Monty’s help, he managed to get his body up over the bottom fork of the tree with relative ease. From there, he was able to pull himself up the three branches required to reach where Greg was perched on high.

  Below him, Becca broke out in enthusiastic applause. Monty, to his credit, nudged her away from the t
ree and positioned himself in front of her. Jake wasn’t going to say he liked his brother yet, but he was feeling closer than he had in a long time.

  Family comes first. It was an adage none of them seemed able to escape.

  “You must be one hell of a dedicated photojournalist,” he said as he inched his way to where Greg clung. The branch creaked with his added weight, and he paused as several of the yellowing leaves flitted to the ground. “How long have you been hiding up here?”

  “I wasn’t hiding.” Greg’s voice turned high and nasal, signaling his fear. “If you want to know the truth, she chased me up here.”

  He moved closer. “You fled for your life as a hundred-pound woman in high-heeled boots chased you up a twenty-foot tree? Are you absolutely sure that’s the story you want to stick to?”

  “Well, I wasn’t on this branch. I was down on that one.” He pointed at a thicker branch a few feet below, and Jake noticed his hand shook before he quickly returned his grip. “She was clearly the aggressor—and so are you. You can’t attack me like this. I’m unarmed.”

  Right. Because the only tools a man could wield against a woman like Becca were ones forged of steel. “I’m not attacking you. I’m robbing you. If you’re going to file a police report, at least do it correctly.”

  “He’s also trespassing,” Monty called up. He unclipped his cellphone from his belt and waved it. “That might have some bearing on this situation. I’d be happy to put a call in and find out. I haven’t talked to Sheriff Nolte since the retirement party for his lieutenant last month. I’m sure he could sort this out in a matter of minutes.”

  Jake didn’t bother to hide his smile. He’d forgotten how handy Monty could be in a fight. He played fair—he never played anything but fair—but he knew how to use his strengths in a way that felt anything but. As a kid, his strengths were usually his ability to tattle or to make the person caught in the act feel like shit. Jake, if you sneak out and get caught, Linda will probably get blamed for it. Jake, if you have to pick on someone, pick on me. I can take it. Hell, those were his strengths as an adult too.

  “I want the camera and the SD card and anything else you may have snuck into that bag.” Jake held out his hand, being careful not to actually touch Greg and give him any cause for complaint. There was no law against sharing a tree with a man. At least not that he knew of. “Now.”

  “It’s not like I got anything incriminating.”

  “That doesn’t make it okay.” Jake peered over the side of the branch in an exaggerated gesture. “I can see pretty nicely down my fiancée’s shirt from here. How do I know you’re not snapping boob pictures to go home and upload to porn sites?”

  “I’m not that kind of journalist.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult your professional integrity. My mistake.”

  Greg flushed. “I just wanted some family shots—you know, all of you together, a big happy celebration.”

  “We hire a public relations specialist for that.” Jake stuck out his hand to ask for the camera one more time. As much fun as he was having getting splinters in his ass, the role of knight errant was getting tiresome. “Don’t make me ask again.”

  Greg finally realized the precariousness of his situation, and with a cautious maneuver, he managed to get the camera unhooked from around his neck and extended toward Jake. Unfortunately, his movements were too nervous, too jerky, and the branch decided it could no longer bear their combined weight.

  To the symphony of an ominous splinter and Becca’s cry, Jake felt the rough pull of bark under his legs.

  And then he was falling.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “This really isn’t necessary.” Jake lay on the ground, his head resting firmly in Becca’s lap while she picked out leaves and other debris from his hair. Despite Jake being injured, a heavy branch at their feet and Greg moaning nearby, his locks managed to capture that perfect combination of charm and windswept ease. “I can sit up.”

  “Yes, but your brother is afraid you might punch Greg in the face. I’ve been told to keep you in place, and keep you in place I will.” She moved from his hair to his neck, running her fingers in a soft pattern along the tendons, lingering at his chiseled jawline. Opportunities to simply sit and enjoy this man’s body were rare, and she intended to get the most out of it. His bulk was heavy but not unpleasant on her legs, and her lower half reacted to the reassuring weight of him with a familiar, pooling warmth.

  She liked the sensation of a man on top of her. She especially liked the sensation of this man on top of her. Too bad it took a tumble from a tree to get him there. She had a feeling that life with Jake would always be like this. She’d be the one crawling on him, asking for his touch, begging for more. He’d only return the favor when he slipped and fell—something he spent every minute of every day striving to avoid.

  A loud groan rose up behind her, and Jake lifted his head enough to look at Greg sitting a few feet away, slumped against the tree trunk. Greg had softened the fall for Jake—probably the only generous act the man had performed in his entire lifetime—which meant he’d taken the brunt of the impact. She was no medical expert, but his arm was bent at an awkward angle that indicated there were some not-so-comfortable bones in there right now.

  An ambulance was already on its way, and Monty had walked down to the road to greet them, leaving the three of them alone. Becca, as the only one with full mobility, had lost no time swiping the camera away and holding it safely in her lap next to Jake’s head.

  “I told you there weren’t any bad pictures on there.” Greg scowled as she scrolled through the photos, deleting with reckless abandon.

  “What about this one?” She held up the screen for Greg to see. Although distance prevented him from making out the exact details, it wasn’t hard to discern her shape in Jake’s super-comfortable silk robe as she’d stepped out on the terrace that morning.

  “I took that with a telescopic lens. I was outside the gate—fully within my legal rights.”

  “Uh-oh. My finger slipped. It’s deleted.”

  Jake laughed softly and then winced. He’d stubbornly refused to let her look under his shirt, but the way he was favoring his left side indicated something had been smashed or bruised under there.

  “Ew. Is this selfie porn?” She held the camera out again, this time for Jake’s edification. Greg was a fairly attractive man, clearly working hard chasing down celebrities, but if that wasn’t a sock shoved down the front of his briefs, she’d, well, eat that sock. “Dear God. Who were you planning on sending that to?”

  Jake shielded his eyes. “Take it away, Becca. I can’t defend myself here. Delete them all. Or better yet, just smash the damn thing and spare us the commentary.”

  “Oh, but I’m leaving the selfie. Only the selfie. Greg can take it to his boss with my compliments. You’re still working for that Janine woman, right? I bet she’d like this one.”

  Greg let out a howl of protest that set her laughing, but she noticed Jake didn’t share her amusement. He grew still and silent—and not, she was sure, the result of his injury. “You know the name of his boss? Just how long has this guy been chasing you?”

  Becca released a chuff. “Are you kidding? Greg and I go way back.” She tilted her head and examined the man. Despite the fact that his face was drawn tight against the pain and she had his livelihood in her hands—literally—she had a hard time mustering up sympathy at the sight of him. For the longest time, she’d tried to humanize her captors, a sort of Stockholm Syndrome coping mechanism. She’d brought the paparazzi camped out in front of her apartment fast food, offered them lattes, asked about families, kids, wives.

  It had never worked. She knew Greg didn’t like onions on his cheeseburgers. He preferred cappuccinos with extra foam and two sugars. He had no wife or kids, but he took good care of an elder
ly mother he feared was showing the early signs of dementia.

  She knew all that, and he still sold a picture of her sunbathing topless on her apartment roof to the highest bidder.

  “When was our first meeting, Big G?” She pretended to think about it. “I was, what, fourteen? Fifteen? You remember—I was being harassed by that group of college guys outside the zoo.”

  The flash of recognition that crossed Greg’s face filled her with an odd sense of buoyancy. Of course he remembered. That had been the start of a long, fruitful career for the both of them. He couldn’t have been more than twenty himself at the time.

  “I don’t recall the specifics.”

  “Sure you do. You snagged a picture when the one with the backward baseball cap grabbed me and pushed me against a rock. That was some headline, wasn’t it? Clare Heiress Welcomes an Opportunity to Molest the Animals. Tabloids used to be a lot more clever back then. I miss that.”

  “Hey—it looked like you were enjoying it. How was I supposed to know they weren’t your friends?”

  “That part where I looked you straight in the eye and called out for you to help me...that wasn’t a clue?”

  “They were only messing around. You were never in any real danger.”

  She decided to delete the selfie after all, extending the camera his direction and giving it a waggle so he knew he could have it back. Which was why it was so bizarre that it went flying out of her hand and smashed against the trunk of the tree, narrowly missing Greg’s head. He flinched and ducked, but there was no amount of movement—short of flapping his broken arm and flying away—that would have saved him from the sudden figure of Jake looming over him.

  She didn’t know a man could move that fast after he’d fallen from a tree. She didn’t know Jake could move that fast, period.

  “What are you doing? Your brother said you need to stay resting until you can get checked out.”

  “Is it true?” Jake ignored her, holding himself stiff. His nose was inches away from Greg’s, and she could tell, from the fear twisted on the other man’s face, that Jake had surpassed anger and gone somewhere she wasn’t sure mortals could follow. “You stood there and watched while a teenage girl—a kid—begged you to save her? You let those bastards touch her and lived to tell the tale?”