All Over You (All Falls Down #3)

by Ayden K. Morgen

  "Didn't nobody know the truth. But the thing about hiding who you are is that, eventually, it starts to eat at you. Three years ago, I hit rock bottom. I was a hot mess, on depression medication and still fighting every day not to eat a bullet. I started going online. I thought I'd meet some people and find a little meaning in my shitty life." She laughs. "Life ain't ever sunshine and roses though. I was so fucking afraid someone would find out my dirty little secret, I opted to be someone else. I created an entirely new life for myself. By day, I was Delante Torrance. By night, I was Daphne Torres."

  "What happened?" I ask softly, leaning forward in my seat, absorbed in her story.

  "I fell in love. Jay was…Lord, that man was something. He made me so hot, the way he talked to me. I fell hard and fast. So did he." She smiles fondly at the memory of Jay, but then her expression twists. "And then he started talking about meeting me. Now, let me tell you, honey, I ain't afraid of much. But the thought of him finding out that I wasn't the woman I'd been pretending to be? That made being gunned down in the streets look like a cake walk. I panicked. Ain't no other way to explain it. I flipped my shit. The day we were supposed to meet, I faked my own damn kidnapping."

  My mouth drops open.

  Cam squeezes my hand and shakes his head slightly, urging me to let her finish.

  "It was the damned dumbest thing I've ever done," she says quietly, chasing syrup around on her plate with a forkful of pancakes. "I didn't think it through. Naturally, Jay lost his mind and called the police."

  "Is that how you two met?" I look between her and Cam.

  "Sure is," Daphne says. "Took this gorgeous bastard all of five minutes to figure out Daphne wasn't real. Took him all of two days to find me. I was scared shitless I was about to go to jail, so I told him the whole damn sob story. I expected him to haul my ass in and throw away the key." She laughs again, shaking her head and smiling fondly. "This fool wasn't what I expected though. He listened to my story, and then he convinced me to tell Jay the truth."

  I look over at Cam to find him watching me, those gray eyes drinking in every shift of emotion across my face. He smiles at whatever he sees there and gives my fingers another squeeze.

  "He went with me to meet Jay," Daphne says, recalling my attention. "Stayed the entire time to make sure I was okay. And when Jay dropped me like a hot brick, Cameron dragged my ass to a drag show and introduced me to the girls. My life ain't been the same since." Daphne nods at him. "This man is the reason I'm alive today. He'll never admit it, but his friendship gave me the courage I needed to accept who I was."

  My eyes mist over and pride wells in my chest. I barely even know Cam, but I'm proud of him.

  "I ain't even gonna lie and say it's been a walk in the park," Daphne says, "because it ain't. I've lost most of my friends and family since I started transitioning, but the ones who stuck by me? They're the real deal. I'm happier today than I've ever been. I owe that to your man."

  "He isn't mine," I mumble.

  Daphne looks between us and then laughs to herself, but she doesn't argue with me. Instead she says, "I know a lot about catfishing, and most of us are harmless, like I told you. Our lies get a little too big and we get in a little too deep. But I'm telling you now, honey, whoever yours is ain't playing a harmless game. She bled this kid dry and then dropped him like trash. I doubt he's the first."

  My breath stalls in my throat. I haven't even considered the possibility that there are other victims, other people she's done this to while hiding behind my name. How many people has she hurt? How many have died?

  "Breathe, kitten," Cam murmurs, leaning in to whisper the words in my ear.

  I take a shallow breath, and then another.

  "Your catfish had no problem borrowing your life to play his or her little game. I don't know who you pissed off, but, honey, this has personal written all over it. Whoever is behind this either hates you, or really wants to be you. Either way, you need to be real careful, girlfriend."

  chapter seven

  one call away

  "You okay?" Cam asks, leaning against the front door to my apartment, watching me pace around in circles.

  "No." I stop pacing and spin to face him. "Why would someone do this to me? I mean, I'm not a bad person. Sometimes, I say things I don't mean. And sometimes, I get a little cranky. I hate hairless cats because they freak me out, and I don't understand the Kardashians. I think Lady Gaga is overrated, and Beyoncé is probably the devil, but I'm not mean to anyone. I pay my taxes and make sure I don't annoy my neighbors." Tears fill my eyes for the thousandth time since my life imploded. "What about me is so terrible?"

  "Kitten." Cam pushes off from the door and strides toward me. He tilts my chin up until I'm looking into his eyes. "Nothing about you is terrible," he murmurs, wiping away my tears. "You didn't do anything to deserve this."

  "Then why me?" I ask, sniffling. "I'm just a teacher, Cam. Why did they pick me?"

  He frowns, his brows furrowing as if he's looking for an answer or some explanation that will make sense. There isn't one though. "Is there anyone who has a grudge against you? An ex-boyfriend? A former rival?"

  "No, no one. My friends are great. They're supportive and caring. I can't imagine any of them doing something like this to anyone, let alone to me. And I haven't dated in over a year. My last boyfriend, Patrick, wouldn't do this. I don't think his wife would, either."

  "What?"

  I tilt my head back and close my eyes. "I was stupid and fell for the wrong guy."

  "You dated a married man?" Cam growls, letting go of me.

  "I didn't know he was married!" I yell, flinging my hands up in the air. "I dumped him as soon as I found out the truth, and I haven't spoken to him since. Last I heard, him and his wife were trying to work it out." I don't even think she knows about me, at least not by name. I was too mortified to seek her out to apologize face to face, so I sent her a letter, telling her how sorry I was for what I'd inadvertently done to her.

  Cam stares at me, his eyes narrowed.

  "Stop looking at me like that," I whisper, the surprised, considering look on his face twisting in my chest like a knife. "I didn't know he was married."

  "I sure as hell hope not."

  "What does that mean?" I demand, not liking his tone or the way he's looking at me, like I did something awful. I know I did something terrible. Patrick was married, and I slept with him. He lied to me, letting me believe he was single, living in San Francisco and traveling for work. Meanwhile, he turned me into a homewrecker and a cheater. I never would have been with him had I known the truth. And nothing I say or do now will change the fact that I was involved with a married man.

  "Nothing." Cam sighs and holds his hands up in surrender. "It means nothing, kitten. You just took me by surprise."

  "Yeah, well, imagine how I felt when I flew down to San Diego to surprise him at a conference and found him at dinner with the woman I soon found out was his wife of two years." I rub my temples, trying to ease the headache rattling around in my brain. I didn't even stick around to ask questions. I hopped the next flight home, and waited until he showed up a week later to confront him. He tried to claim she was a client, but by that time, Erin and I had already hunted down the truth. When I sat a copy of his marriage license and house deed on the table in front of him, he couldn't deny being a lowlife cheater any longer.

  "So, you haven't dated in a year?" Cam asks, hooking an arm around my waist and hauling me toward him.

  I dig in my heels, not sure I'm over being upset about him judging me.

  "C'mere, kitten," he coaxes with that sinful voice of his. "Your head hurts; stop being stubborn."

  I reluctantly let him march me to the sofa and sit me down. He settles beside me and then picks me up and turns me around, putting my back to his chest.

  "Relax," he whispers in my ear, positioning me where he wants me.

  "Stop manhandling me," I grumble.

  He chuckles instead of responding and nuzzles h
is face into my neck, pulling a soft sigh from my lips. Within seconds, he's worked the rubber band free of my hair, sending the thick mass cascading down my back. He plunges his hands into my hair, massaging my scalp and neck.

  "You aren't playing fair," I mumble.

  "Don't remember agreeing to play fair, kitten."

  "Stop calling me that."

  "Why?"

  I open my mouth to tell him I don't like it, except…I think maybe I do. The pet name doesn't sound silly in that smooth, dark voice of his. It sounds sensual, sinful.

  "Relax. I pissed you off. Let me make you feel better."

  "I didn't know Patrick was married," I say again for good measure, and then moan loudly and go limp in Cam's arms. "Your hands are incredible."

  His soft laugh rolls over me. "Think you like having my hands on you."

  I do. I so do. No way am I telling him that, though.

  "You didn't answer my question."

  "What question?"

  "You haven't dated in a year?"

  "Oh, nope."

  His hands stall. "Were you in love with him?"

  Was I?

  "No."

  "Then why haven't you dated?"

  I think about his question for a moment as he digs his fingers into the muscles of my shoulders, kneading away the tense knots. "He told me he was single, and I believed him," I say honestly. "When I realized he'd lied to me…I was devastated. Not because I loved him, but because I'd been sleeping with someone else's husband for six months and I had no clue. I felt awful about it. I still do. Being in that position isn't something I ever want to go through again, so I decided to take a break from dating for a while."

  "You were too good for him."

  "I know. So is his wife. What about you?"

  "Do I know what it feels like to sleep with someone else's husband?" he teases. "'Fraid not."

  I jab him in the stomach with an elbow, earning an amused chuckle from him. "I meant do you date a lot?"

  "If you're asking if I'm a manwhore, the answer is no."

  "I didn't ask that," I protest, flushing.

  "You wanted to."

  I can't deny that so I simply shrug.

  "I'm not a saint, but I don't fuck around. A long string of one night stands never interested me much, and with my job, they aren't exactly realistic. I work twelve hour days, sometimes seven days a week. Doesn't leave much time for picking up random women at some bar."

  "Are you working now?"

  "What do you think?"

  "No."

  He rewards my honesty by brushing his lips across my cheek. His scruff feels so good against my skin I have to fight the urge to turn and press my lips to his. The desire to feel all of that raw sexuality unleashed on me again is almost overwhelming.

  "This isn't officially my case," he says after a moment.

  This is news to me. I pull back to look at him. "Then why are you helping me?"

  "Told you I was going to. A friend at LAPD called to ask for help after the kid's phone pinged in San Francisco. I agreed to look into things on this end to see what I could shake loose." He pauses. "Found more than I expected though."

  "How so?"

  "I had suspicions from the start that someone else was behind this," he murmurs. "Nothing about you fit the profile…but I didn't expect you or that mouth of yours."

  "Oh." I fall silent, not sure what to say to that, and let him work his magic on my head, breathing him in as he does so. His hands really are incredible. Within moments, the knots in my neck and shoulders disappear, taking the headache with it. A yawn cracks my lips. I'm so sleepy.

  "You falling asleep on me, kitten?"

  "Mmhmm. You're so warm."

  He chuckles. "Your fault, you know. Can't stop thinking about getting you in my bed. It's got me heated."

  My eyes pop open and I'm suddenly wide awake again.

  He shifts beneath me, groaning again. "Swear to Christ, sweetheart, I've been hard as steel since I saw you on that stage. Gonna be good though. Get to know you, see where this leads," he says, stealing my breath.

  I think I love the way he talks to me, like he's so caught up in me, he can't form entire sentences. His thoughts just flow from his lips, half formed, said because he can't stop the words. Knowing I do that to him makes me feel like I'm flying, all breathless with a racing heart.

  "Don't want to go too fast for you."

  "I think this is too fast," I confess on a whisper. "I'm not…I'm not used to this, Cam."

  "To what, kitten?"

  "To this. To you." I turn and motion between us. "You're always touching me and teasing me and saying filthy things to me. I don't know what to do with that!"

  He scrutinizes my expression for a moment. "Does it bother you?"

  Does it? I think back to today, when he held my hand and steadied me at Daphne's, to how easily I leaned on him, letting him keep me together when all I wanted to do was cry. "I think I like it too much," I mumble, dropping my gaze. Whether this is his case or not, eventually, he may have to arrest me. What happens then?

  "Look at me, kitten."

  I shake my head, refusing.

  "Kitten."

  I can't refuse him when he pitches his voice low and practically growls at me. I lift my gaze to his.

  "I like the way your skin feels against mine and the way your heart races when my hands are on you. I like how flustered you get when I tease you. You're so sweet and innocent, but you get so riled up. I like seeing you come alive for me like that," he says, shrugging. "I like you."

  "You barely know me."

  "I know more than you think I do," he says, his voice soft and quiet as he gazes at me, those gray eyes practically glowing with sincerity. "I know how dedicated you are to your job, and how much Bryan Gleeson admires you for it. I know that Mitch Adamson worships the ground you walk on, and so does his bartender, Jacob Taylor. I know you spent your college years doing something you hate to make sure your dad had the best care possible. I know you lost your mom and only sibling in the wreck that paralyzed him, but you forgave the young man responsible. You spend your free time volunteering at Golden Acres Nursing Home, where your cookies are as big a hit as your voice, and you never, ever make it home at the end of the weekend with all of your tips from performing because you stop by the homeless shelter three blocks from here and drop a fifty in the mailbox just like you did after you played the Red Room."

  "How do you know all that?" I ask, stunned. Not even Erin knows about the homeless shelter. I didn't think anyone knows I'm the one who drops money into the box every weekend.

  "Told you I knew the first time I saw you that you aren't the person we're looking for," he says with a smile, reaching out to trace my bottom lip with his index finger. "I spent days looking into you before I came to see you at Mitch's. Had to meet you to see for myself why everyone loved you. Can't say you disappointed me, kitten. You're fucking phenomenal."

  "I don't know what to say," I whisper. "You followed me home from the bar?"

  "Had to," he mumbles, pulling me closer with a hand on the nape of my neck. "Had to make sure you were who I thought you were. Didn't do it to scare you."

  "Didn't think you did," I mumble back, my gaze riveted to his mouth. If he was anyone else, alarm bells would be ringing all over the place at his admission that he followed me home from the bar. But knowing he did doesn't scare me in the least. It's oddly…sweet, even if he was trying to make sure I wasn't a crazy murderer. "What happens if you have to arrest me, Cam?"

  "Don't go there, kitten."

  "I have to," I whisper, swallowing against the fear the mere thought sends rippling through me. "Even if this isn't your case, it could be. If they find him…" I take a deep breath and try again. "If they find his body, you may have to arrest me."

  "Not gonna happen."

  "How do you know that?" I demand, pushing against his chest until I'm sitting on my knees between his legs. "You can't just wish this all away. You know it doe
sn't work that way."

  "For one thing, this isn't my case, so I won't be the one arresting you. I'm involved only because Octavio called and asked me for a favor, and because of you. For another, we're going to find out who's behind this."

  "How? I don't even know where to start!" And I don't want to cry over this anymore, but a damn tear falls from my lashes anyway. "All I know is that someone is doing this to me. Where do I start looking for a suspect, Cam? How do I find out who hates me enough to ruin my life?"

  "C'mere," he says, his expression softening as he reaches out to tug me back into his arms.

  He's so strong I don't stand a chance of fighting him off. I don't really even try to do so. Instead, I let him tug me forward until I'm lying against his chest, my face buried in his neck. He runs his hands up and down my back, soothing me while I cry, my tears soaking into his skin.

  "It's okay, kitten," he murmurs over and over. "You're gonna be okay."

  I'm not sure if I believe him or not, but eventually, my cries slow. He doesn't let me go, though. He just holds me, his heart beating a steady rhythm against my ear. He's warm and strong and makes me feel so safe. His tender words ease me, lulling me to the edge of sleep.

  "I need you to trust that I will find out who's behind this," he says as I drift in his arms. "I know what I'm doing. You just gotta give me time to do my job, kitten."

  "Mm," I mumble.

  "Not gonna let anything happen to you."

  I wake up disoriented to find that Cam has left. I'm not alone though, not exactly.

  He's left a note on the coffee table for me.

  Sleep, kitten, it reads in bold, elegant print. And stop worrying. Everything will be okay.

  I want to ask him how he knows everything will be fine, but he isn't here and it's far too late to call him. Instead, I grab his note and carry it into the bathroom with me. After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I quickly strip my clothes off and hit the lights before hesitating. Reaching into the hamper, I grab the shirt I just took off, snatch his note off the counter, and stumble toward my room.