Chapter 8 Falco
FALCO
“I’m okay.” I’m awake, sitting next to Aerin in Pidge’s living room.
“No you’re not! Look at you! You’re pale and I can feel you shaking and there’s so much blood!”
Our wrists are still bound together, raw and bruising from each jolt and twist and yank from the fight. “Aerin—”
“Don’t you try and tell me you’re not, because I can see that you’re not!”
“Aerin—”
“And I saw you get shot before, but that wasn’t like this. This is different! Oh my god, you’re going to die, aren’t you? You’re just trying to calm me down but you’re totally going to die and it’s all my fault!”
“Aerin—”
“I’m sorry! I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen!”
“Aerin!” I hate to yell at her right now, but it’s the only thing that cuts through her panic and she finally stops talking, gasping herself into silence.
She stares up at me with red, tear-filled eyes and whimpers when I place my hand against her cheek.
“Listen to me.”
She nods shakily, sniffling.
“This is Pidge.”
He’s been keeping me alive since we showed up at his safehouse, stopping the bleeding.
Yet she still jumps around him like he’s going to be the next person to attack us.
Maybe this new fear of hers is a good thing, maybe she’ll realize how much goddamn danger she’s in, but right now I just need her to fucking listen.
“He’s going to use those bolt cutters to cut through the chain, and then I’m going to take you to bed where you can sit and rest, okay?”
“But what about,” she starts but quickly cuts herself off, her tight shoulders slowly deflating.
“I’m okay. I’m going to take care of everything. You need to take a moment and breathe, okay?”
Aerin nods rapidly, her damp, ruined curls clumping together around her shoulders. “Okay,” she murmurs. “Okay.”
We arrived at Pidge’s twenty minutes ago.
It’s taken this long to calm her down, but it’s a start.
I need to get her someplace safe and secure, then I need to get this bullet out of me before it turns me into a liar.
Pidge, after a nod from me, slips between us with the bolt cutters and snips the chain cleanly.
Then I scoop Aerin up into my arms, bridal style, and follow Pidge’s nod toward the bedroom.
Despite her panting and trembling, Aerin finally falls silent and clings to me as we walk down a short hallway and into the bedroom. Pain is a distant thought, though, as long as I focus on Aerin, so that’s what I do.
Every ounce of strength I have left fixates on her as I place her on the bed and help her remove her bloodstained hoodie and jogging pants.
She’s under the covers before I glimpse anything I shouldn’t, so I pull them up to her shoulders.
“Pidge has a shower if you want—”
“No,” Aerin gasps. “I’m not…not yet. I don’t want to. I just…”
I nod, not prying further into her turmoil. After securely checking the window multiple times, I linger in the doorway, searching for something to say.
Nothing comes as my thoughts trail back to my wounds.
“I’ll be back,” I assure her, then I close the door and limp back to Pidge’s living room.
He waits for me by the bloodied sofa and snaps his fingers, pointing at the cushion I just vacated with a silent instruction for me to sit.
“What have you gotten involved in?” Pidge grumbles as I cautiously lower myself onto the sofa.
I don’t reply.
I lay there, silent and empty, as he cuts away my t-shirt and starts tending to the bullet wound just under my ribcage.
Pain flares at first when he begins, but it quickly fades as I numb myself, pushing all sensation to the back of my mind.
How did they find us?
I was careful. I was so fucking careful. Paramatti safe houses are a closely guarded secret and yet somehow they found us.
And what they did to Aerin?
Waking on the grass to see that maniac on top of her trying to squeeze the life out of her was terrifying.
A few seconds later and I would have lost her.
Never in my years as an enforcer has life been this fucking chaotic. Someone really wants Aerin dead.
“You’re okay,” Pidge says after a long period of silence. “Heavy bleeder, but you’ll live. And this…” Pidge’s rough fingertips drag against my healing wound from the restaurant. “You gotta stop getting shot.”
“I’m not making it a habit,” I grunt as he covers my wound with gauze and drops the bullet into a plastic cup next to me. “Am I good?”
“Yup.” As I sit up, Pidge leans back and shoves his glasses up so he can rub his eyes. “Why did you come here?”
“Where else was I supposed to go?” I murmur. “I couldn’t think.”
“When was the last time you slept?”
“Have I put you in danger?”
“No,” Pidge grumbles. “I just meant…you avoided all my invitations to visit me and then you turn up half dead. And you didn’t answer my question. When did you last sleep?”
“Couple of days ago.”
“Hm.” He pulls a pill bottle from his back and empties a couple onto his hand, then tosses them to me. “You wanna tell me how you ended up babysitting Aerin Paramatti and nearly dying for it?”
“I’m sorry.” Aerin’s soft voice rises from the doorway, drawing our attention to her. She’s pale and her eyes are like saucers as she huddles in the housecoat she took from the back of the door.
“Aerin.” I stand and wobble. Pidge immediately grabs my arm.
“You both need rest.”
“I was…I’m sorry.” Tears well in her eyes and my heart lurches, so I shake Pidge off and approach her.
“It’s fine. What’s wrong?”
Something about my tone makes her flinch and my gut tightens.
“I…it was too dark…I was too alone and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Aerin’s voice grows softer and softer as she talks.
“Come on,” I say, gritting my teeth through the pain and fighting to make my tone as soft as possible. “I’ll come and sit with you.”
It doesn’t take long to take Aerin back to bed.
She still refuses a shower and any kind of food or drink.
She’s in shock so I don’t press her.
This time after tucking her up, I sit beside her on the bed and remain there, staring out the window at the darkening sky until Aerin’s breathing softens and she slips off to sleep.
I don’t move for another thirty minutes until I’m sure she’s truly asleep.
Back in the living room, Pidge tosses me a bottle of water. “Tell me everything.”
I ease back down onto the couch with one eye on the door and begin.
From my first job as an enforcer for the family all the way up to the restaurant and today’s attack.
The only thing I leave out is those ninety seconds in the shower where I made Aerin see stars.
On the surface, it’s easy.
Talking is a distraction, and turning up bleeding on Pidge’s doorstep earns him the right to know the whole truth.
We’ve been friends for long enough. Talking helps me forget the pain and gradually, very gradually, I start to relax when Aerin doesn’t reappear in the doorway. She’s resting properly this time.
“The mafia,” Pidge says slowly, shaking his head.
Light from the single lampshade near his arm casts an eerie glow on his face. “We fought against people like that, you and me.”
“And look where that got us. You think the government or the law gives a shit about men like us? At least with this family, I get to do a little good. I put myself to work and I’m able to sleep at night.”
Pidge rolls his eyes. “You don’t sleep.”
Sighing deeply, I finish the glass of water he gave me halfway through my speech and sigh. “No. I don’t.”
“You have a leak,” Pidge says. “It’s the only explanation. A family as powerful as hers? Safehouses don’t get leaked unless someone wants them to be. Either a leak or someone on the inside wants her dead.”
Someone on the inside wouldn’t go to such extravagant trouble since killing her in the bath would be a lot easier.
Has to be a leak.
With another nod, a final sigh escapes me like a ragged gasp.
“I need your help, Pidge. Those men today? I can’t take all that on by myself.”
“You’re here, aren’t you?” Pidge drags one hand through his shaggy blonde hair and stands.
“Sleep. Rest. You’re safe here and so is she.
Just don’t die on my fucking couch.” Despite the playful annoyance in his words, he knocks his leg into mine as he walks past. It’s as close to affection as Pidge gets.
War broke both of us. Pidge hides behind his computers and his tech while I throw myself into the criminal underworld just to feel useful. We survive.
Just.
Pidge leaves me with the light on, disappearing deeper into the house.
I should sleep but my mind won’t stop running.
The weak pulls throughout my body don’t deter me as I stand and check the room for any traps, check the locks on the window, and check Aerin’s room to make sure she’s still there.
She sleeps soundly, curled up into a tight ball.
My heart squeezes unexpectedly and remains like that, as if caught in her palm, all the way back to the couch.
She’s alive.
I’m doing a shitty job of protecting her, but she’s alive and that’s all that matters.
At this rate, I’ll be dead before Guido finds out I touched her. He won’t have to kill me because protecting her will do that for me.
Over and over I replay her in the shower.
Her hair dark from the water, her lips flushed and red, her large, perfect breasts glittering from water droplets.
For a moment, I can feel her around my fingers until I touch fingertips and feel nothing but dried blood.
Then all I see is her on the grass with that man on top of her, and rage ignites in my heart. I should have woken up sooner.
Sleep doesn’t come until after I drag myself through a shower and revisit Pidge to get my wound redressed, then I pass out on the couch and remain there, dead to the world, for several hours.
Something wakes me a little after dawn.
Cold and stiff from the fight and the bullet that tore through my back muscle, I ease myself up with a grunt and squint as I listen to the silence of Pidge’s home.
I was woken by something, but now that I’m awake I can’t put my finger on it.
But it’s there. I’m alert despite no immediate danger.
Rising, pain lances from my back down to my tailbone.
After rummaging through Pidge’s side table for more painkillers, I toss two in my mouth and crunch them while walking into the hallway.
The subtle sound of running water catches my attention.
Keeping an ear on it, I check in on Aerin and whatever sleep lingers vanishes the instant I see her empty bed.
Rather than call out, I creep along the hallway until I’m at the bathroom where, just under the running water and splashing, I hear her.
Soft, whimpering sobs roll out from under the door. She’s in there and she’s crying.
Comfort has never been my strong point.
Given everything that’s happened, I won’t be surprised if she hates me right now, but I have to look at her.
Just a glance to make sure she’s okay.
Grabbing the door handle, I ease it down and lean onto the door with my bare shoulder, pushing it open.
Aerin doesn’t notice me.
She stands at the sink still wearing the housecoat, but it’s fallen around her bare shoulders, gathering where it’s bunched up to her elbows.
She’s sobbing quietly while scrubbing her clean hands with blue soap that lathers up instantly.
Tears pour down her cheeks and she chokes softly, coughing.
Clouds of steam rise from the sink and fog the mirror, clinging to the streaks she must have added with swipes of her hand.
The soap lather washes off and vanishes, but she pumps more soap onto her hands and continues to scrub.
Dark bruising flares across one wrist underneath the cuff manacle still dangling from her arm, and dark fingerprints line her throat where that bastard tried to choke her.
Another six hours and they’ll be black.
I should leave her alone, but something keeps me in the doorway, one hand on the door and the other on the frame.
“Aerin?”
She flinches violently at the sound of her name and glances at me as another wave of tears well in her eyes.
They spill when she blinks and a louder, desperate sob escapes her.
“I can’t… I-I can’t get th-the blood off!”
Her hands are pristine. Not a single drop of blood remains.
I enter the bathroom and nudge the door closed behind me, then I approach her slowly like she’s a timid deer ready to bolt at the first abrupt movement.
As I walk closer, her fingers come into view and they’re as clean as her hands.
“Aerin…”
“I-I can’t get it off!” Her shoulders curl forward and she reaches for the soap once more.
“Let me help.” There’s no blood.
If anything, her skin is turning pink and raw from her scrubbing, but she’s free of blood.
Her pink shoulders and damp hair suggest her hands aren’t the only part of her subject to intense scrubbing.
“Can you h-help me get it off?” She looks up at me with such wide eyes, a storm of upset gathering in them that makes my stomach knot.
“I can help. Will you let me?”
She nods frantically so I step up behind her and drape my arms around her body.
Once our arms are aligned, I wet my hands and wince at the scalding temperature.
Adjusting the knob makes Aerin gasp, but the water quickly cools to a more manageable temperature.
Then I squirt soap onto my palm.
Rubbing them together, a lather forms quickly and I take one of her hands in mine.
Her entire body trembles against me and as she shudders with sobs, my stomach knotting tighter like a fist is twisting me up on the inside.
My movements are slow and controlled as I massage her hand.
Around her palm, up to her wrist and then down each finger in turn.
I lather her hand completely then guide it under the water to wash the soap away.
I repeat the same action with her second hand only this time I’m much more careful with her bruised wrist.
Arin slots in perfectly against me, tucked neatly under my chin as she huddles around the sink.
Soon, her other hand washes free of soap and I cradle both her pink, raw hands in my palms.
“Is it gone?” I ask quietly.
Aerin chokes softly and shakes her head. “N-No. I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”
I hush her with a rumble of my throat. “It’s okay. Let’s try again.”
Just like before, I repeat my steps and just as I suspect she tells me once again that she can see the blood. So we repeat it.
Again and again.
Each time I adjust the tap so the water is a little cooler and I stay there with Aerin, washing her hands until she can see that all the blood is completely gone.