OZZY
Since handing the reins of the crew over to Fallon, my body has never been more at ease. I’m no longer in charge of meetings, or decision-making, and it’s the biggest relief. No one can capture a room’s attention like Fallon, and when she’s worked up, she’s a force.
As promised, I’m not treating her like she’s going to fall apart in my arms, so when she and Cami decide to put an end to their relationship, I give them their space and let them work things out on their own. After all, I always respected their bond, and let them be their own couple without interfering, and I see no reason to change my involvement now.
I am worried about her going back to her stepfather’s house, a place where so many bad memories are buried; she hides it well, but I can sense her fear.
The fear of returning, the fear of facing him again, and most of all, the fear of what she’ll be forced to remember.
Over the last few days, I’ve learned to give Fallon the time she needs, rather than attempt to pry into her space and demand she open up to me. She’ll come to me when she’s ready or needs comfort, and when she does, I’ll be waiting.
We share enough trauma to feed a village, and I reckon that once this journey is over, we’ll both only have larger loads to carry.
There isn’t much that can haunt me, but one vision that’s permanently burned into my mind, that could bring me to my knees instantly, is when Fallon collapsed during the kidnapping exchange.
My heart was shattered, thinking they’d done something to hurt her, and our next battle has that same kind of terror attached to it. I’m scared of what comes next, of the possibility of her getting into harm’s way again. It’s the reason why I reacted so harshly, kicking her out of the crew talks, and barring her from being a part of what we do, but now that we’ve turned a new corner – appointing her as the leader – the threat of danger is only growing.
There’s a lot for me to work on, to become more comfortable with her throwing herself into the ring of fire, and I’m willing to make these adjustments for her, on top of how protective I can be.
“Sorry, did I wake you up?” She asks, slipping back into the room and locking the door behind her.
“No, I wasn’t sleeping. Are you alright? I didn’t want to disrupt,” I say, watching as she shimmies out of her clothes, down to nothing but a pair of purple panties.
Respectfully, I turn away for her privacy, but wow , what a fucking vision she is.
“I’m okay. We both needed that closure, and it was like a weight coming off my shoulders,” she explains, a slight cheeriness in her voice that has been absent.
“I’m happy you feel better, Bambi. Are you ready to take charge?” I ask, but my jaw pops open, staring as she purposely moves into my line of sight.
“I’m ready to take charge,” she says playfully, an evil smirk forming on her face while pulling my hand into hers.
Instead of lacing her fingers through mine, she drops her fist, opens her hand, and turns on her heel, walking away from me.
When I look down, her panties are in a ball in my palm, and I groan, tipping my head back until my eyes land on the ceiling.
This woman is trying to kill me, and I love every second of it.
“Bambi!” I call out, looking around the room, but she’s taken off, presumably hiding away in the bathroom.
I’m fighting an internal war, following her, or staying put until she makes more of a move, but fuck it .
The least she can do is tell me to fuck off, and I’ll happily obey her orders.
When I peer around the corner, she’s got the shower on and the curtain wide open as she washes her hair. Her back is turned to me, and I watch as she lathers her purple locks with my shampoo, the scent of lavender filling the air.
“So what happens at these meetings?” She asks, pretending this tension between us is non-existent.
“Lex will read off any emails we have, which I figure will be a few since we aren’t in Missouri. Then, we’d usually go over jobs, routes, and responsibilities. Sometimes, Lex and I hang back to work on our Mr. A. hunt, but that’s about it,” I answer, utterly tempted to strip off my clothes and join her under the water.
“Alright, there won’t be much else besides the emails then. I don’t want to include Pepper and Cami, not today. Pepper can be involved once we go from eight to seven,” she says, and I don’t question her choices, only keeping my eyes trained on her body.
We’re locked into a battle of wills, and I will happily let her win, as long as it brings us closer. I’d let her tease me until the day we die, never laying a hand on her body if it meant I could spend every single moment with her.
Of course, I can’t let her know how easily I’d give in.
She thinks she’s got my number, but we’re playing two completely different games, and I’m in this until the very end. She can believe that she’s breaking me down, but deep down, she knows I’d do anything she asked.
These little games are a test of trust, whether or not that’s what she's admitting to herself, and I will ace them all. I’m dedicated to rebuilding what was broken, no matter how long it takes, or the hoops she needs me to jump through.
“I’m going to tell him I’m the person he’s speaking to when Lex replies. He needs to know who he’s dealing with. He got off easy, kidnapping me and then blackmailing you into leaving me. He wanted to destroy me, but Mr. A. needs to know that he didn’t . I’m still here, and I’m fucking coming straight for him,” she says, breaking our silence and shutting off the water.
“I think the element of surprise might work in your favor, though. He has no idea that you’re here, and we can get a few steps ahead with your stepfather,” I counter, and she nods, drying her hair with a towel, and walking toward where my feet are cemented into the floor.
“You might be right, baby. Should you be my number two, or Olly?”
“Oliver,” I say instantly, without a second guess.
We may have these conversations in private, but for decision-making purposes, I want her to have someone she can rely on, who won’t have to fight his instincts to protect her from a paper cut.
“I agree, but is a third a thing? Since there are six of us now, I think if the three of us stick together, it’d hold more weight. You know?” She asks, making a very valid point.
“Doc had an even number clause. The third is very much a thing, and I’d be honored to be yours.” I smile, our bodies inches from each other as she leans on the doorframe opposite of me.
I can see how fast her chest is rising and falling, her breathing intensifying with each passing second, the space between us feeling a million miles long.
“Okay, it’s settled then. My men are assembled and I’ll talk to Olly in a little bit. Thank you,” she says softly, reaching out to trace her finger along my jawline.
“Anything, Bambi, you know that.”
“I know, Ozzy. I’m re-learning everything, but it might take me a little bit,” she explains, kissing me on the cheek as she walks past me in the tiny towel.
I reach out, grabbing her by the arm and pressing her against the wall, my hand cupping her cheek gently.
“I’d wait a lifetime. I want you to know that, and in the meantime, I’ll keep worshiping you as the Goddess you are, from afar. That will never change.” I brush my lips against her forehead, gently kissing my favorite spot as she exhales, her body almost buzzing beneath mine.
“You pushed me against the wall, a deep fire raging behind your eyes, just to tell me that?”
“Is there something else you want me to do?”
“Kiss me, Ozzy. Stop treating me like I’m forbidden fruit, and forcing me to shove my panties in your hand to get your attention,” she whispers, her eyes closing as she takes a deep breath.
“ Say please ,” I say, moving my hand from her cheek to her throat, pinning her against the cold drywall, and watching as her body shudders at my words.
“Please. Fucking. Kiss. Me.” She chokes out around my palm, and I melt instantly, pressing my lips to hers.
She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer as her fingers tangle in my hair, and I can’t stop myself from biting her lower lip, feeling as her body reacts to every little move I make. She sighs into my mouth, her lips quivering as they tangle with mine. Her resolve is breaking, and she craves this intimacy — but at her pace.
“You never have to work for my attention, my beautiful girl . You always have it, no matter what,” I whisper against her lips, and she nods, trailing kisses down my cheek.
“Then stop respecting me.”
“No, Bambi, I can’t do that. I want to earn you, to put in the work to deserve you again. I ruined us, destroyed the sacred bond we had, and I won’t rest until I make that up to you. I need to be worthy of your love, and I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything,” I confess, and her eyes widen at my words, letting them sink in before saying anything.
She tucks her head into my chest, and I hold her against me, absolutely loving the feeling of having her in my arms.
“Let’s take things slow, okay? I want to feel like I can be intimate with you, or naked in front of you, without it being an issue. We can navigate the deeper stuff together, and I promise, I will tell you if I begin to feel uncomfortable,” she bargains, and my heart swells at her ability to dictate exactly what she’s thinking.
“You’re my world, Bambi. I will happily, eagerly, and obsessively look at you with, or without, clothes on,” I reassure her, and the tension I felt in her body before seems to be melting away slowly.
After what feels like forever, and not nearly enough time, she peels herself off me, opting to get ready for the meeting, and the conversation with Oliver.
I couldn’t be more proud of her and how she’s taken her rightful place on the throne.
We still have a long way to go before we’re over this hump, but getting the crew in order and on the same page is a top priority, and I have nothing but confidence in Fallon’s ability to lead this band of misfits down the right path.
As Fallon struts out of the room, looking like the Queen she is, I find myself with a few quiet moments, and I can’t help but feel relieved that she’s going to be making decisions. After New Jersey, she’s the leader of this coup, and I think with Fallon at the helm, we’ll be in better hands than when Max and I attempted to be the ones in charge.
I make my way up to Lex’s room, and Fallon is behind the desk, getting herself familiar with the software and previous emails from Mr. A.
Pepper and Cami are absent, per Fallon’s request, and Max, Journey, and Oliver are waiting patiently, sitting on the bed.
“Three new ones,” Lex starts, reading them aloud as we all listen intently.
Our boss knows we didn’t make it to Missouri, and he’s laid out the consequences if we don’t turn around and start stealing trucks again.
“So, he’s going to release those photos? We’ll be wanted for murder?” Journey asks, but Fallon shakes her head as her eyes widen in response to what she’s seeing on the laptop.
“Just me.”
Lex spins the computer, and we all watch as the moment Fallon plunged the knife into Raz’s neck appears on the screen.
It’s grainy and from a distance, most likely taken via drone, but this will be taken out of context, meaning Fallon will have a very hard time explaining this if she were to be questioned.
This changes things and heightens the stakes to a place that I didn’t expect as a possibility.
“When is his deadline? Can we make it to New Jersey without worrying about harboring a fugitive?” Max speaks up, and Lex lays it all on the table.
“Three days. If we're not back to work, in Missouri, by the end of the week, he’ll have Fallon arrested. He doesn’t know she’s here with us, though, and that gives us the upper hand, for now.”
“A little housekeeping, but I’ve chosen Olly as my number two, not Ozzy like you may have all suspected. I’m committed to doing this right, to make choices that benefit us all, and keep us alive at the end of each day, and I think Oliver is the best choice for that role,” she explains, all eyes trained on her as she stands in the front of the room.
Nobody offers resistance, and although the consequences are heavy, we all agree to move forward, ready to be out from under someone else’s thumb – and the threats that accompany this partnership we’ve been forced into.
We’re leaving when the sun goes down, and the last leg of this journey will come to an end, face to face with someone I never wanted to have the displeasure of meeting. I need to spend the road trip containing my anger, and not letting what happened in her past cloud what our mission is. A few cheap shots, and I’m content. I promised Fallon I’d kill the man, but this isn’t the time or place.
My only focus is to keep her head on straight and get the information we came for.
* * *
The clock is ticking, the GPS is winding down, and suddenly in the blink of an eye, we’re five minutes away from Fallon’s stepfather’s house. She’s tense, but playing it off as she explains the habits she remembers, how he’ll most likely be awake and drinking coffee in the kitchen. The sun is dancing against the horizon, ready to rise, and Fallon has her game face on.
I’ve never seen her so focused, so ready to get something done, and I know that she’s looking for her pound of flesh.
It’s almost as if she has painted a mask on her face, blocking out the bad memories to show that she’s a force to be reckoned with.
Per her instructions, everyone will stay on the perimeter, and she’ll walk back inside like she hasn’t missed a beat. She’ll be blindsiding him and introducing me as her husband .
It’s intricate, and I’m no actor, but I have no problem pretending she’s my wife.
One day.
“Ready, Bambi?” I ask as her gaze is dead set out the window, and her body is so rigid it could be mistaken for an icicle.
“Not at all. Ozzy, how am I supposed to go back into that house?”
I pull her into my arms, holding her back against my chest as the roads become neighborhoods, and the street signs begin to resemble places where families go to live happily ever after.
“You’re bigger now, stronger, and not the same girl who ran away. Remember that,” I whisper, kissing her cheek as she sits up, looking out the window.
We’re here, and Max pulls down the street slowly, turning off the headlights and parking a few houses away.
Without another word, Fallon climbs out of the van, waiting for me to take my place beside her.
I reach for her hand, but she shrugs me off, her eyes trained on the house in front of us, her feet shuffling up the stairs at an extremely slow pace, like she’s buying time before the ultimate face off.
“You got this, Bambi. I’m following your lead,” I whisper, keeping my hand just above her lower back, letting her know that I’m not far.
The weapon Oliver slipped to her is in the waistband of her leggings, and although I never got the chance to teach her how to use it, I have no problem taking the lead, shooting this sorry motherfucker if that’s what the situation calls for.
“Do I knock?” She looks up at me, a hardened expression on her face.
“That’s up to you. We can try to be friendly, or we can burst in there like the fucking FBI.” I shrug, leaving the decision up to her.
“Let’s knock first,” she says, lifting her hand and tapping on the white-painted door.
She sighs, the seconds passing like hours until a tall man with thick-rimmed glasses opens up, his dark eyes meeting Fallon immediately.
“Bunny! Oh, it’s good to see you, your mom would be so happy that you’re home!” He cheers, attempting to reach into her for a hug.
Her body reacts, taking a step back and folding into my arms.
“Steven. This is Ozzy, my husband.” She gestures toward me, and his eyes dart upward, his face changing when he finally looks at me.
“Husband? Are you knocked up, Bun? We can take care of that,” he sneers, his focus dropping back to Fallon.
That does it, and she snaps, reaching for the gun in her waistband and clocking him in the teeth with the butt.
If there’s one way Fallon knows how to use a weapon, it’s to smash it in her target's face. I knew this would get ugly, but I didn’t anticipate it happening while we were still exchanging pleasantries.
Steven stumbles backward, landing on the dirty carpet and catching himself with his hands.
We both cross the threshold, and I slam the door behind us, locking it to ensure we’re alone.
“You okay?” I ask, my eyes searching for hers as I approach the bedroom, gun in my hands as I scan each room quickly.
She doesn’t answer, her gaze trained on the bleeding man beneath our feet, and I gently place my arm around her shoulder, being careful that she doesn’t get spooked and clock me in the face, too.
“What now?” She asks, breaking her focus and looking up at me.
Some blood from his mouth splattered onto her face, painting tiny red freckles across the bridge of her nose and down her cheeks.
“Restrain him. Let’s get what we came here for and ignore anything else he has to say, okay?”
She nods, the fury in her eyes lighting up the dark room, but her hands tremble as she reaches for the closest chair, dragging it to the center of the room.
“Let me handle this; you go find his laptop,” I whisper, her eyes frantically darting around the room.
She’s rattled – and rightfully so – from stepping into her childhood home, and the memories of abuse she suffered within these walls.
I watch carefully as she saunters into the kitchen, tossing trash off the table in her search. Once I’m confident she’s not going to collapse, I turn my attention to the cowering man staring up at me.
“Come on, let’s get you more comfortable.” I smile, sarcasm dripping from my voice.
“Wh– what do you want from m–me?” He stammers, and I can’t help but laugh.
This is the pathetic son of a bitch who spent years abusing Fallon, yet, when he’s presented with a threat, he’s fucking scared.
As he should be.
“Information, my dear Steven. Information.” I slap my hand on his shoulder, taking his hands and pinning them against the chair.
Fallon’s handcuffs came in handy after all, and I latch his wrists together, binding him to the wooden slats, lifting his chin so he’s looking into my eyes.
“I can give you money. Please,” he begs, and I make eye contact with Fallon, who approaches us with his laptop.
“I don’t want your fucking money, asshole. Especially not any you made off my body. Just open it up, and answer our questions, alright? I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me here,” she says, placing the computer on his lap, and opening the screen.
“You got this for a minute? I should let them know we’re good, and have Lex get ready for file transfers,” I say, searching her eyes as she looks up at me.
“We’ll be fine. We’ve got some catching up to do, don’t we, stepfather ?”
“Be easy, Bambi. Information first.” I remind her, kissing her forehead gently and stepping away.
I take the stairs two at a time, in a hurry to relay this message and get back to Fallon. I can’t stand leaving her alone with that disgusting piece of garbage, but we all agreed to go in silently, so no Bluetooth earpieces for this mission.
Whenever I pictured Fallon’s stepdad, I thought of someone bigger than me, maybe overweight, or jacked on steroids, but instead, he seems like an Average Joe.
He’s tall, skinny, and looks like he belongs in an office selling insurance or some shit, which threatens to release my rage more than I was already planning.
He could blend in with a crowd and be the last person anyone ever suspected of child sexual abuse. He’s been able to mask his crimes by disguising himself as a regular guy, but that ends today.
“Everything alright?” Max asks, rolling the windows down.
“Yeah, we’re fine. We’re getting somewhere, so Lex, get ready,” I say, everyone’s eyes trained on me.
“Same plan?” Oliver asks, nearly foaming at the mouth to get his hands on this guy.
“Same plan. Give us ten minutes.”
As I walk back, I notice how quiet the neighborhood is, all the houses look the same, but almost no cars are parked in their respective driveways. It’s mid-morning, and I’m hoping our entrance hasn’t spooked anyone into calling the cops, especially with the looming threat of Fallon’s possible murder charges.
As much as we wanted to do this with the cloak of darkness, roadwork closures and turnpike traffic made that impossible.
I race back inside, nervous as to what I might find, but to my surprise, Fallon has moved the chair to the table, watching from behind as he types on the laptop.
She’s freed one of his hands, and besides her heavy breathing and anxious nail-biting, she seems alright.
I couldn’t have been gone for more than two minutes, but it might as well have been two hours, each step I took felt like slow motion.
“What did I miss?”
“We’re getting somewhere. It’s a big list,” she says, frustration plastered across her face as her eyes flick back and forth between the screen and me.
I pull her close to me, wrapping my arms around her, hoping it calms her nerves just slightly. Her body is tense, but she pulls away, not letting herself get caught off guard, and not ready to be vulnerable.
Fallon isn’t one to back off from a fight, but this one is different. This is something she attempted to let go of, only for it to be dredged up in the name of revenge, and although she’s putting on a brave face right now, that won’t be the case once the weight of this hits home.
She can distract herself, and pretend this is just a job or an obstacle, but when she lets herself truly feel this, I’ll be there to pick up her pieces.
She’s the toughest girl I’ve ever met, but on the opposite side of the coin, she’s also the most sensitive. Fallon has an incredible ability to use her empathy to help others, but it also comes back around, and the things that hurt, cut the absolute deepest.
When she needs me to, I’ll be there to comfort her. That’s what I’m here for, and that’ll never change.