Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
PJ
Which is how I end up sitting outside of Fallon’s house. Watching. Waiting.
I did my usual pass around the East End earlier, with the same lack of success. I won’t lie and say I’m not getting discouraged. But it’s like I told Brennan—I refuse to give up until someone finds his body.
I’m sipping coffee from the East End Gas and Guzzle that tastes like burned feet while I tap an impatient hand on the steering wheel. Nothing’s happening. Fallon said the cards only show up once a year, so maybe this is pointless.
He might be pissed if he knew I was out here. Should I tell him? Should I knock on the door and offer to guard his body up close? Since he seemed conflicted about whether to take the cards seriously, I don’t want to risk him telling me to go home. Then I’ll have to move my car to a different spot.
I perk up when the living room lights go out, and a minute later, the garage door opens.
I wait for his black Honda to pass the cross street I’m parked on, and then I follow, slowly.
We meander out of the fancy beachfront neighborhood where Fallon lives and into what I call the standard affluent people’s suburbs, then into downtown.
It’s getting dark, and I’m hanging a few cars back, so I doubt he can see me.
Fallon pulls into a temporary parking spot in front of a bank of stores that cater to tourists and locals who have money to burn.
Tropical Treads, which sells fancy sandals and things, Calliope’s, which seems to sell wine slushies and handmade art, Three Brothers’ Collectibles, and Cotton and Linen, the store where those cards came from.
That’s got to be where he’s going, which means I can take a minute to find a spot in the parking garage on the next corner.
When I make it back, they appear to be closing up for the night, but Fallon’s managed to get inside and is currently charming a pretty sales associate.
Not the person who treated me like I was gum on the bottom of their shoe that time I came in.
In my defense, they had stuffed animals and throw pillows in the display window, so how the hell did I know it was a stationery store?
As I lurk in a spot that allows me to see the back of Fallon’s head through the holes of a window display, I see the young woman laughing and touching Fallon’s shoulder.
“I don’t think so, bitch,” I mutter to nobody in particular.
A lady pushing a kid in an expensive-looking stroller gives me the stink eye as she struts past. I wasn’t talking to her.
It’s just that Fallon belongs to me.
Until he gets a clue about that, I’d appreciate him keeping his hands off of other people, and vice versa. How much is that to ask?
He’s here to ask about the cards. I’d have done the same thing in his position.
Without going inside, though, I can’t tell if he’s getting any good information.
The flirty sales associate holds up a finger and spends some time tapping at her phone.
Well, she must not be that hot for him, then, if she’s distracted by her damn electronic device.
I feel like that behavior screams “She’s not that into you. ”
Good. Also, she’s missing out. But good.
Fallon shoves his hands into the pockets of his well-fitting jeans and glances around the store while he waits, which tells me he probably hasn’t gotten any good information. He’d be in a better mood if he had, right?
If he had, he’d be leaving, which I’d very much like him to do.
Chocolate wafts my way, mixed with the smell of beer. The next couple of blocks are a mix of food establishments and office buildings, including Midnight Cookies. My stomach rumbles. I could go for something sweet.
The ding of a bell and Fallon calling out a thank-you to the sales clerk have me hanging back by the corner of the building. It’s darker now, and he’s not looking around, but still. If he’s being watched, someone else shouldn’t notice I’m following.
Instead of returning to his car like I expect, he keeps going past the collectibles place, which is closed, and the one with the wine slushies that seems to be hosting a painting class inside.
As he continues to the next block and pauses in front of a flower shop, I could swear I see movement; someone coming from the alley that runs between the wine place and the flower shop.
Which isn’t too alarming, until I see the person hoist something into the air. Something that’s shaped an awful lot like a baseball bat.
“Fallon!” I’m running before I even realize, shouting even though I’m not sure he’ll hear me.
The guy with the bat does, which makes him turn. And when he turns, Fallon ducks and loses his footing. Then I’ve got a bat-wielding asshole coming at me with his arm high, but by then I’ve got my knife out. His raised arm lets me get a shot in his ribs.
I want it deep. I want to twist it in his side, make him bleed for threatening to hurt Fallon. My angle’s off, though. It’s not the damage I want, but I’m rewarded with the heat of blood on my fingers.
There’s enough light from the shop window to make out that this person has a goofy-ass ski mask on, but that’s about all I can tell. The person grunts and brings their arm down when my knife sinks in, clipping my shoulder with the weapon. It’s aluminum. Dammit. Hurts like hell.
“PJ?”
The tremor in Fallon’s voice steals my focus, and I get rewarded with another whack across my upper back before whoever the attacker is runs away.
For a split second, I’m tempted to follow. If I hustle I can run this guy down. Pull off that mask and make him pay. But Fallon’s pained groan pulls me back to the present. More than anything, I need him to be all right.
“You okay?” I grab his hands and look him over. “Your palms are bleeding.”
“It’s not bad. My hands skidded on the pavement when I fell.” He sounds off, which makes sense. Someone did try to bash his head in.
Oh yeah, and he’s eyeing me with too much curiosity. Which also makes sense.
“What are you doing here, PJ?”
Right. There’s a story on the tip of my tongue. The cookie place is nearby. I happened to be walking past here.
“I was following you.”
“You were what?”
“Those cards had me worried about you. Needed to be sure you weren’t in danger.”
“That guy…” He’s shaking some. “Was that guy trying to kill me?”
“I don’t know. Sure seemed that way.” But if I find him, I’ll gut him and leave him on Fallon’s doorstep. Or her. Or them. I’m equal opportunity in all things these days.
I realize Fallon’s shaking harder. “Hey.” I pull him in and wrap my arms around him. His heart thuds against my chest. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”
“What are you doing here?” Fallon asks for the second time.
“Did you hit your head or something?” I pull out my phone to use the flashlight, and that’s when I see it—a bruise blooming across his temple.
Fallon’s breathing is ragged and shallow. He puts a hand to his forehead and winces. I look around the windows of the flower shop to see if I can get help, but the place appears to be closed.
“Hey, looks like they got you. Let me see if that art shop has any ice for your head. They sell slushies, so they ought to, right?”
“No.” Fallon’s hand grabs mine, harsh and urgent. “Please stay.”
That I can do. “We should get you to a hospital. You might be concussed. Are you able to stand?”
“My head’s fine. I’m a little rattled, that’s all.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, PJ, I’m sure a stranger coming out of nowhere to try and whack me with a baseball bat is a little bit startling.”
“About the concussion,” I say as I help him up. As gently as possible, I slide my hand over the bruise. There’s a small lump. “Can you tell me what day it is and everything?”
“PJ, I’m fine.”
“Don’t fuck with me on this, baby. We need to be sure you’re all right. Did you get a good look at the guy?”
“PJ.” He slides a hand along my cheek. I can’t help but grab on, and I doubt he can convince me to let go.
“I’ll make a deal with you. Take me home.
Put me to bed. If it’ll make you feel better, you can check on me throughout the night.
If I’m still alive in the morning, we’ll talk about the fact that you’ve been following me. ”
My nostrils flare with a heated breath. Taking him home to bed is exactly what I want to do. Also, if he isn’t the picture of health come morning, there’s going to be hell to pay.
“I wasn’t following you for that long.”
He gives me a stern look. Gets my blood stirring, if I’m being honest.
“Okay, let’s get you home.”
Fallon smiles, and I take hold of his hand. “Let me check this alley first. See if the person dropped anything that might tell us who they are.”
It’s a long shot, but it’s something.
Fallon nods. “I went to Cotton and Linen to see if they could tell me who had bought the cards. But the woman didn’t remember them even carrying any that looked like that. She suggested I try this flower store since I guess they sell some of them here, but I’ll have to come back in the morning.”
“When you come back, you should bring me with you.”
He gives me another look. I make a mental note to look into putting a tracking app on his phone. Should have thought of that sooner, honestly.
We venture into the passageway that roughly divides the entire block in half. The downtown is full of alleys that run crisscross behind the shops so that unsightly things like garbage pickup and deliveries don’t have to happen on the street.
Unsurprisingly, there’s nothing of note—some stacks of crates, several dumpsters, and random things like a skateboard and a bicycle. The bakery around the corner has a delivery van parked out back with nobody in it. The doors are locked.
A sound has us both freezing as we head back to the street.
I shove Fallon against the wall and pull out my knife.
After a few seconds, the door at the back of the art shop opens, and a woman comes out.
We’ve turned off our lights, so it’s not easy to see, but she’s wearing so much jewelry that she jingles.
There’s no way she could be a threat, making that kind of noise.
The person who hit Fallon didn’t make a sound.
We wait while she hops on a bicycle and disappears down the alley.
Fallon, still gripping my hand, collapses against the cement wall behind him. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but I’m so glad you’re here.”
“So am I. That was fucking scary.” I hate to say it, but… “Fallon, you might want to talk to the police. The thing with the card and now this; it’s convenient timing.”
“I guess I do.” He doesn’t move except to grab my shoulder with his other hand and to squeeze me even harder. “It’s so stupid. I thought I could be like the heroine in my books, you know? Snoop around and get to the bottom of things.”
“Baby, I’ve read part of the first book in your series. Betty nearly gets killed at least four times by sticking her nose in places she shouldn’t.”
“Five if you count the skateboard that was ‘accidentally’ left by the stairs.”
“That’s not helping your case the way you seem to think.” I slide my hands up to his shoulders, then up the sides of his neck to cup his face. There’s a smear of blood on his neck, but that’s a problem for later. “This is why I keep saying you need a keeper.”
He shakes his head. For a moment, he’s quiet. Looking up at the stars or something.
“You know, this reminds me a little of our first date.”
He’s right. The memory of him pressed against a building like this one while he writhed and moaned and people milled about not far from us? I can see it and taste it.
“That was a good night,” I tell him. “I think it was the hottest night of my life.”
“No, it wasn’t.” I’m pretty sure he’s blushing. It’s in his voice.
“I wouldn’t lie about something that important. In case you haven’t noticed, boo, I’ve gotten a little attached.”
There’s a kick in my chest at my admission. Not like I’ve hidden it, exactly, but saying the words out loud on top of getting whacked with a baseball bat has me feeling jumpy and exposed.
“That’s…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t need you to say anything. Just needed you to know the truth. Like I said, you need a keeper. You should also know I’ve appointed myself for the job.”
A quiet huff. “I don’t remember posting an opening.”
I slide my fingers into his hair. The thick, silky waves sliding between my fingers remind me more of that first night together when we went back to his house.
When I threaded my fingers through his hair while he sucked my dick.
While we showered together, I massaged shampoo into his scalp.
I’d never showered with someone other than Jolene in my fucking life, and now I don’t want to be wet by myself ever again.
“You didn’t need to. I saw a need and took the initiative. It’s called filling a market gap. Business 201.”
Fallon chuckles, but then he stiffens. “What about all those other guys you’ve gone out with?”
Shit. I’m going to have to tell him the truth if Wes doesn’t step up soon. If I didn’t think it would hurt Fallon, I’d beat the truth out of his interfering brother.
“They were dinner dates. A little conversation. Nothing more. The only person I’ve been showering and having phone sex with is you.”
There’s a long-ass stretch of silence where I think I’ve lost him. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.
He doesn’t ask me to take my hands off him either, though, so I don’t. So, I keep on stroking my fingers through his hair. And I wait.
“Okay, then,” Fallon sighs quietly. “Take me home, Keeper.”
Fuck yes I will.