Chapter 15
Rhys
Fallon’s wide eyes take me in, standing over her covered in blood. Her breath comes in soft and shallow waves like she’s on the edge of fainting.
Except she’s not fainting. She’s smiling.
For a second, I don’t see the mess in my flat. I don’t see the corpse on my floor. I see Fallon Nova. Sweet and soft with a quiet beauty no man like me should touch.
I feel that familiar crack in my armor.
Fallon’s trembling fingers hover over my chest. “You’re bleeding. I can clean you.”
I should say no. Instead, I nod. “Aye, please clean me up.”
Like an eager soldier given orders, Fallon snaps up and takes my arm. Without hesitating, she leads me to the bathroom. The one inside my bedroom.
She knows her way around my flat.
“Sit,” she says, pointing to the stool by the counter.
I roll my eyes watching her go to the exact right drawer for washcloths and hydrogen peroxide. “Fallon, how do you know where everything is?”
She turns to me, a wrinkle forming above her cute nose. “I’ve been conducting drills. For this occasion.”
My heart leaps into my throat. “How… How long?”
She shrugs, measuring one part water and one part hydrogen peroxide into a cup. “Since you asked me to be your girlfriend.”
White streaks blur my vision.
I asked her?
“I wasn’t sure if I should, to be honest.” She wipes a damp washcloth across my chin and throat with a touch so gentle yet precise I can fucking weep.
Blood trickles across her knuckles, and she doesn’t even flinch. Her smile is wrapped in devotion when she should be horrified.
The thought burns so hot I lean toward her, drawn by an attraction I still don’t understand. She’s the last person I should be tempting to my bed. Yet, her lips part, ready for mine.
But then she says, “Cory said you were dangerous and no good for me.”
I freeze. “Who the fuck is Cory?”
She tilts her head toward the kitchen. “The coriander.”
“The plant. Right.”
Like a bucket of ice water, her bringing up a plant snaps me back. They talk to her. Or she hears them speaking.
My stomach knots. What the hell am I doing with this woman? She’s beautiful, yeah, but she’s also broken in ways that make me feel like I’m taking advantage of her.
Playing along as her boyfriend and talking to plants is one thing. But now, she saw me kill a man. Not like the guy I beat to shit in the park, far from her gentle eyes.
I shudder, my assassin instinct hits, sharp and immediate: Eliminate the witness.
That’s the rule I always lived by. Don’t leave any loose ends. But Fallon isn’t a loose end. She’s something else. I’m just not sure what.
I crouch, cupping her face so her gaze locks on mine. “No one can know what happened here. Not that a man broke in, and not what I did to him. It’s our secret, Fal.”
“Secret?” Her lips curve into a smile that’s almost dreamy. “For us?”
That seals it for her. She’s not screaming. Not running. She’s digging herself deeper under my skin.
Maybe this will be okay. Maybe she won’t turn me in.
Once I’m cleaned up, I realize I have to get her out of here. Holding her hand, I steer her into the living room. When her gaze snags on the body, she shrieks. High and keening.
Finally, a normal reaction.
My tongue stings, using the word normal.
Fallon’s whole body shakes, and she grabs my arm so hard her nails break skin. “Fallon, love, it’s okay. He’s dead. He won’t hurt you,” I say
“I finally meet the girlfriend.” The deep voice enters the room before the towering Greek king takes over all the breathing air.
“How the hell did you get in here, Ares?”
“Your door is open.” The Greek king steps in with suited-up guards behind him.
“Christ,” I say, holding Fallon against my chest.
I don’t address the girlfriend comment. I’ll tell him the truth when we’re alone. She’s been through enough.
Looking over his shoulder, Ares says to the guard in a low voice, “Wait downstairs. All of you. The man I wanted dead for Ms. Sinclair is already dead.”
Sinclair…
“Who’s that?” Fallon asks, clutching my shirt, no doubt transferring blood to her clothes.
“Ares is a friend of mine. He won’t hurt you.”
“Ares…” she whispers his name. “Ares. Ares. Ares.”
Great.
“Close the door and wait in the kitchen,” I bark at Ares.
“Looks like you’ve got some cleaning up to do,” he says wryly.
“No shit. How about getting those guys to help me?”
“I meant her,” he snarls.
“One scratch on her head, and I’ll make you disappear next. Now get your men back here to fucking help me or—”
“Those are the king’s guard who protect me,” he barks. “They don’t clean.”
“Then get the fuck out of my way so I can take her home.” I haul Fallon past Ares.
“Did she see you do this?” Ares stops me, voice full of menace.
“No. She was in my bedroom,” I lie, because that is something he will believe.
Ares’s nostrils flare when he looks at Fallon. The way she’s clutched to me.
The Greek’s voice is low and meant for me, but his eyes stay on her. “She needs to be dealt with.”
Fallon stiffens.
I pretend not to notice, pretend I don’t know just how dangerous he can be. “I got this, Ares.”
“Ares…” Fallon whispers his name again.
“It’s okay, love.” I steer her out of my flat and toward hers, keeping her tucked under my arm.
When I bring her inside, it already feels too intimate. Someplace I shouldn’t be. The place is a cramped studio compared to my two-bedroom.
I glance around and see that the place is neat. Very neat. A bed is tucked into a step-up alcove area. Its bubblegum-pink comforter with tidy tucked hospital corners is covered with a ridiculous number of pillows and stuffed animals.
Every surface is spotless, almost obsessively so. But I’m just as neat. I have a need to control chaos.
My gaze snags on an open hall closet. Shovels, trowels, and gloves are stacked and look ready for a project.
“Are you planning to bury me in your garden?” I ask, half-joking.
Her lips twitch. “You’ll be in good company.”
Suddenly, it makes sense. She grows her love in that community garden around the corner. It’s her cathedral. Her safe space. And she considers me holy enough to be a part of it.
Then I see a dozen pill bottles lined up on a nightstand. My gut turns.
Oh fuck.
I march over because if she can snoop in my flat, I can snoop right back. I pick one and read the label. Then another one.
Straterra. For ADHD
Somniprax. For insomnia.
Her face twists when she sees me looking at the pill bottles. “I’m supposed to take them all every day.”
A cold knot forms in my gut. “Do you take them every day?”
She shakes her head, guilt flickering across her face.
I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but something isn’t right. No one has this many prescriptions unless there’s a story behind it. And Fallon looks terrified to open up to me about it.
Rage flares in my chest. Not at the pills, but at the way she shrinks, like she’ll be punished for telling me the truth.
Someone has her scared. That’s enough for me to want blood.
Someone is trying to drug her into compliance. White-hot rage makes me forget that I just killed a man in front of her. I now want to murder whoever is making her take these and let her watch.
Heck, let her hit the guy with the shovel as the first strike and then help me bury him.
Only, that’s not rational.
“Why don’t you take them every day?” I ask, trying to understand. See all the angles.
“They make me feel…funny.” She sounds small, and I hate it.
I like her better, larger than life, bossing me around like a girlfriend. But when I consider the sedative Somniprax is useful right now, I become that horrible person. She needs to sleep, and with her passed out, I’ll have time to deal with my mess next door.
“You should take this one,” I say quietly. “It’ll help you rest while I clean up.”
She studies me, searching for my motive. Then she nods in such a trusting way, I want to scream.
With a thermos of water on the nightstand next to the pharmacy I plan to burn down, Fallon pops the pill and swallows it, her throat working delicately.
I guide her toward the bed, but she pauses.
“What?” I ask her gently.
“I have to get undressed.” She slips her shirt off her shoulders without hesitation or shame.
Next, the bra is gone, and so are the pants. Fallon stands there topless in pink bikini panties.
Her creamy skin glows from the amber lamp light in the living room. Her breasts are small with erect pink nipples. Goosebumps start to appear all over her skin. She’s got an hourglass waist and shapely thighs that would look amazing wrapped around my hips while I fuck her.
My jaw ticks, heat crawling into my throat. “Do you always sleep like that?”
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” she says, hands on her hips, all curves and smooth skin. “You’re my boyfriend.”
My mouth goes dry. I’ve seen a lot of beautiful women. But Fallon is something else. A bombshell wrapped in madness. She’s curvy and soft and fucking perfect.
And she thinks I’m hers. Christ, give me strength, part of me wants to be.
I tuck her into bed, pulling the blanket up to her chin. Her smile is lazy now, lids already heavy from the sedative.
With a face full of longing, her wet lips part like she wants to kiss me. And there I am leaning in.
But she squeaks, “Basil’s been wondering when you were going to kiss me.”
“Basil? The plant you gave me?”
“His brother.” She stretches, a nipple escaping from under the cover.
Fuck, I want to taste her.
“Just like you have a brother.”
“You know my brother?” I smile, thinking she’s being dragged under already.
“Yes, I know Trace is your brother. Connor, Shane, and Griffin are your cousins.”
It should scare the piss out of me how she knows this. I should get the fuck out of here and tell Blade and Jett to make her disappear. Not kill her. Just take her someplace she’ll be safe until I figure out what the fuck to do.
“Get some rest, Fal.” I stand.
She reaches for me, fingers brushing my wrist. “You’ll be here when I wake up.”
It’s not a question.
I nod, figuring out I have to get a key to this place. “Aye. I’ll be here.”
And I mean it. Her clothes won’t be here, though. I have to burn those. But I won’t walk away from her. No matter the blood still pooled on my floor, a dead man waiting for disposal, a brooding Greek king, and the weight of her seeing it all.
Because Fallon Nova is not just my biggest problem.
She just might be my only salvation.