Fallon by Jessica Gadziala

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Four

Fallon

 

 

 

I'd fucked Danny.

Christ.

How had that happened?

One minute, we were bitching at each other. The next, I was buried inside her.

Maybe I would have been able to brush it aside, call it a moment of insanity, figure it had more to do with the adrenaline and fear than anything based in reality, if the sex had been shitty.

But it hadn't been.

It had been top-tier.

Especially considering the situation, the environment, the fact that we knew our men were closing in.

"Wanna talk about it?" Dezi asked, sitting off the edge of the fighting ring in my aunts' gym, swinging his legs, and blowing blueberry smoke around as I pounded the punching bag.

"What?" I asked, arm raising to wipe the sweat from my forehead that was dripping into my eyes.

"My arms are hurting just watching you, Boss Man. Figure no one gives themselves muscle failure over nothing. So, you wanna talk about it?"

"Talk about it," I repeated.

"Toxic masculinity is bad for you, yo. Didn't you hear? We can talk and feel about shit now. I mean, that's the rumor anyway."

"There's nothing to talk or feel about," I insisted.

"Nothing?" Dezi asked, brows furrowing. "I hear that when they do an autopsy, they take all your shit out—brain, kidney, liver, all that shit—and weigh it. Then they put it all back in the chest cavity. They sew your fucking brain up in your chest. I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about that."

"The fuck?"

"I know, right?" he said, nodding, taking another puff off his pen.

"Hey, I told you about that fucking thing three times," Janie, my aunt, Malc's mom, said as she moved into the gym.

"And where the hell is your shirt?" Lo, my other aunt, asked, following behind Janie.

"Fallon doesn't have a shirt on," Dezi deflected.

"Fallon is working out. You're putting a permanent ass imprint on the ring mat," Janie said, but she was smiling.

"I spilled jelly on it," Dezi admitted with a shrug.

"Jelly?" Janie asked, brows knitting.

"From the fourth donut he ate this morning," Cary said, coming in from the heavy weight room in the back. It was a somewhat recent addition. We all used to hit the Mallick gym, but my aunts and uncle decided to upgrade to be all-inclusive.

"I had to eat something to wash down that poison you gave me," Dezi said, looking a little gray at the memory of it.

"It was a green juice," Cary explained, reaching up to push his wet salt-and-pepper hair off of his forehead.

"It tasted green too, let me tell you," Dezi said. "Life is too short to eat liquid spinach."

"It's much shorter if you eat four jelly donuts every day," Cary shot back.

The two were an interesting pair. What with Dezi's insatiable appetite for everything bad for him, and Cary's steadfast determination to stick to a healthy diet. I mean, the guy had been around for a while, and I'd never even seen him steal a piece of pizza when we ordered it. The only real vice he seemed to allow himself to have was alcohol. And after he drank, he felt the need to "sweat it out of" his system.

Hence the gym.

The gym was almost always Cary's idea, even if most of us did try to hit it up at least every other day too.

I'd been up to go with him, having had a night of uneven sleep thanks to intrusive thoughts about Danny and the basement, and other places I'd like to be alone with her in.

And Dezi, well, I wasn't entirely sure he was up for the day, but rather that he hadn't been to bed yet from the night before.

"How are you?" my Aunt Lo asked, giving me a once-over, making sure my Uncle Cash hadn't lied to her about not getting hurt in the shooting.

"Fine."

"Physically," Dezi mumbled under his breath, then did a lock motion to his lips when I glowered at him.

"I'm assuming the cops were useless," Lo said, shaking her head.

"Well, with a national average of less than half of crimes solved each year, the odds weren't in their favor," Cary said.

"Says the guy who just got out of jail," Dezi mumbled, but was ignored.

"And that's why you have us," my Aunt Janie, still one of the best hackers in the area, said. "We are working on it. Aside from Chaz's, though, that isn't a great part of town for cameras, unfortunately. And it is a lower-income area too, so the chance of getting personal security camera footage isn't super high, either, but we are double-checking that."

"Did you guys come up with your list?" Aunt Lo asked, looking at me, expectant. "Chris is going to pounce on me the second I get into work," she added, referencing my cousin, the daughter she'd been grooming to take over the paramilitary organization she herself had built and been running most of her adult life.

But where my aunt had always been a strong, capable leader, her daughter was a bit more Type-A with a superhuman work ethic. And she expected that from everyone else.

So if she wanted us to come up with a list of all potential threats and enemies, she wanted it hours ago.

"We're working on it. I will send over what we have so far, though. I really don't think any of the names we have are real threats, though. No one has been coming for the arms trade in this area. That's all down in the Florida chapter with Huck and his never-ending issue with it. We've been stable here."

"Except for the Vultures," Janie said. "Could it have been them? Making it look like it was for both of you, when you were the real target?"

"No. No way. Danny just barely managed to miss taking a bullet. The gunshots were everywhere. If it was her people, they nearly killed her."

"So it sounds like they just so happened to luck out by catching two major players in the gun trade together in one place, and took their shot," Janie said.

"Literally," Dezi piped in.

"Chris will be all over seeing who might be flexing their muscles. I'm sure it's not the mafia, but you might want to reach out to the Grassi family to check. But even if it isn't the Italians, organized crime from every background has been growing lately. Russians, Ukrainians, Polish, hell, even the Irish are getting a stronger foothold. It's been a while since Reign reached out in a friendly, yet firm, manner to all the local enterprises. It might be time for you to think of doing the same," Lo said, giving me a nod, then moving with Janie back into their office.

I must have been lost in my own swirling thoughts, because all I caught from what Dezi said was something about 'wanting Danny.'

"What?" I hissed, whipping over to face him.

"You might want to talk to Danny," Cary explained, shooting me a curious look. "In case she might know who it was. Can't write off her being the main target, and you just being a perk."

That was true.

But it was also the absolute last thing I needed to do.

What I needed to do was stay as far the fuck away from that woman as possible. Because I wasn't entirely sure if we were close, that we wouldn't have a repeat of the night before.

And that couldn't happen.

"Even if she knew something, I think the chances of her sharing it is slim," I said, shrugging. "I mean, even if they gave us a name, who's to say we could trust the information? I wouldn't put her past tricking us into approaching someone who has it out for us. It would only mean more business for her if we were taken out."

"What made you two help each other?" Dezi asked.

"Instinct, I guess," I said, shrugging it off because it really did come down to that. I hadn't been using my rational brain in those moments. I'd just gone with my gut. And my gut said to protect the girl. That was how I was raised. Even if the woman would rather chew off her own arm than to take my hand willingly.

Don't fucking touch me.

That was what she'd said to me the last time I'd reached out.

There'd been venom in her words, too.

For a few horrifying moments, I'd stood there too stunned to move, worried I'd somehow overstepped my bounds, that there had been some sort of objection on her part, that she hadn't consented and been an enthusiastic participant.

But, no.

Had it been angry and rough?

Yes.

But she'd wanted it, I was sure.

She might not have wanted to want it, but that was something else entirely, and nothing at all to do with me or any sort of wrongdoing.

"How'd you know we helped each other?" I asked, looking over at Dezi. I didn't remember volunteering that information. I damn sure didn't mention grabbing her hand or pulling her off the fence or even covering her with my body. Not to my men, anyway. I didn't want them getting the wrong idea. Or maybe that was just my guilty conscience talking.

"Know a lady in the police department," he offered up. "I find that with a little... persuasion," he said, wiping a thumb across the edge of his lower lip, "she will tell me just about anything I want to know."

"Didn't you go home with those three chicks last night?" Cary asked.

"What's the matter, Zaddy? Don't have the stamina you used to?" he teased. "Besides, my cock might get tired, but my mouth never does," he said with a smirk.

"Yeah, no shit," I said, making him let out a chuckle. "Alright, I am going to hit the show—"

"Yo, you," Dezi called, jumping upward, leaning against the ropes of the ring, pointing to a guy who was just coming in. "I want a re-match," he said, ducking under the ropes.

"I broke your finger last time," the guy who outweighed Dezi by at least sixty pounds of pure muscle reminded him.

"Yeah, but not one of the important ones," Dezi declared, bouncing on his feet, excited at the prospect of a fight. "I really only need the middle two and the thumb," he added, making a suggestive motion where he moved the middle two up and down while wiggling his thumb side to side. "What's the matter? You scared?"

"That I might hurt my hand on that thick fucking skull of yours?" the guy asked, dropping his gym bag, and slipping under the ropes. "You asked for it," he said, already circling Dezi.

It was no contest.

Dezi was no boxer.

A street fighter, yes.

If this was a back alley somewhere, I would put my money on Dezi.

But in a ring, he got smoked.

"Dezi, goddamnit," Janie called. "Mouthguard. You need a fucking mouthguard to fight in this gym."

"Worried about my pretty smile?" Dezi asked, shooting her a bloody smile.

"The guy has a death wish," Cary said eight minutes later while Dezi took yet another blow that landed him flat on his back.

"Stay the fuck down," his opponent said, a little winded, a little bruised in the face, but the clearly more methodical and trained fighter.

"Alright," Cary said, slipping under the ropes, and moving forward as Dezi got shakily back on his feet. "You're done," he said, shoving Dezi back hard enough to knock him against the ropes, where Dezi stayed, rubbing his chest.

"Ow," he said, smirking. "Alright, Zaddy, maybe you do have the right idea with all the picking up and putting down of heavy things," he relented.

"You done being an idiot?" I asked as he moved out of the ring.

"For the next five minutes or so, give or take," Dezi said, seemingly oblivious to the blood dripping from his split lip as he shot me a smile.

"I'll shower back at the clubhouse. You're less likely to get into trouble there," I added, giving Cary a nod as he joined us.

It was a couple hours after that when I walked out of the kitchen to find Dezi lying across the bar, passed the fuck out. Boots still on. Cell phone resting on the center of his chest.

"If you wake him, we have to deal with him," Seth said, shooting me a smile.

"Yeah, didn't you hear that old adage about never waking a sleeping baby?" Cary asked, dropping down on the couch with a giant salad he must have had delivered.

"Hey, Fallon," Slash said, coming in from the prospect room. "My guys are rolling through town now."

And, sure enough, we could all hear the bikes.

There was a pause at the gates as they talked to the guard stationed there, then they pulled into the lot, and their engines cut.

Then there was Sway and Crow.

"The fuck happened to you?" Slash asked, looking at the tall, dirty-blonde, tatted one with a bloody eye and swollen lip.

"How was I supposed to know she was married?" he asked, making it clear that he was Sway, the one who supposedly liked pussy more than the rest of us combined.

"The ring on her finger, maybe," the other guy, Crow, suggested.

Crow was about the same height as Sway, but a little thinner. He had long black hair and golden skin that spoke of possible Native American roots, black eyes, black and gray ink up his arms and across his throat, two dimple piercings, and a septum piercing as well.

"Hey, I wasn't exactly looking at her fingers," Sway said, smirking at his friend. "Had to ride out of that town fast, so we made good time," he added, shrugging the whole incident off. "So, this is the famous Navesink Bank Henchmen, huh? Any of you fuck in that glass room on the roof?" he asked.

"Stop thinking with your cock for a minute," Slash demanded.

"I can try," Sway said. "Oh, fuck, but it won't be easy," he went on, pressing a hand to his heart at something behind me.

Turning, I found Billie walking in the back door with an inexplicable handful of green foliage of some sort.

"You look for a second later and you're gonna need to get your eyes gouged out," Slash told his man. "That's one of their princesses."

"Billie, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, me, doing a little gardening. I planted this all along your back fence," she said, waving whatever greenery it was in the air.

"Please tell me that's not pot," I said, barely catching a glimpse of it before she stuffed it in her weird basket bag thing hanging from a chunky strap on her shoulder.

"Pot? Where?" Dezi asked, popping up on the bar.

"I thought you were asleep," Cary said, shaking his head.

"I was. But I have some words that wake me out of a dead sleep," Dezi declared, swinging himself around to sit off the front of the bar. "Pot, party, and pus—vagina," he said, giving Billie a nod.

"You can say pussy," Billie shot back. "I say it all the time. Pussy pussy pussy. Cunt is a good word too. It has some power in it. It sounds like it stands on its own beside cock. Cunt/cock. Cunt/cock."

"Jesus Christ," I grumbled.

"You're sure she's a princess?" Sway asked, looking heartbroken. "Has there been a DNA test and shit?"

"If you met her mom, you wouldn't be asking that," Seth declared.

"Yeah, but it's her dad that counts in this situation, don't you think?" Sway asked, getting finger guns out of Dezi.

"The man has a point."

"No, actually, he doesn't," I said, not sure if I wanted to laugh or sigh, so I made some sort of hybrid noise instead. "Is it pot, Billie?"

"Do you really think I'd plant pot in your yard?"

"Yes," Seth and I said at the same time, getting an eye roll out of her.

"Please. If I were going to plant pot somewhere, it would be in the woods around Malcolm's house. I said if!" she said, throwing up a hand at the look I must have shot her. "Besides, when did you become such a goody-goody?" she asked, reaching into her basket purse to grab a leaf of whatever it was, pulling it apart, then sticking it in front of my nose. "Mint. Smell?"

"Yeah," I said, pushing her hand away. "But why would you plant mint in our yard?"

"Because it's invasive. And I'm already in trouble for sprinkling wildflower seeds all over the grass divider areas in the parking lot at my apartment building. Everyone's always bitching about the bees dying, but heaven forbid I plant some flowers for them to eat."

"Billie, focus. The mint."

"Right. Well, it spreads. It takes over everywhere."

"And you thought we'd want it to take over here?"

"I thought you wouldn't even notice actually. And you haven't. Until right now. When it is nearly done for the year. And only because I told you. So, I was right."

"What do you need that much mint for?" I asked.

"Tea. Herbal remedies. The usual. Oh, and I make the best mint lemonade. If you pull your panties out of your ass, I might be willing to make you some," she said with a saccharine smile.

"Quick. Say something nice," Dezi demanded. "I want mint lemonade."

"How can I deny that face?" she asked, shooting Dezi a sisterly smile. "Oh, and who are you?" she asked, tone dropping a bit, getting more flirtatious as she looked at Sway and Crow.

"Sway and Crow," I explained, waving to them. "Possible prospects. So they're off-limits."

Right then, there was the sound of bikes again before a pause.

And then there was Niro, Malcolm, and Rowe.

I was pretty sure I wasn't imagining it when Billie stiffened beside me. When I looked, her gaze went to Rowe, then quickly away.

"Dezi, man, I am going to need to give you an IOU on the mint lemonade," she said, shifting her feet. Uncomfortable. It was so strange to see Billie uncomfortable that I nearly didn't recognize it at first. I'd never met anyone as sure of themselves and comfortable in their own skin as Billie. What could have possibly changed that? "It really needs to steep overnight," she said, giving him a tight smile. "So I will drop it off sometime tomorrow, okay?"

But she didn't even wait for an answer.

She ducked out the back door so quickly that she rammed her hip into it on her way out.

"What was that about?" Seth asked, looking over at me.

"Yeah, thought she liked to stick around to eye-bang Rowe," Dezi agreed. "What'd you do?" he accused, looking at the man in question. "Whatever it is, make it right, so I can get treats."

"Jesus Christ," I said, letting out a chuckle. The term "puppy" that the girls used to describe the new guys really was pretty fitting for Dezi. "Alright, Slash, why don't you show the guys to the room?" I suggested. "We will call in the other members, then Dezi and some of the other guys have been working on a party. We originally planned to just take you to the bar," I explained. "But after the shooting last night, we decided to stay in."

"Yeah? Who got shot?" Crow asked.

"Almost me," I explained. "We're working on it," I added.

"Looks like we rolled into town just in time for some action," Crow said, nodding, then following Slash to go back into the prospect room.

It was many hours later when the party was in full swing that my father pulled me out the back door for some quiet.

"So, we have nothing," he said, releasing a deep breath. "Janie and Lo and Chris have been on it, but we haven't gotten anywhere. Chances are, we won't. Not without more to go on."

And I had a sneaking suspicion I knew what that more was.

"Okay," I agreed, nodding, suddenly wishing I still had a drink in my hand.

"We need to talk to the Vultures," he said, dropping the bomb I'd been expecting, but it still managed to take me by surprise, the impact slamming into me, pushing me back against the wall.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"More specifically, you need to talk to the Vultures," he said, turning to look at me. "This shit is going to fall more on you now. I don't mind doing shit behind the scenes, working old contacts and all that shit, but the face of this club, that's gotta start being you now. I get you and Danny are oil and water, but that's just tough shit. You're doing the meet. Bring some of the guys, since you're walking into a viper's den there. But, you know, maybe don't bring Dezi," he suggested, shaking his head, but he was smiling.

It wasn't helping Dezi's case that before we'd walked out the door, he'd somehow talked a bunch of the partygoers into a game of "strip Twister." Which sounded absolutely horrifying. And this was after he played six rounds of "If You Sink It, You Drink It" where you put a shot glass in another glass and everyone tries to fill the shot glass with various liquors without sinking it, or as the titles states, you have to chug the whole cup. It was no surprise to, well, anyone that Dezi had lost four rounds in a row.

"I'll bring Brooks," I suggested, since he was patched, unlike the others.

"Yeah, good. But bring someone with a violent streak too. Just in case. I like Brooks.He does great shit behind the scenes, working around here. I'm just not sure how he handles shit going down."

"I'll bring Niro. I'd bring Malc too, but I don't think it would look like we're showing up in good faith if we do so en masse."

"True." But there was doubt in his tone. I guess when they were the reason you ended up chained in a garage and beaten for days, it was hard to say they weren't a threat.

"I'll have Malc and Rowe hang on the street, and maybe the new chapter crew on the roof across the street to keep an eye too. Just in case."

"Like that plan better."

I liked that about my old man.

He would have let me carry out any plan I wanted without telling me I was being stupid, but he definitely let me know when I got my plan right.

It had been hard at first not to take every raised brow or uncertain tone as a slap in the face to my authority. But the longer we worked on this transition toward giving me the power, the more I was coming to understand and appreciate his way of letting go of the reins. Which was little by little, then all at once, when he was sure I was on the right path. But he was still going to ride beside me, give input where he thought it would be appreciated, offer praise when it was earned.

In retrospect, I could see why it had taken so long for him to finally start actually stepping aside. He was waiting for me to grow up, to grow into the leader he needed me to be to trust me with all his men.

He'd been through hell building and keeping his empire. He'd come close to losing it all. But he'd always prevailed.

That was the kind of person you wanted riding shotgun with you when you took control.

"I'll go tomorrow," I said. "Once everyone has had a chance to sober up."

"With as much booze as that fucker has been drinking, I don't think Dezi is going to dry out for a month."

"It's fine. He'll be distracted by Billie's mint lemonade."

"Mint," my father said, looking out at the yard, then back to me. "So that's what all that shit is growing along the border of the property. That kid," he said, shaking his head the way all of us did when we talked about Billie and her antics. "Just like her mother."

"I don't know. I don't think anyone could top Billie."

"No?" my dad asked, pushing off the wall with a smirk. "Next time you see Sugar, why don't you ask him about Gregor getting stuck to the counter," he suggested, chuckling as he moved back inside.

I had a gut feeling I didn't want to know the answer to that.

Maybe I'd have Dezi ask.

On that note, though, I went back to the party.

Where I spent the rest of the night trying to imagine what a conversation with Danny might be like after we'd fucked.

Whatever that conversation might be like, though, I would be finding out in a few short hours.