Fallon by Jessica Gadziala

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Eight

Fallon

 

 

 

 

"Dad, I'm fine," I said as I climbed off the back of Danny's bike, gritting my teeth not to go down on one knee thanks to the pain in the other when I put my weight on it again.

"You don't look fine. What happened? Why are you with her? What did you do?" he snapped, turning toward Danny as she got off the bike as well to face him.

"Fat lot of gratitude that is for helping your son off the road," Danny said, lifting her chin, completely unfazed by his anger.

And, damn, if that wasn't sexier then it had any right to be.

"You... what? What happened?"

"How about we get him inside before you interrogate him?" my mother asked, moving forward to wrap her arm around my waist. "I was worried sick about you, bud," she said.

"Sorry, Ma. I should have called."

"Yes, you should have," she agreed. "What happened to your shirt?"

It took a lot of fucking self-control not to look at Danny and smirk. But I kept my gaze ahead as I told her I was just trying to get a look at my shoulder.

"Are you coming?" my father asked, making me turn back to see him looking at Danny.

"No. I have to get back to my club to explain to them what your son is about to explain to you," she said, shaking her head.

"Don't like the sound of that," my father said. "But okay. And, hey, Danny..."

"You don't have to say it," she said, shaking her head.

"I do. Thank you for bringing my kid home."

"Ah, yeah, sure," Danny said, clearly uncomfortable. And I think it had less to do with the fact that the clubs were at odds, and more to do with the sneaking suspicion that her own father would never have thanked her for anything. "I gotta go," she added, ducking her head, then rushing out as quickly as she could.

"Here, Summer, let me look," Pagan said, nudging my mother out of the way after she helped me onto the couch in the common area.

"Went over the bars?" Pagan asked, probing my shoulder.

"Yeah."

"Your helmet was rough," he agreed. "I don't think anything is broken here," he concluded.

"It's my knee that hurts more," I told him, leaving out that it hurt a lot less before Danny leaned on it.

"What happened?" my father asked, moving in with my uncles Cash and Wolf.

"I was driving home. Someone jumped out in front of me on the road," I told them. "After the crash didn't do me in," I went on, ignoring the whimpering noise from my mom who was grabbing my hand like she was afraid I might disappear if she didn't hold on, "the guy came back with a gun," I said.

"Shit," my Uncle Cash hissed.

"Got him in the shoulder first, and he took off. That was when Danny came by."

"Last person in the world you want to see when you're down," Seth said, shaking his head, and it took some work to keep myself from telling them how good she'd been. "But just when she got close, the guy came back."

"Tell me you took him out."

"Danny did," I told them, watching the surprise cross their faces. "And then she dragged him into the woods while we tried to figure out what to do."

"Why didn't you call me?" my father asked, voice tight.

"Because before I could, A pulled up."

"Andres?" Niro clarified.

"Yeah. He offered to help, and we saw police lights, so Danny and I both decided it was smarter to just possibly owe him than explain a body full of bullet holes in the woods."

"Makes sense," Pagan said, shrugging. "That knee is going to need wrapping and ice, but I think you can skip the hospital."

"I really don't think we should be skipping the hospital," my mom insisted.

"There's no time for the hospital. We got a name from the shooter. We need to move on looking into him, seeing who hired him. Andres said he was a petty thief. So he had to have worked for someone else. Kevin Olsen."

"I'll dial in Chris and Lo," Uncle Cash said, moving away.

"Then what happened?" my father asked.

"A dropped us off, and we buried the body."

"With that shoulder and knee?" Pagan asked, brow raised, calling my bullshit.

"Not proud to admit it, but Danny did the most work with that. It wasn't her first grave, that's for sure. And then she brought me back here. That's about all there is to it. I guess someone came across my bike."

"Slash and his crew," my father told me. "They were out for a ride, saw it on their way back, and came to tell us. We've been looking since."

"I should have used Danny's phone to call. Mine got wrecked when I landed on it."

"On it," Brooks said, giving me a nod, then moving off to, presumably, find me another phone.

"The bike needs to be scrapped," my Uncle Repo told me. "I can go find you a new one in the morning. And a helmet. That fucker saved your life," he said, making my mom whimper again, grabbing my hand harder.

"I'm fine," I told her, giving her hand a squeeze back.

"Why don't you clean up, wrap up, and ice up?" my father suggested. "You've done enough tonight. Let us handle the research."

"I am fucking filthy," I agreed, shooting my mom a guilty look.

"Here, I'll help you into your room," my mom said, helping me to my feet, and taking some of my weight. "You're sure you're okay?" she asked when we got into my room. "I know you have to put on a brave face for the men, just like your father always did, but you can tell me."

"I'm okay," I assured her. "Everything hurts, and I need to get this grave dirt off of me, but I'm okay. I promise."

"I'm staying here tonight," she told me, going around my room, grabbing clothes and towels, and putting them all in my bathroom. "So if you need me, just call, okay?"

"Okay, Ma."

"Love you, bud."

"Love you too," I said, offering her a smile that sapped all of the false nonchalance I had left.

Alone, I hissed and grumbled and cursed my way through a shower.

It wasn't until I was grabbing my towel that I realized I wasn't alone.

"For fuck's sake, Dezi," I snapped. "How about knocking?"

"What's the big deal, boss man? We all have the same parts. I just wanted to sneak you some happy pills," he said, wiggling a pill bottle in the air. "Got these pain meds that last time I got my tooth knocked out. Should help the shoulder and knee. They're bruising up good," he added, putting the pill bottle on the sink counter. "You wanna talk about it?"

"I'm fucking naked here, Dezi," I said, snorting. "There's nothing to talk about," I added.

"Had a life-flash-before-your-eyes night. Worth talking about, I figure."

"Your life flashes before your eyes on a monthly basis."

"Yeah, well, it loses its novelty after the first time," he said with a smirk. "Alright, if you don't want to talk about it, I guess I should send out an alert to the girls that you need some comforting."

"You just want Holly to bring baked goods," I said, shaking my head at him.

"Well, you got me," he admitted, walking toward the door, then turning back. "Interesting scratch marks on your legs," he said, giving me a raised brow and a knowing smirk before turning and leaving.

Alone, my gaze went down to see that, sure enough, Danny had clawed at my thighs as she came, leaving me with long red scratches.

Shit.

Now the question was, did Dezi actually guess what was going on, or was he just remarking on what he saw?

That was the thing with Dezi, you never knew. He was easy to underestimate because he often presented as clueless and party-loving. But there were moments when you caught a flash of something else in him, something wise and worldly and insightful, something knowing. But it was there and gone so fast that you were likely to brush it off as something you imagined.

Whatever it was, though, I was going to need to keep a close eye on him for a while to make sure he wasn't onto Danny and my plan to share information. The last thing I needed was my men to be doubting me or mistrusting me. Especially when there was a threat hanging over not only our club, but the Vultures' too.

Someone wanted to take us out.

And take over.

We needed both our clubs to be strong and confident in their leadership until we figured out who it was, and took them out.

I cursed through drying myself off, wrapping up my knee, and getting dressed. Well, half-dressed. I couldn't manage to get my arm up to get in a shirt, so I decided to skip it.

I was just starting to feel the buzz from the pain meds Dezi gave me when there was a knock at my door by someone who didn't wait to let themself in.

"Wow. You look like crap," my sister said, leaning back against the closed door in her black jeans, combat boots, and leather jacket.

In a building full of certified killers, Ferryn was the most dangerous of all of us.

"Thanks," I said, pulling myself up in bed. "What's up?"

"Well, you hear your brother almost dies, and you kind of have to come to make sure he's still kicking."

"Your sisterly concern is touching. Truly," I said, tone dry, but giving her a smirk.

It might have taken me a long time not to resent Ferryn for running off at sixteen, for abandoning us, for making our parents and loved ones worry about her, for coming back a changed person we all needed to get to know again. But once I got over that shit, I got Ferryn. I understood why she dedicated her life to taking out skin traders and the kinds of sick sons of bitches who paid to rape girls and women. And I got why she needed to be cool and distant and tough to be able to compartmentalize all that shit.

"The first time I went over my handlebars was one of the scariest moments of my life," she admitted, surprising me.

"Of all the shit you do?"

"I know, right? But when I'm on a job, there is a certain level of control. I can rely on myself. I can get myself out. But I couldn't control the grass on the road that might as well have been ice for how slippery it was. I couldn't stop myself from flying over the bike, from slamming to the ground, from scraping across the asphalt."

"You never told me you crashed your bike."

"There was no reason to before now."

"Maybe so we could tell you we're glad you were okay."

"Yeah, well," she said, shrugging it off. "I'm not good with the touchy-feely. But I remember lying on that road in the middle of the night, every bone feeling broken, not able to pull in a deep breath, and thinking I might die right there. And it was scary as fuck. So, what I'm saying is, I'm sorry you had that same experience tonight. And I'm glad you're not dead."

"Thanks, sis."

"Did someone hook you up with pain meds? I have some Percs from those broken ribs last year."

"Dezi gave me some pills."

"Of course he did," she said, nodding. "So, what's up with you and the Vulture president?"

"Nothing. Someone just wants the two of us dead."

"Well, you can be a prick. I get their motivation," she said, tossing a power bar at me. "I know I'm supposed to bring you baked goods or soup or some shit. But I don't cook. So eat something, get some sleep, and try not to make your knee worse by doing too much too soon," she said, giving me a small smile before heading out.

That was my last visitor before I finally passed the fuck out.

—

"Stop eye-fucking the waitresses," I demanded four days later, walking out of the office in the diner I ended up buying and renovating with Malc.

I'd just needed to pop in for some of the paperwork to bring to the clubhouse to work on. But since the accident, the guys seemed to have a unanimous decision to work as bodyguards, never leaving me alone for more than a few minutes.

Tonight, it was Dezi and Sway who decided to accompany me.

A worse duo, I couldn't have picked. But they were the two who decided to tag along. Though, they'd likely volunteered to come not out of genuine concern for my well-being, but because they wanted to avoid all the research and guard duties the club was up to.

Things were on high alert because a group of the guys were heading out on a run soon, leaving the club down a few vital members.

We'd hit nothing but dead-ends on the Kevin Olsen kid, leaving us no better off than when we'd started. All we'd learned was essentially what A had already given us. The guy was a petty thief, but one who never crossed a line badly enough to get pinched. He had no affiliations we could find.

He'd had a sickly mom, though.

And a desperate young man who loved his mom might have been batshit crazy enough to take on a contract-killing job. He probably didn't even know how stupid the plan was, how low his odds were of actually taking me or Danny out.

Unfortunately, though, we were no closer to figuring anything out about this new, invisible enemy of ours.

Which meant the show had to go on, regardless of a potential threat.

Which was why the run was still on.

And why I needed to pop into the diner to check on some shit, and get some paperwork to bring back to the club with me.

It also meant I was moving forward with the purchase of my place. My father had raised a brow at my timing, but had ultimately understood. He'd always had his own place away from the club as well, a place to get away to when you needed space and time and some silence to think.

Because of his concerns, though, I'd chosen the closer house, putting me less than five minutes from the clubhouse, but on a street where none of my other club brothers lived—which was a feat since they'd all settled close to the club as well.

It was a two bedroom bungalow with a large front porch and exposed wooden beams inside. It was rustic without being oppressively so. It gave the impression of a rural property in the middle of a typical neighborhood that was just a couple minutes from the main area of town.

"We haven't been allowed out of the clubhouse in days," Dezi griped, looking away from the pretty red-headed server that had started a few weeks ago.

"Sure you have," I said, flipping through my papers as I stood behind the counter. "To work. But you conveniently kept disappearing while we were handing out jobs," I reminded him, smirking.

"All work, no play, boss man. It isn't good for morale," he declared, going toward the dessert case to check out the selections.

"You'll get a chance to wild out again once—" I started trailing off when the door opened, and in walked Danny.

I hadn't so much as caught sight of her since the night of my accident. I'd shot her a text saying we had nothing, and she'd sent me back one that said simply, "Same."

When my gaze landed on her, there was a flip-flopping sensation in my stomach that I immediately wrote off as surprise, not expecting to see her in one of my spaces. Especially outside of Navesink Bank.

She was alone, which seemed completely reckless to me, considering she was facing the same unknown threat that I was. Shouldn't her club want to protect her, like mine was protecting me?

I mean, fine, Dezi had bigger eyes for the food, and Sway for the women, than they did for checking for threats, but they were there. If shit went down, they'd have my back.

"Hey, hun," Mary, the redhead Dezi and Sway had been eyeing up, greeted Danny. "Do you want a booth or the counter?" she asked, grabbing a menu.

"Table toward the back," Danny demanded, not noticing me yet. It wasn't until she slipped into her booth and looked around that she noticed me.

Eye-widening was the only reaction I got out of her.

I shot a glance at Dezi and Sway, making sure they were distracted, then looking back at Danny, jerking my chin toward the hallway where the bathroom was located. Danny followed my gaze, seeing the sign, then nodding.

I waited until she placed her order before getting up and moving toward the bathroom.

"Shit. This isn't the right folder," I declared, snapping it closed. "One more minute, guys," I said, being mostly ignored as I slipped back into my office, then went through the kitchen, to move into a hall the staff used to enter the bathrooms.

I pushed open the women's room, finding Danny standing facing the large mirror, watching me as I moved in. My head jerked to the stalls, silently asking if any were occupied. Getting a head shake, I went in, locking the door behind me, then moving in behind her.

We were supposed to just be working together.

That was it.

Sharing information if we came across anything that was pertinent to both of our clubs against this new enemy.

But that wasn't what had me moving forward, that had me moving in behind her, and wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her back against my chest.

She didn't stiffen.

No, she sank into me, leaning back into my body, resting her head on my shoulder, as her gaze watched our reflections, watching as my hand slid upward, snagging the zipper of her sweatshirt, and sliding it downward.

A low groan escaped me at finding nothing underneath but her key necklace and unexpectedly sexy and feminine bustier with black sides up her belly with lace up the front, the same lace that covered the cups of the bra.

The toughness of her external persona mixed with the soft, feminine lingerie she wore was a fucking intoxicating combination.

My hand flattened against her stomach, feeling the soft lace as it moved upward, flipping the straps down her shoulders, then sliding down one cup of her bra, then the other, exposing her to my hungry gaze.

My palms covered her breasts, feeling the way her nipples hardened against them almost immediately as a deep exhale escaped her.

"This is a bad idea," she told me, voice airless as my fingers found her nipples, rolling them, feeling her press her chest outward into my touch.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Feels good, though, doesn't it?" I asked, finding her gaze in the mirror as my fingers tightened, twisted.

"Why are we doing this?" she asked as her breathing got quicker and more shallow.

"I don't know," I admitted, because I didn't. I didn't understand the attraction between us. Maybe it was simply because it was forbidden, because everyone would tell us we couldn't do it. That had, historically, always been like catnip for people. Everyone wanted to do what they were told they couldn't.

Still, there was something inside me that whispered it was more than that.

But because that made no sense at all, I ignored it, forced it down, and focused on the tangible things.

Like how soft her skin was beneath my fingers as I squeezed her breasts once more before sliding my hands back down over her bustier.

My fingers worked her button and zipper free.

Impatient, rock-hard already, I grabbed her pants and panties, dragging them downward, allowing me to grab her bare ass for a second before sliding my fingers between her thighs, feeling the proof of her desire.

"So wet for me already," I murmured into her ear, feeling her body tremble. At my touch, at my words, I wasn't sure. It didn't matter.

Danny's face turned inward, burying in my neck. Maybe I was imagining it, but I could have sworn she took a deep breath, almost like she was breathing the scent of me in.

But before I could analyze that too much, my finger thrust into her tight pussy, and other thoughts flew out of my head as I watched our reflections as I finger fucked her.

"Fuck me," Danny demanded, voice tight, desperate. "Now," she added. "We don't have a lot of time."

That was true.

There'd been a strong, unfamiliar desire to take my time, to explore every inch of her, to edge her until she was screaming for my cock.

But I had my men waiting for me.

And it wouldn't be too long until someone needed to use the restroom.

On a grumble, my fingers slid out of her, finding a condom in my wallet, freeing myself, then slipping it on.

When I looked up again, I found Danny's gaze on me in the mirror. Intense. But, apparently, skittish. Because the second she was caught looking at me, her gaze slid away for a moment.

My hand moved up her back, pressing between her shoulder blades. "Grab the counter," I demanded, bending her forward, making her ass stick out toward me.

My cock slid between her lips, lubricating me, before pressing against the entrance to her pussy, then pausing.

My gaze lifted, finding hers again, soaking in the pure desperation in her face before she wiggled her ass against me, pushed back, made my cock inch in slightly.

Grabbing her shoulder to hold her in place, I slammed inside her with one hard, deep thrust.

"Fuck," Danny hissed, grabbing the sides of the sink as her walls tightened around my cock, holding on tight.

I lost all control then.

I fucked her hard and fast, taking every inch of her tight pussy as I did so, the sounds of our bodies slamming together echoing off the walls mixing with our ragged breathing, our muffled groans.

"Fuck, babe," I hissed as her walls got tighter and tighter as she got closer and closer. "Come," I demanded. "Come for me," I insisted.

Her hisses got louder as she got to the edge. My free hand slapped over her mouth, muffling her cries against my palm as she came, her pussy clenching my cock over and over, milking my orgasm from me, leaving us both sweating, panting, and drained in the aftermath.

"What's wrong with us?" Danny asked a moment later, reaching to slip her tits back into her bustier, then zipping her hoodie back up as I tossed the condom and tucked myself away.

"Mutual need of stress relief?" I suggested, watching as she turned to me with a smirk.

"Well, that's not untrue," she agreed.

"Were you coming here looking for me?" I asked.

"I honestly forgot you owned this place until I saw you," she said. "I was coming from a movie."

"Alone? Your men don't think you should have a bodyguard right now?"

"They don't have much of a say," she said, shrugging. "I might get some griping when my vice president gets back tomorrow. Which was why I wanted one more night out."

"I've been babysitting my bodyguards," I admitted with a smirk. "They like your server."

"Speaking of, I should be getting back to my table," she said, and I wasn't sure if she was worried about us getting caught, or because she wanted an excuse to get away from me.

It shouldn't have, but the idea of the latter made my stomach twist into a knot.

"Yeah, I have to get going too," I agreed.

From there, Danny kept an eye while I slipped back into the kitchen before going back to her table.

I needed a minute.

Back in my office, I sat down, cradling my head in my hands for a long moment, trying to wrap my head around the situation with Danny. But after ten minutes of that, I had no new revelations.

So I grabbed my folder, and made my way back to the front of the diner. Where I found Dezi waiting for me while Sway chatted up the redheaded waitress.

"Office must be a mess, boss man," Dezi said, pulling apart a cinnamon roll from his position perched on the counter.

"Yeah," I agreed, even though the office was immaculate.

"Crazy shit," Dezi started, munching away. "Some people were fucking in the ladies' room," he told me, and it took a lot of self-control not to react to his words.

"Yeah?" I asked, glancing over before going back to making myself a to-go coffee.

"Yeah, interesting, don't you think?" Dezi asked, that strange, wise tone in his voice again, making me think I was right about him suspecting something with Danny and me.

"Not really. People fuck wherever they can. Probably some old, married couple trying to spice shit up."

"Yeah, that must be it," Dezi said, a brow raised.

"Sway," I called, snapping his attention away from the redhead. "We gotta roll," I added.

He waited to get the woman's number before following us out.

I waved Dezi and Sway ahead of me before pulling out, my gaze moving up toward the large windows, finding Danny watching me as well.

There was a foreign tightening sensation in my chest as I looked at her, something so unsettling that my gaze slid away fast.

I tried to convince myself the tripping of my pulse on the way home was about potentially being found out by Dezi.

A part of me knew I was lying to myself.

But I wouldn't end up having long to try to figure out what else it could mean.

Because a few days later, we got the phone call we never wanted to get.

The brothers who'd been off on a run were ambushed.