Chapter 71: Chapter 71

C H A P T E R - - - - T H I R T Y - - - - O N E

Fang and a guy named Gideon served as my guardians.

Gideon was a mini-commando in that he was younger than the others, not that he was any less terrifying. His physique fit the criteria of what they used to teach musculature in anatomy class.

Fang positioned himself outside the warehouse as soon as we arrived.

Gideon led me inside before setting up shop at the entrance.

I asked him if he would want coffee. He rejected it.

The chat we had ended there. This was due to the fact that Gideon was obviously a conversationalist of the Fang kind as well as the fact that I wasn't chatty.

I then paced. After some time of pacing, I became aware of my shaking. I wasn't shaking because I was chilly; instead, I was shaking out of fear. I quickly climbed the iron steps and entered Falcone's closet. I ought to have dressed. But because I was in a "Do As I'm Told" frame of mind, I rapidly packed my clothing, jacket, and shoes into plastic shopping bags so I could follow Falcone's instructions, and I was too jacked up to get dressed. I looked around and discovered Falcone's navy blue flannel shirt. I then wore it. I was shaking before I put it on, but not after.

There you go. Falcone’s superhero superpowers extended to his clothes.

Good to know.

Then I walked back down the stairs and started pacing again.

After I did this for a good long while, Gideon spoke.

“Maybe you should try to sleep,” he suggested.

Yeah, like that would happen.

“I’m not thinking that’s a possibility,” I informed him then asked, “Can I watch TV?”

“Rather be able to hear,” he answered.

Right. It was probably better that, if bad guys approached, he had advance warning.

I nodded.

Then I paced some more.

Time slid by, adrenalin seeped out and exhaustion seeped in. So I lay down on Falcone’s couch, curled up and stared at the moonlight on the scrub opposite the small-river-maybe-large-creek and thought about breaking my promise to Isabelle and calling my folks. Then I thought about Isabelle’s face. Then I thought about how I’d never forget Isabelle’s face. Then I hoped that I’d see it again when it wasn’t bleeding, mangled and swollen.

Then I fell asleep.

My body jolted awake when I heard the loud creak of the garage door going up. Sleep shot from me and I jumped from the couch, rounding it to see Gideon facing the door looking like he was standing at modified ease, feet planted wide, hands on hips which brought one closer to the gun on his gun belt.

The garage door creaked again, the inner door opened and Falcone walked in, my heart shifted, my stomach clutched and his eyes went to Gideon.

“Relieved,” he muttered and Gideon took off, not glancing back.

Falcone walked to me. I ran to him.

I stopped and put my hands on his chest. “How is she?” I asked.

He’d stopped and he put his hands to my upper arms. Then he lifted me right up off my feet and then planted them down so I was outside touching distance. That not being enough, he let me go and took a step back himself.

I stared at him as my insides paralyzed.

There it was. My answer. He didn’t call back because he didn’t forgive me. He so didn’t forgive me, he didn’t want me touching him or even close to his space.

At that, it was my heart that clutched to protect itself from the searing pain burning through my insides.

“She’s in the hospital under guard,” Falcone replied. “She has facial fractures, a concussion and seven broken ribs. No internal damage but the injuries to her face will require plastic surgery.”

I swallowed as new pain seared through me. Then I nodded.

“Is she…” I swallowed again, “is she safe?”

“Had a deal with Magtanggol,” Falcone answered, crossing his arms on his chest. “I get Isabelle, I give her to him only if he brokers a deal with the Feds. She testifies and goes into protective custody. We took her to my safe house, Magtanggol met us there and we had a chat with her while Doc looked at her. Took awhile for Magtanggol and me to talk her into testifying. Then it took longer because the Feds wanted to know what she knew because she isn’t a good enough witness to merit the resources they’d need to expend to put her into protective custody and then get her into the witness protection program. She’s got a rap sheet, just misdemeanors but she’s a known drug user, hasn’t kept good company, actively participated in some not very good shit and the longest time she’s held down a job was four months workin’ at a convenience store. Not exactly an ace in the hole witness, the defense attorneys would chew her up and spit her out.”

Unfortunately, this was true.

I sucked in my lips.

“The surprise was Isabelle isn’t as stupid as we thought. Isabelle doesn’t only know a lot, Isabelle’s been playin’ it safe and gathering insurance. She told us she’s been keepin’ diaries, she stole documents, she took pictures and even sometimes wore a wire. She might not be a good witness if she only had her word against theirs but she also has physical evidence to back up her shit. Roarke and the others knew this and this was why they were rabid for her. She was trying to use it as leverage to buy her way out but they didn’t feel like payin’ when she’d fucked them over and even if she turned over the shit, she couldn’t wipe her memory and Isabelle, bein’ Isabelle, would always be a threat. She gave up the location of some of it but says she has more and kept that back as incentive for the deal. Magtanggol and the Feds went to her location, found the shit and spent about half an hour sorting through it before they offered her the deal. I handed her over and they took her to the hospital. That means, until the trials, you won’t see your sister and she’s in the wind after.”

I pulled in an audible breath and Falcone kept talking.

“She’s got shit on three big players, two into drugs, one runs guns. Tonight, Isabelle Gomez and Connor Magtanggol significantly cleaned up the streets of Manila. But these men, they got armies and they got reach. Before they go down, they’ll do everything they can to take her out. And even if they go down, they’ll want retribution. She’s gotta disappear.”

I took that hit and nodded.

Falcone went on. “I know you promised not to call Ray and Melinda but I advise that you let them have a good night’s sleep then you phone them and share. They should know.”

I nodded again then whispered, “Thank you, Falcone.”

He lifted his chin then ordered, “Go to bed, get some sleep. I’ll take you home after I get some rest. You take the bed, I’ll take the couch.”

It took everything but I didn’t even twitch when he said that but that didn’t mean my body didn’t bear the brunt of this powerful blow.

“I’ll call a taxi,” I offered quietly, “get out of your hair.”

“Take the bed,” he replied.

“It’s okay, I’ll –”

“Gia, I’m wiped. Take the fuckin’ bed.”

I nodded again and I wanted to search his eyes, see if something was there, anything, but I was too much of a wimp. I didn’t want to witness it if there wasn’t anything to be found. All I knew was, his manner, his voice and the fact he didn’t call me “babe” or “Sweet Pea” meant there wasn’t.

So I looked away, muttered, “Sleep well,” and walked quickly to the steps.

I heard the beeps of his phone as I went up them but my mind was in a foggy, painful haze and I tried to force my body to go numb. I took off his flannel and missed it the instant its warmth left my body. I dropped it to the foot, slid into his big bed, my lips quivering, my sinuses tingling, fighting back the tears as I heard his voice talking on the phone. I pulled the covers up and curled into a ball, yanking a pillow to my chest to anchor it against me with my legs and I bent my neck and shoved my face into it, my body refusing to go numb because I had to force all my energies not to burst into loud, uncontrollable tears Falcone would definitely hear.

My sister was still a marked woman, but at least under protection.

Nevertheless, she wasn’t safe until the trial and she’d never really be safe, not for the rest of her life.

That really sucked.

And I’d fucked things up with Falcone. Broken it beyond repair. When he was done, he was done but he wasn’t done, not with me. I’d somehow got him tied to me, in deep, but it was me who cut him away and yanked him out of me and now he was definitely done.

I closed my eyes and heard he’d stopped talking. Then I pulled in a deep breath, wondering, hysterically, if ferrets were friendly.

Then I heard his feet on the stairs. It was impossible even for Falcone to walk up those stairs silently.

I figured he was going to use the bathroom and, again hysterically, I thought he should put in a bathroom downstairs. He had the room for it. If it was me, I’d put it at the other end of his lair, behind his desk, once I moved that closer to the kitchen and installed the ping pong table, pool table and air hockey table.

I focused on air hockey, not on Falcone’s presence on the bed platform and I forced my body perfectly still.

I heard some beeps from what I guessed was his phone and they were coming from close to the bed.

I stayed immobile.

Then I heard him flip his phone shut, it clattered to the nightstand, I tensed and my eyes flew open. There was nothing for a moment then the light by the bed switched on. I uncurled and turned to my back to see he was standing by the bed, tugging off his tee.

My breath froze in my throat.

Then I forced out, “Is everything all right?”

He dropped his tee on the floor, turned and sat, his back to me. He bent forward and I heard one boot drop, then the other. He stood and turned back to the bed and his hands went to his cargoes.

My breath instantly heated and I found it hard not to pant for a variety of reasons when he tugged them down.

“Falcone,” I whispered. “Is everything all right?”

“It wasn’t,” he replied, leaned in, grabbed the covers, pulled them back and I tensed as he slid in, his arms reached out, he turned me and then I was plastered to his body and his mouth was at my ear. “It is now.” His arms got tight. “Just got your voicemails, babe.”

He just got my voicemails. He just got them and I was in his arms.

My relief was so deep, so sweet, I couldn’t hold back the tears as my hands went hesitantly to his chest.

“Falcone,” I whimpered through my tears.

He leaned in, taking me to my back, his torso on mine and his head came up. The tears slid out of my eyes, his hand came up and his fingers moved through the wetness at my temple.

His gaze came to mine. “Baby,” he whispered.

“I was a thoughtless, selfish cow!” I wailed, lifted my head and shoved it into his neck as I wound my arms around him.

“Sweet Pea.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. It hurt, what you did to me, and that was all I could think about,” I told him, dropped my head back to the pillows and looked into his black eyes. “You were right. I couldn’t see through that to see what you were going through. It was thoughtless and selfish and –”

He rolled to his back, his arms around me taking me with him and when I was on top, his hand came up and pulled back one side of my hair, holding it at the back, he pulled my face down to touch my mouth to his. Then he let me back an inch and spoke.

“I cut you,” he said softly. “You moved to protect yourself. It’s a natural reaction, babe.”

“It was mean and… and… bitchy,” I replied, still crying.

“Yeah, babe, you can maintain mean and bitchy for about ten hours and then you call and apologize. I think I can handle that. I left you hangin’ for a week.”

This was true.

“This is true,” I muttered, the tears subsiding and I watched his dimples form.

Then they disappeared, his hand left the back of my head so it could move to my face, his thumb sliding along my cheekbone, my jaw then my lips as his eyes followed its path. Then those eyes locked on mine.

“I’m sorry I cut you, baby,” he whispered and the tears that had subsided welled up again and slid down my cheeks and his thumb moved instantly to glide through them as they did. “I’ll do everything I can not to put you through that again,” he promised.

“’Kay,” I whispered back and then my hand went to his cheek and I thought about his Mom’s visit. “And I’ll do everything I can, if you do it again, not to give up on you and be a mean, bitchy, thoughtless, selfish cow.”

His fingers slid back into my hair, he pulled my head back down and he touched my mouth to his where he murmured, “That’d be good.”

Then the touch became a short, light kiss before he again let me back an inch.

“Glad that’s done, Sweet Pea,” he whispered.

I took my hand from his face and wiped my own, agreeing, “Yeah,” but thinking “glad” was a mammoth understatement.

“Though that’s done, we’re not done talkin’,” he told me and the tone of his voice had changed.

I studied him and the look on his face had changed too. No longer gentle, it was firm.

Uh-oh.

“Um…” I mumbled, trying to find words to get out of a talk I was thinking I might not like.

“I’ll remind you you’re livin’ in Badass World,” he declared and I didn’t think this reminder boded good tidings.

“Um…” I mumbled, wondering what was next, however, although wondering, from his look and tone, not actually wanting to find out.

“And in Badass World, even when shit’s unsettled between us, you don’t meet another man on the sidewalk in front of your house and let him touch you and put his mouth on you.”

Oh boy.

“Mo told you,” I guessed.

“Another voicemail I just got.”

Shit.

“He kissed my hair,” I defended myself. “I don’t have a brother but I would guess that would be how a brother might kiss me.”

“Connor Magtanggol does not feel brotherly love for you, babe,” Falcone returned.

This was true.

Shit!

“Um…”

“Gia, you made that sweet call, you told me you were sorry and when you did, you dropped that hand and gave yourself back to me. That means you just entered Badass World for good, you did it on your own and you gotta know there are rules. You stick to those rules or bear the consequences. Understood?”

Uh-oh. He was being bossy and it was kind of making me mad.

“I didn’t throw myself at him and start making out with him on the sidewalk, Falcone.”

He ignored my reassurances. “No hands and definitely no mouth, Gia, no man but me in the way I get you and your Dad in the way he does. No man. At all. No excuses. Yeah?”

“Falcone –”

“And you don’t jump on the back of a bike unless I’m on that bike,” he went on.

“Falcone –”

His arm at my waist and hand at my head tightened. “Babe, you need to confirm youget me.”

“God!” I exploded. “Yes, okay, Iget you.Yeesh!”

The dimples popped out, he rolled me again so he was on top, his face was at my neck and his hands started sliding against the satin of Mic’s nightgown.

Mm. Guess that subject was closed.

“Falcone, I thought you were wiped,” I remarked.

“Yeah, I was, but this thing is soft and what’s under it softer, didn’t have either pressed against me when I said that so now I’m not wiped anymore,” he said against my neck.

Mm!

He touched his tongue to the skin behind my ear.

Mm!

My hands went to his back, which wasn’t soft, it was hard and that hard was the nice kind of hard so they explored.

Then he whispered, “Your sister’s out of trouble, babe, and as safe as I can make her.”

My hands stilled as it hit me.