Chapter 77: Chapter 77

C H A P T E R - - - - T H I R T Y - - - - F O U R

When Falcone touched my hip, I felt his lips on mine. After a while, they were gone, but he slid his hand up and away from the covers, and when I opened my eyes, I could barely believe the day was beginning.

He was positioned above me in bed, completely dressed, while I craned my neck to look.

He murmured, "Shit to do, Sweet Pea," and lowered his head to give me a quick kiss.

When his mouth departed from mine, I said back, "'Kay."

He said, drawing the blankets up to my shoulder, "See you tonight."

I turned around and said, "'Kay," before closing my eyes and putting my palms under my cheek.

He moved my hair away from my neck, and then I felt his lips touch my ear.

“Love you, baby,” he whispered.

I mumbled back, "I love you too, Yago."

Then he was gone.

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My eyes opened once again to discover that the day had completely begun when my cell phone chirped to let me know I received a text.

Friday has come. I had things to do, and on Monday I had another deadline. I was almost done, and I would have the weekend to do whatever I wanted if I finished that day. Additionally, I had work to finish up before I could do what I wanted for the weekend, which was mostly to rest. Melinda, Dad, and I planned to be present when Isabelle entered the courthouse since some preparatory work for the first of Isabelle's trials was about to begin. This meant I needed time to be able to be there and this meant I needed a life void of stress.

The second portion of that was, fortunately and surprisingly, already true. To make the first part real, all I had to do was strike it.

I rolled over in bed, got out of bed, and grabbed for my phone, which was next to my snow globe with a smiling cat.

My eyes then caught sight of the Polaroid that Falcone had evidently removed from his jacket pocket and placed on the nightstand.

I took it in my hands and examined it. Gloria, Lur's girlfriend, had taken it the previous evening. I was sitting on Falcone's lap in my wonderful dress and much more fabulous heels, with my arms over his shoulders and his around my waist. I had tilted my head back in laughter at something Ramona had said. Although he was laughing at the camera, Falcone was also laughing.

I really liked the photo and regretted it wasn't Polaroid since I wanted to enlarge it and hang it above my fireplace.

With a smile playing at my lips, I set down the picture and picked up my phone. My body immediately froze as I read the text, but as it did, fire blazed through my lungs, and at the same time, every inch of skin tingled as though it were covered in ice.

A message was contained in an image text. Trade for Isabelle was the message's subtext. I sat up in bed and stroked my computer to make the image larger even though it was in the tiniest of sizes. My body was quivering and my hands were shaking.

My throat then tightened as I whimpered with horror.

Falcone.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Falcone.

Something was holding him up. He had his arms in the picture, but they were raised over his head, so I recognized that. He appeared to be unconscious, and the most of the image was of his head tilted forward. His cheekbone was red and swollen, and blood was running out of his ear and down his cheek along with blood that was flowing from his lip.

As I gasped and glared at the picture, the phone chirped in my grasp, and when it did, I leapt. I then clicked "close" and turned to the texts.

A new one was mine. There was just one word.

Deal?

I began to breathe through my nose because I couldn't get enough oxygen into my body, and my eyes naturally went to the Polaroid.

Happy, close, and laughing.

“You’re in deep with me, aren’t you, baby?”

“Drowning.”

Oh God.

I saw the Polaroid image etched into my head as I closed my eyes.

For eight years, it was all Falcone ever saw. At that moment, I was aware of it. It seemed understandable to me. Every time he closed his eyes, every time his guard dropped, every time his control fell, he felt the image he kept in his wallet sear on his brain. He blocked everything out because of this. For this reason, his world was empty. In order to prevent losing control and seeing that vision in his head—the final recollection and the last instance of happiness—he feared he would ever experience.

I blinked open and replied.

Then I typed in, Deal and hit send.

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In the garage, behind Grind, one of the three large bays, Finn was exiting. He had noticed my automobile approaching.

Since Falcone and I were once again us and Finn and I remained together, a miracle had occurred. Of course, this did not include me sharing his bed or letting him touch my tongue, but I still texted Finn whenever I thought he needed to know something, usually about something smartass, and he texted me back about the same thing, usually about how a biker guy responded to a cosmo girl's comment about something smartass.

Additionally, Antonette and I attended a Mayhem party, which was really hilarious and great. During that event, we mostly hung out with Finn and his biker chick, enjoying tequila shots and delectable barbecued pork sandwiches.

Falcone was cool with it since he understood how close I was to him and mostly because he drove us there and picked us up. He was also fine with this since Gideon was sitting in a black SUV across the street from Grind, gazing through binoculars at the large hog roast party that was going on on the sizable cement area behind Grind.

As I exited my vehicle, Finn grinned at me and I slammed the door.

“Peaches,” he called his greeting.

I ran to him and when I closed the distance and he got a good look at my face, his smile died.

“Talk to me, Gia,” he ordered.

“They have Falcone, they want Isabelle,” I told him.

His body went tight.

“Who?” he asked on a bark.

I pulled my purse off my shoulder and dug into it, shaking my head and saying, “I don’t know.” I pulled out my phone, found the picture text, opened it and turned it to face Finn.

His eyes dropped to my phone and a muscle worked in his cheek.

“Roarke,” he clipped.

I closed my eyes.

“Big Ben!” Finn barked and my eyes flew open to see his neck twisted and he was looking over his shoulder at the bays.

“Finn,” I whispered, my hand came up and I curled my fingers in his tee so his head twisted back to me.

“I know that you and Falcone… you and me… I know… I…” I shook my head again. “I have to get him back.”

“What’d I say to you?” His gravelly voice rumbled deep.

I blinked. “What?”

“What’d I say to you, Gia?”

“I… I don’t know,” I whispered.

His hand came up and curled around my neck and it did this tight just before he jerked my neck gently and his face got in mine.

“I said anything for you, Gia, anything. That means anything. Yeah?”

My eyes filled with tears, I pressed my lips together and I nodded.

“You willin’ to give up Isabelle?”

Oh God.

“Do I have to?” I asked.

“You gotta tell me what you’re willin’ to do.”

I closed my eyes and he jerked my neck gently so they shot open again.

“Peaches –”

Was I going to say it?

I was going to say it.

“Anything,” I whispered, my heart breaking.

He stared into my eyes then he nodded.

Then he let me go and ordered, “Get home. I’ll call.” I nodded but didn’t move and noticed Big Ben and some other bikers had surrounded us.

“Now, Gia,” Finn prompted.

I nodded again then rushed to my car.

But I didn’t go home.

Because if I was willing to trade my fucked up sister, who I still loved, for my man, I was willing to do anything.