Page 10 of Chasing the Fall

I slant a look in her direction that very clearly says fuck around and find out. “You need a keeper, Tallulah.”

“Excuse me?”

With a sigh, I sink into her couch. “You got out of your car and didn’t once look around to assess the area. You had your head down, keys not at the ready. Your curtains were wide open, giving any Stan the Stalker a perfect view.” Her mouth opens and closes, and my gaze snags on a bit of chocolate at the corner of her lips. “And you eat too much sugar.”

She pinches her lips together, but not before her tongue darts out to whisk away the crumb of icing. “Okay, Dad. I’m going to bed. You can do…” she waves her hand airily. “Whatever it is you bodyguards do. Couch is yours.”

“Couch?”Dad!?I’m only…seven...years older than her? I’m not sure. “And I’m thirty-fucking-two, brat.”

“You’re fucking ancient. Is that gray I see in your beard?” She moves behind a half partition that divides her bedroom from the rest of the small studio. “And yes, couch. As you are so observant, you no doubt noticed that there’s only one bed.”

I did notice; I was just hoping another would magically appear. One of those numbers that unfolds from the wall, maybe. I eye the couch, which is about a foot too short for my frame.

“Fuck.”

Tallulah’s apartment is toofucking small. I shift for what feels like the thousandth time on her couch, trying to keep from rolling off onto the floor. My feet hang off the end, and I can’t help but remember when I was a kid and used to be afraid of some nebulous something hiding under the bed.

You never let your feet hang over the edge.

I’m not afraid of monsters anymore, but the couch is still too fucking small. Everything is too small… I feel like I’m coming out of my own skin.

One thing is certain: we are not staying here any length of time. We’ll either move into Brodie’s house, or I’ll take her, kicking and screaming if I have to, back to Philly.

More minutes tick by, and it’s obvious I’m not going to get any sleep. I’ll do a stroll around the perimeter and make sure all is well, then maybe…I don’t know. Make some hot fucking milk or something. I sit up and pull my boots on, then stand and grab my gun from the coffee table, making sure the safety is engaged before I tuck it into my jeans.

Safety first.

Tallulah’s key rests on the counter that divides the kitchen from the rest of the space. I pick it up and let myself out, locking the door carefully behind me before tucking the key in my pocket. Outside, the night is chilly but not as quiet as I imagined it would be here in the country. It’s alive with a different sort of music from Philly…the wind rattling through dry leaves, the distant bark of a dog, an answering yip from a coyote or fox.

I listen to it all, orienting myself, and then begin to walk around the apartment. Motion lights blink on as I round each corner, making me give a mental nod to Brodie. He didn’t waste time making sure the place was secure, even from an international flight. On the wall facing the back of the property, a window is boarded over—the one Thurston attempted to break through the other night, no doubt. I’ll see about getting that properly fixed tomorrow.

Satisfied that everything is safe, I retrace my steps and let myself back in, bending to untie and toe off my boots after I’ve closed and locked the door behind me. I’ve barely straightened when the air displaces with a rush of movement, and I fling my hand up instinctively to catch a wooden bat in mid-swing.

“Damnit, Tallulah—”

“Bran?”

I wrench the bat away and toss it to the side, then grab her and haul her over my shoulder. She beats at my back with her fists and kicks out with her legs, but the blows are no more annoying than a mosquito buzzing around. “See how easy that was? Neveruse a weapon you don’t have complete control over. I could take you right out of here, and then where would you be?”

“Put me down, you…jackass…brute…!” Voice breathless, Tallulah rears up in an effort to gain leverage, but it’s impossible with my forearm banded around her thighs.

I slap her ass hard with the flat of my hand. “Pipe down.”

She shrieks and redoubles her efforts, and I carry her to her bed and toss her down. She bounces once and starts to sit, pushing the hair out of her face. “That was completely uncalled for—”

I don’t want to hear it. I follow her down, pinning her onto the mattress with ridiculous, frightening ease. Tallulah bucks against me once and then goes still, her hands clenching on the shirt covering my chest. “Or they could do this right here,” I say, trying to sound stern. My voice comes out husky, though, filled with something I don’t want to identify.

My body is reacting, though I try to sternly will it into obedience.

“Get off me.”

“Do you understand the point I’m trying to make?”

Her cheeks are flushed with twin spots of red, and she’s breathing hard. Her gaze fixes on my chin. “I said get off.”

Lifting myself off of her a scant inch or two, I let my gaze travel down her body, deliberately infusing it with predatory intent. “They could do this right here—” In a swift movement, I graband shackle her wrists with one hand above her head, and then I trail the back of the other down the side of her torso, brushing the side of her breast softly and ending at the hem of her T-shirt, tangled around her waist.

I pause for a beat, lifting my eyes to Tallulah’s. “They could do this…” With excruciating slowness, I lift the hem of her shirt, allowing my knuckles to graze the hollow of her flat belly and the delicate structure of her ribcage. Her eyes widen, her lips part, and suddenly, it’s not anger I’m reading in her expression.

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