Page 89

Just as I’m about to roll up my window and get back on track, the future of the Agency calls out, “Don’t drive off the mountain on your way out, sir. It’s right in front of you when you hit the road.”
God, is Thorn recruiting them as smartasses these days? My cheeks burn as I find the turnaround, turn the SUV around, and head back to the main road.
Once I get back onto the main road, a text from Thorn appears. I ask it to be read to me.
Thorn:
Maybe this is a sign what you’re about to do is a mistake. Give Sam and Q?za some more time to correlate your findings against their information. You may be wrong.
Ethan:
Unlikely
Thorn:
But possible.
I don’t bother replying. It isn’t his woman who is so clearly implicated. His wife builds secured facilities for a living. Sam goes home to a wife whose been lauded as a national hero. And Leanne has Castor and her husband—whom I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know pretty well over the years. He’s as much of a straight shooter as I am.
And I’m supposed to bring Fallon into this mix? Finally, I harden my heart and tell Thorn exactly what I plan on doing.
Ethan:
No, this ends tonight.
Thorn:
Your call. I think it’s the wrong one, but who am I to say. Oh, wait. I’m just the director of the…
I throw my phone on the seat, ignoring the remainder of Thorn’s latest dig, and I find the correct turnoff. My eyes immediately land on Fallon’s car in the parking lot of Devil’s Lair. Parking next to her, I wait.
And wait.
According to her phone logs, I have a few hours until I need to surprise Fallon with my presence. As I wait, my thoughts turn inward as I try to figure out exactly how I will approach her. Unfortunately, I can’t turn off my memory quite so easily from the last five years of wanting her. From falling in love with her.
I reach for my phone, pull up our text string, and scroll back as far as possible. I wince when I recall the way she reamed my ass out about Jess giving her a side hug at Austyn’s birthday bash that I couldn’t make because I was working on another job Thorn threw my way.
Fuck. As pissed as I am, the witch was right to call my ass out.
Fallon:
Then you should have been here to put your own damn arm around me.
If I had been, would I be in the predicament I’m facing right now? I rub my hand over my heart as the pain radiates from the center of my chest. Fallon’s been woven through the very fiber of my being since she was eighteen—how in the hell am I supposed to survive not having her in it? Easy asshole. Think about the fact she’s selling herself for money and assisting in blackmailing high profile clients, my conscience prods me.
Up until a few days ago, I didn’t know Fallon was working at Devil’s Lair. I had no clue. It wasn’t until I was on the phone and heard the way she described her new lingerie down to the last fucking detail—the same way she had done with me—that my antenna went on full alert.
Then I began to listen to the cadence in her voice.
I didn’t want to do it, but I asked Sam to trace her cell, praying to God I was wrong, but when he confirmed it was smack dab in the middle of the Devil’s Lair call center, I broke that night.
I honest to god broke.
The woman I’ve wanted with a fervor since she was barely legal was working as a phone sex operator. Selling her husky moans, the catch of her breath, the little gasp before she orgasmed.
Something I only just found out on the night she graduated from college.
“Fal, how could you do this to us, witch?” I ask aloud in the darkened vehicle. There’s no answer, and I suspect when I ask her something similar when I see her, she’s not going to be able to reply.