Smolder: Trojans MC (68 page)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

It was strange being in Grace’s house without her. She had to go back to work; no one knew she was hiding Falcon and it would look suspicious for her to miss work this deep into an investigation. He sat on the couch and watched television. It was still painful for him to move around, but he forced himself to get up and walk the interior of the house. He needed to get his strength back.

“It wasn’t easy with the boss today,” Grace said. They were eating take-out chicken at her kitchen table. “They really want to know where you are. They’re worried you’re still a hostage and that you’re going to break and tell them about the investigation.”

“So you want to tell them I’m alive?” Falcon asked.

“Hell no,” Grace said. “There’s a big bounty on your head, a huge one. I’m worried if word gets out that our source is still alive, people will come knocking on my door. We need to keep your whereabouts unknown.”

“So I’m stuck here?”

“Is it really so bad?” Grace asked.

“I guess it’s not terrible,” Falcon said with a crooked smile. “So, when can I see your ride?” he asked.

“What?” she said.

“Your motorcycle, you told me you liked to ride once.”

“I can’t believe you remember that,” Grace said.

Together they walked to her garage. It had that odd smell Falcon liked, a mix of gasoline and something else that all garages have. Her bike was parked next to her black SUV. The black metal of the motorcycle gleamed and the chrome shined. It was a impressive, surprisingly big for a girl, but Falcon knew Grace could handle it.

He ran a finger along the leather seat and nodded at her. “Nice,” he said.

“Yeah. I used to watch my dad work on his. I bought my first bike when I was sixteen. My mother was furious; she grounded me and told me to return it. But my dad had my back. He said that since I bought it and I was paying the insurance on it, I could keep it.”

Falcon smiled at the thought of a young, tough Grace, rebellious as ever. He reached out for her and placed his hand behind her ear and he pulled her towards him and kissed her deeply. He ran his hands through her hair and kissed her gently, wrapping his arms around her hips and pulling her close. “When can we go for a ride together?”

She leaned her chin against his forehead. “You’re not up for a ride yet, and we don’t have your bike.” She pulled away from him and, holding his hand, brought him back inside and sat him down on the couch.

She walked away and Falcon stayed in the room alone. His bike. It was only at that moment he realized he had left his bike behind. Falcon loved that bike; he referred to it as his second child. He had spent more money on it than he should have and he had never left it anywhere. But it was gone, and so was Falcon. He wasn't in the gang anymore. He couldn’t see Sophie anymore. He was gone; he had left every aspect of his old life behind. He had no home to go back to, nowhere to go but forward. He couldn’t stay like this forever, but he wasn’t sure what he should do next.

He wanted to get back at them. He wanted to punish the Screaming Eagles for wasting his life. But he couldn’t think of how to do it. It needed to be big, to be huge. It needed to bring down the guys on top, not just the foot soldiers. He needed to do something that would give his life meaning. He was about to go away forever and he needed it to mean something. If Falcon Marks was going down, he wanted to take everyone with him.

“You haven't said anything about witness protection these last few days,” Falcon said. He was feeling better; he could recognize his own face in the mirror again. He could see out of both eyes and breath through his nose and open his mouth without it hurting. But sitting around and doing nothing was getting to him. He wasn’t the type of guy who sat around and waited for something to happen. He wasn’t known for his patience.

“You’re not well enough yet,” Grace said, looking away and busying her hands with something.

“What do I have to do other than get on and off a plane?”

“You’re a new guy in the neighborhood and if you show up looking like that people are going to remember you. They are going to talk about you. That is the opposite of what we need.”

“So I’m just supposed to stay here, locked up in this house? That’s not really my style.”

“I know,” Grace said. “And it’s not exactly my style to hide criminals in my house either. We’re both outside of our comfort zone, so we just have to work with it. Witness protection is still happening; it’s just been pushed back.” She was avoiding eye contact and picking things up and straightening things that were already perfectly straightened. She was nervous and twitchy and Falcon had to wonder what she was thinking about.

He slept on the couch. It was easier on the couch. He didn’t have to think about the cell when he was on the couch. It was dangerous to sleep in the bed next to her. He couldn’t let himself get used to sleeping beside Grace because he was worried it would make it impossible to sleep without her.

Falcon had been trapped in Grace’s house for five days and it was starting to get to him. He woke up early and once Grace was gone, he walked into the bathroom and took a good look at his face. He looked better. He looked like himself again. He took off the bandages Grace had applied to his face. The scars had all scabbed over and whatever ointment she had used was working; the scars were healing cleanly.

He could move without it hurting. He could lift his hands above his head and bend over at the waist. He could turn his neck and he could breath without it hurting. He was getting better; he was getting healthier. But he still couldn’t leave. According to Grace, the Screaming Eagles had offered twenty-five thousand dollars for Falcon’s head. They wanted him dead or alive; it didn’t matter. It had gone up by five thousand dollars in the last two days and he wondered how high it could eventually go.

There was a search underway for him. According to Grace you couldn’t take two steps without seeing a biker roaming the streets with his eyes peeled. They tried to break into police headquarters to find Falcon; they had searched the hospitals and safe houses. The good news, at least, was that the police now knew which safe houses were less than safe.

Grace refused to move him. She refused to let him out of the house. She kept the curtains closed and the lights off late at night. She was always looking outside for anything suspicious. But life was quiet. For the first time in his life, it was quiet. There was no chaos, no work, no drugs, no guns, no violence. He woke up in the morning and drank coffee and watched daytime TV all day long.

But after a while it got boring. Daytime TV was oddly depressing and doing nothing was making him antsy. He needed to do something. He couldn’t waste any more time doing nothing on Grace’s couch. He needed to get back to work. He needed to make a plan.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Grace left early leaving Falcon alone in the house again. He couldn’t sit through another asinine morning show where hosts searched for anything meaningful to say, any interesting topic to discuss. It was all just dumb and empty and he couldn’t take another moment of it. He couldn’t see his daughter; he was living with the woman he would soon need to leave and he couldn’t listen to people talk about yogurt anymore.

His body might not have been ready for it, but Falcon didn’t care. He was healed enough to get back into his routine. When had had seen Grace’s bike in the garage he had also seen a weight bench and a punching bag. With a bottle of water in hand he walked into the garage and looked at the dust covered bench.

He opened the garage door, letting bright sunlight and fresh air into the garage. He knew it was dangerous, but he had yet to see anyone come down this street and he was pretty sure he could get away with it. More importantly, he needed it. He needed to see the sun and smell the fresh air; it was good for him. Falcon took a wet cloth and began wiping down the inch of dust that had collected on the bench and weights.

He hefted up the weight bar and rested it on the holder. He added twenty pounds to each side, a light lift; he just needed to see where he was. Falcon laid back onto the bench and put both hands on the bar and, with a grunt, he lifted it off the handles and began to bench press. His chest burned with the effort and first few lifts were far harder than they had any right to be. Sweat poured down his face. But he finished four sets of ten and felt better.

He stretched and added another ten pounds to each side and benched those, as well. He took deep breath and he focused as he lifted the heavy weights and then lowered them to his chest. He repeated the motion, ignoring the screaming pain in his arms and chest and ribs. He recognized that pain and he knew it was the good kind. He wasn’t hurting himself; he was pushing himself, creating muscle, and growing his strength.

There was a punching bag in the room, too. He found some tape and wrapped it around his knuckles. He gave a few gentle taps to the bag. Flexing his fingers, he started hitting the bag harder. He kicked it a few times and enjoyed the feeling of stretching out his legs. He started getting into it, hitting the bag harder and harder as sweat dripped down his back and over his face.

He took his shirt off and wiped the sweat away as best as he could. His ribs were still bandaged, but Grace told him he could take them off later today. He focused on the bag and remembering how to hit and punch. He was happy to see he still had his strength, that the beating from the Screaming Eagles hadn’t done too much damage.

He had been working out for about an hour when Grace and her big SUV pulled into the driveway. She parked outside and Falcon stopped what he was doing and watched as she jumped out of the car.

“Why is the door open? What are you doing?” She walked into the garage and hit the button to close the door.

“Needed some fresh air,” Falcon said.

“You can’t have the door open. The Screaming Eagles are looking everywhere for you. Everywhere, Falcon. They’re getting desperate and they might come looking around here. You can’t be in here in front of a giant, open door-” she stopped short. She had been looking up and down the street as she spoke and it wasn’t until she finally turned around that she noticed Falcon in his shirtless state. Her jaw dropped open and she closed it quickly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she looked away. “You’re looking well,” she said as she, again, began to fiddle with a screw and a hammer in the garage. “You look a lot better.”

“I feel better,” he said, stretching his shoulders and his neck from side to side.

“Prove it,” Grace said. She grabbed two pairs of black focus mitts and strapped them to her wrists. “Let me see what you got.”

She held up her hands in front of her and Falcon looked down confused. Was he really supposed to hit her? He didn’t want to hurt her, but he also knew it would be an insult if he told her that. He brought his hands up and jabbed with his left hand on her right mitt. She took the hit easily and her hand was firm against his.

Falcon looked into her green eyes and saw the confrontation there. She gave him a crooked smiled and got into a defensive position. Falcon bent his knees and focused on the gloves as he began to bat at them, hitting them harder and harder. Grace clenched her teeth, but she gave as good as Falcon, holding up steady as he hit into the soft pads of the mitts.

She began to move around, moving her mitts higher and lower, creating targets for Falcon to aim for. Stretching his torso like that hurt, but with every movement he felt his tense muscles stretch and move around, slowly loosening up from their injured state.

Grace was wearing a tight black t-shirt over a tight pair of jeans and he could see sweat dripping down her neck and staining her shirt. She was out of breath and her hair was sticking to her forehead and neck. There was a flush to her cheeks and dewiness to her skin; she looked lovely and Falcon had to remind himself to look away.

“Let’s trade,” he said putting his hands down as she slipped out of the mitts. He slipped the mitts on as she taped up her knuckles and then he raised his hands.

She didn’t hold back. She brought her fists up into a good fighting stance and then jabbed at his left hand before hitting even harder with her right. Falcon held the mitts up, but even he could feel her strength. She could hold her own in a fight, he was sure of that.

They were out of breath and dripping with sweat, but neither one of them wanted to stop. She continued to hit and pound against his hands and Falcon moved the mitts around. He was staring at her face, deep in concentration. She was staring at his chest as they worked, and then his shoulders as she appreciated his body in motion.

Her shoulders and her arms were strong and he could see her muscles when she moved. Her face was screwed up in concentration and her legs were bent as she weaved and bobbed; she kept her hands close to her face and jabbed at the mitts, her eyes focused on the target.

It was hot. It was far hotter than it had any right to be and Falcon didn’t want it to stop. He started pushing back against her with the mitts, dodging and weaving and giving her new targets to aim for. Sweat was pooling on her chest and her hair was sticking to her forehead, but her eyes showed nothing but determination.

She was watching him. Her eyes were focused on him and it seemed she saw only him. It was like they were communicating without words, but they knew exactly what the other was thinking. The flick of an eye, a muscle tensing, all of these signals were noted and counted and compensated for. They were two people working perfectly together, just as they had been since the first time they had met.

Her breasts were bouncing and straining against her shirt as she hit the mitts again and again with her hands.

“Kicks,” Falcon said and immediately Grace switched her stance and brought her foot up and hit the mitt, hard. Falcon used both hands as she alternated between hits and kicks.

At that moment, he was sure of it. The two of them could have moved mountains if they wanted to, could have toppled dynasties. There was nothing they couldn’t do together. They worked perfectly together as if they could read each other’s minds. He looked into her fierce green eyes right as she looked at him, and then they both stopped.

Heaving for breath, they paused and stared at each other and at the same time Falcon threw down his mitts as Grace wrapped herself around him and kissed him deeply.