My tongue stings, using the word normal.
Fallon’s whole body shakes, and she grabs my arm so hard her nails break skin. “Fallon, love, it’s okay. He’s dead. He won’t hurt you,” I say
“I finally meet the girlfriend.” The deep voice enters the room before the towering Greek king takes over all the breathing air.
“How the hell did you get in here, Ares?”
“Your door is open.” The Greek king steps in with suited-up guards behind him.
“Christ,” I say, holding Fallon against my chest.
I don’t address the girlfriend comment. I’ll tell him the truth when we’re alone. She’s been through enough.
Looking over his shoulder, Ares says to the guard in a low voice, “Wait downstairs. All of you. The man I wanted dead for Ms. Sinclair is already dead.”
Sinclair…
“Who’s that?” Fallon asks, clutching my shirt, no doubt transferring blood to her clothes.
“Ares is a friend of mine. He won’t hurt you.”
“Ares…” she whispers his name. “Ares. Ares. Ares.”
Great.
“Close the door and wait in the kitchen,” I bark at Ares.
“Looks like you’ve got some cleaning up to do,” he says wryly.
“No shit. How about getting those guys to help me?”
“I meanther,” he snarls.
“One scratch onherhead, and I’ll make you disappear next. Now get your men back here to fucking help me or?—”
“Those are theking’s guard who protectme,” he barks. “They don’t clean.”
“Then get the fuck out of my way so I can take her home.” I haul Fallon past Ares.
“Did she see you do this?” Ares stops me, voice full of menace.
“No. She was in my bedroom,” I lie, because that is something he will believe.
Ares’s nostrils flare when he looks at Fallon. The way she’s clutched to me.
The Greek’s voice is low and meant for me, but his eyes stay on her. “She needs to be dealt with.”
Fallon stiffens.
I pretend not to notice, pretend I don’t know just how dangerous he can be. “I got this, Ares.”
“Ares…” Fallon whispers his name again.
“It’s okay, love.” I steer her out of my flat and toward hers, keeping her tucked under my arm.
When I bring her inside, it already feels too intimate. Someplace I shouldn’t be. The place is a cramped studio compared to my two-bedroom.
I glance around and see that the place is neat. Very neat. A bed is tucked into a step-up alcove area. Its bubblegum-pink comforter with tidy tucked hospital corners is covered with a ridiculous number of pillows and stuffed animals.
