“Delivery, my ass,Kosta. Delivery guys drop off packages downstairs.” I slam him again for good measure, the crack of bones shooting satisfaction through my veins.
Mine. Fallon ismine.Jesus, I’m falling for her. Hard.
As I pummel this guy until his blood is all over my clothes, I worry I might have to kill yet another man in front of her.
“I’m not Kosta!” he cries out. “I have a delivery!”
“Rhys?” Fallon steps into the hallway in just her nightshirt, and I see red all over again.
“Go back inside,” I snap, glaring at her. “And put on something appropriate when you step into this hallway.” I keep punching the guy until he’s crying on the floor.
I’m seething, and I know she shouldn’t see me this out of control. The guy I killed in myflat was business. Impersonal.
This beating hits me like a gut punch. No, I don’t want her to think I’m too dangerous for her.
“Fallon, love, it’s okay. I’m handling this dosser.” I shove his head against the floor. “Take one last look at those legs, they are mine now, you fucker. No one sees what’s mine.”
“Rhys!” Fallon cries out, her face twitching. There’s a flicker in her expression, a shadow behind her eyes. And for half a heartbeat, she looks at me like she doesn’t want me if I’m really like this. “That’snotKosta.”
“What?” Knuckles screaming, skin split, I pick up the dosser off the floor.
“Thatisthe delivery man.”
Aw, bollocks.“Show me your ID, mate. Right now.”
He fumbles for it. “Don’t kill me.”
“You just saved your life, git.” I snap a picture of it, then shove him toward the elevator. “Get out of my sight.”
“Okay.” He scurries away. “Sorry, man.”
I fire off the photo to Shane with a terse message:
Me: Run this guy. Warn him or buy him off. Up to you. I fucked him up by mistake.
When I turn back, Fallon is standing with her hands on her hips, looking not the slightest bit scandalized that I nearly broke someone’s ribs outside her door. By mistake. My heart is still jackhammering in my chest with a dose of half fury, half fucking relief.
“You’re bleeding. Come back inside,” she chirps, tugging my sleeve.
I let her lead me back into the flat. Mostly because my hand feels like it’s on fire, and I need ice before I lose the ability to close it.
She marches straight to the kitchen, muttering, “I thinkwe permanently lost Steve, the nice delivery guy, Basil. The one who brings my boxes upstairs and doesn’t make me carry them myself.”
Basil’s leaves shiver in silent agreement.
I press a bag of frozen peas to my knuckles, staring at them both, wishing I could hear what Basil is tellingmyFallon right now.
“He does?” I ask, feeling like a jerk. I glance back out into the hallway and only now see a stack of boxes markedHeavy.
Something ugly curls in my gut. Who’s paying her bills? She doesn’t have a job. She’s not exactly a spoiled princess living on Daddy’s dime, wearing high heels, glitter eyeshadow, and going to clubs.
She’s just my sweet and strange Fallon. Brilliant and tender Fallon. But who’s keeping the lights on?
Kosta? The real one? Who’s supposed to be in jail?
Shane never heard of him. The name didn’t come up in the prison system. Perhaps he was just another man she imagined.
Or the fucker is so dangerous that he’s incarcerated under a different identity. Right now, I have to make up for my bad behavior. I lift one box and bring it inside for my girlfriend.
