Good Gone Bad (The Fallen Men 3) - Page 23

I opened my mouth to blindly protest for the sake of protestation when his lips moved even closer, the silky plush edges moving over my own as he said, “Brought Hero. I’m gonna go down to the car, bring ’em up and then do a walk-through of your place. I would insist on staying the night, but I know you got your fucked-up independence issues, so I’ll let that slide so long as you take the dog.”

God, he brought Hero.

I hadn’t seen him in three years and the ache of his loss was almost as poignant as Danner’s.

He read the delight in my eyes even from a nose length away and those lips against mine smiled before his hand at my neck gave me a firm squeeze then released me.

“Stay,” he ordered as he turned on his booted heel and headed back down the hall.

“Not your dog, Danner,” I called after him, a second too late because he was already out the emergency exit and descending the stairs.

Still, I heard his laughter through the walls.

“Fuck me,” I muttered, leaning back against my front door with a soft thud.

My pulse was set to fluttering, my blood helium light in my veins as it bounced through my body. I hated that Danner made me so light, so weak and fragile in a way that even I had to admit felt beautiful. But as beautiful as it was, it was also dangerous, especially in my world. I couldn’t afford to be anything less than titanium, especially if I wanted to convince Danner to let me help with his investigation.

If he really didn’t want me involved, I wondered what I would do. More than that, I wondered why I really wanted to help in the first place. A snitch, in my world, was the lowest of low, a gnat to be ground ruthlessly under your heel once discovered.

I searched myself for that rotten core in the heart of me that had allowed me to endure Cricket’s abuse, just in case I was turning into some kind of self-flagellating freak, but it wasn’t there. Thank Christ.

Instead, I found a sliver of something like a piece of wood stuck beneath my fingernail. The idea that if I didn’t find a way to stay in Danner’s world, he’d leave me again.

This time forever.

I pressed the heel of my hand to my aching, palpitating heart.

A second later the clatter of nails on concrete and the jingle of tags drew my gaze to the stairway door a moment before it shot open and the second love of my childhood life burst through.

“Hero,” I whisper-yelled through my suddenly swollen throat as I dropped to my knees and opened my arms.

The golden retriever sprinted the length of the hall in seconds, pink tongue out in a doggy smile even as he whined a hello. I caught his considerable weight against my chest and held him tight to me as he attacked my face and neck with kisses. Christ, he still smelled the same, sweet and fresh like crushed autumn leaves in a crisp wind. My fingers instantly went to his downy soft, slightly crimped ears to give them a good rub and he groaned with delight into my neck as he licked at it.

I closed my eyes, buried them in the fur at his ruff and let myself shed one tear that felt like a million. God, but I loved this dog. More than most people could ever love a human, I felt the chain linking Hero’s heart to mine tangibly as I held him.

“You missed our girl, didn’tcha, champ?” Danner said, prompting me to look up at where he leaned with one booted foot crossed over the other against the wall beside my door.

He had a hard face, one suited to brooding and stern reprimands, but it was his eyes and a uniquely expressive mouth that told me how deeply my reunion with his dog affected him too.

I continued to rub through Hero’s glossy, perfectly golden coat. “Not your girl.”

He raised one dark blond brow and inclined his chin at Hero who was sitting on his rump staring at me with happy brown eyes. “Right, well he’s almost more yours than mine. I knew he’d be happy to see you, stand guard for you.”

I felt an itch in my lower lip that meant it wanted to tremble, but I ignored it. “I got a gun, a knife and, if memory serves, a cleaver somewhere in my apartment, I think I’m good.”

He shook his head as he muttered, “Only you would make a joke about the fucking murder weapon days after using it to kill a man.”

“If you can’t laugh,” I said with a shrug even though I could still feel the awful weight of it in my hand.

“I’m going to check out the apartment, stay here with Hero ’til I give the all clear,” he told me as he bent down to root through my bag for the keys.

Tags: Giana Darling The Fallen Men Erotic
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