126 Secret Ln: A Cherry Falls Romance Page 6

Her mom scowls. "His weapon is a pen, not a gun. What's he going to do? Type Toscati to death?"

  It is on the tip of my tongue to joke I could write his name in a Death Note, but neither of them appear to be interested in my anime humor.

  "Corby's from the big city. He's used to crime."

  "Do you have a gun?" she asks.

  "Not on me.”

  “See?” Judy holds up my lack of weapon as proof that Glory will not come out of the encounter with Toscati alive. I feel my manhood is being impugned here.

  “He doesn’t need a gun. This is Mark Toscati, an accountant. His biggest weapon is a calculator,” says Glory.

  Judy harrumphs and crosses her arms, but Glory stares her mom down until finally, Judy shakes her finger in my direction. "If anything happens to Glory, I'm coming after you. A mom's anger is something terrible. You best beware.”

  "Mooaaahhhmm," Glory groans.

  "You have my solemn promise that should I ever allow Glory to get hurt, I will hand you the knife."

  “Promise accepted.”

  "I thought you wanted us to have kids," Glory says not so innocently. "How are we supposed to do that if you chop his balls off?"

  "My balls?” I jokingly cover my groin. "I thought we were talking about a finger or two."

  Glory giggles and Judy’s lips twitch involuntarily. "Get out, you two." She shoos us off.

  "I'm surprised you didn't agree with Mom," Glory says as we climb into the car.

  "You're a reporter, and I'm a writer. Cops seem very unnecessary here."

  "Thank you for supporting me." She gives me a smile that warms me to my cock.

  "Always." I force myself to turn away from the sunshine that is her gorgeous face and plant my eyes on the road. My cock and chest both ache, but it's a good kind of pain. It’s the kind that reminds you that you're still alive, the kind that makes you human because people aren't meant to be alone. I realize now that I didn't run away from the city, but I ran toward something. An unseen hand, a gravitational pull, whatever it might be called, drew me here to Glory. If I hadn’t ever had writer’s block, I still would’ve been locked in my penthouse in the city, writing. Instead, I was forced out of my routine and my comfort zone and found where real life begins.

  "You're smiling." Glory interrupts my thoughts.

  "I'm happy."

  "Because we're about to confront Toscati?" She shifts in her seat, unable to hold still. She's like a fizzy bottle about to erupt, full of anticipation and excitement.

  "For that and more."

  "I wonder what he's going to say. Is he going to lie? Is he going to drop to his knees and confess?"

  “The latter seems more accurate.” Mark Toscati seemed mild. Messy, but mild.

  "You think so?" She pats her pockets. “I’ll need my recorder then. I want to get it all down accurately."

  "The phone has a recording feature," I remind her.

  "Right." She stops and puts her hands in her lap, but only for a minute before she starts fidgeting again. "I think I need some gum. Do you have any gum here?” She fumbles with the glove compartment before I can stop her. The lid pops up, and the black holstered weapon falls into her hands.

  "You said you didn't have a gun!”

  "I didn't have one on me,” I correct.

  "Do you know how to shoot this thing?" She turns the weapon over in her hand.

  "I've been to the range a few times." I don't share that I've been awarded marksmanship skill certificates because shooting in a controlled environment is one thing whereas shooting in a small town neighborhood is entirely different. Accidentally putting a bullet in a neighbor's house doesn't seem like a good impression to make on this community.

  Toscati's Camry is parked in the driveway when we arrive. Glory slaps the gun in my hand and then tumbles out of the car. "Come on. Let's go get him."

  I stare at the metal weapon. Does she want me to shoot him? I guess I can if that's what her plan is. I tuck the gun into my waistband and follow her to the front door.

  She pounds on it, but there's no answer. She rings the doorbell a half dozen times and still gets no response. The dog is barking its head off, but either Toscati is absent or he doesn’t want to answer questions. Both are plausible, although given his schedule and the presence of his car, he’s likely trying to ignore us.

  "Do you think he’s not home?”

  I check the time. "He should be."

  "What do you mean he should be?"

  "I stalked him for a while. I was going to make him the villain of my next book."

  “For real?” Glory seems surprised, not at the stalking but that I might have patterned a character after Toscati.

  “Or a victim. I hadn’t decided yet.”

  "How about me?"

  "What about you?"

  "Can I be the bad guy? I mean a bad girl? A reporter goes around and kills to create stories. That's a good plot, don't you think?"

  "Not bad," I admit.

  "What kind of backstory would you give her? Former Russian spy rehabilitated like the Scarlett Witch?" She's getting enthused. It's adorable. I want to kiss her. I lean in to do just that when a roar fills the air. I turn just in time to see the shadow of something rushing toward my head. I whip Glory under my arm and shift, but the blow still lands, sharp and painful across my shoulders.

  Toscati lifts the shovel to strike again, but this time, I'm able to throw up an arm to block the blow. The steel nearly breaks my forearm. I reach underneath and drive a punch to his gut. Toscati grunts and stumbles backward.

  "Get in the car, Glory," I order.

  "Mark, what are you doing?" she says instead of listening to me.

  Mark looks like a wild animal with his chest heaving and his nostrils flaring. "I'm saving you," he pants. "This is a bad guy. He's slept around. Impregnated groupies. He might have even killed someone, Glory."

  "Those are all stories," Glory says.

  "That's what he wants you to believe. Hide in my house while I take care of this trash," Toscati yells.

  "That's my line," I object.

  "You can't write your own story here. This is the real world." Toscati charges. I start to dodge and then remember Glory's right behind me. "Get in the damn car," I growl and then launch myself at Toscati's midsection, driving him backward off the porch. The shovel lands on the steps as we tumble to the ground. He rolls, trying to get the upper hand. I twist around and pin him to the ground. The gun falls out of my pocket. Mark sees it before I do and lunges for it. I'm too late to stop him, and he has the gun in his hand, pointing at Glory, who is about to duck into the car.

  "Stop," he shouts. "The house, Glory. Now.”

  She hesitates, looking at the gun and then at me.

  “I’m the one with the gun,” he screams. The dude’s finger hovers on the trigger. He could pull it at any second. I rush him, shoving his arm into the air just as he fires. The bullet spends in the air, but Glory screams in fear and drops to the ground, covering her head with her hands.

  "You dumb fuck," I swear. I crack Toscati in the jaw, grab the gun, and get to my feet. "Sorry I have to do this, but I swore to Glory's mom I'd keep her safe, otherwise she'd cut off my balls." I pull the trigger.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Glory

  “It’s fine, Glory,” Corby says even as they slap the handcuffs on him. My heart is still pounding. They are hauling Mark off in an ambulance.

  “Knock it off, Graham!”

  “It’s Sheriff Larson right now, Glory.” I roll my eyes, trying to keep myself mad. If I don’t focus on my anger, I’ll likely start crying. I’m on the edge, and being angry is the only thing that’s keeping me sane at the moment.

  “Mark was trying to kill him. He had no choice. It was self-defense.”

  “I get that, but there are still procedures that need to be followed and not to mention Mr. O’Neal here is on Mark’s property with a gun.” Okay, that might look bad now that I think about it.

  “Y
ou keep that mouth sealed, Corby. We did nothing wrong. You don’t make a statement or sign a damn thing until your lawyer arrives.” Now it’s Graham who’s rolling his eyes.

  “I promise I’m fine,” Corby says again.

  “Meet me at the station, Glory. We need to do a report.”

  “I don’t know nothing.” I tilt my chin up. “You’ll have to speak to my lawyer.”

  “You don’t have a lawyer,” Graham says dryly.

  “She does.” Corby smiles at me. I know he’s trying to get me to relax. I’m worried about him; he shouldn't be worried about me. “He’s probably getting on a plane right now.” Corby winks at me. He’s being so calm about all of this. I’m trying to stay calm, but I can still feel the slight shake in my hands. I wanted a story but not like this.

  Corby only shot Mark in the leg. He went down hard and fast while screaming in pain. It didn't even look like there was much blood, to be honest. After Corby checked on me, he pulled out his phone and dialed 911. I think he might have fired off a few texts right after too, which were probably to his lawyer. Based on his comments, I’m guessing whoever is going to represent him is coming here from New York.

  “This doesn't have to be hard, Glory.” Graham lets out a long sigh. I pull out my phone and text my mom. I’m pretty sure they aren't going to let me take Corby’s car, so she’ll have to pick me up. It’s being searched as we speak. I hope Corby didn't keep any record of his own stalking in there. That sure as hell wouldn't look good. Then I remember I have some evidence of my own on Mark faking having a story to get me to meet him.

  My mom pulls up about the same time Graham pulls away with Corby. I tell her the whole story as we follow them to the police station, where I spend the rest of my day. Corby’s agent actually called me at one point telling me they were en route here with a lawyer.

  It took hours for them to get here and then hours for us all to be questioned.

  Mark is fine, but I was reassured he also got cuffs slapped on him.

  “We’re done, Glory.” I lift my head from where I laid it down on the table feeling exhausted. It’s well into the evening now. Corby’s lawyer Ms. Blake’s eyes softened when they met mine. That’s the first time I’ve seen them do that. The woman is a shark. At one point I felt bad for Graham. Not enough to call her off, though. “They are releasing him.”

  I jump up from the chair, wanting to see him. He heads toward the front of the station where we have to wait. I pace back and forth while my mom keeps trying to get me to eat something.

  I’m not hungry. I should be. It’s late, and I haven't eaten since breakfast this morning, which I didn't have much of because I wanted to go over to Mark’s. I’m the reason all of this happened. I should have never suggested that we go there.

  When I see Corby head down the hallway toward the waiting area, tears fill my eyes. I’ve been holding them back all day. I make a run for him. Before I know it, I’m in his arms kissing him all over his face as I cry at the same time. All of the pent-up emotion I have pours out of me.

  “Well, look at that. Glory finally let a man get close to her,” I hear Mrs. Davy say. She runs the front of the police station. The woman has been here forever. Sometimes she’ll slip me a little news here and there.

  “Yes, I did.” I am planning on letting him get even closer if we ever manage to get the hell out of here.

  “Have you eaten anything?” Corby asks me. He continues to hold me in his arms.

  “I tried,” my mom huffs from behind me.

  “Are you cleared?” I ask, ignoring them both.

  “Yeah.” I cry harder. The relief I feel is overwhelming. “You’re killing me here.”

  “I’m sorry.” I hiccup. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have suggested we go over there. We should have called the cops. My mom was right to be worried. I’m sorry.” He strokes my back. I cry harder because he’s being so sweet and I’m the one that got us into this mess.

  “You have to calm down. Everything is okay. I’m fine. Seeing you this way is hurting me more than anything.”

  “Can we get out of here?” Ms. Blake says. I lift my head from out of Corby’s neck and nod. When we are out front, we all say our goodbyes and Corby has a few heated words with his agent before we get in a car to head back toward his place.

  “Whose car is this?” I ask.

  He shrugs. I’m sure the police still have his. “Told them to get me one.”

  It should be funny that he can tell someone to get him a car and one appears, but it’s not. It only makes my eyes fill with tears again because it’s my fault the police have his car to begin with.

  “You’re killing me,” Corby says as he pulls up to his house. He puts the car in park, jumping out and coming around to open my door. He pulls me back into his arms. “If you think this is your fault, you're wrong. What happened with Mark was coming. In fact, it could have been worse from what my lawyer gathered.”

  I jerk my head up from where I have it planted on his chest as he rubs my back. “What?”

  “Not tonight. I know it’s your nature to ask a lot of questions, but I’m asking you to put them on the back burner. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” He shakes his head, clearly not wanting to tell me something. If I had to guess, they found some crap at Mark’s or he’s at the hospital singing like a crazy canary. “Going to get you inside. Shower and feed you.”

  “Then bed?” I smile up at him. Last night I was so unsure about being in his bed. Right now it’s the only place I want to be.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Corby

  Glory fusses over me when we get home.

  “Your wrists okay? I can’t believe Graham handcuffed you.” She rubs her hands along my arms after I pull off my sweater.

  “I did just shoot a guy.”

  “He deserved it! He was trying to bash you over the head with a shovel.”

  “Not to mention pointing the gun at you,” I remind her as I unbutton her shirt.

  “Exactly. Mark was a menace, and if you hadn’t shot him, one of us could have been hurt. Graham knew this.”

  I push her shirt off her shoulders. “I’m new to town. I just shot one of the mild-mannered accountant citizens. The cuffs were necessary.” I hook a finger through the belt loop of her jeans and pull her toward the bed. I sit down and draw her between my legs.

  “Were they really, though? He could’ve asked you to go with him down to the station. I know you would’ve gone without any argument.”

  “Mmm-hmmm,” I murmur. My attention is focused on the small divot of a belly button and the contrast of the dark denim against her golden skin. As she continues to cast aspersions on Sheriff Larson’s brain power (low), manliness (small dick), and justness (she’s not voting for him next election), my fingers work on her jeans. Button undone, zipper unzipped, I insert my thumbs between the fabric and her hip bones and push down.

  Glory rests her hands on my shoulders as I help her step out of her jeans. “It was unnecessary and a dick move. And telling me that I can’t call him Graham as if I didn’t see him eat dirt as a kid.” She huffs out an adorable breath. I love how much she’s getting worked up over me.

  “I’d rather you not call him Graham.” I take her by the waist and press a kiss against her bare belly.

  “W-why’s that?” she stutters, suddenly realizing she’s two pieces of lingerie away from being completely nude.

  “Because it sounds intimate. I don’t like the thought of you being intimate with another man.” My grip on her waist tightens. “In fact, that makes me feel all sorts of violent.”

  I take her underwear between my teeth and tear. She utters a small sound of alarm, so I tear my eyes away from her neatly trimmed bush to check if she wants me to stop. “No?” I arch an eyebrow in question.

  “You just surprised me,” she replies, slightly breathless.

  The corner of my mouth lifts. “I’ll be more direct from now on. I’m going to kiss your bush and then tongue y
our cunt. Hang on.”

  I catch a glimpse of her turning bright red, but her hands dig into my shoulders as I press a light kiss against her pubis and then move between her thighs. Her legs start shaking, and I catch her ass in my hands just as her knees buckle. I fall backward onto the bed, bringing her with me until she’s straddling my face. I let her ride my tongue, her hips moving with increasing speed and force. Above me, I hear the pretty gasps and sobs as she strives toward her release. My thumb finds the small, puckered skin between her cheeks. She comes like a rocket when I press inside her. I lap up all she has to give me. Then she scrambles off my face and attacks my jeans.

  “Off. Off now.”

  I don’t have to be told twice. I jerk my clothes off in half the time it took to strip her down. My cock hangs heavy between my legs with precum dripping off the tip.

  “It’s going to hurt at first,” I warn her.

  She makes a face. “You’re telling me not to call someone by their first name because that’s too intimate but you know all about how a virgin’s first time goes?”

  “Yeah. I’m a writer. I research. You think I’ve killed all the ways I write about?” I push her onto the mattress and cover her with my body. Her neck is too much temptation to resist. I dip in and nip at her.

  “You haven’t?” she says in mock disappointment. “I was sure I was going to take a hitman to bed for the first time.”

  “Baby, you can imagine me with any occupation as long as it’s me you’re fantasizing about.” I scissor her wet cunt open with my fingers and ready her for my throbbing shaft. She’s slick and hot, and I grow light-headed thinking about how it’s going to be once I’m inside of her.

  “Ready?” I whisper.

  She nods, and I’m at her entrance a second later. Her body tenses when I breach her, the unfamiliar thickness of my cock making her catch her breath. I cover her mouth, swallowing her cries as I ease inside of her. It’s delicious torture, but patience, sweat, and a lot of reassurance has her blossoming for me. Her muscles relax, and I slide home.