Page 24 of Fallen Hero

Calista looked at me and asked, “Is he serious?”

“About the money? No clue. About the hot chick who plays covers, yes. And now you get to sit with him for the next hour and watch video after video. Good luck, sweetness.” I stood and snatched the plates off the table. “To save my hearing, I’m going to take a shower. Be back so we can plan tonight.”

I didn’t miss Fallon and Pete staring at me. Further, I didn’t miss how their eyes followed me into the suite’s full kitchen, and I only lost their attention when I stepped into the bedroom.

I was hoping a nice long, hot shower would get my head straight.

If not, I was fucked.

Chapter Seven

I decided, for my peace of mind, I was ignoring the looks Fallon and Pete were exchanging. I was also ignoring what it felt like waking up next to Mason. I told myself I didn’t sleep next to him, I’d rested. There was a difference between sleeping and resting—right?

And I absolutely wasn’t thinking about Mason calling me sweetness. That was a full stop, do not pass go, lock up in box right next to childhood memories that were too painful to think about.

“How’d you hook up with Tom?” Pete asked.

Like he didn’t know.

Pete seemed close to Shepherd, and anyone who ran in our circles understood Shep knew all. That knowledge made a lot of powerful men and women nervous. Some might say his ability to find out things he shouldn’t put a bull’s-eye on his back. Rumor had it, that was why he stayed in the shadows and moved around a lot, never staying in one place long enough to be discovered.

It was a smart play on Shep’s part. If I was an omniscient god of intelligence gathering, I’d hide too.

“Is this a test?” I asked back. “To see if Tom and I have matching stories?”

“Fair assumption, but no. I know the story he told us, but I believe less than ten percent that comes out of his mouth.”

I could only imagine the bullshit story Tom told. Likely it was one that cast him in a good light and me like the reckless vigilante.

“Did you know that my grandfather on my dad’s side cleaned money for the Irish mob?”

Pete arched an eyebrow. “Tom mentioned it but said you didn’t know anything about your father’s past.”

“I didn’t. But when my dad got sick and he knew he was going to die, he confessed. He told me to be careful, and if I was ever approached by anyone, I was to tell Tom. My dad also told me how he really knew Tom, and that he was an informant. Tom didn’t know I knew all of this until . . .” I trailed off.

“Until,” Fallon prompted.

Fuck it.

In for a penny . . .

“Until last week, when Tom and I argued. He wanted me to call you.” I gestured to Pete. “I was adamant I wasn’t going to do that. Tom pushed, and I got annoyed and told him he’d paid his debt to my father and I didn’t need his protection.”

“Right. So that explains your father’s connection to Tom, but how did you get involved?”

“Does it matter?” I evaded.

“No.”

I waited for Pete to say more. To push or probe or, my favorite, manipulate me into giving more than I was willing to give. But he didn’t, and maybe that was his tactic—silently acquiescing. Luring me into a false position of power. Allowing me to think he’d surrendered, knowing I’d feel comfortable to share since I now had the upper hand.

“Smart play,” I told him.

He didn’t insult me by denying his game.

“After my dad died and my mother got . . . worse, I asked Tom for help finding the man who took my sister.”

Pete nodded as if he understood, though I knew he didn’t. He had two sisters, both of them alive and healthy. He didn’t have a mother who was lost to her grief and didn’t bother to try and pull herself out, even though she had another daughter who needed her. He didn’t have a father who’d done whatever he’d had to do to keep his family safe, and in the pursuit of that safety made a deal with the devil.