Death eBook 9.8.16 by Lila Rose, Justine Littleton Page A
Authors: Lila Rose, Justine Littleton
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for the hills, calling the police, the CIA… X-files at the very least. Still, I didn’t. As I leaned my head against the cool glass and watched the early morning darkness speed by, I decided it was time to reassess just what had happened in my bedroom. Also, how in the heck did I end up agreeing to, first, allowing a complete stranger to stay in my home? Second, after said home was destroyed, agreeing to stay with aforementioned weirdos… er, I meant strangers ?
I wanted to feel safe; Falcone had given me that. The comfort and understanding he showed me during my epic meltdown gained him both my respect and trust. Actually, that sense of ease and safety seemed to come with all the brothers. Even Captain Crazy Pants, who came in with a bang, literally, as he knocked not one, but two—I found out when we left the house—of my doors off their flipping hinges! Then without warning, I was across the room in a corner, behind the tastiest backside I’d seen so far. I believe I’d muttered an embarrassing “holy moly.” Just picturing him sent my stomach into a crazy dive and perked up my nipples, as if they wanted to be ready for his attention. The need to touch him, to anchor myself, was overwhelming. When I had lightly touched him just below his ribs, I’d found myself lost in the hum of energy that seemed to be coming from our connection, and I vaguely heard Falcone confirm what I already knew: “He won’t do anything to you, Julie.”
Then the sexy whack-a-doodle had to go ahead and ruin my moment and growl, growl at Falcone.
Hot or not, and he was scorching, I was done. Since he, who I had finally put together was Falcone’s brother Dean, seemed a bit unstable in that bedroom moment, I’d asked what was going on, because instead of feeling I’d just slipped down a rabbit hole and gone crazy, annoyance had taken over my state.
“Nothing,” he’d replied, and finally, he turned enough for me to get a good look at him.
Holy crow. He was gorgeous. Then he gave me an innocent smile. Though, I didn’t buy the innocent bit. However, just seeing his smile had my girly bits singing with glee. Then his smile grew impossibly wider, brighter.
Again, the moment had been broken with an interruption of more growling. The guy was worse than a guard dog.
We’d calmed Dean down a bit, which took asking Falcone and Connor to step out. Poor Falcone, he’d kept assuring me I was safe, which only set Dean off further. I had been about to let Falcone know I was fine with it but thought it best to keep my trap shut. And then there were two, Dean and King Kong, who I’d found out was the last and bossy brother, Warren.
“Miss, we are arriving,” the driver stated, pulling me from my unhelpful thoughts. I had been sent to my new home by the PIs’ personal driver, because Falcone and Connor wanted to stay behind and help pack up some of my things—also to clean what their brother had destroyed. They didn’t know the length of time I would be staying under their protection, so they wanted me comfortable with my belongings. Which I thought was sweet. It also helped my nerves settle somewhat. Once their driver, a Mr. S., who was in his late sixties, had arrived at my home, I’d been ushered into the car and carried away.
When the car stopped, Mr. S. gestured to the enormous all-glass building ahead of us. It had to be at least fifteen stories tall.
Geeze, Louise . I knew those guys were the best of the best to be brought in on the train crash, but come on. “How do PIs afford plush town cars and space in an exclusive building?”
“They are very good at what they do, miss. Mr. Connor Apocalos owns Horsemen Hedge Funds, which is in the building, along with their PI firm. There are also three floors of guest suites for when the bigger clients come to visit, a coffee shop, a gym, their apartments, of course…. I don’t think I’m missing anything,” answered Mr. S. Falcone had told me he was their most trusted
I wanted to feel safe; Falcone had given me that. The comfort and understanding he showed me during my epic meltdown gained him both my respect and trust. Actually, that sense of ease and safety seemed to come with all the brothers. Even Captain Crazy Pants, who came in with a bang, literally, as he knocked not one, but two—I found out when we left the house—of my doors off their flipping hinges! Then without warning, I was across the room in a corner, behind the tastiest backside I’d seen so far. I believe I’d muttered an embarrassing “holy moly.” Just picturing him sent my stomach into a crazy dive and perked up my nipples, as if they wanted to be ready for his attention. The need to touch him, to anchor myself, was overwhelming. When I had lightly touched him just below his ribs, I’d found myself lost in the hum of energy that seemed to be coming from our connection, and I vaguely heard Falcone confirm what I already knew: “He won’t do anything to you, Julie.”
Then the sexy whack-a-doodle had to go ahead and ruin my moment and growl, growl at Falcone.
Hot or not, and he was scorching, I was done. Since he, who I had finally put together was Falcone’s brother Dean, seemed a bit unstable in that bedroom moment, I’d asked what was going on, because instead of feeling I’d just slipped down a rabbit hole and gone crazy, annoyance had taken over my state.
“Nothing,” he’d replied, and finally, he turned enough for me to get a good look at him.
Holy crow. He was gorgeous. Then he gave me an innocent smile. Though, I didn’t buy the innocent bit. However, just seeing his smile had my girly bits singing with glee. Then his smile grew impossibly wider, brighter.
Again, the moment had been broken with an interruption of more growling. The guy was worse than a guard dog.
We’d calmed Dean down a bit, which took asking Falcone and Connor to step out. Poor Falcone, he’d kept assuring me I was safe, which only set Dean off further. I had been about to let Falcone know I was fine with it but thought it best to keep my trap shut. And then there were two, Dean and King Kong, who I’d found out was the last and bossy brother, Warren.
“Miss, we are arriving,” the driver stated, pulling me from my unhelpful thoughts. I had been sent to my new home by the PIs’ personal driver, because Falcone and Connor wanted to stay behind and help pack up some of my things—also to clean what their brother had destroyed. They didn’t know the length of time I would be staying under their protection, so they wanted me comfortable with my belongings. Which I thought was sweet. It also helped my nerves settle somewhat. Once their driver, a Mr. S., who was in his late sixties, had arrived at my home, I’d been ushered into the car and carried away.
When the car stopped, Mr. S. gestured to the enormous all-glass building ahead of us. It had to be at least fifteen stories tall.
Geeze, Louise . I knew those guys were the best of the best to be brought in on the train crash, but come on. “How do PIs afford plush town cars and space in an exclusive building?”
“They are very good at what they do, miss. Mr. Connor Apocalos owns Horsemen Hedge Funds, which is in the building, along with their PI firm. There are also three floors of guest suites for when the bigger clients come to visit, a coffee shop, a gym, their apartments, of course…. I don’t think I’m missing anything,” answered Mr. S. Falcone had told me he was their most trusted
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