The Galilee Falls Trilogy (Book 3): Fall of Heroes (3 page)

“Marry me.”

His eyes narrow in disbelief as at the same time a smile forms on those magical lips. “What?”

“You heard me. Marry me.”

The smile dissipates a little. “Really?”

“Hell yes.” I press my hand to his cheek, grinning like an idiot. “
Marry me.”

A hundred emotions pass across those eyes of his. Disbelief, confusion, fear, then bliss. Pure as if sent by the angels themselves bliss. Tears spring out, as does a laugh. “Thought you’d never ask.”

After another guffaw, he grabs my neck and pulls my lips against his in a fierce kiss before breaking away again. I wipe his still streaming tears as mine threaten to fall too. “I love you,” I whisper with a small smile.

“Nowhere near as much as I love you,” Jem whispers back, serious as a tempest.

“Say it again,” I order.

“I love you.”

“And again.”

“I love you.”

“Once more with feeling.”

He cradles my face in his long, soft hands, eyes boring into mine. “Joanna Fallon, you have blessed my life in ways you cannot fathom. You are my heart, my soul, you are…my hero. You have given me pure, true, once in a lifetime love, and I thank you for every moment of it. I love you tonight, tomorrow night, a million nights then a million more, Joanna Fallon.
I love you
.”

“Then I guess you better marry me, huh?”

Our grins grow in tandem before he kisses me again. And again. And again. He brings me back to life, and we celebrate the proper way.

All my life I believed I wasn’t good enough. Not for my mother, not for Justin, not for anyone. How wrong I was. How wrong I will never be again. Because he’ll set me right. He’ll help me up when I fall, as I will him. And if there is any justice in the world, we’ll get our million nights and a million more.

We’ve earned them.

CHAPTER TWO

The Violet Hour

It’s too big. Gaudy almost. Of course by billionaire standards it’s a crackerjack ring. Barely two carats with a platinum band. People might not even suspect it
is
an engagement ring. Though it is a diamond ring, they’re colored diamonds, the exact same shade of blue as my beloved’s eyes, in a multi-layered flower pattern that to me resembles more of a snowflake than blossom. I love it though. Found it at the first store we went to last night. My fiancée put up no fight when I suggested we shut off our phones, computers, and basically vanish for the day in celebration. In the end we just stayed in our penthouse, in bed, until he insisted it wouldn’t be official until I had a ring. He’s such a traditionalist. In my mind we’re already together in every way that matters. A piece of jewelry, a piece of paper and a few words from a priest won’t change a damn thing. But it means the world to him, which is why I asked in the first place. I do almost have him agreeing to a quick justice of the peace ceremony when I return from this trip. Just him and me. All I need.

“Will you please pay attention?” Lane snaps beside me in the limo.

“Why? We spent hours going over this on the plane.”

“Because you missed all the meetings, all the preparation sessions yesterday, and there are a million tiny details you need to know.”

“Oh, please. We all know I’m little more than window dressing. As always I’ll say all of twenty words, smile, and make Stone feel important because the infamous Joanna Fallon took time between supervillain kidnappings to meet him. If he’s lucky, I may even remove my cardigan so he can see the acid burn scar. Hell, maybe he’ll just ask to see it like those Tamagotchi men did.”

“You make it sound like you’re a mascot,” Lane says.

“You do more than that,” my assistant Shannon insists.

“No,
you
just make it seem like I do,” I say truthfully.

I’m the first to admit I have no idea what I’m doing. I barely passed high school, and there are precious few transferable skills between police officer and figurehead of an international conglomerate. Dividends, gross versus net profit, tax shelters, it goes way over my head. Don’t know what the hell Justin was thinking leaving his shares to me. I’m not good at it, I don’t particularly like any of it, but Justin trusted me with his legacy and I owe him far more than I can ever repay in twelve lifetimes. So I’ll be their dancing monkey for as long as they need me to be.

Today my monkey moves are all for Bennett Stone, CEO of Goliath Industries. I did do my homework on him. Thirty-five, never married, spent the last fifteen years at the top of Independence’s Top Ten Bachelor’s List. Loves fast cars, fine honeys, and even climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro. Twice. Took control of Goliath after earning his MBA at age twenty-three, the same age Justin was when he took the reins. Also like Justin he inherited the business as a tender teen when his parents died in a super related incident. Stone’s parents and seven-year-old sister were crushed by debris while inside their limo during a battle between Bruiser and Hippomatus when the boy was just fifteen. He was inside the car too. Trapped for almost four hours with the bodies of his parents, who were killed instantly. His sister Molly wasn’t so lucky. She died around hour three, reportedly as her brother cradled and comforted her. Justin had to watch his father die too but on the television. To be right there? Covered in their blood? Being unable to save his sister? Fuck me. But what from the clippings in the dossier it appears he managed to overcome whatever demons the incident spawned to become a well-rounded, shallow, billionaire playboy. We’re in my wheelhouse now.

The Goliath Tower lives up to its name. The tallest building in our country’s capital is fifty stories tall, ten more than any other building or monument. The builders are hard at work on about the fifth floor repairing the gray masonry and windows on three levels as we pull up. Collateral damage from the brawl between White Knight and The Nothing Man last week. Saw a clip on the news. Hell, every other building on this street is getting repaired. I know their pain. At least every other year some part of the Pendergast building gets demolished in one of these battles. Last year the whole building almost went up when my future brother-in-law planted a bomb in the boiler room. Jem defused it but five percent of our workforce quit within a week. Places like this might as well have targets literally painted on them. I know Jem does his best to keep his damage to a minimum, but it’s hard to do when one is literally fighting for their life.

We’re escorted through the lobby to the elevator by Stone’s assistant Lena, who takes us up to the fiftieth floor while making small talk about the weather. Snow’s expected tomorrow. I swear if we get snowed in, I’m going to be pissed. I only know two people in the city, and one is walking the catwalks in Milan. Alexia “Lexie” Darby, formally Lady Liberty, and I have kept in contact after she moved back to Independence. Mostly phone calls and e-mails with the occasional lunch if we’re in the same town. She’s been keeping busy with work of the official variety, modeling non-stop all over the world. I was much the same after Justin died. Work, work, work as a Band-Aid for a broken heart. Blowing up her husband’s murderer hopefully helped too. I did eventually tell Jem what she did. I didn’t want any secrets between us. He took it well. “She did what she felt was necessary. What I couldn’t,” were his exact words. I just wish she would reach out to Jem. They were teammates for years. Friends. She says the wound is still too raw. He says he understands, but I can tell her rebuff stings. Maybe a wedding will bring her round.

Besides Dobbs, Lexie, my cousins, and aunt and uncle, the only other person I’d really want at the courthouse with us is Lucy Helms, Justin’s aunt. Like Lexie, she fled Galilee for Independence after a loved one died. Don’t blame either of them. I wouldn’t call Lucy and me close. In fact, for years, I thought she hated me, the guttersnipe her nephew literally picked up from the side of the road. But when push comes to shove, when it really matters, she’s always been there. Kicking my ass. Making me see sense. She was more of a mother to me than my own ever was. I’m going to surprise her after the meeting. She hates surprises.

The elevator doors finally open and once again we follow Lena to the conference room. It’s a damn good thing I’m not afraid of heights because an entire wall is nothing but glass overlooking the city. In the distance I can even make out the arch of The National Monument near the President’s Mansion. Not that there’ll be much time to enjoy the view what with the binder the size of a novel we have to review before the deal gets finalized. I’m falling asleep already.

We’re the first to arrive, but within minutes, others filter in. Our lawyer, Goliath’s three lawyers, their CFO who starts reminiscing about business school with Lane, and other executives one right after the other. They outnumber us two to one. And even they begin growing restless when ten minutes pass and Stone doesn’t show. At twenty all but the lawyers start texting and calling him. Thirty, I’m halfway through the binder and even understand twenty percent of it. The assistant Lena comes in every five minutes with apologies but no answers. Fifty minutes and I’m about to murder someone. Before that happens, I excuse myself to the restroom.

After the usual bathroom activity, I check myself in the mirror. Having to get up at three AM to make our flight does nothing for my pale skin. Even caked with concealer my blue eyes are rimmed with dark circles just a few shades lighter than my curly black hair. My friend Bitsy is always on me to straighten my unruly mop, but I don’t have that kind of patience. I have taken her advice in other areas, namely clothes. It’s damn hard for a jeans and t-shirt type of gal to fit into fashionista land, which is why I rely on Bitsy and my personal shopper Isolde to tell me what to wear. Today it’s a simple black dress, knee high boots, white polka dot cardigan with black accents, and one strand of long pearls. I’m an elegant bitch. And I’m leaning more toward bitch every minute that prick doesn’t show. I fluff my hair and reapply my red lipstick regardless.

Seriously, the fucking nerve of his asshole. Playboys. I much prefer working with professionals whose livelihood is actually tied to how well deals like this end. Stone’s entire company can go belly up and he could still buy his own private island. I’ll bet Justin never pulled shit like this, and he moonlighted as a superhero. Maybe Stone has an alter-ego too. If I remember my statistics correctly there are three superheroes in Independence since The Royal Triumvirate left: Bronco, Rayna, and White Knight. I guess Nemesis could be considered a hero as she only attacks pedophiles and rapists, but she’s more vigilante than superhero. Keep up the good work though, babe. Anyway, right now I don’t care if Stone’s part of the cape and cowl brigade. He needs to get his ass here before
he
needs a hero to save him from
me.

I meander back toward the conference room, my anger growing with each step. This is serious, unprofessional bullshit. I’m missing my fiancée’s birthday for
this
? I would never—

The elevator dings behind me, and just as I spin around, the man of the hour steps out. In spite of the mussed chestnut brown hair and askew tie, Bennett Stone is a damn fine looking man in a Senatorial way. Big brown eyes, flawless nose, awe shucks half smile directed straight at me. His boyish good looks probably diffuse many an uncomfortable situation, but right now I want to bruise the bastard. “Ms. Fallon. Hello, I—”

“An hour,” I snap.

“I beg your pardon?” he asks.

“We have been waiting for you for a goddamn hour, asshole. I woke up at three in the fucking morning, flew hundreds of miles, and
I
managed to get here on time. At your behest. I should be at home with my fiancée celebrating his birthday. Had a whole day planned. Reservations, vendors, weeks of planning and thousands down the fucking drain because you felt disrespected. You don’t even know the meaning of the word. If you demand respect, you damn well better be willing to return the gesture.” The man stares at me, that smile actually growing as I continue my tirade. It damn well better be a defense mechanism because if he thinks this is a joke, I will rip those lips right off. “I’m sorry, do you think this is funny?”

“No, I don’t,” he assures me, “I’m sorry. I just…you certainly live up to your reputation, Ms. Fallon,” he chuckles. “I can see why supervillains cower in your presence.”

“Well, if you wanted your ass kissed instead of kicked, you should have been here when you said you would be.”

“And I would have been except my fourteen-year-old goddaughter overdosed late last night and I’ve been with her mother and father, who also happens to be my cousin and best friends, at the hospital. I didn’t want to leave until she was out of the woods.”

Oh, fuck.

My face boils red from the mortification properly due. My mouth flops open and closed like a dying fish for several seconds. “I-I-I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“Nathalie’s been fodder for the local tabloids so we’ve been keeping things quiet otherwise I would have had Lena inform you all. Even she doesn’t know.”

“Well, she won’t, uh, hear it from me. I’m truly sorry for my outburst and your troubles.”

“Thank you. Nathalie will be fine, at least physically. They’re researching rehab facilities now.”

“Well, I can personally recommend Whitegate Center in Norwalk. They helped
me
tremendously.”

“I will pass that on. Thank you,” he says sincerely.

“Welcome. And here…” I straighten his tie, trying to ignore the full force of that panty dropping smile of his. “Now you’re respectable.”

“Wouldn’t go that far, Ms. Fallon,” he quips. I do smile back. “Best not keep the others waiting any longer.”

“After you.”

Goddamn, I am an asshole. I can’t look at him as we walk into the conference room or as we take our places across the conference table. Bennett has no such qualms. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice him alternating between smiling and staring to catch my attention. I throw a few smiles and reverent nods back between reviews of the fine print. Yeah, I would so rather be on a boat with my fiancée than fake flirting with a billionaire to quell my guilt and embarrassment.