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

  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.

  Around one in the afternoon we break for the day, well everyone but the lawyers. All terms and provisos have been hammered out with minimal fuss and bloodshed. I contributed exactly one suggestion during the whole process. I absolutely didn’t need to be here, but then again I never do. At least it’s just Independence not Tokyo or Berlin. Twenty-four hours and I’ll be home. I cannot fucking wait. I rise from the table along with everyone else. Of course not everyone else gets cornered by our host. Stone rounds the table as we all pack up. “So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?” he asks.

  “Room service and porn?” I quip.

  “A woman after my own heart,” he hits back with that puppy adorable grin. “Do you mind if I ask you to postpone the festivities for an hour or so? Let me take you out to lunch. There’s a fantastic restaurant in your hotel. Well, my hotel. You can check in, freshen up, and meet me down there. What do you say?”

  “I-I don’t think—”

  “Just lunch,” he says, holding up his hands. “I only want to pick your brain. I know you’ve been through something similar to what Nathalie has. I was hoping you could give me some insight. We’re all more than out of our depths here. Please?”

  Goddamn it, there go the puppy dog eyes. Ugh, I’m such a softie. “Okay. Give me half an hour.”

  “You are a goddess among men, Joanna Fallon.”

  “Okay, just…lay off the charm, playboy. I’m immune.”

  Without hesitation he takes my hand, kissing the top like a courting gentleman. The audacity makes me chuckle and even blush. “We’ll see,” he says, peering up through his long lashes. He drops my hand and nods. “See you in half an hour, gorgeous.” With one final smirk, Stone strides out of the conference room. I just shake my head and sigh.

  Okay, if this were a year ago my panties would already be on the floor. He was exactly my type: handsome, cocky, and a total asshole. We can spot our own kind. Another bad habit I somehow cured myself of with a little help from AA and Jem Ambrose. It’s still flattering. I stare down at my engagement ring, which I didn’t know I’d been playing with all this time. Yeah, those days are over with. Thank God. Why settle for fast food when you have prime rib at home? And I am full.

  *

  After checking into my five star accommodations, compliments of Goliath, I change into my civvies: black slacks and dark green sweater with my Justice Trench coat. The moment my good deed’s done, I’m off to surprise Lucy. She’ll
so hate that. I can hardly wait to see her face when I tell her I’m getting hitched. I think we both thought I’d end up one of those old spinsters who spit on children and had an apartment full of newspapers stacked to the ceiling. She’ll be happy for me. The three of us had dinner a while ago, and she pulled me aside to give her approval, something not easily earned from that woman. I’m not even sure I have it.

  But first things first. Lunch with the panty dropper. He’s already waiting at our table, texting on his phone as the hostess escorts me there. Cue that smile of his. He even rises to pull out my chair. “Thank you,” I say as I sit.

  “No, thank you,” he responds. “I just got a text from my cousin. They’re releasing Nathalie tomorrow. Graham and CeCe have already contacted Whitegate Center. They just have to convince her to go.”

  “Well, since she’s a minor, they can legally force her to. But I wouldn’t recommend that. She has to want to go. She has to want to get better.”

  “What made you want to get better?” he asks. “If that’s not too personal.”

  “No, it’s okay. I don’t know. A lot of reasons. I cheated on my boyfriend? I was hurting the people I cared about? I was becoming my mother? Mostly, I think, it was Justin.”

  The waiter pops by to fill our water goblets. “Justin?”

  I wait until he’s gone. “Yeah. I mean, he died for me. He literally threw his life away for mine. And how was I honoring him? Drinking, screwing around, hurting people? I owed him more than that. A hell of a lot more.”

  “So you got sober for him?”

  I shrug. “I got sober for a lot of reasons that was just the biggie. I’m not going to lie and claim on occasion I don’t crave booze like air, especially when life gets nuts, but I don’t give in because I know I’m a better person sober. And I’ve never been happier. So whatever her reason, family, friends, seeing her favorite band in concert, you need to help her find it and support her on every step of her new path. But she has to want to take those steps to sobriety.”

  “Thank you,” Bennett says sincerely.

  I pick up the menu. “You can thank me by being there for her. She can’t do it alone.”

  “Who can?” he asks, picking up his menu as well.

  The waiter promptly returns and we place our orders, burger and fries for us both. I raise my eyebrow when he orders that. “What?”

  “Nothing, I just…you don’t strike me as a burger and fry kind of guy.”

  “What sort of guy do I strike you as?” he asks, amused already.

  “You know. Fine food, fine wine, fine honeys. You are part of the Silver Spoon Brigade.”

  “What, Pendergast and Ambrose never ate with just tin silverware?”

  “Not until I broadened their horizons and brought them into the muck with us mere mortals.”

  “And if I want to wrestle in the mud with you too?”

  I hold up my engagement ring. “Sorry, playboy, my ring’s closed.”

  “Not necessarily. I’ve found there are many degrees of engagement.”

  “Well, I am as engaged as one can be. So like I said, save the charm.”

  “Can’t blame a guy for trying, especially with someone so fun to play with. There’s nothing I admire more than a quick wit. Keeps things interesting.”

  “My fiancée would agree with you,” I say.

  “And I assume this fiancée is Dr. Jonathan Ambrose?”

  “The one and only.”

  Bennett shakes his head. “The fierce, infamous, scourge of supervillains everywhere marrying a man who actually wears a pocket protector? Really?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m sorry but he’s so…dull. I’ve met him a dozen times at events. Brilliant without question. He earned the hospital a lot of money with his patents, but the man’s a wallflower. A nerd.”

  “Can you please stop insulting my fiancée?”

  “Sorry. I just cannot for the life of me see the woman who took down two supervillains sitting at home every night talking about dragons in Klingon or whatever he’s into.”

  I sip my water. “Not a lot of talking goes on. Mostly we just fuck. The man’s a stallion in bed.”

  To his credit, Bennett actually laughs and shakes his head. “It’s always the quiet ones.” Still shaking his head, he sips his water too. “You never can tell with people. Not really. Take Justin. We went to college together, you know? I was a year ahead of him, but we were in the same Frat. Think we even dated the same girl at the same time. Never had a damn clue he was a super. None.”

  “That makes two of us,” I say.

  “He really didn’t tell you? Even when that psychopath was after you? Not to speak ill of the dead, but who does that?”

  “He had his reasons,” I say. “I wasn’t exactly his alter ego’s biggest fan. Or a fan of supers in general. I was basically a bigot.”

  “Why?”

  “Stupid bullshit reasons like every other bigot. Justice didn’t save my Pop. Too much collateral damage to people and the city. Heroes breed villains. Like I said, bullshit. I was just angry at life, and it came out that way.”

  “I wouldn’t call your reasons bullshit. I mean, billions of dollars in property damage a year? Hundreds of citizens killed a year caught in the crossfire? That is definitely not bullshit.”

  Crap. I forgot his family was said collateral damage. Me and my damn mouth. “No, you’re right. I mean, hello, aren’t we the poster children for super collateral damage? I still have nightmares about that rooftop. That boat.”

  “Me too,” he says. “Yet, I sense a ‘but’ coming on.”

  “But having known them, having worked with them, I discovered supers are exactly like us. Just doing the best they can with what life’s given them. They worry about money, about love, about if they left the oven on at home. Even those who put on the mask. They don’t have to go out there and risk their lives for perfect strangers, but they do. They didn’t ask to be born with their powers. Most don’t even like having them.”

  “I just don’t think they should be held to a lower standard than us mere mortals,” Bennett says. “Their actions should have consequences. And they sure as hell shouldn’t be worshiped as gods. I just read about a new cult in town. The Fellowship of the Triumvirate. It’s just so fucking pathetic.” Jem and Lexie will get a kick out of that, being worshiped as gods. “Sorry,” Bennett continues. “I know you worked with them. Of course they also almost got you killed so…” He shrugs. “But regardless, as a citizen of Independence, I personally thank you for bringing down that psycho Cain. I was at two events he decided to crash. My ex-girlfriend still has respiratory problems from the gas he released. She actually had to have a lung transplant.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Well, I’m sure you have worse super war stories than even I. If you’re unlucky maybe you can add another one before you leave town. I hear The Nothing Man is still gunning for White Knight. They took a chunk of out my building last week.”

  “I actually had an encounter with the Knight a few months ago. I helped him stop a bank robber.”

  “Maybe you should put on a costume and mask yourself. Make it official.”

  “Hell no. No one wants to see me in spandex.”

  “I wouldn’t mind,” he says with that boyish smile. “I’d prefer you in nothing at all though.”

  I just hold up my ring again. “Still engaged.”

  “Still gonna try.”

  We chuckle in unison. “Well, you best be careful there. Mr. Stone. You keep making me laugh, I might begin to think of you as a friend. And considering what’s happened to a lot of my old ones, that is a dangerous thing to be, even for a thrill seeker such as yourself.”

  “Think you might be worth it, Ms. Fallon,” he says with a seductive smile. It brings one to my own lips. “You might be worth it.”

  *

  Bennett was kind enough to arrange a town car to take me to Lucy’s house. I’m still enjoying the buzz from lunch, so there’s
really no better time to see her. I’d forgotten how much fun a little harmless flirting, the playful back and forth of a mental tennis match, could be. Jem, for his billions of excellent qualities, never learned the fine art of flirting. He’s gotten better under my tutelage, but going up against a master like Bennett Stone is damn invigorating. And I’m now completely confident the deal will go through without a hitch. Guess me coming here did serve a purpose after all.

  The car turns down Lucy’s idyllic street, lined on both sides with tall, skinny townhouses literally right next to each other with trees popping out of planters inside the cobblestone sidewalks. Children dressed in school uniforms play in their small patches of grass as foreign nannies watch. My driver finds a spot between a Mercedes and Porsche across from Lucy’s red brick abode. The curtains to her living room are open so I can see the woman herself talking on the phone. I’ve known Lucy Helms since I was twelve, over twenty years, and I cannot say for sure she’s aged a day in all that time. Her short hair is more gray than black now, and I think she has crow’s feet, but beyond that she’s still the same Lucy. Slim, graceful, severe and on extremely rare occasions, almost pretty at least when she smiles. Not happening now. She sets down the phone and shouts something to a person inside the house.

  Bad mood or not, I’m here. I’ll make the bitch smile if it kills me. I climb out of the car, with instructions to wait in case she’s having a real bad day, and cross the street. Two muffled voices reverberate from the house, a man and a woman’s, on the other side of the front door I knock on.

  “About damn time,” the woman, I think Lucy, shouts. “Don’t give him a tip, Joe!”

  “It’s not his fault,” the man replies.

  That voice. I know…

  “Sorry about—”

  The door opens, and my life cracks apart all over again.

  That smile, the one that could effortlessly banish my blues, falters the moment he sets his Caribbean blue eyes on me. And in that moment I know I’m not crazy. I’m not hallucinating. I’m not having an out of body experience, and I haven’t dropped dead and finally found him waiting for me behind the pearly gates. That behind the brown goatee, the unkempt dark brown hair reaching his neck, the jeans, the baggy gray sweater stands the man who talked me off a bridge twenty years ago. Who was my best friend, my confidante, the man I loved with everything I possessed. My soul mate. The same man who lied to me. Who never made me feel good enough. Who destroyed my life.