Falcon (Own the Skies Book 3) Read online

  It’s nice here. The air is fresh and clean. It even smells nice outside. I can see why she’d be happy here.

  I focus back on the houses in front of me. They look the same, in a way, but also different. Different shutter colors, different door colors, but similar layouts. I don’t even know which one is Nora’s. I pull out my cell and fire off a text, asking which one is hers, but even after ten minutes, there is no reply.

  I take a shot in the dark and go for the house on the left.

  I walk down the short sidewalk that is lined with small purple flowers, certainly a touch from my sister. I have no doubt about that.

  My black riding boots make a loud thud on each white step as I climb onto the porch and knock on the door.

  Silence.

  I knock again, but still…silence.

  I cup my hands over my eyes and try to peek through the curtain-covered glass of the door, but I can’t make anything out at all. I step to the right a bit and try to peer in through the window next, but I’m met with the same obstacle.

  Maybe they aren’t home?

  Faith

  A hot shower after a five-mile run is exactly what I need. It’s my coffee. My energy drink. A run, plus a shower, is better than both of those things combined for me. My favorite part? Standing with my head under the spray and just letting it wash the grime and sweat away. All sound disappears except the whoosh of the water and I can really disconnect, even if it’s just for a few seconds.

  My mind runs through the mental check list I’ve made for the grocery store as I climb out of the shower and wrap a purple towel around my body, leaving my blonde hair down and damp.

  I grab my phone and connect it to the Bluetooth system in my house, selecting some music. Billie Eilish croons on about being a bad guy, giving me the perfect rhythm to shake my hips and sing along as I brush out my hair.

  Sundays are the best day.

  My day off.

  My shopping day.

  My day.

  It’s the perfect day to recharge before the week starts over on Monday.

  I tuck my hairbrush back the drawer, after using it as a microphone, of course, then apply some rosewater toner to my face with a cotton pad. After a beat to let that dry, I smear some of my favorite moisturizer onto my face, then the need for tea comes calling.

  Still dressed in a towel, still horribly singing along to the music, I pad down the hallway toward the front of my house and my kitchen, but I freeze in my tracks.

  A shadow on the shades, I still have pulled, gives away that someone, a very large someone, is on my front porch, trying to peek through the windows.

  What the fuck?

  I look to my right, then my left, before grabbing the wooden baseball bat I keep leaning against the side table in my entryway. Call it a precaution. You can never be too careful. I do live alone, after all.

  I stand completely still. I know he can’t see me. Not with the type of shades I have, but I can see him. His silhouette is large, looming even. He cups his hands over his eyes and leans in, trying to see before ringing the doorbell.

  I don’t make a peep. Maybe he’ll just give up and go away.

  That thought is instantly dashed when I notice he leans against the window and pulls what I think is a cell phone from his pocket.

  I take a deep breath. Maybe he needs help? It’s a possibility, and I can’t in good conscious just leave him out there until I at least know what he wants. Can I?

  No. I can’t. Not everyone has a motive, Faith. Relax.

  I tiptoe across the hardwood, clutching the bat in one hand, and using the other to slowly and near silently turn the two deadbolts I have latched.

  I lower the bat out of the way so he won’t see it if he looks inside and pull the door open, but I leave the chain lock intact so it only opens a few inches.

  “Can I help you?”

  He turns toward my voice and his brows rise in surprise.

  “Oh, sorry, I…I clearly have the wrong house. I’m looking for my sister.”

  “You’re looking for her in my house?” I sweep my eyes from his shoes to his head. He’s so…intimidating. Very tall and very muscular, but really, he looks exhausted.

  “Well, obviously I didn’t know it was your house. I don’t make a habit of peeking into stranger’s homes.” He doesn’t take a step closer. He stays put, exactly where he has been. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s being respectful or if I’m making him nervous.

  “I would hope not. What’s your sister’s name?”

  “Her name is Nora Masen. This is the address she gave me, but clearly something is wrong.”

  I release a long breath, relieved. “You’re Nora’s brother?”

  “You know her?”

  “Well, yeah. She’s my neighbor. That,” I nod to the house next door, “is where she lives.”

  He turns to look at the house and then shakes his head. “Well, that explains a lot.”

  “GPS tends to mess things up a little. We share a driveway, kind of, so it’s a little confusing.”

  “I’m not going to hurt you. You can unlock the chain, you know? Forcing your face through that little area like Jack from The Shining can’t be comfortable.”

  I hesitate, of course, who wouldn’t, but I look at him closely for a moment. He’s a large man, yes, but he has kind eyes. Eyes say a lot about a person. Eyes don’t lie.

  I close the door and slide the chain to the right before pulling it completely open and stepping fully into view, bat in hand.

  “Were you going to beat me to death?”

  “If you deserved it. Maybe not to death, but it would have hurt,” I say with an arched brow.

  “In only a towel?” he replies.

  “Oh my God. Oh my God. I completely forgot.” I shimmy back to half-hide behind the door, absolutely mortified, just peering around so he can only see my head.

  “You’re not the first woman I’ve seen in a towel first thing in the morning, you won’t be the last.”

  He has this cocky, cavalier attitude about him. I instantly don’t like it, but at the same time, I absolutely do, and I hate that fact.

  He’s a very good-looking man. Hot even. Dark hair, dark eyes, tattoos in a sleeve down one arm…basically he’s sex on legs. And it’s irritating when I’m trying to be suspicious of him.

  “Uh, okay, well, Nora and Case go for breakfast by the river on Sundays. I’m sure they’ll be back soon.”

  “Billie Eilish fan?” he asks randomly, completely ignoring my previous statement.

  “What? Oh. My music.” I step back inside to turn it down. “Some of her music makes me happy in the mornings.”

  “I think she’s a little odd.”

  “That must mean you’re closed-minded,” I fire back, with an arch of my brow. The words slip from my lips before I even realize it.

  “Are you this rude to guests all the time?”

  The nerve of him.

  “You’re not my guest. You’re a stranger on my porch, uninvited.”

  He extends a hand to me nearly before I can even finish my sentence. “I’m Marco Masen. There, now I’m not a stranger.”

  I stare at him for a moment, surveying him closely before tentatively reaching out to shake his hand. “Faith Morgan.”

  “Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

  He holds my hand a little too long, and I try to ignore how warm his touch is and how it literally makes my palm tingle until I pull it away.

  “Thanks.” I purse my lips a little, swaying on my feet. “It was my great grandmother’s name.”

  “I’m sure she was just as beautiful as you.”

  “She’d appreciate that.” My tone clearly implies I’d love to end this conversation, and my humiliation, and go put clothes on. Thankfully, he takes the hint.

  “Well, I’ll let you get back to your shower dance party with your music. Thanks for not, you know, murdering me with the baseball bat.”

  “You may not be so
lucky next time.” I smile a little.

  He laughs at me. “It was nice meeting you, Faith Morgan.”

  “You too, Marco Masen.”

  He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans and turns to head down my steps, showing me his back that is so sculpted I can see it underneath the leather jacket he is wearing.

  I’m just about to turn back to head inside when he speaks again.

  “Actually, most people call me Falcon. Let’s stick with that.”

  “Falcon?”

  His lips spread and curl up into a smile. “Yeah, I like that out of your mouth much better. Later, Faith.”

  “Later…Falcon.”

  When I finally close the door, I lean my head against it and take a breath.

  What the hell just happened?

  Chapter 3

  Falcon

  “Marco!”

  I hear the screech that belongs to my sister as soon as her car door opens. I stand from my perch on the swing that resides on the far end of their front porch and flash a wide, genuine smile when I see her burst from the car toward me.

  “Nora!” I say, mocking her tone, but I’m genuinely just as excited to see her as she is me.

  “You’re lucky I’m excited or I’d junk punch you for making fun of me.” She jumps into my arms and squeezes me tightly. “You’re here.”

  “I’m here.” I wrap my arms around her and hold on. “God, I’ve fucking missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you too, so much. I just got your text. I’m sorry. I should have specified which one was ours.”

  “It’s all right. I met your neighbor through your mistake. It was very entertaining.”

  I’m just setting her on her feet when I hear a throat clear from the steps.

  “Oh!” She steps away from me and takes the hand of a man with blondish hair who is roughly my height. “Case, this is my brother, Marco. Marco, this is my fiancé, Case.”

  Case extends his to me. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Marco.”

  “You can call me Falcon.” I firmly shake his hand in return, giving it a little extra oomph of the I’ll fucking kill you if you hurt my sister variety.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake, no, you absolutely do not need to call him Falcon,” Nora chimes in. “Take the fighter hat off for once.”

  “Nah, it’s okay, I know him as Falcon more than Marco anyway. I saw your last fight. Great job, man. Really,” Case adds, as he slips an arm around my sister, letting his hand linger at her waist. My eyes settle on it for a minute then back on their faces.

  “See. I should just legally change my name to Falcon at this point.” I laugh. “Gorman was a beast, but we handled business in the end.”

  My head aches at the memory of the final kick he landed on my temple before I knocked his ass clean out.

  “Where’s your stuff? We can help you get it inside,” Nora offers.

  “It’s just one bag. I can get it shortly.”

  “You’ve been on the road all day, and it’s hot. Let’s get inside and we can get you something to eat and drink,” she says.

  “Absolutely. Come on in and make yourself at home,” Case adds.

  “Oh, and just so you know, there’s a pretty big dog in here, Arya. She is amazing, but she does get very excited about new people, so prepare for a lick or two.” My sister shakes her head.

  “I could make a dirty joke in there somewhere about preparing for a lick or two, but I’ll refrain.” Case laughs.

  “Damn, stole my thunder,” I add, as they unlock the door.

  “Oh God, two of you in the same house. I’m going to regret this,” says Nora.

  The door opens and I’m immediately met with a huge ball of German Shepherd energy, hopping up and down, demanding to know who I am, where I came from, if I have dogs with me, what I smell like, and if I have food. All of which comes in the form of small barks, jumps, and licks.

  “Hey, hey, hey.” I scratch her head. “I know, I know, I’m a chick magnet, I’m used to it.”

  “Arya, sit,” Case says with a firm tone, and she listens immediately.

  “Damn, I need to learn how to do that. You never know when it might come in handy,” I say, and groan instantly when Nora swats my stomach, calling me a pig.

  “She’s his partner. She’s a trained K9 officer. She is incredible,” Nora brags.

  “Wow, that’s impressive as hell, actually,” I say.

  “She is the best partner I could have. Better than any human partner, really. She has my back.” Case bends down to her level and ruffles her head around her ears, and she eats the affection up.

  “You said her name is Arya? Like from Game of Thrones?” I ask.

  “Yep, that’s the one,” Nora answers. “Case thinks she’s a better character than Tyrion. Can you believe that?”

  “I think you’re both wrong. The best character is clearly The Hound.”

  “This is a never-ending battle, isn’t it?” Nora asks with a flail of her hands.

  “No need for a battle, just admit I’m right.” I smirk.

  “Not today,” she replies, referencing the show once again. Damn, I love my sister, and I’m so glad I get to be here with her for a while.

  ***

  Nora finds me later in the room they’ve designated as mine for my stay, which as of now, is just for a few weeks.

  “Getting all settled?” she asks, leaning against the doorjamb.

  I stuff my duffle bag into the closet then turn to face her. “Yeah. I think so.”

  “Good.”

  “This is a nice place, Nor, really. I’m still not sure about the baggage that comes with it but…”

  She interrupts me instantly, “Don’t start. You hardly even know Case, and I won’t let you pass judgment like that. You are the one who encouraged me to come back here to him, remember?” She walks in and plops down onto the bed.

  “I know, but it’s my brotherly duty to give Officer Pretty Boy a little shit here and there, right? I’ve never seen you so hurt before, and with him being a cop, I just worry about your heart. That’s all.” I sit next to her.

  “Don’t call him that. He’s a great man, Marco, and I really love him.” She is staring down at the rock on her ring finger.

  “With a ring that size, who wouldn’t?”

  She swats my arm and laughs. “You know that doesn’t matter to me. Not at all.”

  “I know.” I kiss her head. “I’m happy for you. I really am, just don’t tell him that, okay? I want to scare him at least a little.”

  “I’ll let you scare him if you tell me the real reason you came out here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Joe called me.”

  I rise from the bed and slide my hand through my hair. “Here we go.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that you were hurt?”

  “I’m not hurt.”

  “Not right now, no, but you could be. Why are you so stubborn?”

  “I don’t want to have this discussion, Nora. I heard what the doctor said. I’m a grown-ass man, who can decide when I retire, okay? I don’t need a million people giving me their opinions.”

  “I’m your sister, but I’m also a nurse, so I’ll give you my opinion whether you like it or not. You’re my brother, I love you, and I want to keep you around for another fifty years, okay? And if that means you stop fighting, you stop fighting. I have seen so much fucked-up shit, Marco: head injuries, broken necks, broken faces, internal injuries, brain trauma. I can’t…I can’t imagine losing you. I can’t, so if you need to stop, you need to stop.”

  “I told them I was finishing out my already announced fights. After that, we’ll come back together as a team and talk.”

  “But…”

  “That’s my answer, Nor.”

  ***

  It’s nearing midnight, and of course, I can’t sleep.

  Sleep has always been something I’ve struggled with since I was a little kid. Even before the fire, which honestly, just
made it worse. That day changed my life. I went from big brother to big brother, mom, and dad to Nora at the drop of a hat. It was the hardest yet most rewarding thing I’ve done thus far. The trials and tribulations of “parenthood” were difficult, but watching her succeed and grow into a smart, badass woman made it all worth it.

  I flip and flop, stomach to back to side, trying to sleep, staring at the ceiling, staring at the wall, scrolling through social media, contemplate watching a porn flick on my phone and jacking off, but ultimately, I toss back the covers and climb from bed. Having a little blonde-haired beauty right next door certainly doesn’t help the situation. She hasn’t left my mind since I walked off her front porch, and that’s not the norm for me. I pride myself on being able compartmentalize the shit swirling in my brain.

  The house is silent, Nora and Case called it a night with the dog a couple of hours ago, so I walk down into the kitchen and grab one of the beers, left over from dinner, from the fridge and head out to the back porch.

  I can hear the crickets chirping and frogs croaking all around me as I sit on the back steps. It’s a sound I’m not used to. I’m not even used to seeing the stars in the sky. It’s not something that happens in Los Angeles, or in any city I travel to really. Nights are normally filled with car alarms, fighting, and police sirens.

  I tilt my head back as I drink down a gulp of beer, staring up at the sky when I see some kind of light beam shine across from my left. I follow it over until I see it’s coming from a newly switched on light shining through the window of the house next door.

  Faith’s house.

  Faith Morgan is a conundrum to me, even after only talking to her for five minutes. She seemed to be this perfect mix of guarded and curious. Two things that shouldn’t blend but were written all over her face…and I’m being a mega fucking creep right now by staring at her through her window.

  She doesn’t know she can be seen. I should look away, I really should, but she’s doing yoga. In her window.

  She’s stretching, bending, twisting, and contorting, wearing only tight black leggings and a pale purple sports bra, as if she is teasing me and only me on purpose, even though she has no idea I’m watching. Her blonde hair is twisted up into a bun so it’s out of her face, revealing the long line of her neck. She really is a beautiful woman. So beautiful I’m noticing things I never have before…like how perfect her shoulders are and how delicate the curves of her hips are.