Falcon (Own the Skies Book 3)

by Emma Nichole

  I don’t even know her, but I want to. I want to know what her favorite movie is and if she prefers chocolate or vanilla. Does she like TV or is she a book person? I just want to talk to her. To see who she is for real. I want to figure out where the tattoo I caught a peek of on her thigh begins and ends. All of this after one, unplanned interaction. Christ, I’m fucked.

  She changes her position to one in which she is standing with her arms stretched above her head. The houses are so close together I can see her chest rising and falling with each breath she takes. I unconsciously find myself matching in breaths. In and out. In and out. It’s like the air around me goes silent, and she’s the only thing in my orbit.

  She’s not hot in the traditional sense of the word. Women on the West Coast are hot, and fine for an evening or two, but this girl, she’s stunningly beautiful. Gorgeous in a take her home, impregnate her, then introduce her to your family kind of way.

  Whoa, whoa. Who am I right now?

  I stand and move to the far end of the back porch to get a closer look, but when I do, she turns her face quickly toward the window, locking eyes with me.

  Fuck!

  I duck down, hoping like hell she didn’t see me leering at her like the lunatic I clearly am. I pause for a beat then slowly peek over the rail, risking a glance to see if she’s still there, but when I catch a clear view of the window, it’s completely empty.

  She’s gone.

  Chapter 4

  Falcon

  There are one hundred and forty-six books on the shelves lining the guestroom. All of which belong to my sister. I know this because I just spent the better half of an hour counting them over and over, waiting on my cell to light up with the alarm ringing, and most of them are romance novels or feminist memoirs.

  She was always a big reader, my sister. She wanted multiple bedtime stories, and I would catch her reading under her covers with a flashlight sometimes. I suppose, there were worse things she could have been doing with her time. I got lucky in that sense. She was always a good kid.

  It was because she was so kind and good that I spent my free time beating the shit out of anyone who would step up and take a cut from the bookies who ran the clubs. It wasn’t always safe, it wasn’t always fair, but it was money. She deserved that from me. Deserved to have anything she needed.

  I’d tuck Nora into bed, leave a few bucks with our neighbor to keep an eye on her; then I’d head downtown to the underground parking structures or warehouses, wherever I was told, and I’d fight. Round after round, opponent after opponent until two or three in the morning.

  Then I’d go home, broken nose, bloodied knuckles, and all, catch a few hours of sleep, then wake up to get Nora off to school. I’d spend the next eight hours working labor on construction sites then the cycle would repeat.

  I’ve always wondered how I function on such little sleep. Most would be the walking dead after only a few hours, but that’s all I need. It’s all I’ve ever needed.

  I roll to my back and pull my cell phone from the nightstand beside me and slide my finger across the bottom of the screen to bring it to life.

  Firing up my email, I take a look at the schedule that was sent to me a few weeks ago, with the remaining fights on my schedule.

  Jose Wyrez – Dallas, Texas

  Jesse Dominique – Chicago, Illinois

  Braxton White – Hollywood, California

  My final fight, well, potentially my final fight, will be at home, in front of my home crowd, against Braxton fucking White.

  He and I don’t have the best history. Mainly because he’s a cocky piece of shit who can’t stop running his fucking mouth. He’s a shit talker on a new level and a douchebag to top it all off. We cross paths at events sometimes, but tend to steer clear of one another after a less than stellar comment he made about Nora when she came to a fight a few years ago.

  He opened his mouth, I shattered his jawbone, and then I went to jail for assault.

  My lawyer managed to sweet talk the judge into letting me pay a fine. I would have paid a million dollars if it meant I got to knock that bastard’s teeth in again.

  We’ve never been in the octagon together, though. My team has reached out many times to make that happen, but it never worked out, until now, when he has a title to defend. As soon as the match was set, I knew I was going to win. I refuse to lose, especially to him.

  I close down my email and my phone vibrates in my hand.

  Joe’s name flashes across my screen and I answer immediately.

  “It’s early as fuck out there…what are you doing calling me?” I say with a gruff to my voice.

  “I’m checking in on my client and my friend, asshole.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Have you thought anymore about what we talked about? If we need to prep statements, I can get Courtney to do that for you.”

  “We’re not involving my publicist because I’m not dropping the fights.”

  “Marco, don’t be stupid here.”

  I sit up, anger pumping in my veins. “I’m not being fucking stupid. I am finishing my goddamn career when and how I want to. That’s not for you or some fucking doctor to decide.”

  “Do you even hear yourself right now? You heard what he said. A body can only take so much damage before irreparable shit starts to happen. You’re lucky right now, but one more good blow and that could change. You’ve had a great run, man. Don’t risk it anymore.”

  “You heard what I said, Joe. I want these last three fights, then we’ll talk about it again.”

  I hear him sigh in frustration over the phone, changing the subject, which I’m thankful for. “How’s your sister?”

  “She’s fine. She seems happy here. Her fiancé, however, I’m still sizing up.” I slide my hand through my hair and scratch my scalp.

  “He’s a cop, yeah?”

  “Yeah, he is. Seems like a decent dude, but I won’t let her know I feel that way yet.”

  “Take it easy on the guy, will ya?”

  “I make no promises.” I stand and glance out the window to see the sun starting to peek through the stars.

  “All right, well, I’ll keep things as is for now, just promise me you’ll think about all of this.”

  “I’ve made my decision. I’m not budging. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”

  I end the call before he can say anything else. Is it a dick move? Yeah, but I can’t take that conversation anymore. I know what I need to do for me, but I know the right thing, the safe thing to do. I can’t bring myself to consider that right now.

  Fighting is what I know. It’s what I’m good at. If that goes, what’s left? Would I go back to construction? Fuck no. That was a means to an end and not what I want for the rest of my life.

  I take another peek out the window just in time to see a blonde ponytail bounce on by.

  I lean forward just a bit more to get a better look and I see Faith slowly jogging down the street.

  What a coincidence.

  I could use a run too.

  Running soothes the mind and erases the stress.

  Plus, catching a glimpse of her ass in those workout pants is a damn good incentive.

  Faith

  I woke early this morning, even after only sleeping a few hours, and drank a full bottle of water with a twist of lemon, then scrolled social media for a bit before heading upstairs to get dressed.

  The sun is just barely peeking through the window when I bend over to lace up my sneakers for my run. It’s going to be a beautiful day and I want to start it off right.

  I give myself a glance in the mirror, adjust the ponytail on my head, and my pale purple sports bra to make sure the girls will stay in place. Perfect.

  I walk past the window and glance toward the back deck of Nora and Case’s house and memories of last night crawl over my skin.

  He was watching me, and I should have been revolted, scared even, but deep in my heart, I know I don’t need to be. My instincts generall
y serve me well, and my instincts are telling me he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.

  There’s something kind about his face. Not just that, but in the way he spoke and kept his distance because he didn’t want to scare me. His smile and his teasing. It all made me feel more at ease than I’ve felt in so long.

  And I won’t lie, I did Google him the instant I was alone yesterday when he left my porch. Nora told me once her brother was a pretty well-known MMA fighter. Curiosity never really spiked in my brain, until he told me who he was yesterday, and I saw what he looked like.

  I scanned article after article. Fight summary after fight summary. Looked at photos of him with his arms raised in victory and face scowled in defeat. I’ve seen a rainbow of women on his arm or draped over his body. There was even a rumored sex tape that was released a few years ago, but I didn’t care enough to dig for it. I may or may not have used my log in for work to check in on him criminally, and except for some disorderly conduct charges when he was young and a rogue assault charge a few years ago, at least I know he’s not a murderer…and it wasn’t a sex based offense.

  The assault charge was filed outside of the state of Georgia, so I don’t have the clearance to see specifics. Does it set off red flags for me? It should…but…

  I just wanted to know more about him. That’s all.

  I slip my earbuds into my ears, cue up some Halsey, and head out into the warm air. My feet, seemingly without my input, take a different route to get to the sidewalk, making it a point to pass much closer to Case and Nora’s home than I normally would.

  I’m not outside for more than a few minutes before sweat is beading on my skin and causing the baby hairs at the base of my neck to curl. It’s never anything but muggy in Georgia this time of year, especially this close to the water.

  I run the same route every day. Down to the edge of the neighborhood, north past to the back row of houses, around that street, and up the next and left down mine. It’s a large circle, but it’s safe, contained, and there’s a sidewalk. The perfect place to run.

  I’m singing along in my head as Halsey croons on about being bad at love. I can relate, Halsey. I’m bad at love too. I don’t know if I even know how to love someone who isn’t a friend or someone in my family. I have fun, of course, but I’ve never been able to be that serious with anyone since I moved here. I’m not a nun, obviously. I enjoy sex. I made that a point after what happened to me. I refused to let my past strip me of normal feelings, thoughts, and desires. My heart breaks for all the women who have gone through what I did and were unable to move on easily. I’ve spent many evenings in therapy, in group meetings and counseling. I wanted to be the exception. Someone who was sexually assaulted and lived a normal life afterward.

  Real dating, letting someone in, letting someone close, dropping my walls; that is the problem I’ve been faced with the past years. That’s the hurdle I really struggle to overcome, because, well… It takes a lot for me to relax. To trust.

  I’m beginning my second lap when I see someone in my peripheral vision move onto the sidewalk behind me. I don’t even have to look to know who it is. My skin is doing that tingly thing I wish it wouldn’t. It’s him.

  I focus ahead and mind my own business, taking my usual route, but he does the same. Following close behind. What is he doing?

  I sneak another peek back and my toe catches on a crack in the sidewalk, sending me flying forward, chest first into the ground. Jesus Christ. Could I get more Ana Steele right now?

  “Shit!” I hear him say before I feel his hands wrap around my upper arm. “Are you all right?”

  I know, without a doubt, my face is fifty shades of red from embarrassment.

  “I’m fine. I’m fine.” I push up to stand, my palms screaming in pain. “Are you following me?”

  “I’m just running.”

  “Right behind me?” I wipe my hands on my leggings and hiss at the burn. I flip them over to look and they are scratched pretty badly from taking the brunt of my fall.

  At least it wasn’t my face.

  “You’re bleeding.” He gently takes my hand into his and examines it. “There’s dirt in here and some gravel. It needs to be cleaned.”

  “I’ll do that when I get home.” I go to move and my knee adds to cacophony of aching body parts, so I stop moving.

  “You’re banged up from hitting the pavement so hard. Let me help get you home. It’s the least I can do.”

  “You mean since you were spying on me last night?” I tilt my head a bit and wait for his answer. “Would taking care of me now make you feel better about that?”

  “I wouldn’t call it spying. I would call it having a beer, in the middle of the night, and there was a beautiful woman in my line of sight. I am but a mortal man who appreciates such a thing.”

  “That seems like a very crafted answer that you’ve used a time or two.” I cringe inwardly at the thought of that. He must have women throwing themselves at him daily.

  “You don’t trust me very much, do you?” he replies, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “You haven’t earned that from me yet.”

  “Yet? So you’re saying there’s a chance? Yeah!” He punches the air excitedly then laughs.

  “Did you just quote Dumb and Dumber to me?”

  “Only if you like that movie. If you don’t then, no, I made it up myself.” He smirks.

  “I love that movie. I quote it constantly. It really annoys generally everyone in my presence.”

  He leans in closer and whispers, “Good, so do I, so it will never annoy me.”

  “I don’t know you, Falcon Masen, but…you can help me get home and I’d greatly appreciate it.”

  “Like I said, it’s my pleasure and the least I can do for being a creeping asshole.” He chuckles.

  He steps closer and I hold out my arm, expecting him to take it, but he surprises me by bending and lifting me from the ground and into his arms like I weigh nothing.

  “Oh!” I shriek a little. “What are you doing?

  “I’m taking you home,” he answers, as if it’s the silliest question in the world.

  “I can walk, you know?” I kick my legs slightly like a child tossing a fit.

  “Maybe, but we don’t want to risk aggravating something that could be wrong until we know, right?”

  “Are you always this exasperating?” I hook my arms around his neck to stay steady as he walks.

  “Yes, as a matter-of-fact, I am.”

  I huff a bit then lick my dry lips. “Why were you following me?”

  “I wasn’t following you.”

  I don’t say anything; I just arch my brow like yeah right.

  “Okay,” he continues, “I wanted to apologize for last night, but I was trying to work up the courage, I guess.”

  “The courage? He who owns many WFC titles needed courage to apologize for being a creeping asshole?”

  “Been researching me, have you?”

  “That’s what you take from that? Why am I not surprised?”

  He flashes a smile at me that makes my stomach tingle and my heart drop down to join the party. “What did you read? Anything fascinating?”

  “Did you really punch someone so hard that his nose dented into his face?”

  He tosses his head back and laughs. It’s a lovely sound. I instantly want to hear it again.

  “Where do they come up with this shit? No, I’ve never forced a nose into someone’s head. I’ve broken a lot of noses, but nothing like that.”

  In a moment of courage, I ask my next question, “And the sex tape?”

  His eyes move down quickly to meet mine. “Not me. The guy looked a lot like me, but it wasn’t me at all. I’m offended someone would think I’d be a two-pump chump like that.”

  My eyes go wide and he laughs. Now, that’s all I can think about. What is he like in bed?

  “I guess when you’re famous, people like to make up stories about you,” I say. I want to ask about the assaul
t charges, but it doesn’t seem like the time or place for that. And not to mention, it’s a little fucking weird I did that much research.

  “Famous? No, I’m hardly famous. MMA fans know me, but I can walk freely in public, no problem, usually. There’s the occasional person, obviously, but it’s not bad.” He glances down at my face before focusing his attention back ahead.

  “That’s a good thing, right? I mean, who would want to be recognized all the time, everywhere they go?” I lick my dry lips.

  “It’s a very good thing. I like my privacy.”

  He carries me the rest of the way to my house in relative silence. It doesn’t take long, maybe five minutes, but it seems to take an eternity. The silence isn’t awkward at all. It’s comfortable, actually. I can feel every ripple of the muscles in his arms under my thighs, and the hard lines of his stomach against my side. Hell, even his shoulders feel strong under my arms that are wrapped around his neck. He is easily the most attractive man I’ve ever come into contact with.

  When we reach the foot of my front steps, I push off him a little.

  “I can take it from here.”

  “Let me take you inside and get you some ice and clean your hands, please? It’s the least I can do.”

  I sigh out heavily. “Marco, I…”

  “Falcon,” he corrects me.

  “Falcon…with all due respect…”

  “Listen, I’ve got nothing but good intentions, okay? You fell; you’re hurt. Let me make sure you’re all right. As soon as I do that, I’ll go.”

  I shouldn’t trust him. I have no reason to, but I also don’t have a reason not to.

  “Okay.” I nod.

  He climbs my stairs, still holding me in his arms. “Key?”