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

by Harlow, Jennifer

  “Never.”

  “Everything alright?”

  “Wonderful. Better than the projections.”

  “So what is this secret project?” I ask.

  “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret,” he says with that butter wouldn’t melt smile of his. “No, you’d just find it incredibly dull. I’d much rather return to our original discussion. As I said, early stages I know, but I have built an international charity from the ground up before. I know the right people to hire, the right people to bribe to speed up the process both in our country and many others. I already have my accountants crunching numbers. Consequently, just for the infrastructure, advertisements, office space, bribes, endowments, just getting started we’re talking twenty-five mil, fifty if we set up counseling centers. Now I’m more than willing to split that cost. My issue is time. In that I have precious little to spare. This will be a full time plus endeavor. Lots of travel, lots of meetings, lots of press junkets. I do want us both to be the face of the charity, though. Any major events or interviews, I would want to be there as well.”

  “So I’d do all the work and you’d get all the limelight.”

  “Pretty much. But I do shine in the limelight. How I imagine it is I’m the fun-loving rapscallion who makes people feel good, whereas you are the strong, capable gal who makes them feel secure.”

  “Good cop, bad cop. I always did rock bad cop.”

  “So you’re in?” he asks with excitement.

  My eyes narrow. “I…you want an answer tonight? Right now? Bennett, this is a massive commitment, not just financially. You’re asking me to become your partner, this minute, on an undertaking that will basically consume my every waking hour. I need more to go on. Time to think. Time to review this with my accountant, my lawyer. I—”

  “Fallon, I’m not asking you to elope,” I raise an eyebrow, “metaphorically of course. Think of it as engaged to be engaged. I brought the projections, a list of potential staff, a preliminary proposal, basically a road map to guide you. All I’m asking right now is that you take a look at those files. If you envision yourself partnering with me, trusting me on this journey.” He leans forward. “Look, I know we’ve just met, I do, but for whatever reason I trust you. I feel…a kinship with you. I have never connected with someone so fast like this before. After one minute with you I just knew we were going to be friends. I did. We’re cut from the same cloth. We get each other. Am I wrong?”

  “No,” I concede.

  “See? And I also know there is no one on this earth that will put in more time, fight harder for the people we mean to help than you. You’ve been there. You know their pain. If in some way helping them helps you, more’s the better.”

  “So this is pity? I’d prefer that you just wanted to bang me.”

  “Well, there is that too.” And there goes the boyish grin. “But I swear, this offer comes not from my libido, not from pity, but from a place of respect. Let me prove it. Just take this first step, okay? Just say yes.”

  It is an intriguing proposal. I could do a lot of good. It’d be my chance to build something from the ground up, shaping it to fit my vision. It’s definitely a prospect worth exploring. The only downside I see is the man sitting across from me. I don’t entirely trust his motives, or him for that matter. I could just be gun-shy when it comes to friends. We’d be partners, though it sounds like he’d be closer to the silent variety save for when there are cameras around. It really couldn’t hurt to just skim the proposal and documents.

  “I’m not going to sleep with you.”

  “If you say so.”

  “And I’d be the captain of this ship. If we plan on me doing all the work, I get a greater say in how its run, personnel, policy, allocation of resources. Your input matters, but I’d have final veto power.”

  “Exactly how I imagined it as well. I’ll even concede top billing in whatever we decide to call it.”

  “Okay.” I hold out my hand across the table. “Consider us engaged to be engaged.”

  Bennett gives my hand a firm shake. “You won’t regret this, gorgeous.”

  Yeah, like I don’t regret my last engagement. I’m still culling through the damage from that crash and burn. And here I go again, playing with fire. At least this time the only thing on the line is my time, money, and reputation. There isn’t a shred of heart or soul left to destroy.

  *

  “How about The Fallon/Stone Super Rescue Foundation?”

  I crinkle my nose with distaste. “That sounds like we’re a superhero rescue team.”

  Bennett laces his fingers behind his head and crosses his ankles on the bed. “Well, if you think about it, we kind of will be. Just minus the flying and laser beam eyes.”

  No, I am not in bed with him. I sit at the desk across the giant studio apartment-like hotel room surrounded by papers, a cup of coffee, and notepad where I’ve been scribbling thoughts for two hours since I agreed to return to his hotel. I have to get my financial advisor and lawyer to review everything, but so far it all appears on the up and up. For once Bennett Stone isn’t trying to screw me, at least financially.

  “I just think the word ‘super’ sounds ridiculous no matter what we put around it,” I say.

  “Then perhaps The Fallon/Stone Aberration Rescue Foundation? Inhuman? Freak? Mutant?”

  “I still vote for the Fallon/Stone Shit Happens Foundation.” I toss my pen down and rub my eyes. “Okay, maybe we take our egos out of the equation. One thing people can get behind besides a person is a symbol, right? A word, a concept. People hear it, see it, they know what we’re about. So what are we? Throw out some words.”

  “Rescue,” Bennett says, “angels, crisis, heroes, idol, champion, defender, protector—”

  “Guardian,” I add with a scoff.

  Bennett’s arms fall to his sides, and he sits up in bed. “The Fallon/Stone Guardian Society. Our volunteers would be called Stone Guardians. Our emblem…a shield with angel wings engraved on.” He holds up a finger as he leaps from the bed. “No! Not just wings. Icarus. The god who flew too close to the sun. He flies on the shield.”

  I have to admit it’s better than anything I’ve come up with in an hour. “Society not foundation?”

  “Foundation sounds too stuffy and formal. Society implies it can go anywhere, is inclusive of all, that it can have many facets.”

  I write it down on the pad and circle it. “Then we have a winner. Hallelujah. I can go home.” I glance at the clock. Jesus, it’s past one AM. Even with three cups of coffee I’m bone tired. Excited but tired. Because I’ve been playing it cool, but I am so absolutely doing this. Even if he pulls out every cent of his, I’m going forward. I just don’t want him to think I’m too easy. “Fuck, it’s late.”

  “You’re more than welcome to stay the night. I even promise to keep my hands to myself.”

  “I think I can make it home, thanks.” I rise from the desk. “Just gonna use your bathroom before I go. Can you gather everything for me to take? I’ll have my people review it tomorrow.”

  “I live to serve you, Miss Fallon.”

  With a smirk, I cross the room to the bathroom just as his cell phone begins buzzing on the nightstand again. The man’s been getting calls all night long. I turned mine off before I got to the restaurant. It’s just good manners, not that Bennett apparently ever learned that. He took two more calls at the restaurant then several more as I reviewed the files. He was gone half an hour at one point. It seems he might not have been lying about being too busy for our newly formed society. Good. This queen sure as hell doesn’t need a king meddling in her realm. She’s got this.

  The coffee is just about out of my system when there’s a knock on the door. “Um, Joanna?”

  “Occupied!”

  “Joanna, uh, phone call for you,” he says, sounding almost confused.

  Phone call? No one knows I’m here. “Who is it?”

  “Your ex. He sounds…forceful.”

  Oh Jesus F
ucking Christ you are shitting me. I wipe and flush before hustling out of the bathroom where Bennett stands at the door, phone in his hand. I snatch it. “How the hell did you get this number? Are you out of your fucking mind? I told you to stop—”

  “Where are you?” Jem cuts in.

  “None of your goddamn business! You are really starting to freak me—”

  “Joanna, just stop talking,” he orders through gritted teeth. “Stop! This is…Guardian, Code Pink. Repeat: Code Pink.”

  My mouth snaps shut as my stomach clenches. Fuck. Fuck. When Jem went back in the field we came up with a shorthand code system. Blue means call the police to his location, Green I’m needed at the scene, Purple is he’s been unmasked and we need to enact the Houdini Protocol, and Pink meaning I’m in immediate danger and need to flee. Just…fuck. “You sure?”

  “Yes. Just tell me where you are so Captain O’Hara can dispatch a squad car to collect you.”

  “You’re with Harry? What happened? Is—”

  “Joanna, just give me the address! Now!”

  I glance at the confused Bennett. “Um, The Firebrand Hotel. The Executive Suite.”

  Jem repeats the information to someone, who responds, though the words are muffled. “O’Hara’s sending a car now. Do not leave until they get you. Are you armed?”

  “Um, no.”

  “Three minutes,” I think I hear Harry say in the background. “Grovner and Parker.”

  “Did you hear him?” Jem asks.

  “Yes. But what the hell is happening?”

  “What’s going on?” Bennett asks, now more concerned than confused.

  “There, uh, was a prison break at Xavier,” Jem says.

  “Oh my God. Who escaped?”

  There’s a pregnant, bile inducing pause before he says, “Everyone. Every supervillain housed there has vanished. They’re just…gone. Including him. He’s free, Joanna. They all are.”

  Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit… “Fuck.”

  “The officers will escort you home. Then you know what to do, right? Pack, check into a hotel under an assumed na—”

  “I remember the protocol. I’ll call you when I get to the hotel.”

  “Good. I’ll see you as soon as I can. I love you.”

  “I lo—” I stop myself. “See you soon.” I end the call and close my eyes to better concentrate on quelling the rising panic about to overtake my much needed wits.

  “Fallon, what the hell is going on?” Bennett asks.

  This is bad. This is fucking apocalyptic. I can’t go through this again. I can’t—

  Someone grips my shoulders. “Joanna!” Bennett’s shake forces my eyes open. “Tell me what’s happening. What protocol?”

  “I…uh…Ja-James Ryder’s escaped from prison again. They-They all escaped. I, uh, you-you should probably leave town. You should go. I-I…” Need to collect my shit because the police are coming for me. Because my life is in danger. Again. I move to the desk and begin gathering papers.

  “You should come with me.”

  I spin around. “What?”

  “We could go somewhere. Thailand, Australia. We could work on The Society. Do it on the beach. You’d be safe. We could even have separate bedrooms if you want. Or you can go alone.”

  It is an idea. A good idea. If I’d run the last time, or the time before that, I wouldn’t have nightmares every week. I wouldn’t have literal scars. But there is a reason I didn’t run. Why I didn’t hide. If I’m the target, my friends, my family, innocent people could be drawn into this mess. That is Ryder’s M.O. after all. And I couldn’t hide forever.

  “That’s nice of you, Bennett, but I’ll be fine. This is all just a precaution.”

  “So what’s this protocol you mentioned? You going to be tied to a stake in the town square covered in blood to lure them all to you?”

  “No, I’ll be in a hotel, which I’m not supposed to leave, under a false name.”

  “Will I be able to see you? Call you? What about—”

  “I don’t know!” I scream. “I don’t know anything right now! Stop asking me questions! I don’t—I—”

  “Hey, hey,” he says, striding toward me. My friend wraps his arms around me in what I think is supposed to be a comforting embrace. I’m too hyped up to appreciate the gesture, but find myself hugging him back anyway. “It’s okay to be afraid. I’d be shitting myself. But it’ll all be okay. You’ll see. And I’m here for you. I mean it. Call and I’m there.”

  “Thank you.” I remove myself from his grasp and half smile to reassure him. “You—”

  The telephone rings by the bed. Guess my escort’s here. Bennett walks over to answer it while I collect the last of the papers. “Hello?” Bennett asks. “Yes, I am.”

  “Ask their names,” I say.

  “What are the officer’s names?” He listens. “Parker and Grovner.” I nod. “Send them up. Thank you.” Bennett hangs up and sighs. “Well, this night didn’t turn out as I’d envisioned.”

  I slip on my shoes. “Sure you still want to partner with me?”

  “Is it always like this?” he asks as he approaches.

  “Sometimes it’s much, much worse.” I shrug on my coat and grab my purse and the box. “But if I do get kidnapped and tortured again just think of the publicity The Society will get.”

  Bennett stops a foot in front of me. “Is it terrible I was just thinking the same thing?” he asks with a smile.

  I can’t help but chuckle. Not even the knock on the door stops the black mirth. Gallows humor, my favorite kind. “Miss Fallon?” a man says on the other side of the door. “Captain O’Hara sent us.”

  “My squad car awaits,” I say to Bennett.

  “And my jet is fueled,” he parries. “Frolicking, fun, fucking. Yours for the taking.” His smile dims a little. “You can sit this one out, you know. You don’t owe anyone a damn thing. You’ve done enough, Joanna. More than enough. Just come with me, gorgeous. Please.”

  And here I thought he didn’t have a serious bone in his body. The man’s positively grim right now. Before I can stop myself, I kiss him. Our first. Quick and sweet. “It’s never enough, playboy. But we gotta keep trying, right? Because if we don’t, who will?” I kiss him again and smile. “I’ll call when I can.”

  Smile still affixed, I pick up my box and walk toward the door. Through the peephole I see the officers. I recognize Parker from the wedding. What a way to reconnect. I open the door. “Hey, Parker.”

  “Fallon,” he says with a nod.

  “Shall we?” I give Bennett one last smile for the road. “See you around, playboy.”

  “That a promise?”

  “God willing.” I pucker my lips to blow him a kiss before returning to my new friends. “Okay boys, take me away.”

  And once again I’m thrust into the freaking fray that threatens to consume Galilee Falls. It must be a day that ends in “Y.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  At Your Peril

  It is a damn good thing I recently spent a week in an alcohol coma because I don’t think I’ll be getting more than an hour of sleep here or there for the foreseeable future. Diamanda, the Society, life in general including trips to the Land of Nod will have to wait. First order of business is fleeing.

  The officers escort me to my apartment where I quickly pack two large suitcases, a satchel full of weapons and disguises, my Society box, and Doris Jr. My bodyguards help me carry them back to the squad car then drive me to the nearest hotel, where I check in, quickly slap on my Missy disguise, gather by bags again, and double back to my apartment to get my Accura. Part of the Pink Protocol is no one but Jem knows my location. Joanna checked into the Intercontinental and Missy checks into the Extended Stay across town with a month paid up front in cash. Welcome home, Missy.

  My body wants me to climb into the lumpy bed and sleep until noon, but my brain would never allow it. I switch on the TV as Doris Jr. boots up. Local news is on the story, cutting into early mornin
g infomercials, but we haven’t gone national yet. Looks like they’ve kept the press on the city side of the drawbridge but police and news helicopters circle the island. Skip Martin on Channel 6 appears to have little information, just that there was a major incident at Xavier Maximum Security Prison. The police and Feds are keeping mum about how many people are involved, if there are any fatalities, yeah they know nothing. I switch it off when the reporters begin rehashing the last major incident, the Alkaline/Justice nightmare. No doubt every news hound in Galilee is hoping for Round Two with yours truly in the ring this time. I pray they’ll be shit out of luck.

  I sit at the chipped, slightly sticky table in front of Doris and call up the Moonlight video and audio links. Judging from the white cinder block walls and tiny bed, Jem’s standing in a prison cell. “Guardian online,” I say into the headset.

  I must startle him because the camera on his head jolts. “Guardian? Are you okay?”

  “I’m at the Extended Stay on Kirby, room seven under the name Missy Royal.”

  “Okay. Good. Thank you.” He pauses. “And I’m sorry if I inconvenienced your boyfriend. Your old number was disconnected and I knew—”

  “Just get me up to speed, Moonlight,” I cut in. “It’s past two am. I’m exhausted.” And he’s not my boyfriend. “What the hell happened?”

  “A call came in just before midnight, around 12:30 to Warden Myers’ and 911. The entire prison population, save for the guards in the watchtowers, were rendered unconscious for approximately two hours by a volatile anesthetic gas. I’m not sure what kind yet, the canisters have no labels, but whatever it was left everyone with headaches, nausea, and double vision. Those who weren’t already asleep report muddled thinking, growing tired, and falling unconscious within a minute. This was across the board in all four cell blocks, each of which has its own heating unit therefore its own timed canister. The surveillance system wasn’t tampered with. The recordings show that five minutes after the last guard passed out, a team of sixteen men, all wearing gas masks, black hooded sweatshirts, and black jeans exited a manhole leading to a storm drain they must have cut the bars on previously. The men came through the storm drain, out the manhole, into D block with a key and keycard, then entered the control room to open all the cells in the Hardcore Unit. Thirteen stayed to load the thirteen villains on the block into body bags which they then carried out, while the other three used two pilfered key cards and keys they took from the unconscious guards to access the lower level. Those three loaded Ryder and the other two, Jericho’s Tombstone and Lake City’s Magnus, into bags and like the rest were carried back to the manhole and presumably to an awaiting boat. In and out in fifteen minutes.”