Rival (Fall Away, #2)(81)

I locked my hands behind my head and waited for her to say something. It made me feel happy she actually risked giving up her security for me, but that would never have to happen.

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “You’ve had this worked out all day, haven’t you?”

“Of course, I have.” I flashed her a boyish smile. “You think I’d give myself a wife to take care of and not have a plan?”

Leaning up, I slipped my hand around her neck and brought her in. But as her eyes closed for the kiss she was no doubt expecting, I flicked her nose with my tongue instead and plopped back down, closing my eyes.

“Just don’t try to divorce me and take half,” I threatened.

“Ugh, that was gross,” she whined, probably wiping my spit off her face.

I heard the laptop close and the bed move as she climbed on top of me, straddling my waist. I went to place my hands on her thighs, but she grabbed them and pinned them to the side of my head.

“Nope.” I shook my head. “I’m exhausted. I won’t do it. You can’t make me.”

But it was too late. Her weight on me and her heat on my stomach already had me rolling my hips into hers as her moist breath sent a silver shot down to my groin.

Shit.

I was fully hard now, and I needed some damn sleep. Didn’t want sleep but needed it. Her mouth darted up to my neck, and she sunk her teeth in. I opened for her.

“Baby.” I choked out a groan. “I never want to leave this room. Take my T-shirt off your body. Now.”

Pounding on the door sounded from the other room, and we both jerked our heads toward the noise.

“Madoc Caruthers?” a stiff voice called.

Fallon turned her wide eyes to me, and I sat up, setting her to the side of the bed.

Walking toward the door, I shook my head in dawning realization. I should’ve had Jared register the room. I’d been smart enough not to use my credit card, but I never thought my father would take the time to call the hotels of Chicago looking for me.

“Yes?” I asked, opening the door and then immediately dropping my f*cking jaw.

The cops? What the hell?

“We’d like to ask you a few questions,” a lean black officer said with his hand resting on his baton. I didn’t take that as a threat. Maybe I should? The other cop was a female. Middle-aged with red hair.

“What’s this about?”

The lady cop tipped her chin at me. “Is Fallon Pierce with you?”

My heart started thumping. What now?

“Yes,” I finally answered.

“Your stepsister, right?” the male cop confirmed.

I hooded my eyes and sighed. “For the moment, yes. Our parents are getting a divorce.”

“What’s going on?” Fallon asked, stepping up to my side. She was dressed in jeans and her white blouse from yesterday tucked in. All of the clothing that had been sitting in a ball on the floor for the past twenty-four hours. She also had her glasses on.

“Are you Fallon Pierce?”

Fallon crossed her arms. “Yes.”

“Your mother reported you missing yesterday morning,” Redhead explained. “She says she was threatened by Mr. Caruthers, claiming he said he was going to . . .” She looked at her notes and continued. “‘Put her through a wall.’ And then you were taken.”

Both cops looked at me, and I wanted to laugh. Fallon turned to me with a smirk on her face, and as serious as cops visiting your door is, we started laughing.

The officers exchanged a look as my chest shook and Fallon covered her smile with her hand.

“Did you threaten Mrs. Caruthers, sir?”

Which Mrs. Caruthers? I felt like asking, but I resisted. No one would know about our marriage yet, and our parents had to find out from us and no one else if we were going to be taken seriously.

“Officers,” I assured, “these are family issues. I would never have touched my stepmother. Fallon is here of her own free will, and there is no problem.”


“Mr. Caruthers,” the male cop started. “We know who your father is—”

But then all hell broke loose. A woman and her cameraman rushed up behind the police officers and stuck a microphone between them in my direction. I reared back, and Fallon grabbed my hand.

“Madoc Caruthers?” the woman shouted, stumbling into the cops. “Son of Jason Caruthers? Are you having an affair with your stepsister? Her mother claims you kidnapped her?”

My f*cking heart lodged like a baseball in my throat, and I couldn’t breathe.

Motherf*cker! Shit!

I swallowed, looking down at Fallon.

“Now, that’s enough!” one of the officers growled, both turning around and holding up their hands to shield us from the intrusion.

What the hell? My dad was a big deal, but not that big of a deal. Someone had to have tipped these people off.

The female cop kept her voice calm. “Let’s get this under control. You’re interfering with police business.”

“Is he holding you against your will?” The reporter shook her brown bangs out of her eyes, looking intense and determined.

I leaned over to grab the door to close it, but Fallon barked.

“Stop,” she ordered. “He’s not Mr. Caruthers. And he’s not holding me against my will, for Christ’s sake! And we’re not having some sordid relationship. He’s my . . .”