Tomboy (The Hartigans #3)(10)

“I guess that answers that,” Marty said, clicking off a few shots with his camera before starting toward the older-model sedan parked on the street. Of course, he didn’t get in the car without tossing a parting shot over his shoulder. “See you in tomorrow’s Harbor City Post.”

Fallon closed her eyes and counted to twenty. She should have told Lucy no. She should have let Zach puke his guts up in solitary. She should have welcomed Shelly the fake nurse who couldn’t button her uniform all the way up. But no. She’d gotten suckered into caring for someone who couldn’t give a shit about the fact that she’d given up her very limited free time to help a virtual stranger or that she didn’t want to be plastered all over the tabloids as the most-hated man in Harbor City’s latest bang babe.

Suddenly, it seemed like Shelly had been on to something because the idea of poisoning Zach Blackburn didn’t seem like such a bad one.

…

Zach wasn’t skulking—it was his driveway, how could he be? Instead he was just hanging out on the porch with his back to his front door, watching Fallon as she turned to face him and stood there with her eyes closed, her jaw clamped shut, and her fists clenched. He knew what that pose meant, he made it happen enough—she’d reached her limit, and it was only a matter of time until she said some version of fuck this shit and left.

Good. The last thing he needed in his life was some do-gooder—even if she did have a snarly disposition he could totally identify with and an ass that made his hands itch to squeeze—taking him on as a charity case.

He didn’t need help and he’d been a dumbass for letting Fallon in his house in the first place. Of course, watching her go full righteous fury on Shelly had been pretty fucking entertaining. It was kind of refreshing to be around someone who still thought they could shame someone out of behaving like a selfish ass. Too bad that couldn’t be done. It was a use or be used world, and if she didn’t know that already, it was beyond time she learned.

As if she could feel his gaze on her, Fallon finally opened her eyes and gave him another dirty look. At least he figured it was her version of a glare. He couldn’t count the number of times in his career that he’d stared down the I’m-gonna-tear-your-head-off fury of a guy skating straight toward him after Zach had delivered what may or may not have been a completely deserved hard check to some prima donna player. After years of that, Fallon’s little narrowing of her eyes and tightening of her jaw didn’t make much of an impact.

She marched up the driveway, stopping at the bottom of the steps leading up to his porch, enough energy spiking off her to short out the city. “Are you going to just hide there on your porch or are you going to explain to me why you just pulled that shit.”

“What shit?” he asked, keeping the don’t-give-a-fuck attitude in his voice.

“Using your silence to confirm to that bloodsucker that we were sleeping together.”

Yeah. Once he got Fallon to leave, he was going to have to call Lucy, even though she was on vacation, and have her kill Marty’s story. Lucy was going to be thrilled he’d messed with her friend like that, even though there wasn’t a damn thing he could have done to have stopped it. His ass was about to be a few bite sizes lighter after Lucy got done, but there wasn’t a choice. He wasn’t going to put Fallon through the Harbor City media wringer when there wasn’t a good reason for it. Not that he’d admit that out loud.

He shrugged. “You told me not to speak for you.”

“You’re an asshole.”

Yeah, he was, and it was best for all involved if she realized it now. “I never claimed otherwise.”

She let out a frustrated groan and started up the stairs, mumbling to herself, “Why did I even bother?”

Short answer? She shouldn’t have. He kept that little tidbit to himself, though, because as she brushed past him there was no missing the countdown-to-detonation vibe emanating from her. She might not be an enforcer with a mean right hook, but Fallon wasn’t to be fucked with, either. He could respect that. Really, he kinda admired it.

“Leaving so soon?” he asked, because again, he was an asshole.

She didn’t slow her pace or look back at him. “Not soon enough.”

He followed her through the house, the sound of their steps echoing in the vast emptiness, staying outside in the hall when she stepped into the room she’d crashed in the previous night and stuffed her belongings into her overnight bag.

Zach watched, waiting for the feeling of satisfaction at shoving someone else out of his life to fill him. Two minutes later, when she was zipping her bag shut, he was still waiting.

“What if I start feeling sick again?” he asked, walking a few steps behind her as she strode through the bedroom door and down the hallway toward the front exit.

“Make sure you get to the bathroom in time.” She made it three more steps after that bit of advice, each one a little slower than the previous one before coming to a full and complete stop. She didn’t turn around, but there was no missing the way her shoulders rose and fell when she took a deep breath. “If your symptoms return, you should go to the closest urgent care to get checked out and make sure it’s not something more serious. And don’t forget to hydrate.”

Seemingly satisfied, she marched forward again, opening the front door, and walking out before jerking to a stop just on the other side.