Page 40 of Dangerously
“You need to learn how to take a compliment.” I make a funny face at Aisling as she does a little happy dance in front of me.
“Tell me how fabulous I am after we kill Ronan.”
“It’s a deal. I might throw in a few nice words in between, too.” I wink.
“Whatever floats your boat.” She’s aloof. “Done with the list?”
“Yup.” I hand her the small pad.
“Jesus, all you're missing is a bounce house and a clown, and we’ll have enough stuff for a birthday party.”
“Should we get a bounce house?” I seriously consider it.
“No. It’s November. In upstate New York. We already had the conversation about the baby freezing to death, remember?”
“Good point. Although she’ll be moving. It would take much longer.”
Fallon picks up one of the burners with a little, tiny, almost unnoticeable smirk.
“You stay put.” Fallon is once again ordering me around. “Aisling, watch him. Make sure he stays out of trouble.” Then she walks out thedoor.
“She left you in charge? What kind of horseshit is that?” I lift Aisling off the floor and give her a little toss. “You can’t even use the potty.” She giggles from deep down in her belly.
* * *
I was rightwhen I said March works fast. By seven a.m. the next morning, we were unloading an entire car full of stuff. Clothes, food, supplies, and enough baby shit to keep Aisling occupied for a year. Hopefully.
I don’t know how long we’re going to be holed up here, but if March is as fast with our new identities as he is with everything else, we should be all right.
Fallon hands off the keys to our getaway car to the runner, and a switch is made. Gone is the Volkswagen that can be connected to us, and left in its place is a Hyundai that’s a dime a dozen.
“If and when we get out of this, the first thing I’m buying is a sports car. Convertible, with a turbo-charged engine.”
“That doesn't sound very family-friendly.” Fallon and I carry in the last of the groceries.
“I’ll make sure I have a hybrid for Aisling.” I scan around the outside of the trailer. Our delivery has garnered some attention. A couple of the same guys from yesterday are hanging about, smokin’ cigarettes, sizing us up. I shoot them a hard look, then slam the door closed. If they know what’s good for them, they’ll only look.
“Jesus Christ.” Fallon nearly trips over a box. “There's too much shit in here.”
“Once I put everything together, it won’t be so cluttered.”
“Well, do it fast.” She kicks the box out of her way so she can start filling up the refrigerator.
There is shit everywhere. Boxes piled on top of boxes. Bags all over the floor.
“I would put the big stuff outside, but it might not be there for very long,” I hint to the loitering spectators.
“Agreed.” She exhales a breath, her cheeks puffing.
I try not to make it obvious that I’m enjoying her domestic side. She'd probably stab me if I even insinuated she had one, but watching her sort bags of food, free of death and destruction, puts her in a new light. It’s so normal.And so strangely hot.
Fallon is a phenomenal woman. It’s hard not to be drawn to her. No matter what light she’s in. But there’s this side to her. This femininity encased in a tough exterior. A beauty that’s like none other. Exotic, yet with all the qualities of the girl next door.
Fallon spontaneously stands straight up and listens for something. “Where is Aisling?”
“Hmmm?” I snap out of my musing.
“Aisling, your daughter. It’s too quiet in here.” She looks around, as do I.
