Page 13 of Fallen Hero

“You’re done,” I ground out, uncaring what that gave away.

The damage was done. Fallon smelled blood, and like the shark he was, he was already circling his chum. With a smile I wanted to punch off his face, he declared, “I’ll take first shift.”

That worked for me. There was no doubt Calista was going to bolt and bail on breakfast. But she wouldn’t run until she was positive the coast was clear. Which meant she wouldn’t do it in the next three hours Fallon was posted on her floor, in front of the only bank of elevators and stairs.

“Before you go, Tom sent a full mission brief.”

Christ, what a douche.

Mission specifics were good for us, but it was a betrayal of Calista’s trust. It would seem the woman didn’t have anyone in her corner who was loyal.

“That shit’s whacked,” Fallon rightly noted. “First her assistant went behind her back, and now Tom’s throwing her under the bus.”

“I’m sending it to your phone,” Pete told him without injecting his personal opinion. Though I knew my friend, so he didn’t have to. Pete valued loyalty just as much as I did. “Something to keep you busy while you’re guarding the exits we all know she’s not going to use until dawn breaks.”

“Why do you think I want first shift,” Fallon said as he headed to the door. “Mase is the one who pissed her off. He can deal with the angry hot chick when she finds him at the elevator during her escape.”

With a flick of his hand over his shoulder, the door closed behind him.

Pete looked up from his laptop. “What’s in your head?”

Without thinking, I asked, “Come again?”

“Calista.”

Fuck.

This was the double-edged sword of brotherhood. One side loyalty and trust. The other, history and knowledge. I should’ve known Pete would call me out. That’s what brothers did. They didn’t let shit slide—not when it was important.

“Pete—”

“Oh hell no.” His declaration was like the strike of a hammer. “You don’t lose your mind with women. You don’t care enough to get pissed and bang on doors or get in the face of a woman—”

“I get in Mia’s face all the time,” I reminded him.

My defense was lame—Mia wasn’t just a woman. She was Pete’s little sister. She was the third in our trio. I’d known her since she was a scrawny teenager with pimples. There were only two people in this world I trusted with every part of me—Pete and Mia.

There were only two people I loved, down to my soul—Pete and Mia.

Their other sister, Camila, had a piece of my heart, I’d do anything for her, but being two years younger than Mia, six years younger than me and Pete, she hadn’t tagged along like Mia had when we were younger. Not to mention, where Mia was ballsy and a tomboy, Cami was shy and quiet and girly—extremely so.

“Mia doesn’t count.”

I shrugged, not wanting to have this conversation, but also not wanting to lie to my best friend. I had no defense for my behavior, no ready explanation for my anger, no excuse for why I reacted to Calista the way I did. There was just something that pissed me off about the woman.

Not that I was the kind of man who would give the feeling time and consideration—I’d long ago learned my lesson when it came to women; feelings and emotions were pointless.

I’d never again give a woman my trust. The exception was Mia . . . and possibly Jack’s woman, Catarina. Cat had proven she was skilled, and she made Jack happy—really happy—and seeing as Jack was far from dumb, he wouldn’t’ve fought so hard for the woman if she wasn’t trustworthy.

But, there was a difference between trusting someone with my life and trusting them with my emotions. I trust Cat with my life and keep my secrets to myself.

It was always better that way.

No weaknesses.

No vulnerabilities.

No lies.