The Farther I Fall (12 page)

“Gwen, please—” He tried to sound less breathless than he was.

“Mm, yes.” She tilted her head back and closed her eyes and oh God, he could hear her, see the movement of her fingers as she touched herself. It had to be his imagination, but he thought he could smell how aroused she was. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. He wanted her to come to bed, he wanted her to stay where she was and let him watch.

“Oh my God.” He couldn't stop staring at the way her throat moved when she swallowed, the way she licked her lips, the way the hand between her legs moved. It took all the willpower he had not to throw himself at her, or at least throw himself on his knees in front of her. “Gwen,
please
.”

At that, she stood and pushed jeans and panties down in a single motion, kicking them off her feet.

“Please what?” she said. That smile shouldn't have been legal. He clutched at the sheets and fought to keep from arching his hips. “What?” She moved toward the bed and leaned over him on her knuckles, her face inches from his. “Do you want me to tell you what I'm going to do to you?”

“Yes.” It came out in a long sibilant. Fuck, his cock was so hard, and she'd barely even touched him yet.

“Good. Very good.” Her eyes crinkled when she smiled. “You are incredibly pushy, you know. I think I need to do something about that.”

Oh God.
He cleared his throat. “Like what?”

Gwen leaned down like she was doing push-ups on the bed and licked at his mouth. He was distracted by the sight of her biceps tensing beneath her skin. She pulled away, and came back a few seconds later.

“I
should
gag you, mouthy git. Thought about using my knickers. Would you hold them in your mouth if I told you to?” She dangled them from her fingers, the very same blue cotton bikini panties she'd been wearing. They were probably still warm from her skin.

It took longer than it should have for him to find his voice. “Y-Yes.”

“Open your mouth.”

He did, and she tucked the soft fabric into his mouth. It was still warm, the scent of laundry detergent filling his nose, mingled with soap and with the faintest hint of her arousal. He closed his eyes and his mouth and he shivered.

“Now,” she leaned back over him, her breath warm on his skin. “I want to find out everything you enjoy. I want to make you come in ways you never even dreamed of.”

Gwen.
He wanted to tell her—anything, anything at all.

“You're going to tell me, sometime soon. But for right now, give me your hand.” She lowered her mouth to his ear, breath hot against his skin. “You're going to get me ready to ride you until you can't see straight.”

His hands were shaking as he tried to follow Gwen's directions—
Be honest, call them orders
. Gwen crawled over him, licking all the way from his belly to his chin before reaching his face and his neck, licking and nibbling. He reached out to tease his fingers between her labia; Gwen, crouched over him on her hands and knees, barely touched him at all, just where her mouth touched him, and where his fingers stroked her lightly.

“Inside me,” she hissed against his mouth and closed one hand into a fist in his hair. “Do it.” He shuddered and trailed one finger down, circling and teasing at the edges of her entrance. She pressed against his hand, but he pulled away. He was rewarded with a tug at his hair and a sharper nip at his jawline, the little bit of pain translating sweetly along his nerve endings. “Lucas, fuck me or I'm going back to the paperwork.” He teased one finger slowly into her, letting the heat of her body surround him. She was already so wet, the extra slickness felt so sweet. She growled against his jaw and bit his ear. “Two.”

He swallowed a whimper, tightening his mouth around the softness of her panties, imagining her taste filling his mouth, then eased a second finger into her, causing her to arch her back and press against his hand.

She smirked down at him. “I knew you would love this. Any time I got the—the slightest bit rough with you—” She broke off and moaned, “Oh God, more, please.” He added a third finger then, slowly slipping in and out of her, never quite establishing a regular rhythm. “Grabbed you—you lit up like a neon sign.” He was aching and ready for her, and watched her expressions, waiting for the words. Finally she pulled off his hand and reached across the bed for the condom. She slid down, licking along the shaft of his cock. He groaned and arched against her mouth, but she pinned him down with one hand while with the other she slowly rolled the latex down over him. “Be still,” she murmured. He fought to obey as she let him go to rise up and straddle him, wrapping her fingers around him. She batted away his hands when he tried to help line himself up, and suspended herself with the tip of his cock pressed against her.

He couldn't help the begging, whining sound he made; he needed to feel her around him.

“Don't
move
,” she growled. Using her thigh muscles—Lucas didn't think he'd ever get enough of watching those muscles work—she eased onto him, unsuccessfully stifling a small moan. She leaned over him again and pinned his wrists to the bed. His hips twitched; he wanted desperately to buck, to arch against the restraint around his wrists, to struggle against her strength keeping him still. He tugged at his arms, and she responded by tightening her hands. It almost hurt; not quite, but enough.

Her hips rolled in a sinuous movement as she kept her promise, working tight around him. Gasping, he managed to tear his gaze away from her hips to look in her eyes. Those eyes—gorgeous, gray-blue, blazing—pinned him as surely as her hands at his wrists. “Wanted this,” she breathed, “for days.” She twined her fingers with his and pushed their arms up the bed until they were face-to-face. She licked at his mouth, making his hips snap involuntarily. “Oh God.” Gwen broke away from his mouth. He did it again, thrusting up to meet her.

He was gratified to see her falling apart: her breathing fast and soft, punctuated by low groans, words gone, eyes glazing. He wanted to close his own eyes, to focus on the tense pleasure slowly sparking through his body, but he couldn't look away. Gwen let go of his right hand to slide her own hand down. Her fingers writhed between them. “
Harder
” was all she could manage, and it was enough; more than enough. He pulled free of her other hand and wrapped his fingers around her hips, using the extra leverage to slam into her until Gwen cried out and started pulsating around him. The deep, undeniable pleasure of her gripping and squeezing him with each spasm made it impossible for him to hold out any longer. He arched his back and starbursts exploded behind his eyes, electricity sparking down to his toes. He gave a last thrust or two, then collapsed back against the bed, pulling her down with him.

They lay together for a few moments, long enough for him to soften and slip from her body. She pulled the makeshift gag from his mouth and rolled away to clean them both up, then came back to pull him into her arms with a tired but wicked grin. “Should I make you start calling me ‘Sergeant'?”

“Shut up.” He laid his head on her good shoulder. “You seemed to miss giving orders.”

She leaned over to kiss him on the forehead. “Didn't expect you to be so good at taking them.”

He chuckled, and Gwen joined in, the sound threatening to turn into giggles. He tightened his arms. “You're amazing. You do know that, right?”

“Mm.” She closed her eyes and he felt her start to relax. “You're not so bad yourself.”

“Glad to hear you think so though. Even if you don't like my music.”

“Who says I don't? You're bloody talented,” Gwen said.

“Yes, but that's different than you
liking
it,” he said.

“
Stop,
” she said, laughing and poking him in the side. “It's not my usual thing, but you're good.”

“What is your usual thing?” It stung more than he expected, that she didn't automatically adore his music.

“I've always had a soft spot for the older stuff. R & B, Motown. My parents had a record collection.” She chuckled, and the vibration of the sound against his ribs was like a cat purring in contentment. She continued, “When you came out with ‘Mustang Sally' during soundcheck, I nearly fell over in surprise.”

“Ah,” Lucas said. “I should have guessed. Who's your favorite?”

“Aretha.”

“One of mine too.” When she gave him a surprised look, he said, “Your parents weren't the only ones with a record collection.” He turned to nuzzle against her skin, reveling in its softness. “Met her once.”

She turned on her side so they were face to face, surrounded by the warmth of the blankets, breathing each other's breath. She was smiling. “Oh? Did you have her over for tea?”

“Well,” he paused, almost hesitant. “I think they did, once.” He watched her face to see her reaction. When her eyebrows shot up, he couldn't resist a grin. A smile dawned across her face with slow warmth. She closed the small distance between them and kissed him, slow and deep and lazy.

“Lying bastard.”

He tightened his arms around her, buried his face in her hair, and laughed. “Maybe a little. Did meet Little Richard once though.”

“You never did. How can I believe a word you say right now?” Laughing, she pulled away and swatted him with a pillow.

As he wrestled her amid giggles and squeals, he wondered at what point she'd completely stolen his heart away.

Lucas leaned against the sound console. “Are we going to get the reverb right this time?”

“Move your ass off my board.” Craig shoved his hip. “And yes, I'll get your precious reverb right.” He paused. “Lucas, I gotta ask.”

Lucas settled back against the console and folded his arms. “Oh God.” He'd seen Craig in nearly every situation in the years they'd worked together: drunk, asleep, sick, happy—Lucas wasn't sure he'd ever seen him look this discomfited before. “What is it?”

Craig paid very close attention to a few of the sliders on the sound board. “Well, you know me, I'm not opposed to having some fun on the road—”

“Yeah, we saw that in Nashville.” It came out sharper than Lucas intended.

“Aw, Jesus, can we not talk about that?”

“We're going to have to sooner or later.” Lucas moved from the console to the stool that would be Cathy's spot during the show. “She still sleeping in Sally's room?”

Craig ruffled his hair with one hand and leaned back with a sigh. “Yeah. She hasn't said a word to me since Nashville, except when we're working.”

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“I don't know. I wasn't. I came through when I was working with that electronica festival a couple years back. They had somebody else doing lighting, but Cathy told me to go anyway. We needed the money.”

Lucas watched the crew moving equipment around down on the stage in preparation for sound check. “You sure the kid's yours?”

“Not one hundred percent.” Craig fiddled with the console, but Lucas didn't think he was actually setting levels; just looking for a distraction. “Looks like me though.”

“What does the mom want?”

“She filed for child support,” Craig said. “Gave me the paperwork. I can do a paternity test.”

Lucas shook his head. “You really fucked up, man.”

“I know, all right?” Craig leaned his forehead against his hand. “I don't know if Cathy's gone for good, or if she's going to talk to me again at some point or what. I'll do whatever she wants.”

“I'm sorry.” Lucas leaned over and squeezed his shoulder. “You want me to talk to her? Or Gwen?”

Craig took a breath. “This thing with Gwen.”

“You're changing the subject.”

“No, I'm changing the subject back. You changed the subject.” Craig gave him a flicker of a smile. “So are you just having some fun, or what?”

Lucas smirked. “I'm having a lot of fun, actually.”

Craig smacked him in the arm. “Jerk. You know what I mean. Are you just playing with her?”

“You mean am I planning to heartlessly abandon her for the next unbelievably hot ex-soldier who turns up and wants to be my bodyguard?”

“. . . Was that a yes?”

Lucas unfolded his arms and leaned back against his hands. “Jerk. How idiotic do you think I am?” Craig arched an eyebrow. “Oh, fuck you. I asked her to come home with me over Christmas. When's the last time you saw me do that?”

“I'm fairly sure I've never seen you do that. Not even with Evan.”

Lucas sighed and tapped his fingers in a rapid staccato against the console behind him. “I've never met anyone like her before.”

“Lucas Wheeler. Are you in
love
?” Craig grinned up at him, and Lucas had to smile back. “I thought you didn't like good girls,” Craig said.

“She
is
good,” Lucas agreed, “but she's certainly not boring.”

“Just be careful, yeah? You know how it is out here. Shit gets intense, fast.”

“I think it already has.” Down on the stage, Gwen and Maggie were deep in conversation. He made an amused sound. “Do you think they're having the same conversation down there?”

“You're not that lucky.” Cathy climbed down from the lighting rigs as they watched. Craig sighed. “I'm not that lucky either.”

“We'll talk to her. We'll get it straightened out, I promise.”

***

“Hold up,” Cathy called as she jogged across the stage. Her normally neat ponytail frizzed in wild strands around her, and the shadows beneath her eyes were as pronounced as the ones Gwen saw in the mirror each morning. Everyone was reaching the point of exhaustion.

“Hey, Cathy. You okay?”

“Fine. Listen, some of the rigging—it doesn't look right. I can't get house staff to take me seriously. They say it was just inspected and it's fine.”

“But you don't think it is?”

Cathy shook her head. “Have you seen this place? The stage is slanted, the seats are a wreck—I don't even want to
think
about the wiring—”

“Right,” said Gwen. “Go find out who we need to talk to. Tell him I need to talk to him here. Show him what you found.”

Cathy took off, and Maggie caught up to Gwen. “You're good for him,” Maggie said.

“Oh God, do we have to have this talk now?” Gwen said. “I've got about thirty things to do in the next twenty-five minutes.” They were on stage left, where Gwen was looking up to try to spot the problem Cathy had seen in the lighting rig. Useless, of course—she didn't even know where to look.

“Fine.” Maggie smiled. “But you are.”

Gwen shaded her eyes to get a clearer view. “No, what I am is convenient. I know how he works. It's fine.”

“Gwen, I don't think—”

“Is this the part where you threaten to come after me if I break his heart?”

“Hell, no. I'll come after him if he breaks
yours
.”

Gwen grinned at her. “You probably don't—” A loud crack overhead cut her off. She looked up just in time to see a large chunk of metal support swing free and come arcing toward them, carrying several heavy stage lights. The space between heartbeats became minutes as she reached for Maggie, grabbed her by the arms and tried to pull her from the scaffolding's path.

Someone screamed.

Close. So close. Too slow.

She felt more than heard the thud of the metal against the back of Maggie's head as Gwen pulled them to the stage floor. She heard shouting, but it was lost in the roaring crash of breaking glass and screaming metal. Shards of glass arced across the stage in slow motion, and Gwen curved across Maggie to keep them from reaching her. Someone yelled her name; someone else yelled for Maggie.

She could feel the slow movement of Maggie's breath against her cheek, but Maggie's eyes were closed and there was a lot of blood. She reached for Maggie's pulse. Steady.

Time snapped back into focus. As she gently tilted Maggie's head back—creating an airway—stagehands stamped out sparks and Cathy, pale enough to faint, stood at the foot of the stage. “Shut up,” Gwen yelled. “Everyone
shut up
!” When they did, she said, “Cathy. The green room. Get my bag.” Cathy took a gasping breath and nodded. Gwen pointed at one of the gawkers. “You. Call 999. Or whatever it is here.”

“Gwen?” Lucas had taken Cathy's place by the stage.

“No—don't come up. There's broken glass everywhere.” When Lucas started to vault onto the stage anyway, she snapped, “
Stop.
She'll be okay. It won't help if you get hurt too.”

The scalp wound from the scaffolding was the most visible problem. She squeezed Maggie's shoulder carefully and leaned over. “Maggie?” There wasn't much—a flutter of eyelids—but it was enough. Spinal injury? Probably not. Neck injury? Possibly. She sucked in air through her teeth as Cathy brought the knapsack Gwen kept with her at all times. At first it had just held her own slightly enhanced first aid kit. Now, of course, it also held some of the extra ammunition for the P226 tucked under her arm.

Penlight. Gwen checked Maggie's pupils.
Responsive, good.
She worked to stop the bleeding while the familiar calm and quiet flooded her mind, everything around her fading to background noise except for that slight touch of situational awareness—alert to anything that might be a threat to her or the person she was treating. The stagehand she'd pointed at narrated to the emergency operator what Gwen was doing, but the information barely registered with her. After a few moments, Maggie's eyelids fluttered again, and her eyes opened.

“Stay still,” Gwen murmured. “You're okay. You got hit in the head. Help will be here soon.” Technically, help was already here, but her supplies didn't allow for anything more than the basics. “Are you dizzy? Pain or numbness anywhere besides your head?”

“No—no, it's . . .” Maggie's words were fuzzy, but coherent. “What happened?”

“Lights fell on us. Now, shh. Lie still.” She pulled off her jacket and pillowed it under Maggie's head and shoulders, elevating them slightly. She debated pulling off the shoulder holster and putting it away, but that she was armed was an open secret, and she had the permits with her if anyone asked.

By the time the paramedics arrived Maggie was fully awake and getting irritable. “Gwen, don't let them take me to the hospital. I'm fine.”

“Maggie, you took a metal pole the size of my wrist to the back of your head. You need X-rays and monitoring. You're going to hospital.” Gwen stayed by her while the paramedics did their job—not efficiently enough, to her eyes. Civilian. Lazy and sloppy. The second time she growled in frustration at some perceived ineptitude, Craig took her arm. “Easy. They're fine.” By the time Maggie was loaded on the stretcher and ready to go, the rest of the crew was standing around watching.

“Anyone coming with her?” asked one of the paramedics.

“I will,” said Sally. She looked at Gwen. “You can't. You've got enough of a mess to deal with here.” Gwen didn't like it, but Sally wasn't wrong.

“Fine. Call me.” She gave Maggie's hand a squeeze and kissed the back of it. “You'll be all right, love. It's probably just a little concussion.”

Maggie smiled. “Whatever you say, Doctor.”

Lucas dropped a hand on Gwen's shoulder and she fought to keep from flinching. She couldn't stop the racing of her heart and the slight tremor in her hands now that the adrenaline rush had passed. “She'll be all right,” she told him.

“Thanks to you.” The hand on her shoulder turned into his arms around her, and she realized they were both trembling. “You both could have been killed.”

“We weren't.” She turned in his arms to face him. “Don't go to pieces on me. We're fine, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Craig and Cathy were standing at the foot of the stage, talking again. “Look. Something good might come out of this after all.”

Lucas kissed Gwen on top of her head. “That's something, at least. Come on. Let's get out of the way of the cleanup.”

***

“I'll call Sam if I have to,” Gwen said. “She'll tell you the same.”

“I know. . . .” Lucas made a frustrated sound. “I just hate—”

“You're not going on. There's no way they'll get the stage clear and the lighting rig fixed in two hours.”

“Maggie's going to give me hell for canceling,” Lucas said. The two of them were headed back to the hotel room and then—as far as Lucas was concerned, since he couldn't go onstage—going straight to Maggie's bedside.

“She'll get over it,” Gwen said.

Lucas unlocked the room door while Gwen pulled out her cell phone. As the door swung open, the scent of roses filled the air. Two enormous vases, easily containing two dozen roses each, sat on the desk. An envelope was propped on one of them. With a stone of dread sitting in his stomach, Lucas picked it up and opened it to see familiar spiky handwriting:

Dearest,

I'm willing to fix things for you, as always.

The whore and the butch should no longer be a problem. The flowers are in memory of them—send them to the funerals, if you'd like. They won't be missed.

Now we can finally reunite. Soon. I know you've been longing for me as much as I have for you. We both know you need a real woman.

Lucas read it; read it again. “Gwen.”

She came over and looked around Lucas's shoulder at the note. “Oh God.” The warm pressure of her hand at his back steadied him. “‘The butch.' Does that mean me?”

Lucas cleared his throat. “I think, yes.”

“And ‘a real woman.' So much for the police sketch then,” Gwen said. “We're looking for a woman. And the scaffolding . . .”

“Not an accident.” Lucas leaned against her. The red of the roses made him think of blood; the scent was making him feel ill.

“Now do you believe that she's serious?” she asked, her voice dark and graveled. “That she's a danger to you?”

Lucas pulled away to look at her. “Me? I'm not the one she dropped a lighting rig on. Gwen—she—you—” He couldn't force the words out.
She nearly killed you and Maggie.

Gwen shook her head and pointed at the note. “Read it again. I'm an obstacle. You're the bloody target. She's not going to stop until she gets what she wants. We have to call the police.”

“Oh, what for. They won't do anything. They didn't the last time.”

“Lee, then. He was right, we need more help.”

Lucas fought the urge to tear the note to bits, pretend it never appeared. “We're not calling my big brother.”

“I'm sorry, but to hell with your sibling issues. I'm not risking your life because you want to be a stubborn arse.” Gwen folded her arms, but not before he saw the tremor in her hands. When everyone else had been losing their minds, Gwen had taken over, enforced order, and started treating Maggie. She was paying for it now.

Seeing Maggie lying on the stage bleeding, not knowing if she was alive or dead, had been a nightmare. How much worse would it have been if there had been two bodies on that stage? The reality of it hit him hard, and he pulled Gwen into his arms.