Chapter 36: Chapter Thirty-Six

Ian sat in the booth across from Detective Josh Sparks, a tall man who worked in Major Case. He had cold blue eyes and a beard that he stroked as he stared at Ian, sizing him up. Remaining silent, Ian waited for Detective Sparks to speak first.

"I hear you're looking for an antique or two," Sparks said, resting his big arms on the table.

"You heard right. Can you help?"

"I know people with such guns." He ate a chip from the basket. "What are you looking for specifically?"

"A Webley Mark IV." Ian watched Josh's expression; it hardened briefly before recomposing itself.

"Why are you looking for one of them?"

Ian smiled boyishly. "It's a present for me Da. That is one gun he'd personally like to have." Josh nodded. Ian's father was well known. "So," Ian continued, "if you know someone who has one I'd love to talk to them. But can we please keep it quiet, I'd like to be able to surprise him."

"I'll get in touch with some people and let you know."

Ian nodded and slid out of the booth without another word. As he walked away, he cast a glance over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of Josh on his cell phone. Slipping behind the wheel of his Cobra, Ian's thoughts drifted to a feisty woman named Fallon Maddox. He knew he had other things he should be thinking about. However, as he drove home, his mind returned to her and her dark beauty.

His cock hardened in his jeans and he struggled to remain focused on his driving. He sighed with relief as his garage door shut behind him. Going inside, he headed for his bedroom, pulling off his shirt along the way. He froze before his bed as he envisioned Fallon lying naked, waiting for him. With a groan, he rubbed the bulge in his jeans.

Undoing his pants, he toed off his shoes and slid his jeans down his legs. His cock strained against his boxers and he tried to ignore it as he removed his socks. It refused to be ignored and throbbed insistently. Ian removed his boxers and tossed his clothing into the hamper. His erection stood out, begging for attention.

Padding to his shower, Ian set the temperature to cool despite the cold rain that fell outside. Gritting his teeth, he bit back a hiss of discomfort as the cold water doused his skin. He locked his knees and stood there as his body acclimated to the temperature.

Still, despite the cold his erection refused to subside. "Fallon," he groaned, giving in and wrapping his fingers around the hard shaft. Her sultry eyes and luscious lips encouraged him. Up and down, he moved his hand. The crisp smell he associated with Fallon filled his senses. Faster and faster he fisted his cock, imagining it wasn't his hand gripping him, but Fallon's tight hot pussy.

A low moan built up from his chest and exploded out of his mouth as his erection jerked and unloaded thick streams of cum. Shaky, Ian leaned against the shower wall until his world stopped spinning. Then he washed up and got out.

Moving through his house in only a towel, Ian set up his coffee table with the items he needed to clean his guns. There was something relaxing about doing that. Some of his best thoughts arrived when he cleaned his weapons. Putting on a pair of loose fitting jeans, he got to work.

He had cleaned one Glock and was almost done with the other when his doorbell rang. Setting the semi-automatic down, he walked to the door and pulled it open. Ian's breath caught from the cold air and the woman who stood there.

Fallon Maddox.

"Hello, Cavanaugh," she said softly, her eyes turning molten as they moved over his naked chest.

"Come on in." He stepped back to allow her entrance. His mouth was on hers even before the door fully shut behind them. Her warm mouth welcomed his seeking tongue and his groin responded immediately.

She pulled back and gave him a sexy smile. "Hi."

"Hi yourself," he said huskily. "I missed you." Ian touched the side of her face gently.

"Well, I'd have been here sooner if I knew you were wandering around shirtless."

He kissed her fast and hard. "Want a drink?" Ian helped her out of her bomber jacket and his cock pulsed as he took in her tight black ribbed shirt. She wore green cargo pants and tennis shoes.

"Please. What are you up to?" she asked as they walked in the kitchen.

"Cleaning my gun," he said as he poured her some tea.

Her gaze trailed down to his crotch where it lingered for a moment before she met his eyes and smiled wickedly. "Really?"

Handing her the glass he nodded. "Really." Turning her head, Ian pointed to the coffee table. "See... my gun."

"Humph. I think this one is more impressive," she drawled softly as her free hand cupped his erection and stroked it through his jeans. Ian felt empty when she dropped her hand and walked to the tan couch.

"Tease," he muttered as he sat on his couch and picked up his gun again. He reassembled the second Glock, set it aside, then reached for his backup piece, slipping it out of its holster.

"A Walther PPK," Fallon said with a nod.

Ian looked at her. He forgotten she didn't like guns but it sure sounded like she knew them.

"Yes, my ankle's guardian. Is this making you uncomfortable?"

"No. I'm not scared of guns, I just don't like them. Keep on doing what you do. Naked male torso and guns." She winked. "Every woman's fantasy."

His jeans grew tighter at her words. He removed the magazine and cleared the chamber. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but was there another reason you stopped by aside from turning me into a horny old man?"

Her husky laugh did more than warm him. It stroked his cock like a tight glove. Shifting on the seat, he focused his attention on her.

"Yes, actually. Although we'll have to re-explore that whole horny bit." She smiled. "I wanted to invite you to Thanksgiving dinner."

Ian ran his tongue across his lips. She was asking him to spend a holiday with her. His heart skipped a few beats.

"I mean, there's no pressure," Fallon stated. "Just so you know the offer's there."

"I'd love to. Thank you for inviting me," he blurted out before she changed her mind and rescinded the offer.

"You sure you don't have plans that'll conflict?"

He grinned. "Oh no. I'll be yours... all day." His eyes followed the motion in her throat as she swallowed. Good to know he wasn't the only one feeling horny. Her responding smile sent volts of electricity straight to his groin.

The doorbell rang and Ian bit back a curse as he rose to get it. His father stood there and behind him... was his mother. Shit! Both of them looked mad enough to spit nails.

"Hello, Da. Ma." With a deep breath, he stepped aside and both of them stomped through the door. He shut it quietly behind them.

"Tell your father, you and I are having Thanksgiving dinner together," his mother demanded.

Well, I must say, it didn't start as early as I thought it would. Even so, he wished he had just ignored the door.

"You spent it with him last year, Brighid," Donal griped. "I should be able to see my son for a holiday meal."

His mother snapped, "Don't you just drink away your holidays, you old geezer?"

"Shut it, crone," Donal returned. "My son is celebrating with me this year."

"Ohhh, beer and pizza, how exciting."

Ian rubbed his head. This could easily go on for hours.

"And what are you doing that's so damn special?" Donal asked.

Brighid looked down her nose at her ex and said, "Hank and I are having a big meal and I want Ian there."

Hank? Ian looked at his dad. His father's gray eyes widened slightly at his mom's words before they grew cold.

"Hank? Keep him locked up, do you? Scared he's going to run away the first chance he gets? Probably not the best idea to have a cop over for dinner," Donal ground out.

She sniffed indignantly. "He could leave if he wanted but he's usually too exhausted from all our bedroom activities."

As Ian watched his father's gaze narrow, he realized his da most likely still had feelings for his ex. Intervention was necessary. "Enough!" Ian demanded. "I already have plans. I'm going to be," he moved to where Fallon sat silently on the tan couch, "with Fallon and her brothers."

As he sat beside her, his parents stared, neither saying a word. His da headed for the other couch and sat, his gray eyes straying between him and Fallon. With a huff, his ma sat in a recliner.

"This is a joke, right?" Brighid asked.

"No, Ma. It's not. I was extended an invitation and I accepted it."

"What about us?" she whined.

"I thought you had Hank," his father added.

"Well, maybe I'm thinking of you," she bit off. "We all know you're all alone."

"Maybe I should leave," Fallon's soothing voice fell over Ian. Her toned body began to rise.

"No!" Ian emphasized. "You stay. They'll stop or they can leave."

His living room fell silent; both parents stared as Fallon retook her seat.

"I'm sorry, Miz Maddox," Donal said. "It's good to see you again."

Ian looked between Fallon and his father. She wouldn't meet his eyes but instead answered his da. "And you, sir."

Reaching for the coffee table, Ian dragged it closer to him and began to clean his gun again. He stopped briefly to steal a drink of Fallon's tea. "I'm afraid you two will be on your own this year," he said as Fallon took the glass back.

"At least stop by in the morning so you can meet Hank."

His father lifted his lip and snarled. "You start cooking in the morning?"

"Well, not too early. Hank and I like to lounge in bed in the mornings. You know after we've—"

"Ma!" Ian said, appalled. "I don't need to hear that." He looked at the woman who'd given him life. Her gaze was mocking as she stared at her ex. Ian cast a glance to his father, who sat there looking like he'd swallowed something foul.

With a haughty sniff, Brighid stared at her son. "Do you always clean your gun shirtless?"

Ian caught the twitch of Fallon's lips as she waited for his answer as well. Sending the woman beside him a warning glare, he smiled at his mom. "Not always, no."

His dad stood, walked around to Fallon, and leaned over to whisper something in her ear before he kissed her cheek and touched the side of her face with his hand. "Goodbye, son, Miz Maddox." Donal looked at Brighid. "Crone." Then he left.

Ian watched as his mother's shoulders slumped after his father left. She's still in love with him as well. She stood too and said goodbye. "Do stop by in the morning, Ian." She brushed a kiss on his cheek. "Goodbye."

He walked his mom out and as he shut the door, he leaned against it briefly. Shaking his head over his parents' behavior, he pushed away from the door and moved back toward the couch. And Fallon.