Chapter Thirty-One

Ian stood by his door, waiting for Fallon. When headlights turned into his drive, he opened the door and stepped out into the cold evening. The silver Xterra stopped before him. Fallon climbed out and locked the vehicle as she walked toward him.

"Hey," he said.

"Evening, Cavanaugh." Her tone was brusque.

Grabbing her arm, he stopped her from going up the steps to his front door. "Fallon?" Her body trembled beneath his hand. "What's going on?" She stiffened before she crumpled. Ian thanked God for his quick reflexes as he caught her right before she hit the ground.

His heart beat a mile a minute as he swept her up in his arms and carried her inside to lay her on his couch. "What's wrong, Fallon? Come on, baby, talk to me." He brushed some hair away from her face. This heart broke when he saw the tears on her cheeks. "Oh, Fallon," he whispered.

The doorbell rang and he swore. "I'll be right back." Jumping to his feet, he reached for his wallet as he walked to the door. He paid for the pizza and placed it on the counter before going back to Fallon's side. Dropping to his knees, he took in the tears that still flowed from her eyes. But she remained silent.

"Please talk to me," he begged. "Tell me what's wrong. Let me help, Fallon, please."

"I killed him," she muttered, staring directly at him.

What? "Baby, what are you talking about?"

Fallon sniffed and rubbed the back of her hand across her nose. "Pops. It's my fault he's dead."

Ian frowned. Where the hell did she get this from?

"Your father's death is not your fault." Ian grabbed her shoulder and shook it. "Look at me," he demanded. When she did he reiterated, "It wasn't your fault."

She closed her eyes and her breathing became so shallow he got scared. Then a whisper of her voice reached him.

"It was my fault. He sent me some evidence. I know he was hoping I'd come home and be able to help. But, I never did, all I did was worry about my career." Shudders racked her body. "I got it today. It's all my fault."

"None of this is your fault," Ian tried to console her.

"If I wasn't in the military, I'd have been able to help."

Sitting on the floor, Ian stroked her cheek. "Baby, you're not making any sense. What does your being in the military have to do with anything?"

She wrenched her eyes open, exposing the redness and bloodshot veins. "Everything," Fallon wailed. "Don't you get it?" She sat up and crossed her black BDU-covered legs. Her gaze never wavered from his. "If I hadn't been in situations where I couldn't come home every weekend, maybe it would have been different. He could have had me with him. We could have dealt with this together, and perhaps he'd still be alive today. Some Marine I am, couldn't even protect my own father."

Ian crossed his legs as well and watched her. There was such torment and despair in her face, it was as if a hand reached into his chest and tore out his heart. Uncertain of what he could do or say to help assuage her fears, Ian just reached for her.

He rose up on his knees and uncrossed her legs. Reaching around behind her, he slid her forward on his couch until their waists met, then he maneuvered so his back was against the couch and he sat with his legs straight out in front of him, keeping her anchored against his lap. She burrowed her face into his neck; he felt her legs against his back. Her hands held him tight to her and her fingers dug into his shoulders. Ian closed his eyes and allowed the sensation of her body pressed to his move over him. Her scent lingered, filling his nose, his pores, everywhere. He had realized it was just her natural smell; Fallon didn't wear any perfume or scented lotions. Ian loved it.

Rubbing his hands up and down the thick cotton of her shirt, he let her cry it out. Each sob, each sniff, ripped a bigger hole in his chest. He longed to be able to fix it for her, take away all of the pain that flooded her body. But he couldn't. He wasn't even sure he followed the conversation. I will help you realize your father's death was not your fault, Fallon, he vowed in his mind.

Her sobs turned to hiccups and she loosened her grip around his neck, pulling back to meet his eyes. A few stray tears leaked out of the corners of her big eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

One hand reached up and tucked a few strands of her hair behind her ear. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"I think I need to use your restroom and get cleaned up." She moved to get up and he held her on his lap.

"You've never looked more beautiful," he muttered.

One side of her mouth moved in an attempt at a smile. "I'll show you what I got after we eat something." Her face settled into a blank expression. Fallon got to her feet and walked off silently.

Ian remained on the floor as she walked away from him. He knew what was happening; she was closing herself off to him. He recognized the coolness and detachment from the first day she'd shown up at his desk in the precinct. Standing, Ian smoothed his hands down his thighs and shook his head. I'm not about to lose you, Fallon, not behind that goddamn wall you keep around your heart. He strode to the kitchen and set the table for dinner.

Ian was putting out some beer when she entered the kitchen. His eyes skated over her. She looked much more composed. There was no evidence of her earlier breakdown. Her eyes were not what he wanted to see; the brown ones staring at him were not soft and full of life, they seemed soulless.

"Hope you like sausage, mushroom, peppers, and pepperoni," he said, sending her a smile.

"I'm starved, anything will do." Her smile was wobbly but at least it was there.

Fallon sat across from him at the table and began to eat. Ian let the silence hang between them. He hoped she'd talk to him. She didn't, focusing instead on eating her pizza. After she finished a slice, she pushed the plate away from her and wiped her mouth with a paper towel.

"Thank you for dinner."

"You didn't eat a lot, sure you don't want anymore?" He pushed the box toward her.

"Not right now, but thanks."

With a shrug, he brought his bottle of beer to his lips and took a sip. "Tell me what you did in the military."

She nodded and leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table and reached for another slice of pizza. "I joined right after high school and the Corps became my life. I lived and breathed the Marines. Re-upped without thinking about it. However, I really didn't like guns. Well, I didn't like how they made me feel. So, I focused on martial arts, which I had a knack for. Eventually, I began teaching hand-to-hand combat skills."

Ian stopped eating and watched her talk. Her slim hands tore her piece of pizza into small portions. He noticed her small smile when she mentioned martial arts. He asked, "What do you teach?"

"Mostly how to defend yourself if you are disarmed or weaponless. Like you learn in the academy, just a lot more intense."

"I saw you teaching the Bo at the center, is that something you know very well?"

"I know it. But I wouldn't say that's where my strengths lie."

"So your black belt is for what, then?"

Fallon ripped off a bit of crust and ate it slowly. "I have belts in Ninjitsu and Sambo. Much of what I teach is Krav Maga."

His eyebrows shot up. Krav Maga. What they taught the Mossad. "And now you just teach?"

"Pretty much so. They hire me and I show up and teach. Mostly Marines and Navy, but I have taught the other military branches as well."

"So that's where you learned to move like you do." Her eyebrow rose. "That first day, when you came to the precinct, I almost checked to see if your feet even touched the floor."

A slight chuckle filled the room.

"Well, I know I don't float," Fallon said. "You seem pretty well balanced on your feet yourself."

He grinned. "Checking me out, were you?"

"A woman doesn't kiss 'n tell, Cavanaugh." Fallon stared at him and his heart sank as her expression lost the softness it had just found. "This is why my father was killed," she stated and stood before pulling some items from her pocket.

Ian grabbed some of the photos and his stomach heaved in disgust. Shaking his head, he flipped through picture after picture of young Asian children huddled in what looked like a shipping container; some of the photos were of them holding numbers, dressed in very sexy outfits. There were some pictures of boys as well. He noticed Captain Rick DeVane with some, the coroner and a few more people close to the chief of police. Fallon's father had stumbled onto a sex slave ring. There were pictures of the Port of Seattle and one ship, Venture III. He held up one of DeVane talking to a man at night. The man seemed familiar, but he couldn't place where he'd seen him before.

"Where'd you get these?" he asked.

"The mail. From someone who'd been instructed to get it to me if my father died. I got it today." She leaned forward. "I need your help."

Her words startled him. He hadn't expected her to ask him for help. The fact she had meant a great deal to him.

"I can't let this continue. They have to pay for what they did to Pops and what they are doing to these children."

Ian agreed. This atrocity needed to be stopped. They need to be stopped. Running a hand over his jaw, he frowned. "I don't know how far this goes. One of the men here is a district commander. The chief may be involved. We'll have to be careful."

"I don't want you to ruin your career. I don't need you headlining this. I'll do that. But I need access to cop information and you can get that for me."

Ian felt torn between pride and hurt. She needed his help, wanted to protect his career, and didn't want him involved. Did she not think he could handle it? He was an officer of the law, for crying out loud. "Don't worry about my career. I'll see what I can dig up."

"No, if you start making noise on this, they may stop for a while. I can't let that happen. He will be stopped."

Ian shivered at the malice tingeing her words. As much as he wanted to argue, he knew she was right. They couldn't afford to spook them. Still something nagged at him and he needed the answer. "Why me?" he asked. "Why'd you come to me?"

She held his gaze for a short time before answering, "You're the only cop I trust." Her eyes never wavered from his. "I believe you have the courage to help me stop this."

"And?" Ian wanted something else from her. He wanted a different reason. Ian wanted her to tell him she needed him. Not because of the case, but because she had feelings for him.

"And…I'm sorry I accused you of bleeding blue."

Moving away from the table, Ian walked toward her. "No other reason?" He crouched beside her, touched her leg, and waited.

"What other reason would there be?"

Ian bit back a growl of anger. He knew she had feelings for him. Why couldn't she say it? Wiping all expression off his face, he stood with a jerk and walked back to his chair. "No reason," he snapped. Flopping down, he ran his tongue over his upper teeth and questioned, "So what do you want from me?"