Page 157 of Ride the Sky

Fallon’s chin trembles, her dark lashes lowering as she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Flowers?” she says it so quietly we have to learn forward to hear her. “Were there flowers?”

“Dead ones,” Davis says, keeping his calm expression on Fallon. “Roses.”

The sound of a siren cuts the air.

“Excuse me, I’ll be right back.” Richter stalks toward the arriving police cruiser.

My brother gives me a worried look. “I don’t like this. First Reese, now Fallon—”

Fallon sucks in a breath. “What happened to Reese?”

Davis hesitates then says, “That night y’all went to the arcade. There was something in her drink. She was sick as a damn dog. Ford had to take her to the hospital.”

“Oh my god,” Fallon whispers, clutching at my arm.

“What the fuck?” Anger sweeping through me, I lift a hand. “Why am I hearing about this now?” Fucking assholes. I hate it when my brothers do this. Keep me out of the loop.

Face lined with regret, Davis gruffs out, “You had enough goin’ on.”

“Wyatt.” Fallon tugs on my arm, her eyes wide and wet. “That wasn’t Reese’s drink.” She’s white as death. “That was mine.”

I can’t take the fear in her voice. It unhinges me.

Fallon’s brows pull together as she stares at the note in her hand. “Who the fuck is doing this?”

I cup her pale cheek. “None of this is your fault.”

Davis meets my stare, his eyes full of worry and anger.

The flowers. The DMs. The drink. Now this.

Someone wants to hurt Fallon. We were idiots for not taking it seriously before.

I pull Fallon to me. “I think it’s a good time to tell him about the DMs.” If anyone can figure this shit out, it’s Davis.

Davis’s gaze narrows between the two of us. “What DMs?”

Fallon lets out a stuttered breath then launches into what’s been happening the last two months.

“Goddammit, you two,” Davis growls. But he doesn’t sound pissed. He sounds worried. “You don’t keep me out of stuff when it comes to your safety.” Then, exhaling, he looks at me. “I want you both on the ranch,” he demands. “Tonight. No arguments.”

Rule number one when it comes to Davis: Never fuck around with his family if you don’t want to find out.

I give him a grateful nod.

“Bossy,” Fallon mutters.

“Deal with it.” Davis squeezes Fallon’s shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay, honey.”

She will be. Because if someone touches Fallon, I’ll burn this world to cinders.

After one last glance at us, Davis heads for his truck.

Fallon’s pained eyes search mine. “How many times can everyone say it’ll be okay before it isn’t?”

“It will be,” I promise, pulling her closer. “You’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

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