“Baby.” I choked out a groan. “I never want to leave this room. Take my T-shirt off your body. Now.”
Pounding on the door sounded from the other room, and we both jerked our heads toward the noise.
“Madoc Caruthers?” a stiff voice called.
Fallon turned her wide eyes to me, and I sat up, setting her to the side of the bed.
Walking toward the door, I shook my head in dawning realization. I should’ve had Jared register the room. I’d been smart enough not to use my credit card, but I never thought my father would take the time to call the hotels of Chicago looking for me.
“Yes?” I asked, opening the door and then immediately dropping my f**king jaw.
The cops? What the hell?
“We’d like to ask you a few questions,” a lean black officer said with his hand resting on his baton. I didn’t take that as a threat. Maybe I should? The other cop was a female. Middle-aged with red hair.
“What’s this about?”
The lady cop tipped her chin at me. “Is Fallon Pierce with you?”
My heart started thumping. What now?
“Yes,” I finally answered.
“Your stepsister, right?” the male cop confirmed.
I hooded my eyes and sighed. “For the moment, yes. Our parents are getting a divorce.”
“What’s going on?” Fallon asked, stepping up to my side. She was dressed in jeans and her white blouse from yesterday tucked in. All of the clothing that had been sitting in a ball on the floor for the past twenty-four hours. She also had her glasses on.
“Are you Fallon Pierce?”
Fallon crossed her arms. “Yes.”
“Your mother reported you missing yesterday morning,” Redhead explained. “She says she was threatened by Mr. Caruthers, claiming he said he was going to . . .” She looked at her notes and continued. “‘Put her through a wall.’ And then you were taken.”
Both cops looked at me, and I wanted to laugh. Fallon turned to me with a smirk on her face, and as serious as cops visiting your door is, we started laughing.
The officers exchanged a look as my chest shook and Fallon covered her smile with her hand.
“Did you threaten Mrs. Caruthers, sir?”
Which Mrs. Caruthers? I felt like asking, but I resisted. No one would know about our marriage yet, and our parents had to find out from us and no one else if we were going to be taken seriously.
“Officers,” I assured, “these are family issues. I would never have touched my stepmother. Fallon is here of her own free will, and there is no problem.”
“Mr. Caruthers,” the male cop started. “We know who your father is—”
But then all hell broke loose. A woman and her cameraman rushed up behind the police officers and stuck a microphone between them in my direction. I reared back, and Fallon grabbed my hand.
“Madoc Caruthers?” the woman shouted, stumbling into the cops. “Son of Jason Caruthers? Are you having an affair with your stepsister? Her mother claims you kidnapped her?”
My f**king heart lodged like a baseball in my throat, and I couldn’t breathe.
Motherfucker! Shit!
I swallowed, looking down at Fallon.
“Now, that’s enough!” one of the officers growled, both turning around and holding up their hands to shield us from the intrusion.
What the hell? My dad was a big deal, but not that big of a deal. Someone had to have tipped these people off.
The female cop kept her voice calm. “Let’s get this under control. You’re interfering with police business.”
“Is he holding you against your will?” The reporter shook her brown bangs out of her eyes, looking intense and determined.
I leaned over to grab the door to close it, but Fallon barked.
“Stop,” she ordered. “He’s not Mr. Caruthers. And he’s not holding me against my will, for Christ’s sake! And we’re not having some sordid relationship. He’s my . . .”
Oh, no.
“. . . husband!” she finished.
I closed my eyes, wincing, and let out a low groan.
Shit. Fuck. Son of a bitch.
I shoved Fallon back, grabbed the door, and slammed it shut, hearing the cops ordering the reporter and her cameraman away.
Locking the door, I slid down the wall next to it and crashed to my ass.
Knees bent, I rested my forearms on them and banged my head against the wall once.
“Awesome.” I breathed in and out, barely noticing that Fallon stayed where I’d pushed her out of the way.
My fists clenched, and I was sure my face was beet red. I felt stupid. Why did I always underestimate Patricia?
“Oh, my God,” she finally said, looking dazed. “That was creepy. My mother’s insane.”
“No, she’s smart,” I said flatly. “We just made the news and embarrassed my father.”
Her head fell, and she walked over and sat down next to me.
“Madoc, I’m sorry. I panicked.”
I put my arms around her. “It’s okay. I guess we don’t have to worry about making the rounds to the parents anymore.”
Everyone—and I mean everyone—was going to know I was married by the time they went to sleep tonight. There would be no end to the texts and calls for a while as my family and friends would all want to know what was going on.
“How did they know we were here?” she asked.
“I registered under my name.” I sounded less embarrassed than I actually was. “Your mom wouldn’t have had to work too hard to find us if she found out we weren’t at school.”
Her chest fell hard. “That’s going to be on the eleven o’clock news.”
“And it’ll be on the Internet in about five minutes. Media outlets have to compete with the speed of Facebook, after all. They’ll have that loaded up in no time.”
I sat there, quiet and stunned, trying to figure out what to do next.
“Look at me,” she urged.
I did and fell back into the comfort of her green eyes.
“We can’t stay here,” she stated. “Where should we go?”
Leaning my head back, I licked my lips, thinking.
Fallon and I did nothing wrong. We weren’t running away just so we could have a mini-honeymoon. And we weren’t starting our marriage fearing our parents’ wrath. If we wanted to be respected as adults, then we had to face the music.
I stood up, pulling her after me. “Home,” I said. “We’re going home.”
• • •