Fury of Love

By Brenda Billock

Fallon escapes to the country, away from the pain of a cheating boyfriend, and runs head long into a handsome stranger. When she discovers a murdered girl, the investigation drawers her into the investigation, and into the arms of Grayson, a man too perfect to believe love could be real.

Grayson has never met a woman more beautiful or exciting as Fallon. Even her damaged spirit, can’t dissuade him from falling in love with her. While trying to win the heart of a woman on the rebound is a challenge, he finds his life spiraling out of control with a killer on the loose.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Billock Books
• Release date: Jun 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215955413

Book preview

Chapter One

Fallon Bannister looked at the stack of books on the floor. She had sorted through them, separating them into his and hers piles.

She picked up her high school yearbooks. Why she kept them, she didn’t know. It wasn’t like she had the same friends. Once she left her small town, she moved away from them too.

When she opened the book from her freshman year, she read the signatures. Not one looked familiar. As she flipped through the pages, she tried to pick out someone she recognized. A face here and there looked familiar, and only when she read their name, did she have a vague memory of knowing them.

It had been over ten years since she thought of those people. Once a year, she managed to visit her grandmother, but rarely ventured out of the house into town. This year might be different. Now that her aunt died, her grandmother had no one to look after her. Fallon figured she’d have to make time to visit more than the usual once a year.

She continued going through the book, looking at the grades ahead of her. They really were strangers. She smiled picking out the cute fellows. Why hadn’t she noticed them when she went to school? Immaturity, she figured.

Now as she compared the years, she saw how boyish her classmates appeared. The sophomores and juniors had a few guys looking closer to adults. When she got to the senior photos, she studied some of the girls. She knew a couple. Several were very mature, well developed, and could pass for grown-ups.

Fallon let out a laugh. Even now, at twenty-eight, she felt that twinge of jealousy for girls with beautiful figures and faces.

She went to shut the book and stopped. The dark-haired dreamboat caught her attention. She didn’t remember him and sort of wished she had. He looked her type in appearance. But was he intelligent or one of those cute jocks without a brain in their head? She had no use for a dunce.

A noise in the kitchen prodded Fallon up off the couch. She sat aside the book and her reminiscing of bygone years. She tied her robe, already guessing who’d be thumping around the place that early in the morning.

Down the short hallway sat the neat stack of plain cardboard boxes. She took a deep, shuddering breath before stepping around the mishmash of her torn-apart life. An icy chill stiffened her spine. One year, three months, and four days wasted on a man who didn’t respect her enough to remain faithful.

Oh, you’re home. John sheepishly glanced at the boxes the movers hadn’t yet taken.

He kicked a smaller one tighter into the pile as if it were an amends for what he had done to her. Nothing would make up for the hurt and betrayal. Many things in a relationship could be and should be overlooked, but infidelity, never. Especially not with the feeble excuse that he couldn’t help himself.

Fallon folded her arms over her worn robe. Yes, I’m home. It’s my townhouse.

She had purposely stayed away the day before, giving him an opportunity to pack up and move out.

This won’t take long. He looked away. It got too late for them to get everything loaded yesterday.

I noticed. She liked seeing him uneasy. The hollow victory fell far from making her happy. I expected you to call and make arrangements to come back, not just show up. You haven’t lived here in two weeks.

I was hoping—

"Hoping what, I’d change my mind and let you move back in?

He appeared as if he might want to crawl into one of the large boxes and hide. She imagined generously helping, taping the box shut after he got inside. It touched on the start of many wicked thoughts evolving from her anger as she visualized padding the interior, muffling his pleas for help.

The rent is paid through next month. I went ahead and paid the water bill too. His stance shuffled from one foot to the other on the white ceramic tile. The annoying squeak pinched at her frazzled nerves.

I can afford my own bills. She looked down to avoid his eyes. I paid them before you moved in, and I’m quite capable of doing so again.

They’d had love and passion. Headed for marriage with talk of having children, John destroyed her fairy-tale existence, shattering the happiness comforting her life.

I know you can pay them. I meant they came before this all happened, and…well, they’re just paid, that’s all.

She glanced up from staring at her worn-out pink fuzzy slippers. John’s crestfallen expression angered her.

I sorted the books. The stack inside the living room door is yours, he said.

He didn’t have a right to look upset, sad, or bitter. The breakup was all his fault.

Fallon, I don’t have to go.

Don’t start. Resentment boiled in her belly, making her feel sick. You strayed like a dog on the scent of a better bitch. I can’t just go back to blissful ignorance.

It shouldn’t have surprised her that John, an FBI agent, was capable of withholding information. As ordinary as drinking coffee in the morning, not divulging facts came with the job. His stakeouts were long and tiresome. She understood that. But even with her many tedious hours of working for the newspaper, she never once thought of hopping into bed with a coworker.

I didn’t mean it like that. He raked his fingers through his hair. We could share the townhouse until you have longer to think about us.

I can’t begin to imagine changing my mind or it ever working out. You cheated on me. Not only did that bit of information hurt, but you also got your partner pregnant. How do you think that makes me feel, knowing as you do, how much I dreamed of having children? Our children?

If Fallon ever hated someone more than John, it was his partner, Karen. The woman had a petite frame, a striking figure, and long, dark hair that mesmerized men the way a flower attracts a bee. She was the reason the whole mess came about. Men shamelessly buzzed around her every chance they got, and instead of picking a single guy, she latched onto the one she should have stayed away from.

Fallon took another deep breath. It was over. She didn’t need to stress out thinking about the woman who charmed John into going to bed with her. She needed to focus on the positive side of the situation. John showing his true colors before she made the mistake of marrying him.

Have you got everything? She didn’t want him having any excuse for coming back.

I think so. He scanned the area.

Good.

The knock at the door turned him away from her. She watched as he let in the movers. Doubts about her decision continued to plague her thoughts. She fought the lingering feelings. He made such a case for them staying together, including profuse apologies. Yet, she hadn’t felt the sincerity that should have been there, or she didn’t want to accept it.

John directed the men as if they couldn’t see the pile of boxes sitting right where they took stuff from before. Numb from the roller-coaster ride, she remained silent as John instructed the workers, telling them which of the boxes held breakables.

The wishes she had to forgive and forget eluded her. Based on familiarity, she ignored the residual sentiments. He became nothing more than a stranger who had invaded her heart for a short while. The time had come to move on, and she’d get her heart to believe it too.

Don’t forget the books. She reminded him when a mover came back into the house.

John told the mover where they were, then added, You could make another trip.

His obvious attempt at stalling didn’t work.

The mover got the books, and picked up the last boxes. I got it, Mr. Walstead. The man balanced the boxes and left.

Fallon stood alone with John. She glanced at his disheveled brown hair. Normally, he had it combed neatly. His unkempt appearance informed her he wasn’t having any better of a morning than she was.

I guess I should get going, he said. They need me at my new place to unlock the door.

Oh, you found a place so quickly in the city?

She wondered if he had moved in with Karen. Torturing herself with little details kept her resolve strong so she wouldn’t take him back.

It’s just temporary, something the agency has for emergencies.

Yes, the FBI couldn’t have their field agents sitting about homeless. It wasn’t anything she’d thought of before, but they had safe houses. His temporary residency could very well be his office for all she knew, or the place he had his rendezvous with Karen.

Fallon didn’t care. She needed him out of her life.

How rational everything seemed now. Weeks before, she hadn’t believed there would come a time she didn’t scream obscenities at him. The outrageously colorful names she had for his character would make the devil’s ears bleed.

John had sworn he’d only been with Karen a few times. The confessions made her feel worse. One time, a mistake, but several occurrences marked a pattern of premeditated willingness.

John’s stance near the doorway remained tense, not the picture of confidence for an FBI agent. Even while love hovered in the background of her thoughts, she’d never look at him again as trustworthy. She deserved a strong, loving man who adored her enough to never stray.

Fat chance, she thought. It seemed everywhere she turned she heard of some man cheating on his wife, girlfriend, and so on.

Lock the door when you leave. Fallon retreated to the spare bedroom she had converted into a study. From the doorway, she examined the disarray of her belongings. With the removal of John’s chair, computer table, and shelf unit, the room looked different. Her stuff sat neatly stacked on the floor, sadly out of place.

Sorry. I didn’t know what you wanted me to do with your things. He startled her from behind.

I’ll take care of it.

She felt his breath hot near the back of her head. Tears hung balanced on her lower eyelids.

Fallon, you know I really don’t want to lose you. He touched her shoulder. I care about you.

As easy as turning, she knew she could have him hold her. However, words didn’t reverse the actions and reactions or take back painful memories. Empty statements didn’t remedy a betrayal.

Goodbye, John. She stepped away from him.

She turned around, throwing her shoulders back to bolster her emotions against the fear of breaking down in tears.

He reached a hand to her arm, and Fallon clenched her jaw, unwavering in her decision.

None of it meant anything, really, he said.

So, any female will do? Thank you very much, but that’s about all the specifics I want to hear. She jerked her arm out of his clutches.

Had he thought of other women over the course of their relationship? Was Karen his first affair or one of many? Disgust turned her stomach sour. How had she not seen him for what he was? A liar and a cheat. And not good enough for her.

I don’t want to ever touch you again. She told him.

Oh, and I suppose you suddenly stopped liking sex?

Pursing her lips in aggravation, she gripped the edge of the door. Only with you, John. Her knuckles blanched as she shut the door in his face.

The humiliation made her want to scream. She leaned against the wood and waited. It seemed to take John forever to leave. The click of the kitchen door signaled she was alone. She went through the townhouse room by room. She trusted John to take only his belongings, but she wanted to see what he might have left behind as an excuse to come back.

They’d purchased the coffeemaker together, and she peeled the sticky note from it.

I always considered this yours. You drink more coffee than me.

Many items were gone that nobody else would notice. She did. The clock on the living room table, the picture of them hanging in the foyer, and the statue of a Great Dane was among the missing objects. She bought him that statue because she refused to have a dog in a small townhouse. With busy lives, it didn’t seem fair to make an animal sit alone inside all day.

Fallon put on her running clothes, anxious to get out of the townhouse. Jogging in and around the park was something she had started to do because of John. Every morning he ran to keep in shape. She ran to spend time with him. Then, while the job kept him away on cases, she slowed her pace from running to jogging. Soon she found she did laps in the park alone. His late nights left him tired or out, and as she learned, sometimes Karen had his attention.

Oh! She squealed thinking how she busted her butt to keep in shape for him. She could spit nails.

The phone rang, and Fallon picked up the cordless. Hello? she shouted.

Why, hello to you too, her friend and coworker Tara replied.

Sorry. John came by to pick up his stuff. Fallon leaned against the kitchen counter, letting the sharp edge press into her back.

Is the scumbag gone?

Yes, finally. I was just on my way out to jog. Can I call you back later?

Are you alright?

I’m fine, Fallon lied. John and I are so over that I’ve been wondering what kind of guy I’ll date next.

You keep telling yourself that, and I hope you’ll soon mean it. Tara laughed. Call me when you get back. Bye.

Fallon felt no better for the conversation. She seriously wondered if she’d be able to be with another man ever. Yet, the idea of being alone depressed her.

The fanny pack lay waiting for her to sprint out the door. She checked for her water bottle, her townhouse keys, and her cell phone. Glancing around the room, she wondered if moving might not be a good choice for her to put all the bad behind.

Letting that thought go for another day, she jogged down the stairs to the entrance door of the townhouse building. Taking her usual route, she reached the park in under ten minutes. The path was not crowded. That was a nice change. Her late work schedule missed the early morning joggers. She did the routine lap around the perimeter before making a figure eight through the middle.

Her cell phone rang with its weak, sad Christmas jingle that she kept meaning to change all year. Now with the start of fall, it didn’t matter. Slowing her gait, pulling her fanny pack around her waist, she retrieved the phone.

Fallon? It’s Gran, the woman’s garbled voice announced.

Gran, what’s wrong? she asked, finding the call unusual. Fallon always initiated a call to her grandmother.

She walked in circles over a large area, hoping for better reception.

I had a fire yesterday.

A fire? Are you alright? Were you hurt? What happened? I can be there in a few hours.

I’m fine, Fallon. You don’t need to come. I’ve already hired a contractor.

Oh no, Gran. You shouldn’t be alone. I’ll pack and come as quickly as possible. You just sit tight and don’t do anything until I get there. You are alright, aren’t you?

Yes, Fallon.

Okay, bye.

Fallon’s heart raced. Her skin was beaded with fine perspiration. Exhaustion and worry depleted what nerves she had left, and she ran home on somewhat rubbery legs. She packed clothes, toiletries, and her computer. A trip away from the townhouse came as a blessing.

It took only ten minutes to head out. She called her grandmother making sure she was alright. Then, calling for a ride share, she took her bags out by the curb. Traffic was heavy, but the car arrived within fifteen minutes. When the vehicle stopped, she opened the door herself, not waiting for assistance as the old man put her bags in the trunk.

The wizened fellow she thought was too old to be driving grinned at her. Where to, lady? He watched her through his rearview mirror.

Oakmont parking garage. She shifted her bags over on the seat.

She poked through her purse on the short drive, looking for her cell phone. Damn.

Something wrong, lady?

I forgot my cell phone in my fanny pack, that’s all. I’ll have to go back. She pushed all the items in her lap into her oversized handbag.

You want I should turn around?

She looked over the seat at the meter and the parking garage sign.

No, just take me inside to my car. Level four. I can drive myself.

They circled the ramp until they reached the right deck. She pointed to her car.

She got out and went to the back, where the old man took all her stuff out of the trunk. She carried what she could to sit by her trunk.

The ride share car backed a few feet, turned and drove away.

Aargh! It wasn’t a word but an awful sound of disgruntlement. She looked at the bag the driver rolled over in his haste to leave.

Unlocking her car, she tossed in the tire-marked bag. It usually held just clothes. Since she’d condensed to accommodate her computer, she stared at the thing in horror.

Oh please, please, please…not my computer! The zipper on the bag fought her.

Once open, she threw the clothes on the pavement and stared at the crushed laptop. The gray plastic had components oozing from the cracks. Lifting the lid, the inside appeared like a gutted fish, full of exposed wires and circuitry.

I hope you like your ratings dinged, she yelled, tears of frustration streaming down her face.

She scooped up the precious damage and placed it in the trunk hoping a computer repair shop could at least retrieve the manuscript of her almost-completed novel.

Making the stop at her townhouse required double-parking. Without hesitation, she