Follow Me Down Read online

  Copyright © 2020 by Melissa Toppen

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted by U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the author.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, or organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. This book is intended for 18+ older, and for mature audiences only.

  Editing by Amy Gamache @ Rose David Editing

  Cover Design by Cassy Roop @ Pink Ink Designs

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Fallon

  My feet pound against the earth. Sticks and branches poke into my bare feet as I move. I push past the pain. I don’t have another choice. My sandals are somewhere back there. Where he is.

  The sound of my heart drums violently in my ears. Even with the distance, I can still feel his breath on my face. Smell the warm alcohol in my nostrils. Feel the weight of him on top of me. Hear my pleas for him to stop.

  I can’t breathe.

  His forearm pressed against my throat, restricting my ability to pull in air. Keeping me from crying for help when I’d tried, though I doubt anyone would have heard me. We were too deep in the woods, too far from the party by the lake.

  I still don’t know how I got away and I shudder to think what he would have done if I hadn’t, or what he will do if he catches me.

  I try to shake off the vision, push everything to the back of my mind and focus on the path ahead, but it’s impossible to do when every step I take feels like he’s closing in on me.

  Tears blur my vision, making it hard for me to see through the heavy foliage.

  But I have to get as far away from here as fast as I can.

  I have nothing with me. My purse and cell phone are at the lake house where I’d planned to stay the week with my friend, Christy. She’s back at the bonfire, completely unaware of the hell I’ve found myself in.

  When Austin suggested we take a walk, I had never imagined the terrifying turn it would take. I’d met him this afternoon, and he seemed nice enough. Well dressed, well-spoken, a guy I would never dream capable of such violence. I guess it goes to show you really can’t judge a book by its cover. No matter how put together someone may seem, you can never know the darkness that lives inside.

  Ahead is a clearing in the woods. The orange glow of the setting sun highlighting the road on the other side of the trees, and I run faster.

  I don’t look to see if any cars are coming. I don’t have time to stop. If I stop he might catch me. If he catches me, I have no doubt that he will drag me back and finish what he started.

  A blur of black metal flashes past me the instant my feet hit the pavement, a rush of wind blowing my blonde curls into my face. My heart nearly jumps out of my chest.

  Seconds later, tires squeal and I turn to see a black motorcycle skid to a stop a few yards in front of me.

  My feet are already moving me toward the bike before I have time to think.

  “Help me,” I croak, my throat coarse and dry.

  The driver climbs off the bike, the roar of the engine no doubt drowning out my voice.

  “Help me,” I try again, my steps faltering when the driver turns toward me and removes his helmet.

  My feet stop so abruptly that I nearly lose my balance. Warning bells ping in my head like a pinball, and I have the sudden urge to turn and run the other way, but for some reason I don’t move.

  Why am I not moving?

  This man isn’t a wolf pretending to be a sheep. He’s a wolf. With one look I know that my already bad situation may have gotten a hell of a lot worse.

  He takes a step toward me, his black boots heavy against the pavement. The look of anger on his face is undeniable. But I’m too distracted by the rest of him to let that thought take hold.

  He’s older than me. Maybe in his late twenties. He’s tall, lean but muscular, and his sandy colored hair looks a mess with chunks falling into his eyes. Week-old scruff lines his jaw, which ticks as his gaze does a full sweep of me. An involuntary shudder runs down my spine.

  He’s gorgeous. There’s no denying that. But there’s also something dark about him. Something scary. Something that tells me I may have outrun the fire only to find myself smack dab in the middle of the dragon’s lair.

  His arms are covered in various tattoos and there’s a large one across his neck that dips down into the material of his black tee, which only adds to his intimidating presence.

  “What the fuck?” The sound of his raspy voice makes me jump. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he scolds, stopping a couple of feet from me.

  “I... I need to get out of here,” I stutter, looking behind me as I remember why I was running to begin with.

  When I turn back and meet his gaze, I find myself looking into stormy eyes. The same color gray the sky gets right before it rains.

  He looks behind me, clearly trying to figure out what I’m looking for before his eyes come back to mine.

  “What the hell are you doing out here?” His eyes do another sweep of me as if he’s just now really seeing me.

  “I need to get out of here,” I repeat. “Can you give me a ride?” I stutter, my breathing coming in hot, heavy spurts as my lungs work to pull in enough air. “I don’t care where you take me, just please get me out of here.” I sound desperate, unhinged.

  “Come on.” He spins on his heel and stomps back to his bike without another word.

  I tell myself not to follow him because, really, is getting on a motorcycle with a complete stranger in the middle of nowhere getting me out of danger or putting me in more? Yet for some reason I don’t entirely understand, I jog after him.

  He throws his jeaned leg over the bike before kicking up the stand.

  “Here.” He hands me his helmet. “Get on,” he commands, tilting his head back slightly.

  I hesitate for a moment, fear tightening me like a vice. Sliding the helmet onto my head, I look back through the trees and then to the man in front of me, trying to weigh the lesser of the two evils.

  Before I’ve made a conscious choice, I grab the handsome stranger’s arm and hoist myself onto the bike behind him. The engine rumbles beneath me and another wave of fear washes over me. I’ve never been on a motorcycle before. It should scare me. Hell, it should terrify me. But truthfully, the only thing I’m afraid of right now is the man I know is coming for me, and the on
e my arms slide around seconds before he kicks the motorcycle into gear and speeds off down the vacant and winding country road.

  I try to pay attention to where we’re going but the darkness quickly closes in around us as the last of the sun’s light disappears from the sky, making it impossible. I’m not very familiar with the area to begin with. The only reason I was all the way out here was because Christy convinced me to come away for the week with her. Though I’d hardly call her a friend. She’s the daughter of Senator Riley. I’m the daughter of Governor Buckley. As such, we’ve been forced into a friendship neither of us really cares for.

  A week of pampering and girl time at her aunt’s lake house is what she had said. We will have so much fun, she had said. I should have known better.

  I’m not really surprised that when we arrived there was already a party in full swing, even though it was barely three in the afternoon.

  Christy is a wild child. Always partying. Always causing trouble. Normally, my father would never condone me being friends with someone like her, but given his friendship with her father, I think he was hoping I would be a good influence on her. Or at the very least he was trying to win favor with her father. Because when she suggested a week away to celebrate our recent completion of high school, my father was all too happy to push me out the door.

  If he only knew what he was pushing me into...

  Truth is, I’m just as screwed up as Christy, I’m just way better at hiding it. I’ve drank a couple times. I’ve had sex, although my father would probably keel over dead if he learned that. Hell, I even shoplifted once. Then again, I was ten and it was a pair of plastic earrings.

  Okay, I lie. I’m nothing like Christy. But I’m also not this perfect little princess my father thinks I am. Truth is, he really doesn’t know me at all. He sees what he wants to see. Which is probably why he’s never noticed how unhappy I am. My mom would have understood. Or at least I like to think she would have. I was so young when she died, sometimes I wonder if I really even knew her.

  My mind drifts back to the party and I briefly wonder if Christy will realize I’m gone. My money is on no. If I know her, she’ll spend most of the week shut in with her boyfriend, probably getting high.

  With the sun now below the horizon, the air becomes chillier the longer we drive. Earlier, when I dressed in a two-piece bathing suit with a thin cover up, I wasn’t anticipating taking a night ride on a motorcycle. It doesn’t help that I don’t have shoes on.

  My teeth chatter and I snuggle deeper against the man in front of me. It feels oddly intimate, given that I don’t even know his name, and instantly makes me feel uneasy, but at this point I’m just trying to block out as much of the cool wind whipping around me as I can.

  The further we drive, the colder I get and at one point I start to wonder if we’re ever going to stop.

  Long, curvy roads. Thick woods. Not one house in sight.

  Where is he taking me?

  By the time he slows and turns down a narrow dirt road, I’m not sure if I’m more anxious to get off this bike and seek some sort of warmth, or fearful about what awaits me once I do.

  In my panic to get away from Austin, I didn’t really think this through. Now, here I am, in the middle of nowhere without my phone or money, with a man who is almost as scary as he is good looking.

  We drive several more yards before I see light ahead, realizing pretty quickly that it’s coming from a small little cabin tucked smack dab in the middle of the woods.

  There’s a large building behind the house. A barn type structure, where a couple of cars are parked to the side of it.

  He drives the bike under a carport next to the cabin and kills the engine. Neither of us are moving, but honestly at this point, I’m not sure that I can.

  I’m cold. Stiff with fear.

  “I need you to climb off first,” he finally grumbles when I still haven’t moved.

  “I don’t think I can,” I admit, my voice barely breaking the surface.

  Without a word, he maneuvers around me and climbs off the bike with little issue.

  “Come here.” He reaches for me, lifting me under the arms.

  Despite everything that’s happened tonight and where I find myself, I flush when he pulls me against his chest before he gently lowers me to my feet.

  He smells incredible. Like outdoors and firewood. The combination is oddly soothing.

  “Where are we?” I pull off the helmet and extend it to him before taking a step back. I cringe when I step on something small and jagged.

  “My house.” He nods his head toward the front porch. “Come on, let’s get inside.” With that, he spins around and walks away, not waiting for me as he drops the helmet on the porch and pushes his way through the creaky screen door.

  “What the fuck took you so long?” I hear as I step in behind him.

  My eyes go to the man lounging on the couch, a beer in one hand, a cigarette in the other. I’d guess he’s around the same age as the man who brought me here. His dark hair is shaved short and he’s got a full beard covering his face. It’s long enough that you can tell he hasn’t shaved for quite some time, but not so long that it looks unkept. And while he too has a number of visible tattoos, along with a small ring in the corner of his bottom lip, he’s nowhere near as intimidating as the man I rode here with. Then again, he’s not nearly as good looking either, which might play into the intimidation factor.

  A quick smile tugs at his lips when he looks at me from his seat.

  “Well, well. What do we have here?” He clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Little young for your taste, isn’t she?” His gaze goes to where my savior—or my capture—I’m not sure which yet, sits on the arm of the chair to kick off his boots.

  “It’s not like that,” he grumbles. “She needed a ride.”

  “And so you brought her here?”

  “Where the fuck else was I supposed to take her?”

  “I don’t know, maybe her house.” Chocolate brown eyes meet mine. “Excuse our bickering, puppet. T here has a habit of bringing home strays.”

  “T?” I question, not sure what else to say and feeling increasingly more awkward by the second.

  “You didn’t even tell her your name?” He pushes to a stand, stabbing his cigarette into the ashtray before turning toward me. “You’ll have to excuse him. He’s a moody bitch.” He extends his hand. “I’m Link. That there is Titus.”

  Titus... Finally a name. And it fits him.

  “Fallon.” I take Link’s extended hand and give it a hesitant shake.

  "Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Fallon.” He smiles and the action eases the tension in my shoulders a bit.

  I don’t know what it is about this guy. He could be a complete psychopath, but there’s something about his smile, and his eyes, that make me feel oddly welcome and safe.

  “Can you see if you have anything she can wear?” Titus interrupts, pulling my attention back to him.

  In the light of the room I get my first really good look at him, and my god, he nearly takes my breath away. He’s that good looking.

  “That’s not necessary.” I startle at my own voice like I didn’t realize I was talking.

  “You want to sleep in that?” Titus gestures to my torn bathing suit cover—the two-piece visible under the sheer white material.

  “Sleep?” I question. “I’m staying here?” Did I really think he was going to drive me all the way out here just to turn around and take me somewhere else? I don’t know why the thought hadn’t occurred to me before now.

  I wasn’t thinking clearly when I asked for a ride. Then again, I don’t want to go home, either. If I had, I would have asked him to take me there. I sat quiet while he drove me further and further away, not once objecting or asking him to stop. I can’t help but wonder why that is.

  Maybe it’s because I already know.

  Isn’t this what I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember? What I’ve craved? To disapp
ear where no one would ever find me. To be someone else.

  Then again this isn’t really what I had in mind when such daydreams filled my head.

  “What the hell else do you plan to do?” Titus pulls me back to the present.

  “I... I appreciate the ride but I can’t stay here. I don’t even know you.” My bottom lip trembles slightly as the day’s events begin to catch up to me.

  “Well it’s either here or the woods, which would you prefer?” His nostrils flare and I can tell he’s growing annoyed with me. “Link, clothes,” he barks.

  “On it.” Link slips out of the room and disappears down a hallway.

  “Don’t worry. No one is going to hurt you here.” Titus’s voice softens but his expression is as hard as ever. “You can sleep in my room. I’ll take the couch. We’ll figure the rest out tomorrow.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “It’s done,” he states with such finality that I don’t dare say another word.

  Needing to break free of his hard glare, I quickly avert my eyes, looking around the relatively tidy cabin. It’s small but not too small. The main floor is completely open. The living room bleeding into the kitchen as if they were one large room. A long counter lined with stools is the only thing giving the space any type of separation.

  The walls are wood, and so are the floors. It kind of reminds me of the cabin in Michigan we used to frequent when I was little. Well, other than the bulky leather furniture which has most definitely seen better days and the box television that looks to be as old as I am.

  All in all, it’s not really what I would have pictured after looking at Titus. It’s cozy and warm. I would have expected dark and dungeon like. Though I will say it seems very impersonal. There are no pictures or paintings. Hell, the only real piece of décor is the lamp on an end table next to the couch, if you can even consider that décor.

  I can feel Titus’ eyes on me as I take in the space, but I don’t dare look in his direction. I feel off kilter enough. I don’t need to add to it if I can help it.

  Link reappears to save me from the awkward tension that has been building since he went to find me some clothes.