“Yeah, it was. I’m not sure how to proceed from here. You know, when I found out about your dad and Lucy, I knocked him to the ground.”
“What do you mean?” She laughs.
“I mean, I went to his office and I punched him,” I say with a chip on my shoulder.
“Oh my god. Did you really?” She laughs, shaking her head.
“Yeah, I did.”
“Wow, I had no idea. He didn't say anything about it, and he never likes getting his ass handed to him,” she giggles. “I forget that you went to school together.”
“Yeah, me too. Seems like a lifetime ago, I say looking back at her. “Charlie. I'm almost twice your age,” I say, my voice full of concern. “This is something you really need to think about. Before we go any further. I don't want to make things weird between us, you, Lucy, or Abbie, and I want to make sure you're sure,” I say.
“You've been nothing but nice to me. How many times have you saved my life? Then you brought me here, let me sleep in the bed, and made me breakfast,” she gestures to the fire. “You do so much for me, so much for a lot of people. I don't think you get the recognition that you deserve.”
“Thank you,” I say with a nod, placing my hand on her leg, afraid to hurt her again.
“You're welcome,” she says, then gets closer and leans her head on my shoulder. “You're a good man Noah. I'm so glad that you're a part of my life.”
My heart feels lighter as she rests her head on my shoulder.
“I'm glad you're in my life too,” I say quietly, then turning to face her, I slide my hand carefully around her cheek. Pulling her closer gently, I press my lips to hers with a tender kiss that's meant to convey more than sexual desire. “I really care about you, Charlie. I want you to know that you've been such a major part of my life for so long and I hope you know how important you are.”
She smiles and her eyes have a sheen to them now. I hope that I haven't made her cry.
“Thank you,” she says, leaning forwards, and pressing her lips against mine. She leaves a gentle kiss that only has me falling for her more.
Chapter Eleven
Charlie
I wake up with a jolt.
“It was just a dream,” I whisper to myself, wrapping my arms around my waist and rocking myself back and forth.
He was here, right in front of me, standing in front of my bed. Knife held high. Ready to get me. Did I scream? I don't know. Feels like I screamed. My throat is hoarse and looking around the room, I take in the morning sun. I blink against the harsh light. I can't stay here.
Rising on two shaky legs, I walk to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face, hoping to shake away the remnants of the dream.
Looking up into the mirror, I scream, “God, fuck!”
“I'm sorry,” Noah says, quickly walking over and placing his hands on my shoulder to comfort me. “I didn't mean to scare you. I was just going to ask if you're alright.”
“Just a bad dream,” I say, feeling unsteady.
“What happened?” he asks, his brows knit together in a frown.
“I was dying. Right? Raul was in my room. And well...” I trail off, not wanting to bring back the memories.
“It's okay. Don't worry. He's not here. He's not gonna be able to talk to you.”
Closing my eyes, I lean back and rest my head against his shoulder. I inhale deeply and take comfort in his presence.
“I can't stay here forever, though,” I whisper.
“No, but we're not going to stay here forever. We're just gonna lay low for a little while.”
Rubbing my eyes, I exhale slowly. It isn't the answer I want to hear. I don't want to sit here waiting. Hoping he’ll lose interest in me or until someone else can save me. I don't want to be this damsel in distress that Raul thinks I am.
“I don't want to stay here,” I say, pulling away from him. I feel his body stiffen. “No, I like it here. It's beautiful. But I don't want to sit and wait. I want to do something. I have to be proactive about this,” I say, looking into his silver eyes and pleading.
I don't want to hurt him or make him feel like I don't appreciate everything he's done for me. At the same time, if the roles were reversed, would he sit here and wait like he is asking me to? Absolutely not. I know he wants to do something.
“It's hard to just sit and wait,” he says, his voice gentle. “But I'm trying to keep you safe. You didn't listen to me last time and it almost got you killed.”
“I remember.”
Looking down, I feel heat creeping up my neck. I don't like when someone tells me that I'm wrong.
“That was different,” I say, trying to keep my voice strong. “I didn't realize that I was being targeted. Now I know, and now I can take precautions.”
“We are taking a precaution now.” His voice takes on a hard edge and I can hear his patience growing thin once again.
“No, we're hiding,” I say, my voice matching his. And he raises his brow in surprise.
Typically, I'm non-confrontational. I don't like to get in a fight or to rock the boat. But when I have something that I believe in so strongly like this, then I have to stand up.
“I can't back down. Think about it. It makes sense from a strategy perspective. He's going to expect me to be hiding. To be scared.”
“He's probably getting some kind of sick thrill out of hunting you down like this.” Noah's face sets into hard lines. “You know, it's true. He's enjoying this. And we are playing right into his hands, even if we don't realize it. He has no idea about this place and will never find it.”
“No. And what does a maniac do when he can't find his prey?” I ask, raising a brow.
He stares in silence. For a criminal mastermind, I find it hard to believe that he doesn't connect the dots.
“The man will do something drastic to get our attention to pull us out to him. We should strike before he has the opportunity to do that,” I say, my hands on my hips.
He narrows his brow and his eyes at me. And for a moment I wonder if I'm reaching him. Then he shakes his head and turns away.
“No, not happening. You're not leaving here,” he says, walking away.
“I'm sorry,” I say, walking after him, “but I don't think you get to decide where I go. And when I stay.”
“Actually, I do.” He turns, his eyes fierce.
“I’m not a child, Noah, I can make my own decisions. You don't get to make them for me.”
“I do when you're making stupid decisions,” he says, his voice careful.
I can see the temper burning underneath it all, scratching its way out.
“Actually, you don't,” I snap, walking around him and marching to the bedroom.
Crap. I don't have winter gear.
“Where are my Converse?” I ask, looking under the bed and opening the closet.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
He sounds tired, as if he's been arguing with a petulant child. I feel my own impatience climb. It takes everything I have in me not to turn around and scream at him to back off and let me make my own decisions. He’s treating me like a petulant child.
“Looking for my Converse,” I say carefully, “Have you seen them?” I ask, not expecting him to answer and help me.
“Yes, I have.”
Exasperated I whirl around to look at him.
“Did you hide them?” I demand.
“Fuck, no,” he says, looking at me like I'm crazy. “I'm not your dad.”
“Then stop trying to act like it,” I say, pushing past him and walking into the living room. “Uh huh. There they are.”
I jog over to the Converse peeking out from under the sofa after last night's tumble with him.
“I'm not trying to be your dad, Charlie. God knows he's the last person I want to be compared to.”
I have to suppress an eye roll, crouching down and sliding on my Converse. I look around the cabin. I need a coat, I didn’t have one when I came here, just his leather jacket and the q
uilt from the back of the car. Guess we'll have to grab his extra one that I wore yesterday while working on the generator.
“Where are you going?” He doesn’t follow after me.
“I am going home,” I say. “I'm not going to hide and wait. He can match me on my own turf, and I'll kill him with my own hands if I have to.”
“What?” he demands. I hear the horror in his voice as I turn to look at him, full of sympathy.
“No, come on, if the roles were reversed, do you really think that I could stay in there and tell you not to leave? And you would listen? Why do you expect anything different from me? Because I'm a girl? Wake up. It's 2020, I don't need a knight in shining armor. I need a friend who's going to help me get back home and defend it.
Hearing a familiar jingle, I look around.
“Your phone,” I say, helping him look as he walks over to the kitchen counter and picks it up. Holding his hand up he says, “Please don't leave. Just wait.”
“Hello?” he answers.
Jake. He's talking to his man crush. I wonder, how long it will take? I don't want to waste any more time. I want to get on the road. What will I do if he doesn't drive me? It's a long walk in the snow. Maybe I can hitchhike. Though thinking about that reminds me of all the stories my dad tells of hitchhikers being murdered. It's best to avoid that, no matter who's after me. But I'm not sure what I should do otherwise.
“Lucy, wait,” I hear him say, and I look back over at him.
It's not Jake. Lucy's on the phone. That gets my attention and I step closer to listen.
“Dad, what the hell is going on?” I hear her demand through the phone.
“It's kind of hard to explain,” he says, reaching his hand up and pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Kenton got a call saying that Charlie was attacked and is missing. Do you have any idea what's going on?”
“Yeah, actually I do.”
I listen to him give her a recap of the things that transpired over the last couple of days.
“Oh, thank God she's alive,” Lucy says, and I can picture her turning to my father and as she tells him, “Kent, she's alive. She's alive, Kenton,” Lucy gushes. And I hear my dad gasp. He must have taken the phone because now I hear him talking angrily to Noah.
Noah rolls his eyes and suddenly his body stiffens. “No, absolutely not. You can't come back right now.”
“The hell I won't,” my father roars, and I can picture his face flushing with color like it always does when he's at his wit's end.
“No, Traverse,” Noah snaps, and I can hear his voice reaching the breaking point.
Any moment now both men are going to be in a screaming match. Reaching my hand forward for the phone, Noah gives me a long look then passes it over to me, shaking his head. He walks over to the kitchen counter. His head hangs low, breathing deeply, trying to maintain control.
“Dad,” I say.
“Christ, Charlie. I'm so glad you're okay. Why the hell didn't you call me when this happened?” he demands.
Now calling flight 415, I hear in the distance.
“You know what, we'll talk when I get home. Gotta go. I love you. Bye.”
He hangs up before I can say anything.
“They’re at the airport,” I say, looking back at him.
“Yeah, I know. They're on their way home,” he whispers, his eyes distant.
I see the muscles tensing in his forearm.
“If Raul finds out that Lucy's back in town…”
“I see,” my voice trailing off.
“Yeah, I know,” he repeats, clenching his fists. “What are we going to do? They're gonna land in a couple of hours. They can't go home. What if he's waiting for them?”
“If what you say is true, and he really does have those connections in the police force, he probably already knows that they're on their way. He could be laying a trap right now,” I say, my voice going up an octave as panic builds and threatens to spill over.
“Then we just have to beat them,” he says, looking over at me.
“Thank God.” Finally, he's on my side. “I was a little worried that I would have to steal the car and leave you stranded,” I say with a wink. He gives me a bland look. And then turns away from me and stalks into the hall.
“Where are you going?” I call after him, following him as he walks back to a room with a deadbolt on it.
“Getting some provisions,” he says.
“What kind of provisions?”
The door swings open, and my eyes widen at the sight of guns and backpacking gear.
“What is this?” I ask, looking around.
“What's it look like?” he asks over his shoulder, his voice brimming with irritation.
“It looks like a scene from some end-of-the-world dystopian movie where the guy that everyone thinks is crazy is actually the one everyone goes to for help. Because of his bomb shelter and small armory.”
He laughs for the first time. And I feel a small sense of relief.
“Yeah, well that's kind of what this is. Except this isn't a dystopian world. It's simply another day. I can't catch a fucking break. Same shit, different day,” he growls, reaching forward and placing a small handgun on a holster.
“I don't know. I feel like this is all pretty new to me,” I say, looking around and wondering if I get one.
“You and I come from very different worlds, Charlie. Even if we're from the same small town.”
Knowing it’s true, I walk over and pick up a small concealed carry nine-millimeter.
“The Glock 43 X?” I ask, looking up at him.
“Nice.”
I chuckle, still holding the gun in my hand, then removing the magazine to make sure it's not loaded.
“You know guns.” He is looking at me, his eyes full of surprise.
“My dad's a cop, remember?” I sass, not looking at him, still admiring the gun. “I like this one because it has four more rounds than the Glock 43. I mean, ideally, you'd only need one bullet, but you know, there's some comfort in having ten,” I smile, deciding that this will be the gun I take with me.
“What?” I ask, looking up at him, as he stares.
“Nothing.” He smiles. And my heart flutters. “I'm just impressed. And I have to tell you something, Charlie,” he says, walking over and sliding his arms around me, pulling me in for a deep kiss that leaves me feeling weak. “I'm sorry about how I acted earlier. I'm scared. And I don't want anything to happen to you.”
“I know,” I say, leaning forward and kissing him again. “We'll be okay, as long as we work together.”
“Yeah.”
I wink. And his smile widens.
“Now, let's go save my dad and Lucy.”
Chapter Twelve
Noah
Drumming my fingers on the dash, I sit at a red light with my stomach twisting into knots. We've been back in town for three hours driving around. Maybe it sounds silly, but where the hell am I supposed to go? I can't go to my place, can't go to her dad's, and we can't go to the police station because one of those slimes will tell Raul exactly where she is, and Raul could be there any minute. I hope Lucy calls me when they land, so we can figure out a place to meet. We didn't get a chance to talk before Kenton hung up. Asshole. I glare at the light as it refuses to change colors.
“Are you okay?” Lucy asks, reaching over and resting a hand on my arm.
“I'll be okay,” I say, shaking my head and trying to think clearly. Anger is always something I've struggled with. I like to think it's getting better as I get older. But still, every day is a battle.
“You're worried about Lucy,” she says her eyes full of sympathy.
“Yeah, that’s part of it. I don't want anything to happen to either of you. They shouldn't even be here,” I say as I hit the gas, relieved that the light is finally changing. “They should have stayed in California. Now you're both at risk. And it's making me…” I trail off, searching for the word.
“Tense,” she offers w
ith a small smile.
“Yeah, that's the word for it. It's making me tense. I have no idea where to go or where to meet them. I have no fucking idea.”
“What about Jake's place?” she asks, her eyes hopeful.
“No, we can't go there either. Anywhere with a known connection to one of us is bound to be under surveillance,” I explain, racking my brain. Suddenly my phone rings, and I look down. “Oh, thank God,” I say, picking up my phone.
“Hey, Dad, we just landed. We'll be there in about an hour,” Lucy says.
“Good. Wait, where is ‘there’?”
“We're driving back to the house, of course. We'll meet you there.”
“No,” I protest, quickly. “Don't go back to the house, and don't go to my place either. It's not safe. He's already been there, he's just gonna be waiting or have someone watching it for when you come back.”
“Okay, well then I guess we can meet you at the police station. We can talk in Kenton's office,” she says.
“No, that won't work either. He's bound to have people on his payroll, Lucy. It won't be safe. As soon as any of us walk in that building, Raul will know and be there within minutes or he'll lay some kind of trap. Either way, it won't be pretty.”
“Okay,” she sighs. “What do you suggest then?”
“Christ, I don't know. We need somewhere with no tie to you, me, or Charlie. Somewhere that no one knows about.”
“What about the lake?” she asks.
“What do you mean? The lake in town? Kenton fishes at the lake, Lucy.”
“Yeah, and so do the other thirty-five thousand residents,” she says, and I can hear the eye-roll in her voice. “It's winter, dad, I don't think he would expect us to go there. We'll park far enough away and then we can walk to the pier. We'll meet you there.”
“Fine,” I consent, knowing that there is no real alternative. “I'm calling Jake. I'll have him meet us there.”
“Alright, Dad. I love you.”
“I love you too,” I say, and hang up the phone.
“So the lake?” Charlie asks as I scroll through my contacts and turn down Main Street.
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