A Shot in the Dark (A Trick of the Light Book 2)

by Addison Cain

Sitting up, she placed her elbows on bent knees, and wiped dampness from her forehead into her hair. “Bad dream is all.”

  “About your mama?”

  “My father… my brother…”

  Moving behind her, Matthew pulled her to rest against his chest. “Come’ere.”

  Grateful for the dark that hid the fading panic on her face, she leaned back, cocooned by the man hushing her and holding her steady.

  Charlie didn’t know why she spoke, but all of it just bubbled up like an oozing snakebite. “Ronnie came for money he made her earn… doing things she didn’t want to do. But Mama had bought food. There was no money. So he started to hit her. Charles shoved me under the bed. Our mama screaming… I had never heard anything like it in any beating he’d given her. I was scared.

  “My brother tried to stop him, hollering like such a man. But he was so small. Laying there, belly to the floor, I watched his little feet disappear. Then there was a noise… like a stuck pig, and all this blood splashed the ground.” Her voice cracked, “Then Charles just fell, dropped like garbage.”

  The image had never left her—not once in all those years. Her brother had landed inches from where she lay, his little lips opening and closing like a dying fish. “Ronnie Pearson had slit his own son’s throat.

  “I put a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. Charles reached for me. He reached for me, while I just lay there staring, watching his eyes get glassy. I didn’t even realize until later how hard I held his hand. By then, he was cold, my mama’s screams were done…” Her next words were hardly a whisper, “It was just quiet.”

  Charlotte covertly wiped her face with the heel of her hand thinking Matthew didn’t notice. “Come morning, I’m leaving to go visit my mama.”

  “I’ll be coming with you.” Matthew didn’t say another word, but his arms squeezed so tight it almost hurt.

  Resigned, too twisted up to argue, Charlie sniffed and turned to put her ear to his heart. The steady thump calmed her, as did the warm paw tangled in her hair.

  When morning came, she woke still wrapped up in him and safe. Almost the instant she opened her eyes, a low grumble came from under her ear. “How you feelin’?”

  “Fine.” She nestled closer and ran a hand up his thigh.

  “What you doin’? Doctor said no strenuous activity.”

  “Makin’ love doesn’t have to be a strenuous activity.” Her hand brushed his hardening member, grasping it through his drawstring pants to feel him thicken and grow in her fist. “Besides, I’m tired of being coddled. I am not a baby. I’m a grown woman, Matthew.”

  Sensing her need for him was more than physical, Matthew gave her what she wanted, took his time as he made slow love to his golden girl. He pressed kisses to her healing neck, stroked and petted, cautious of her damaged arm. When he slipped into the tight, perfect heat of her, he was unhurried and just as pleased as she was to be joined after so long.

  Riding the crest of her pleasure, she held him close. Matthew’s hands clutched her body and threaded into golden hair, grasping to the one thing that had been right so far in his life. Lips at her ear he grunted what he should have said in the office the morning before. “I love you, golden girl.”

  Charlie drove like a mad woman. They had argued when she demanded to take the wheel, swore like the devil, and threatened that if he didn’t hand over the keys and let her do what she needed to do, she’d leave him behind. “I ain’t letting you drive until I am certain no one is following us. And you have no idea where the hell we are going, so shut up and get in the goddamn car.”

  Screaming at him could not be good for her throat.

  Eyes full of fire, Matthew climbed onto the passenger seat and watched her start the ignition. That was five hours prior, and the way she’d been driving, Matthew had no fucking clue where they were.

  Pulling off the side of the road, Charlie cut the engine. Wordlessly, she climbed into the back and began to take off her dress. When she pulled off her brassiere and began wrapping tight panels of cloth around her chest, Matthew glared… but said nothing.

  Once her bosom was bound down flat, men’s clothing followed. Matthew watched, starting to understand Beaumont’s words from their little sit-down weeks ago—grasping what compelled her to be so cautions and look so dangerous.

  He wished he’d been the one to kill Ronnie… that he’d walked right up to him when the monster sat in his roadhouse and broken his neck.

  The broad cut shoulder of her jacket hid thin arms, Charlie gooping men’s pomade through her hair, combing it back until it was pin straight and darkened almost brown by the product. With an old hat shading her eyes, her head and posture shifted to masculine. Charlie finally looked at him; she was not smiling, but she winked. In less than five minutes, Charlotte had become a carbon copy of the man he’d seen pushing a blue Ford on his roads last winter.

  The engine revved, and they made their way to a backwater train station in a town Matthew had never heard of. Tickets were purchased, the pair of them crawling across the map in a zigzag until their final train stopped in Massachusetts. They took their luggage, Charlie demanding to carry her own, and ambled into the city of Belmont. A short walk into the quaint suburb led to Belmont Garage and the cramped apartment above it.

  “Uhh.” She looked around the shoddy room and sucked her lip. “Not really much here, but feel free to rest and wash up if you like.” She started poking through the cupboard. “I take all my meals at the diner when in town, but there might be some cans of something if you’re hungry.”

  In Matthew’s view, the room was appalling and not good enough for her. “You rent this place?”

  “Not exactly,” she muttered. “I own Belmont Garage. Well, ever since I got Mama into the asylum here, I bought up several buildings in town. All the rent money goes into a trust that pays for her room and board.” Charlie cleared her throat and looked him dead in the eye, “And make sure you call me Charles Pearson. That was my brother’s name and the identity I assumed after he died.”

  Matthew stepped forward and took that damn hat off her head. “Pearson your real name?”

  “No.” She swallowed and gave a bitter curtsy. “Ronnie only claimed the boy. I’m Charlotte Elliot, bastard daughter of a whore and a psychopath. Nice to meet you.”

  Matthew took her by the shoulder and scolded, “Ain’t no shame in who your parents were.”

  Her face distorted; she didn’t believe him. “You can’t possibly mean that, Matthew.”

  He gave her his customary grunt, nodding, so close the brim of his hat brushed her forehead. “Course I do.”

  “Not many would agree.” Charlie couldn’t take another second of those pale eyes, shifting her gaze to the corner. “I should go see her now. Feel free to get comfortable while I’m gone.”

  “I’m coming to meet your mother.” Matthew tapped her hat back on her head and just like that, walked towards the door, scowling all the way.

  The nurse beside him was a friendly, stout woman with a soft face. Together they watched, listening closely as Charles Pearson visited with a woman who looked so ragged and aged it was almost impossible to imagine her as Charlotte’s mother.

  “Seems Miss Evangeline is having a real fine day today.” The nurse smiled, nodding at the picture before her.

  Matthew had no idea what a fine day or a bad day could mean. All Matthew knew was what he saw once he got his first glimpse of the woman, sitting and staring off into space. He could hardly believe the damage to her face. There were so many scars, the worst a slash from the top of her forehead, over where she once had an eye, down her cheek and lips, to end past her chin. That was only the beginning of the mutilation.

  Charlie pulled out a comb and began to talk, brushing the scant white hair left clinging to her mother’s skull, making her pretty before she took a seat to hold her hand.

  “You are looking real nice today, Mama. Brought you a present.” Charlie reached down for the box she had stopped for in
town and began to open in. “It’s a new shawl, the color is the height of fashion. And look here,” Charlie held up a magazine with a smile, “a brand new copy of the latest New Yorker. It’s full of fine photos and I can read it to you while I am here. Nurse Gertrude can read some more to you later, should that fit your fancy.”

  And that’s what she did for an hour. Charlie read the whole damn magazine aloud, cover to cover while showing the pictures to the half-blind woman until, at last, a rheumy blue eye twitched and focused on the glossy paper.

  “Hello there, Mama.”

  “Charles,” the woman’s voice was sandpaper, ruined lips lisping the name. “Who’s that man with his hat off over yonder?”

  Amazed her mother had even noticed Matthew, Charlie looked over her shoulder and stammered, “That’s…” The nurse at his side pushed him forward, Matthew coming to stand by Charlie, his hat at his heart.

  “Afternoon, ma’am.” He nodded his head politely.

  “Mama, this is Matthew.” Charlie said, patting the withered hand in her mother’s lap. “A good friend of mine.”

  “Your sister came to visit me yesterday.” The old woman began to rock, her mouth trying to manage a smile.

  Charlie nodded, playing along. “What did Charlotte have to say?”

  “She’s with child again, it’ll be her third baby. Her husband brought me flowers, big waxy gardenias. Their family is doing real well.”

  Reaching into a pocket, Charlie pulled out a piece of paper, holding it up for her mother to see. “She sure is. I got a letter from her right here.”

  Matthew could see it was just a list of recipes Charlie had copied from a magazine when they were on the train, but she held it up with a smile and pretended to read good news. “Seems she thinks it’s a girl… wants to name her Evangeline after you, Mama.”

  “Said they might buy a house in town, that green one by the park we used to walk past,” the woman added, speaking nonsense.

  “That’s what it says right here. Need more room for the new baby.” Though her voice was soft and happy, Matthew could see dejection sloping Charlotte’s shoulders.

  “When you gonna settle down?” The woman looked at her child, seeing the son who’d died a long time ago.

  “I think I’ll leave all that to Charlotte,” Charlie took on the tone of a man getting pressured by his mother. “You’re my girl, no one else would compare.”

  “You’re a good boy, Charles.” Evangeline’s one eye fogged over and the woman was gone.

  Charlie knew it was time to say goodbye, cautious not to overexcite her mother.

  As she prepared to leave, the nurse next to Matthew whispered, “It’s good you’re here. Mr. Pearson takes it hard when Miss Evangeline has delusions about his sister.”

  Charlie passed a note to the nurse, detailing the location of his sister and how to reach her in case of emergency, and left, Matthew trailing behind.

  When they were in the car, Charlie was wrung out and tried to explain, “She only tells the story of what she wished for herself… and it changes. I hope it didn’t bother you.”

  Matthew asked gently, “Why not go to her as a woman, Charlotte?”

  Sapphire eyes filled with pain. “I tried, more than once. But her idea of Charlotte is not me. Each time, it set her off into a real bad episode… She became a danger to herself. In her mind, Charlotte is a woman who tours Europe and is married to a rich man—a really grand lady. It’s safer to indulge her fantasy.”

  Pondering over what he’d heard, Matthew spoke without thinking, “You want to name your first baby girl Evangeline?”

  Charlie’s eyes shot towards him, no longer sad, but furious.

  Stupidly, he just asked, “You don’t want children?”

  Charlie braked the car outside the garage and got out.

  Unaccustomed to others walking away as he spoke, Matthew tried to rein in his temper, chasing her all the way up the stairs to the piece of shit apartment she kept. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  Gritting her teeth, she closed her eyes so hard little wrinkles showed at the corners. “Leave me be, Matthew. I am warning you.”

  Once the door was shut, he demanded, “I asked you a question.”

  “Fuck you, Matthew Emerson,” she barked crossing to the bed to take off her boots.

  Approaching her with his own mad scowl, Matthew watched Charlie struggle, trying to kick her damn boot off.

  “Tell me why you’re angry.” Ignoring her nasty expression, kneeling, he took her foot and picked the knot. “I mention children and you go off half-cocked.”

  Wiping her nose on her sleeve, she said nothing.

  “So I ask you,” he looked up and met her eyes with a stern set to his brow, “why that set you off?”

  Full of venom Charlie spat, “You don’t know what it’s like to be a bastard. Mocked and hated… beat for breathing. I won’t do it to an innocent kid.”

  You could have knocked him over with a feather. “You expect me to toss you aside?”

  Raising her chin, she looked at the far wall and said nothing.

  His voice grew positively dangerous, Matthew yanking her boot off to throw clear across the room. “You have been taking precautions, thinking I would get you in trouble and leave you.”

  Charlie met his glare. “Of course I have been taking precautions! I may be ignorant of a lot that goes on between a man and woman, but I know how babies are made, Matthew. We’ve done plenty to get me in trouble. Someday, you’re going to wake up and realize just who you have been fucking… and I am prepared for it.”

  He was so angry he actually wanted to shake her, wanted to force some sense into her thick skull. “I told you I loved you.” Her lip began to quiver, and he stood, bellowing in irritation, “Don’t you dare cry!”

  That was all it took for her to fall apart. Water fell from her eyes in messy wet rivers, Charlie curled over and sobbed.

  Matthew fell to his knees, pale eyes instantly devoid of fury. “Hush now, darlin’. Don’t cry… don’t cry…”

  “Just leave me be,” she wailed.

  Shaking his head, he spoke real gentle, “No. I ain’t going. Whatever fool idea you’ve been cookin’ up in that head of yours is flat out wrong. I don’t care about who your parents were. I understand what you did to care for your mama. I love you—your temper and strange little ways. Even the fact you can’t paint your fingernails.”

  Lifting her chin, Matthew wiped her tears with his thumb. “Don’t you see what’s clear to everyone who’s seen me with you? I intend to marry you, Charlotte. I already looked in to fixin’ up that white house you like so much, should be done by the end of autumn at the latest. You’ll have a proper home as my wife.”

  Sitting on a shoddy bed in a lousy room, dressed like a boy with tears streaking her face, she looked at the man kneeling at her feet as if he were some mythological treasure, an impossible unattainable thing. “I am not good enough for you, Matthew. We both know you deserve better.”

  He let out a deep breath and moved to sit beside her on the bed. He grunted once, nodding at his thoughts, before he turned to find her watching him with such love and longing, it gutted him.

  Reaching up, Matthew’s expression was the softest he could make it; pale eyes shone down while his fingers tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Tenderly he spoke, “Charlotte, sweet girl, you’ve had this comin’ for a while now.”

  In two seconds flat, he yanked her over his knee, tugged her trousers around her thighs, and set the flat of his palm in a hard swat to her rear end. Scolding her something fierce, he barked, “There ain’t nothing wrong with you!”

  Matthew smacked her good and hard again. “You are perfect as you are.”

  Another stinging slap, Charlie struggled against the forearm he braced across her back. His tone grew angrier, louder. “Dedicating your life to taking care of your mama is nothing short of admirable!”

  His palm whacked her again.

  Yelpin
g with each spank, Charlie began to still, Matthew realized he was getting through her thick skull. “You will stop with all this damn nonsense of thinking you are less when you are wonderful!”

  Her backside was on fire. Struggling, she yelled out, “Jesus, Matthew, I’ll marry you, stop spanking me already!”

  He gave her one last resounding smack before bellowing, “Damn straight you’ll marry me!”

  Charlie looked over her shoulder, shocked he’d actually had the gall to spank her. The stern set of his brow met her eyes, Matthew’s expression daring her to utter one wrong word.

  Softly, she asked, “Are you going to let me up now?”

  He grunted, considering her bright red bottom. “No. Something about this just seems right.”

  Incredulous, she cocked a brow and shivered a little at the hand gently caressing her burning backside. “Matthew Emerson, did you just make a joke?”

  He looked almost as if he was going to smile at her, his pale eyes liquid pools before he trailed his soothing palm over her rump and ever so lightly skimmed her folds. The flesh there was slippery, swollen, and all the invitation he needed. Matthew’s eyes grew dark, and he began tearing at the rest of her clothes.

  In a frenzy, popping buttons, rending cloth, he stripped her bare. Standing, pressing her against the wall, he lifted her up and drove in deep and mean. Grunting, rutting away, his lips tasted hers, his tongue rough—claiming his woman as she gasped, moaned, and scratched his back in her heat.

  “You’ll be my wife,” he demanded as he ground against her.

  Something about the sting on her bottom, the fire between her legs, and the force of the man plunging deep into her belly set Charlie feral. “Anything, Matthew, anything you want.”

  Pounding harder, he wrung out promise after promise, feeling her body jerk and arch, Charlie screaming when he snarled his release and pulsed thick inside her.

  Chapter 9

  Slowly pouring sugar into the still, Matthew pursed his lips around a toothpick, concentrating until the measure was complete. Wiping his face, he glanced to Nathaniel. “I’m gonna marry Charlotte.”