Charlie's Angel

by Aurora Rose Lynn

  He didn’t reply but, keeping his eyes on her face, unbuckled his belt then unzipped his jeans. With a harsh rasp, they fell to the floor. He kicked them aside.

  She couldn’t help herself. Roxie stared and stared at his huge erection bobbing from the waistband of his briefs.

  “You’ve the largest penis I’ve ever seen,” she told him, feeling audacious. Feminine power burst through her.

  He snorted. “You think so? How many men have you seen almost naked?”

  His question was purely rhetorical, but she decided to answer with the same high spirits. “Not many.”

  “Are you stalling?” he asked, exaggerating his up and down look at her, encouraging her to remove her dress.

  Roxie didn’t hesitate. She was in bad shape wanting him, and the sooner she had him, the quicker she could ease her hunger for him.

  Maybe.

  Charlie was enthralled and hopelessly lost. If they came out of this alive, he’d make Roxie his sex slave. Although he’d focused on keeping her safe and securing information from Eddie, there hadn’t been one moment when he stopped thinking about her. The liquid blue eyes, the small breasts that fit comfortably against his hands and the exotic taste of her.

  She stood before him, wearing nothing more than a white, lacy bra and an enticing smile. Her smell of flowers was slightly overpowered by her musky, sexy scent. He sank to his knees and delicately parted her thighs.

  She giggled, slapped his head playfully and danced away on trembling legs. “Sixty-nine is reciprocal. That was not,” she chided lightly.

  Charlie almost fell on his face, but he quickly righted himself. “I was about to worship the hard nub of your clit, to suck on the pearl of moisture that must be there.” That sounded corny, but for once, he didn’t care. Roxie was his for the moment, and who knew what tomorrow would bring?

  She lay on the bed to rest on her side and lifted herself up on her elbow. “You’re not completely naked,” she reminded him with a twinkle in her eye.

  He shimmied out of his briefs and sank onto the bed beside her. “You’re wearing more than was agreed upon,” he said, unhooking her bra.

  She didn’t resist, and when he was finished, her bra rested on the floor with the remainder of their clothes. She pulled him down by the neck and kissed him. Her lips were soft and tasted of sweet sugar, and her breasts pressed into his chest. He felt her nipples pebble and groaned into her mouth helplessly. “You drive me insane, woman,” he said, when he had a moment to breathe.

  She pushed him away, using both palms planted firmly on his chest. He was a mass of raw nerves, his mind tortured by anticipation of an orgasm the likes of which he’d never had before. When she slid over him, her head facing his toes, she ordered, “Show me your ass.”

  He laughed at her faked haughtiness. She was one of the few society women he’d met who didn’t feel she had to fake everything she did to gain approval.

  “Yes ma’am,” he quipped, enjoying her sense of humor.

  She wiggled over the top of his chest and spread her legs, giving him a perfect sight of smooth, alabaster skin, the ridges of her spine, and a fantastically shaped ass that made his mouth water. His head buzzed at the sight of her spread out in his face. He gulped and felt her lick the tip of his cock. Then she took his erection fully in her mouth like an ice cream cone.

  “Oh God,” he moaned, squirming, desperately, struggling to find a breath of air. How was he to do Roxie when she was setting him on fire?

  The pressure of her mouth was gone. Cool air fanned his cock, sending shivers down his spine.

  “You okay back there?” she asked, turning to glance over her shoulder at him. She shook her hair and the rich, golden tendrils cascaded down her shoulder like a mane.

  She was kidding, but he choked out a raspy, “Yes.” He’d be okay when his blood pressure returned to normal but that wouldn’t be any time soon. Tenderly, he parted her folds and found her nub, glistening, hard, and ready for his ministration.

  Roxie’s mouth returned to his cock, and he almost shot off the bed. The woman had a way with her tongue that even an angel couldn’t beat.

  Roxie loved seeing Charlie on his back, his face set in stunned lines. She licked the moisture from his glans, tasting his honey and swallowing. If they got out of this Rowter mess alive, would Charlie and she part ways? Or would they become lovers? When he moved back to Boston, would that be the end? She certainly hadn’t expected to meet such a deliciously sexual man in L.A.

  She suppressed a sigh of foreboding. And she hadn’t thought she’d be pursued by a crazy man bent on killing her, along with the company she was keeping. Her morbid thoughts were cut short when Charlie’s tongue sank against her clit. She almost melted in a pool of pleasure.

  She continued sucking his cock, licking every inch of the skin. Sensing he was about to come, she lifted her lips from his potent erection, and the next thing she knew, he’d flipped her on her back, and he was on top of her. She didn’t care, as long as she climaxed. Her thigh muscles ached, and her heart beat like a bongo drum in anticipation.

  “I wanted this in the car,” Charlie murmured, his wild gaze steady on her face.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and whimpered. “Your turn, right?”

  In the car, you were denied your turn, but now nothing can stop you.

  His big cock easily slid into her pussy, filled her to the utmost. Pausing, he lowered his eyes to her tingling, aching breasts.

  “You’re fantastic, Roxie,” he said, his tone one of awe and reverence.

  She said nothing but reveled in his admiration and smoothed her palms down his spine to his ass. He trailed tiny kisses down the side of her neck and heaved a groan as he reached her left breast. She squeezed his cheeks then ran her nails lightly across his skin. Which elicited a deep moan from him.

  He slid deeper into her channel. Her hands stilled on his backside. This time she moaned, turning her head from side to side in ecstasy.

  “Faster,” she urged impatiently. Her whole body tensed like the taut strings of a violin.

  Charlie’s hands drifted to her sides, where he transferred his weight from her. He thrust into her, harder and harder. She closed her eyes against the impending force. Her muscles screamed in agony now, waiting for blessed release.

  He thrust faster and faster, and his breathing quickened. With their bodies merged, their entwined souls soared into rapture, if only for a few seconds.

  That had been the best sex ever, Charlie decided, waiting for his breathing to even out. His heart beat frantically, and a quick glance at Roxie suggested she’d spun off into nirvana, too.

  “Wow,” she whispered, her body relaxed and still under his.

  “That blew my mind,” he told her in a soft voice. After just two days, he was beginning to get used to her at his side. How would he be able to return to Boston with the strict, self-imposed injunction to forget about her? He wouldn’t worry about that. Rowter was still on the loose, and he had to be dealt with first.

  The sun had slipped away, leaving the room shrouded in the murky light of rapidly fading dusk. Lifting himself from Roxie, he settled in beside her and threw his arm around her midriff. “I wish this wouldn’t end,” he whispered with meaning.

  Her eyes flashed open, and she turned her head to glare at him. “What do you mean?”

  She’d misunderstood. “I mean I wish we wouldn’t end, even after Rowter is caught.”

  She took a deep breath and exhaled. “I wish this Rowter thing had never happened. One day you wake up perfectly normal, leading an ordinary life, then within a few hours, someone’s trying to kill you. And you know what the funny thing is? You don’t even know why.”

  Charlie shook his head in sympathy. He tried to make light of it. “Thankfully, those days don’t happen too often.”

  She snorted. “Hope not.” Roxie caressed his cheek with the back of her knuckles. “Hope your days aren’t too much like this one.”

  “No
, but Eddie’s might be. Funny thing, I can’t increase his pay either. What would he do with the money if he dies on the job?”

  “You definitely can’t take it with you,” Roxie agreed.

  His phone chirped. He reached down into his jeans and retrieved it before he answered into it, “Yes?”

  “Elizabeth will have to be more specific about the city, old man,” Eddie told him without preamble. “There were several missing persons or murders along the Greyhound route, so it would be difficult to pinpoint which one, if any, Rowter was involved in.”

  “Anything else?” Charlie asked, not wanting to ask his question out loud in case it frightened Roxie. “Have you found Rowter?”

  “Silence so far. No hide nor hair of him,” Eddie replied stoically.

  “Great,” Charlie muttered. How long would Roxie and he be here together? Rowter acted like a superman, and Charlie would hate to mess with him on his own.

  Roxie’s gaze met his, questioning, searching for her own answers.

  “Thanks,” Charlie replied and hung up. He settled the cell phone on the nightstand.

  “Has he been found yet?”

  Charlie shook his head.

  Her face paled. She shrugged, pulled the bed sheet from under her and covered herself modestly up to her neck. The fun had been replaced by serious, life-threatening business. She slipped into her own world of memories. Her lips trembled.

  Charlie wanted to kiss them, to quiet her fears, but restrained himself. Instead, he pulled on his jeans and hoped Roxie would remember something to help Eddie—and themselves.

  Roxie pulled the bed sheet higher, up around her neck. She felt as if she were encased in a warm cocoon where she was safe, but outside, lurked danger. And Rowter. She’d explained to Charlie she’d taken the Greyhound bus so as not to leave a trail that her father’s bodyguards could follow, and that was true. But she’d also wanted to see the country as other people did, not from a privileged point of view. She’d seen many, poorer sides of life she wouldn’t have on a jet or in a limo. However, she’d enjoyed her voyage of discovery, especially the highway signs from days gone by.

  Like the old marquees that had seen their day of glory but were now faded and in disuse. She sighed and shifted her legs to make them more comfortable. Her favorite had been the bronco bucking the cowboy off. Which city had that neglected sign been in?

  “Oklahoma,” she breathed, her eyes widening.

  “Oklahoma what?” Charlie asked, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her.

  “I liked the old marquees and would often look for them on the highway. The sign I liked the best was in that state.”

  Charlie’s gaze narrowed speculatively. “What can you tell me about your favorite?”

  “It went right in line with what I was trying to do for myself. Find a modicum of freedom.” Sadness arrowed through her. Yet here she was imprisoned in a strange house because a mad man was trying to kill her.

  “It was a very faded sign. Of a bronco bucking off a cowboy.”

  Charlie laid a warm hand over hers. “You did good. That should be enough for Eddie.”

  Minutes later, Charlie’s friend told him the bronco marquee belonged to the West Winds Motel in Erick, Oklahoma.

  Roxie felt relief surge through her. “Then the man disappeared there,” she said, with some satisfaction.

  Charlie remained on the phone with his friend. The search ended quickly. “Jasper Bartol is the man who was found dead in the restroom in the bus station at Erick.”

  Roxie started to shake uncontrollably. “Jasper Bartol? Are you sure?” she asked, her voice becoming reedy.

  Charlie frowned. “Yeah. Do you know him?”

  “I heard my father talk about him several times. Father would never let me meet him, and he thought he kept him a secret from me. Jasper is supposed to be my bastard half brother.” She paused, a heavy lump forming in her throat. “You know more than you’re telling me, right?”

  Charlie grimaced. “Looks like your father refused to help Rowter pay for medical bills for his son, who consequently died.”

  “Oh. Poor man,” Roxie replied with downcast eyes. Her cheeks paled, and she twisted her fingers together.

  Charlie pressed his lips in a thin line. Roxie was all the more lovable since she could find compassion in her heart for a man who meant her harm.

  She nodded once, as if with assurance. “If Jasper and I are related, then that’s why he was killed. Rowter wants to get even with my dad, so all his children count as dead now.”

  Charlie cringed. Rowter wouldn’t rest until he found Roxie. Patting her hand, he relayed the information to Kyle.

  His friend stayed silent for a moment longer than was necessary, then he said, “We think Rowter might be on a bus. We’re checking it out now.”

  Charlie nodded. “Let me guess. He’s probably headed this way.”

  “Rowter probably had someone following you. An old prison buddy or something. We can stay ahead one step at a time, but we have you covered, so no worries. Okay?”

  “None,” Charlie muttered sarcastically. How could Roxie and he elude a man who so badly wanted Roxie dead?

  Kyle grunted in the affirmative and disconnected.

  His heart hammering in his chest, Charlie ended the call. “Get dressed,” he told Roxie.

  She gave him a questioning look, or so he thought but it was hard to see her expression in the darkness. He flipped on the bed lamp. Nothing happened.

  “Charlie?” Roxie whispered.

  He heard the edge of fear in her voice. And he’d also heard a stealthy footstep. Suspecting trouble, he jerked the lamp’s cord from the electrical socket with a light pinging sound. He lifted the sturdy pewter base against his thigh, readying himself for anything.

  “Can you get dressed in the dark?” he asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

  “He’s here, isn’t he?” she asked in so quiet a voice, he barely heard her.

  “I think so, but Hector and a plainclothes cop are outside. He can’t get in here. We’re safe.”

  The sound he’d heard moments earlier, a slight scuff as of a worn shoe, came again. He hunkered back against the wall, the lamp stand firmly in his hand.

  “I wouldn’t bet on it,” a deep, gravelly voice told them. “Where they are they can’t help you.”

  Roxie suppressed a cry of abject fear. She didn’t doubt for a moment that Rowter was telling the truth. The outline of his bulky body was almost invisible in the dark. She clapped her hand over her mouth and bit into her lower lip. It was up to Charlie and herself to help themselves. There was no one else.

  “Why Rowter? Why wait until now to kill Roxie? Why didn’t you do it on the bus?” Charlie asked, his voice strong and purposeful.

  He’s not going down without a fight. Me, neither. I’m naked, but I can fight dirty if I have to.

  An idea hit out of the blue. She’d entice Rowter into bed with her then hit him on the head with the lamp. But she waited for Rowter’s reply to Charlie’s question. She wanted to know, too.

  “I wanted her to know that I take care of my own, that I’ll put her in such pain, she’ll be begging me to kill her. My son did that. Day after day, he suffered with lung cancer.” His voice rose to a shout.

  Horrified, Roxie cringed. The man was mad. How could he take five lives for his son’s? That savage act wouldn’t bring the boy back. Her heart ached for the three who were gone.

  Rowter went on. “Mark suffered for months. You know why? Because your father was too much of a heartless bastard to foot the medical bills so he could get the care he needed. If he had, Mark would have survived. He was a fighter. He wouldn’t have just lain down and died.

  “I worked for your father for twenty-three years. I cleaned up the messes he didn’t have the courage to clean up. I killed for him, and yet he couldn’t give a few lousy dollars to help my son.” His voice trailed off. “Just a hundred thousand so he could get the best care possible.”
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br />   Roxie felt his pain like a deep knife stabbing her in the back. “Killing me won’t bring Mark back,” she said soothingly. “Do you have other children?”

  “Mark was my only son. I fucked up my life so bad, and by the time I realized I had, it was too late to have other children. Look at me!” he yelled in fury. “I’m an old man. I’m going to die soon, but I promised myself, I’d take you with me. Then your father would know what it was like to lose all his kids.”

  Roxie couldn’t make him out clearly, but she directed her voice at him. “Why don’t you make love to me? We could try for another kid for you.” She threw the bed sheet off.

  She heard Charlie suck in a deep breath. Then he leaped into action.

  “Get down!” he ordered Roxie and sprang forward, a lamp base hefted upward in his right hand. Roxie rolled off the bed and onto the floor, hopefully to safety. Looked like she’d killed a man simply by revealing her nudity.

  Everything happened as if in slow motion. Charlie reached Rowter in a sprint and knocked his arm sideways. The gun clattered onto the hardwood floor from his hand. Charlie tackled him to the ground. Rowter wasn’t an easy bastard to vanquish. He struggled with a lot more power than Charlie would have given him credit for. They rolled around, grunting and swearing. Charlie was on top the other man’s flabby body, and suddenly, Rowter’s hands were squeezing his neck hard in a death grip. If Charlie couldn’t get him off, he wouldn’t be able to get another breath.

  Abruptly, the man’s hands went limp. Wondering for the slackness, Charlie punched him in the lower jaw. Rowter made a small “oh” sound. His body completely relaxed. With a heavy intake of air, Charlie checked for a pulse in his throat. There was none. The old man was dead.

  Charlie sighed. “Poor bastard. Talk about poetic justice. Maybe you can see your son on the other side,” he whispered, his heart going out to the other man. Yet, he steeled himself. Rowter had told them he’d killed Hector and the plainclothes cop. Charlie hoped to hell he hadn’t. Death for a death didn’t solve a wrong.