True Vision

by Joyce Lamb

  “Oh, all right. Shut me out.” But instead of being mad, Alex just sounded amused. “That’s pretty much your MO anyway. I mean, you had a car accident yesterday and you didn’t call me. I thought I’d made myself clear after the break-in.”

  She shrugged. “The accident was minor.”

  “Not according to Logan. Your Escape is totaled.”

  He apparently hadn’t mentioned the murderous ninja. Thank you, Logan. “Don’t I look okay to you?”

  Alex tilted her head, her gaze shrewd. “You tried something with makeup that isn’t quite working.” She pursed her lips. “And there’s that sneaky stuff with the Dick’s story. Why didn’t you mention you were planning that?”

  “It was kind of a last-minute thing. And I didn’t want anyone to think you had anything to do with it.”

  “No. I just ended up looking like the sister Charlie doesn’t trust to confide in.”

  “Alex—”

  “You’ll be happy to know that David’s doing cartwheels. On day one of his new law firm, he had screwed customers from Dick’s lining up.”

  “That’s great. Good for him.”

  “Yes, good for him. But you and me, we need to get something straight.”

  Uh-oh. “Okay.”

  “I know something serious is up. You checked into the Royal Palm, for God’s sake. You’re scared.”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “So the car accident wasn’t really an accident, right? Logan hedged all over the freaking place when he told me about it.”

  Charlie nodded. Time to come clean. “I was run off the road.”

  Alex sank onto the bed next to her. “Damn. I was afraid of that.”

  “But Logan set me up here, and it’s safe. I’ve been using the back entrance. No one outside of you guys and Mac knows I’m here. And, get this, when I went out earlier today, I disguised myself by wearing a dress.”

  Alex laughed heartily at that. “Charlie Trudeau in a dress? I wish I’d seen that.”

  “It was kind of pretty, really.” And especially fun when Noah peeled it off.

  “Mom would be so proud.”

  Charlie rolled her eyes. Refusing to wear dresses had been one of her sillier acts of defiance. “She would have thought she finally won.”

  “So you were out sneaking around, huh? I bet Logan didn’t know about that.”

  “Actually, he does. He kind of caught me in the act.”

  “That’s my Logan. You can’t get much past that guy.”

  Charlie grinned at her. “Your Logan, huh?”

  Alex waved a dismissive hand. “A figure of speech. So what else did you do since we talked? Besides screw Noah Lassiter’s brains out.”

  Ah, tingles again. So very . . . delicious. She cleared her throat. Focusing now. “I met with Simon Walker.”

  Alex tilted her head. “Why does that name sound so familiar?”

  “The newspaper god.”

  “That Simon Walker? You met with him? What the hell?”

  Charlie laughed at Alex’s excitement. She wondered when she’d lost her ability to get that excited about anything. “He offered me a job.”

  “You’re kidding. What job? Where?”

  “Anywhere I want.”

  Alex blinked and shook her head. “My head is spinning. Help me.”

  “He said I could pick any newspaper I wanted.”

  “Wow.” Alex laughed. “Wow.”

  “I know. Weird, huh?”

  “Hell, no. Not weird. Amazing. And you deserve it, Charlie. You worked so hard to make the LAG better and just kept running into brick walls.”

  Charlie gave her sister a sad smile. “I might have killed it.”

  Alex’s excitement dimmed. “I know. I’ve heard the rumors.”

  “They’re not just rumors. Dad told me what I did was a deathblow.”

  “I kind of figured as much since he’s been avoiding the newsroom. Have you talked to him?”

  “Amazingly, he didn’t seem all that mad.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “He said it was a good story.”

  Alex held her palm up for a high five. “Way to go, Charlie.”

  Charlie halfheartedly smacked her hand. “It was heart-breaking seeing him like that. Giving up.”

  “He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself. Let’s talk about where you’re going to go to work for Simon Walker.”

  Charlie shook her head. “It’s kind of unfair, isn’t it?”

  “What?”

  “I kill the LAG, and then I get to go on to this fabulous new opportunity while everyone else loses their jobs.”

  “You made that opportunity, Charlie. The rest of those bozos sat around with their thumbs up their butts and smiled and nodded and did what they were told. You bucked the system, defied them all. You’re a freaking visionary.”

  Charlie laughed at that. How many visionaries got called that after doing something with blinders firmly strapped on? “I have to say, you’re taking this pretty well. You’re going to be unemployed, too.”

  “I don’t know. This could be my chance at a fresh start. You know I’ve never been as married to newspapers as you are.”

  That was true. Alex had always been far more interested in animals. The woman had six dogs and always seemed to be taking in another stray, the go-to expert any time a LAG co-worker had a pet problem. Charlie had expected her to become a veterinarian rather than a photographer at the newspaper.

  Alex said, “I’d rather talk about Simon Walker. He came looking for you. That means he’s going to do whatever it takes to make you happy. You could change the whole industry.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “You’re not thinking big. What’s up with that? You’ve always thought big.” Alex grinned. “You know what we need to do? Celebrate.”

  “That might be a bit premature. I haven’t said yes.”

  “You’ll say yes tomorrow. Tonight, we celebrate. And, by the way, I’m staying the night.”

  “That’s not—”

  “I know it’s not necessary, but I am anyway. Let me big-sister you for a change.”

  Charlie smiled, touched. “But you’re not the big sister.”

  “We’ll fake it.” Alex stood up and put her hands on her hips as she looked around. “Does this place have a minibar?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Noah rolled over, expecting, anticipating contact with Charlie. If she was sleeping, he had a few ideas about how to wake her up, all of which involved her screaming his name as she came.

  But he was alone in the bed, and the sheets on her side were cool.

  He sat up, closing his eyes against the tug of pain in his scalp, and looked around the dark hotel room. The light-blocking curtains prevented him from knowing the time. A glance at the clock gave him a time, but it could be A.M. or P.M. for all he knew.

  Sighing, he shoved aside the covers and sat on the side of the bed. Must be morning, he thought. He had to have slept several hours or he wouldn’t have felt so good, better than he’d felt in weeks. Maybe years.

  Charlie, Charlie, Charlie.

  He smiled as he scrubbed his hands over his face. Jesus, she’d blown his mind. Who would have thought a woman so laid-back and levelheaded could be so passionate once you stripped away her clothes? He still smelled like her, like coconuts and the musk of very hot, very messy sex.

  His groin started to tighten at the memories, and he pushed off from the bed and headed for the shower. As he twisted the water on and waited for it to warm up, he considered where this, with Charlie, could lead. He had a job in Chicago. Not a life, though. Just a job that had been his life. A job that had bruised and bloodied his soul over the years. Could he leave it behind? Yeah, he could. In a heartbeat.

  Of course, all of this could be premature. One night of hot sex didn’t make a long-term relationship. But, Jesus, Charlie Trudeau. Just thinking her name made his heart kick like a baby in a womb, eager for rebirth.
<
br />   He’d have to tell her.

  Sighing, he braced his hands on the tile and let the water hit him square in the face, careful to angle his head so the spot where the bullet grazed his scalp was protected.

  Charlie was all about the truth, doing the right thing. He’d have no choice but to tell her.

  “You’re all about payback, aren’t you?”

  In one shot, she’d pegged him.

  The guilt boiled up inside him like rolling lava. Not because he’d exacted bloody, satisfying revenge on someone who deserved it, but because he didn’t feel bad about it. He’d do it again without a second thought, and afterward he would celebrate. Raise a glass to the heavens, knowing the bad guys were in hell for what they’d done.

  Charlie Trudeau stood for truth, and Noah Lassiter stood for justice.

  The question now was: Would Charlie accept Noah’s idea of justice?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Charlie woke thinking about Noah. She’d slept fitfully, probably in part because she and Alex had downed a couple of coconut rum shots and snacked on pretzels before falling into bed, but mostly because she kept dreaming about Noah. A throb of desire echoed the direction of her thoughts, and she squeezed her thighs together to try to prolong it. She wondered what he was doing now, whether he was still sleeping, whether he woke with a morning erection. She imagined sneaking down to his room before Alex woke, pictured what it would be like to slip into bed with him while he slept and wake him with her mouth on his—

  “Yeah, I want to order breakfast.”

  Charlie opened her eyes and raised her head. Alex was sitting up in the other bed with the room-service menu opened on her knees, the phone pressed to her ear. She smiled and winked at Charlie as she rattled off her order. “Buttermilk pancakes, French toast, scrambled eggs, two sides of bacon, the fruit plate, two large glasses of orange juice and coffee for two.”

  Once she hung up, Charlie said, “You must be starved.”

  “Yep, and I remember you mentioning while we chowed down on pretzels that you had a chocolate croissant for dinner last night.”

  Charlie smiled and sighed. “You take better care of me than a mom.”

  “Yeah, I noticed you didn’t say ‘our mom.’ ”

  While Alex laughed, Charlie pushed aside the covers and got out of bed. Her muscles felt stiff as she stretched, probably because Noah had given them such a workout. Thinking about him, and what they’d done together, made her flush. God, would she ever be able to remember it without getting hot all over again? “Mind if I jump in the shower before the food gets here?”

  “Go right ahead,” Alex said as she grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. “Make it a cold one. You did some very suspicious moaning in your sleep last night.”

  Charlie was laughing, and blushing furiously, as she gathered clean clothes, then went into the bathroom and shut the door. She took a fast shower, her stomach growling the entire time. Hopefully by the time she got out, the food would be there.

  She was already dressed in khaki shorts and a white tank top, reaching for the extra product that helped prevent her hair from frizzing in the humidity, when she heard a knock at the hotel room door. Room service already? That was fast. She quickly ran the goop through her hair, then washed and dried her hands. She couldn’t wait for coffee.

  She heard Alex open the door with a cheery “Good morning!” and then a sharp, puzzling crack. Charlie reached for the knob, then jerked her hand away when something—fingernails?—grazed the other side of the door, followed by a heavy thud.

  “Alex?”

  Charlie swung open the bathroom door, expecting to see a room service cart laden with breakfast. But instead she saw Alex on the floor at her feet, her body jerking spasmodically.

  “Alex!”

  Alex’s eyes were wild with pain and fear, and she was making a choking, gurgling sound. Charlie smelled the blood at the same time that it registered on her stunned brain that it was bubbling from Alex’s chest above her right breast.

  “Oh my God!” Charlie dropped to her knees and planted both hands over the wound.

  A hammer blow of force in the chest drives me back. My butt hits the carpet with a bone-jarring thud, and as I reel back in what seems like slow motion, I meet the dark eyes of the slight, all-in-black ninja standing in the doorway, a gun clasped in one shaking hand. Gun? Gun? And then I’m staring up at the ceiling. What the hell just happened? Why can’t I breathe? A razor blade of pain slices through my chest, and I try to suck in air. Something thick like syrup bubbles into my throat. I begin to choke.

  Charlie coughed, gulping in air as she shoved away the disorientation and lingering shock, and pressed her hands harder on Alex’s bloody chest.

  “Someone call 911!” she shouted toward the open room door, not knowing if anyone was even within yelling distance. “911! We need 911!” She kept shouting it, knowing she couldn’t afford to take the pressure off the wound—Alex might bleed to death. Finally, someone came running. She heard a gasp, an “Oh, my Lord,” and more running feet but didn’t raise her head, her focus intent on her sister.

  “Stay with me, Alex, stay with me.” Her dark brown eyes rolled back anyway, and Charlie swallowed down rising terror and started shouting again. “Alex. Alex! Come on, come on.”

  Blood was streaming between her fingers despite the pressure she applied. She didn’t know what else to do, how else to stop it.

  A voice came from somewhere above her, an older woman: “The ambulance is on its way. What can I do?”

  “Towels,” Charlie croaked. “I need towels.”

  And then she heard heavier footsteps and a familiar voice: “Holy Christ.”

  She looked up, saw Noah, a gun in one hand, his face absolutely white.

  Sobs began to claw their way up her throat.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Noah pushed open the door to the ER’s exam room two, and his heart clattered to a stop when he saw Charlie sitting on the edge of the bed, looking pale and sick, clutching a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. When her eyes focused on him, their depths were dark and anguished. He walked over to her and put his arms around her. Neither of them spoke as he held her, but he felt her trembling, and it broke his heart.

  “She’s still in surgery,” he said. “The nurse said the doctor’s optimistic. Says she’s healthy and young, strong.”

  “It’s my fault,” she said in a low, raw voice.

  He drew back and gazed down at her, his heart wrenching when he saw the tears streaking her cheeks. He wanted to kiss away her tears, her pain. “How can it be your fault?”

  Her fingers tangled in the front of his T-shirt. “I knew I was a target, and I let her stay with me. I let her open my door. It should have been me.”

  He pulled her to him again, a bit more forcefully than he’d intended, but he couldn’t help it when his entire insides jerked at the thought of it being her in the OR getting a bullet removed from her lung.

  “You thought you were safe,” he said, stroking her hair, pressing his lips to her temple. He wanted to absorb her into him and serve as her allover bulletproof vest.

  “But I wasn’t safe. How could that guy know where to find me?”

  Her breath hitched, and she let go of the blanket to wrap her arms around him and hug him tight, burying her face against his neck. He felt the gasping puffs of air against his skin, felt the tension in her body, and knew she was weeping but trying to hold it in. It made him ache all the more.

  After a few minutes, she eased back from him and swiped at her face. Her eyes were red, her nose running. He reached over and plucked the box of Kleenex off the tray table beside the bed, then waited while she took one, blew her nose and wiped her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice strained.

  He could tell she had more crying to do but was doing her damnedest to control it. He stroked a hand over her hair, then curled his fingers around the back of her neck and squeezed. He wasn’t sur
prised that she’d fight so hard to be brave. “It’s okay. Take as much time as you need.”

  She gave him a tremulous smile. “You’re kind of amazing, aren’t you?”

  He returned her smile, felt emotion, and dread, tighten his throat. “Yeah, I’m amazing.”

  She swallowed, nodded, closed her eyes and sat still for a long moment, breathing deeply. He caught himself matching the rhythm of her long breaths, yet his heart thrashed each time he thought, It could have been her. She could have been the one who’d opened that door. He didn’t wish harm on anyone else, but he was damn grateful it hadn’t been Charlie.

  A light knock on the door preceded John Logan pushing it open and sticking his head into the room. “Charlie? You up to a statement?”

  She nodded and wiped at her eyes. “Yes, come in.”

  Logan’s usually neat, sandy hair looked as though he’d repeatedly run his hand through it. Dark circles rimmed his eyes below the lines of stress in his forehead. “You okay?” he asked, darting a questioning glance at Noah.

  Noah had to bite down to keep his frustrated sarcasm to himself. Of course she’s not okay, you nitwit.

  “I’m sorry to put you through this,” Logan said to Charlie, “but it’s important to do it while . . .” His voice gave out, and he paused to swallow several times. “While the . . . incident . . . is still fresh.”

  Noah studied the cop and wondered whether he should be on the case at all. Clearly, Alex’s shooting had shaken him. But Charlie nodded, sniffled. “I understand. It’s okay.”

  He pulled a small notebook out of his breast pocket and flipped it open with shaking hands, then removed a pen from the same pocket. “Tell me what happened.”

  Charlie drew in an audible breath. “It was the same guy who attacked me at home and ran me off the road. Same ridiculous ninja outfit and everything.”

  When she shivered, Noah scooted closer, putting his arm around her shoulders and drawing her tight against his side. She reached for his hand, and he folded her icy fingers into the shelter of his palm, hoping his warmth would seep into her.

  “Let’s start at the beginning,” Logan said. “Everything you can remember.”