WindSwept Narrows: #13 Charity, Faith & Hope

by Diroll-Nichols, Karen

  He had been stretched out on the bed bare chested. And Nico’s chest was nothing to laugh at. He carried a deceptive amount of muscle on him. She could see the edge of a pair of boxers and breathed a half sigh of relief. Between the rumpled blankets and his disheveled hair, he looked deliciously rumpled.

  “I’m pretty sure I’m not that scary looking in the mornings,” Nico said dryly, his palm up and stroking over one side of his face. “Okay, maybe a little scary looking…”

  “I…how did…we weren’t…we didn’t…” she stammered, working on locating the lost dignity beneath the bed as she climbed to her feet and edged back onto the surface, pulling the quilts from the floor over them.

  “Thanks…it’s a tad chilly in here. I think you have the thermostat set at frigid,” Nico remarked, working to keep his vision off the outline of her full breasts beneath the slinky material. “And no…we didn’t. I woke up and tried to figure out why I was on the couch,” he said, shrugging. “Thought I was in my own place and came to bed. You’re very pliable when you’re cold and want warmed up,” he commented, a crooked grin when she flushed bright pink.

  Charity peered at him in the darkness, groaning at the large numbers on the clock. “It’s Saturday…and it’s not even five in the morning,” she ignored the initial concerns and threw herself against the bed, the quilt pulled over her head and her face pressed against his arm.

  Nico listened to her breathing. He felt the small hands curled around his arm before closing his eyes and letting their warmth mingle them both back to sleep.

  Two sets of eyes opened against the express wishes of their owners when the thumping struck the outer door a few hours later. Charity lifted her head more slowly this time, not moving from the warmth too far and pale lashes fluttering weakly.

  “It’s a dream. Make it go away,” she mumbled tiredly. It was almost midnight when she climbed into bed. She groaned when the thumping happened again.

  “Expecting company?” Nico asked, carefully easing out from under her and sitting up, stretching his arms high above his head and letting his legs fall over the side of the bed. He looked to his left and saw the single brow arched at him. “Ahh…fireflies still in residence?” He teased lightly, reaching for the jeans he’d dropped to the floor, grumbling at the chill in the room. “The heat’s free, woman, geeze…”

  “So hit the temp control on your way to kill the person at the door,” she returned cheekily, snuggling down into the nice warm spot he left behind with a sound that resembled a satisfied purr.

  “Don’t get cozy, I’m coming back, and that’s my spot,” he warned tiredly.

  Charity wondered if her curiosity always got the better of her as she pushed a set of reluctant and cold feet over the edge of the bed and stood up, moving quietly behind him to the door. Another thump making her frown. She was staring from behind Nico through sleep swollen eyes, her hands on his arm as he pulled the door open.

  Chapter Four

  “Who is it?” She whispered, blinking at the woman in a dark jacket, holding a small microphone and a man behind her with a video camera aimed at the pair of them. Nico worked to contain the shiver at the blast of cold air, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the curved cane.

  “What do you want?” He demanded flatly, trying to remember where he left his glasses.

  “Charity Colton?” The woman asked excitedly, peering a little to the side at the redhead that edged from behind the bare chested man.

  “Yes…why are you beating on my door?” She went to her toes, peeking out the door, sleep vanishing when she saw the collection of media trucks, vans and people gathered in the parking lot. “What the heck?”

  “You are Charity Colton, alias Amelia Charity St. James?” The woman asked, envisioning herself moving up with this scoop.

  “Alias? I have an alias? Oh, god, I’m a crook!” Charity repeated the word in a low whisper, looking at Nico with a shrug and mouthing the word. “Fireflies.”

  “I think you’ve made a mistake,” Nico tried pushing the door closed, the woman’s foot stopping him.

  She reached into a leather bound folder and pulled out a color photo of Charity, hair longer but the same twinkle in her eyes.

  “That’s me,” Charity said quietly, eyes going from the woman to the photo. “Why do you want me? Am I in trouble? Oh, god, I’m a bank robber…”

  “Charity,” Nico groaned at the expression on her face. “What do you want, Miss…?”

  “Darlene Flanks, Channel Four Prime Time, and you are?”

  “Unimportant…why do you want Charity?”

  The woman looked from one to the other in surprise. “You’re telling me you didn’t know there were people searching for you, Miss St. James?”

  “People? What people? Law people?” Charity cleared her throat, her hands tightening around Nico’s arm. “Please tell me it’s not law people…”

  “Your family, Miss St. James. Your step-mother, Rachelle St. James and your father, William St. James…where have you been for the last six months?”

  “The wicked step-mother…” Charity whispered, eyes wide. She held up one finger. “I need clothes,” she looked down and gave a swift kick at the same time she pushed Nico against the door. A resounding click gave them privacy, if only for a few minutes. She went to the table and handed him his glasses, watching him hobble to the bedroom, the sound of his voice strong when she followed behind.

  “I want security at employee dorms, block D immediately. Somehow press got inside the gates…yes, Dr. Nico Setopoulis. Thank you,” he clamped the phone shut with a snap, tossing it to the nightstand and striding into the bathroom without a word.

  Charity pushed a long, slow breath between her lips and fell face down on the bed. She lifted her head long enough to see the numbers on the clock. Eight fifteen on a Saturday morning, her mind groaned.

  Nico came out of the bathroom to the upturned behind and could only close his eyes before going in search of where he dropped his shirt, socks and shoes. He sat on the edge of the bed, using both feet for balance.

  “Now it’s all making sense,” she mumbled aloud. “The evil step-mother sent someone to kill me…with the rock to the head…and take back my heart as proof…oh, god, did I just say that out loud?”

  “And so goes the fairy tale,” Nico countered with a chuckle. “You need to rein in those fireflies.”

  “Yeah…says you…silly little bugs…” She sat up slowly, shoulders slumped and head shaking. “No shower…?”

  “You can shower…don’t wash the hair yet, Charity…another day…” Nico shoved his arms into his shirt and began buttoning it.

  “Yeah…alright…so…” a thoughtful frown puckered her lips. “Someone is looking for this St. James…how would they zero in on me?”

  “I’d guess photos surfaced from the review last night,” Nico took a guess and shrugged.

  “I…photos…did you snap pictures, Nico?” She met the instantly guilty looking male. “You did…let me see, please…” She waited, cross legged, taking the phone he offered and held it up to her face. “Seriously? Under all that make-up and you could tell it was me? You took pictures?” She repeated incredulously, shaking her head. “Of just me?” She asked quietly, a warmth spreading inside her when he nodded and quickly removed his phone from her hand.

  “I don’t know, Charity, and the only way you’ll get answers…” He tipped his head toward the closed outer door, the sound of firm, no-nonsense voices coming through the heavy barrier. “That sounds like…”

  “Cassidy and she is pissed,” Charity jumped off the bed, gathering clothing and going into the bathroom.

  Nico exhaled deeply and went to the door, looking around but somehow knowing there wasn’t coffee in this apartment. Meantime, three floors below, his coffee maker had just clicked to on status, he thought wistfully. He opened the door carefully, meeting the silver glare from the head of security.

  “I have a brunch to prepare for…and someh
ow…from somewhere…we have news people from the entire flippin’ country in our employee parking lot,” Cassidy fumed, striding inside and absently turning the recorder she wore to the on position. “Want to give me a hint as to why?”

  “I look like I know?” Nico returned flatly. “We just got out of bed when one of them began pounding on the door, Cassidy.”

  Cassidy looked toward the bedroom when she heard the door opening, Charity walking out carrying her boots and dropping them beside the chair.

  “I got the same answer as him,” she said when Cassidy arched a brow expectantly.

  “You don’t know why they’re here?” She pressed firmly.

  “I don’t, Cassidy, I honestly don’t,” Charity ran her hands over a freshly washed face. “They said something about looking for a missing woman named Amelia Charity St. James…”

  “That…is you?” Cassidy told her, meeting the blue eyes with genuine surprise.

  “Am I a criminal? You would know…you wouldn’t have let them hire me if I was a criminal,” Charity rambled, her breathing increasing. “Alright…so that is me…I’m over eighteen. I might not be of sound mind, but I don’t think I’m of unsound mind,” she frowned at that, ignoring the laugh from Nico and Cassidy, the edge blurring a little as they relaxed. “I don’t remember…” She wailed softly. “I…I have these…disjointed images…the evil step-mother being one of them…”

  Cassidy paced the large room, one hand up and rubbing the back of her neck when the tapping began on the door. She looked from one to the other before stepping forward and pulling it wide, gesturing the tall, professionally dressed woman in side.

  “Georgette Douglas, PR woman for the Narrows,” Cassidy said quietly. “Nico Setopoulis, doctor at the center and Charity Colton.”

  “Colton is my mother’s name,” Charity said as if something just flipped the switch. “I used the name Colton all through school and at all the jobs I’ve had…” She looked at Nico with a frown. “I never used the name Amelia St. James. Anywhere…that, I can remember…”

  “Which is why we never knew anyone was searching for you,” Cassidy said logically. “Because all our searches were on the name Charity Colton.”

  “But I don’t know what they want.”

  “They want the heiress that’s been missing for the last six months,” Georgette Douglas said calmly.

  “It would be so much easier to just shoot them,” Cassidy mumbled testily.

  “Yeah, but then I have to spin something so the Narrows doesn’t look bad…it all gets so messy,” Georgette said with a crooked grin. “Then there’s the bodies to clean up…and you know how Logan is about his budge. It’s a fine line between keeping them on our side and alienating them by pitching their asses off private property. And seriously…which one of us wants to stand in front of Logan and explain it all?”

  “I’m sorry,” Charity said with a sigh. “Cassidy, you go to your brunch. Is there a…a conference room or something we could use?”

  “It’s two days before Valentines…there isn’t a free large room anywhere,” Georgette said carefully. “I already checked on my way over here.”

  “Well…then the only thing is a press conference in the parking lot,” she said with a deep breath.

  “Charity, you think that’s a good idea?” Nico looked at Cassidy who shrugged.

  “Why not? What can they get from me? I don’t remember anything useful,” she answered with a pair of hands in the air.

  “You don’t…” Georgette frowned, looking expectantly from Nico to Cassidy. “Oh, please tell me you didn’t just say what I thought you said…”

  “Someone assaulted her yesterday morning with a very large rock,” Cassidy told her carefully. “And I mean a large chunk of granite. We found the stone with the fibers from your cap on it…whoever it was, was dead intent that you not be here this morning.”

  “She was assaulted? Here, on resort property?”

  “I’m not sure being beaned with a rock is an assault,” Charity mumbled, her head shaking. “I told you…evil step-mother sent the woodsman to kill me and bring back my heart…” she stopped, one palm over her lips. “Oh god…”

  “Yep…out loud again,” Nico teased, taking her palm with a squeeze. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea. You’ll be stepping into an ambush….and you don’t have answers…and if something triggers a memory…” He met the eyes that suddenly looked a little frightened.

  “You don’t remember?” Georgette said slowly, nodding to herself. “Alright then…this just keeps getting better and better.”

  “I can handle it. We can’t let them swamp the resort…the easiest way to get rid of them, is to talk to them,” Charity looked thoughtfully at Georgette. “I bet you know everything I need to know about Amelia St. James and her life…at least enough to get me through it…”

  “I can give you superficial data,” she agreed, raking a set of long fingernails through the short cropped blond hair that fell in a curved sweep around her face.

  “Well, I’ll leave you with a couple security people,” Cassidy looked at her wrist with a groan. “I’m sorry, but I have to go get changed. I didn’t want to forcefully make them leave…I understand the PR side of things…so I’m leaving it to you two to work out. Message me…Marcus is outside and I’ll leave him in charge.”

  “Have fun,” Charity said with a smile, the sound of curious voices greeting her when Cassidy opened the door and stepped onto the porch. Charity pulled herself up, shoulders back and eyes closed for a long minute. “Why are they looking for me?”

  Georgette stood with feet apart, hands busily searching on the small unit in her hands.

  “The news information is and was sketchy,” she said slowly.

  “I’m thirty-three years old. I’m single…I hope…not one of those runaway brides?” She asked with a hopeful lilt to her voice, afraid to look at Nico.

  “No. According to the news – and a police report was filed,” Georgette chewed on her lower lip in thought. “You lived most of your adult life with your mother’s parents…nice Victorian house on the hill…you worked at a couple different jobs, most of them non-profits as a public relations spokesperson. You left San Francisco just after your grand-parents were both killed in a multi-vehicle crash on one of the highways during heavy fog. You quit your job, cleaned out their house and just…disappeared. Your father claimed you were distraught over the loss of your grand-parents…your step-mother said you were moody and spoiled but that she meant you no ill-will.”

  “Oh, that sounds just like Rachelle,” Charity murmured testily, her hand up and clapped over her lips.

  “Your father wanted to file a missing person’s report…the police told him he had to wait the customary forty-eight hours because you were over eighteen and there had been no indication of foul play,” Georgette continued reading. “The instant the forty-eight hours was up, the report was filed.”

  “I’m a milk-box child,” Charity said quietly, lips pursed in thought. “At least I’m not a criminal,” she said, glancing swiftly at Georgette. “I’m not, right?”

  “Not a criminal, Charity. Interviews with employers said your head was always right where it needed to be, helping others. You enjoyed it and helped with non-profits a great deal. You have a journalism degree from Southern Cal…good grades…other than getting fed up with relatives and relocating, I don’t see anything at all unusual.”

  “Then why are they bothering me if there’s no juicy scoop involved?” Charity frowned.

  “Missing heiress turned burlesque dancer,” Georgette turned her phone around and sighed.

  “It’s a review and I’m wearing more fricking clothes than if I was at the beach in southern California!” Charity shot back, suddenly angry. “Are you serious? That…is why they’re here?”

  “Heiress located in strip joint?” Georgette sputtered. “I am calling our attorney. This is way out of line…”

  “Oh good grief…” Charity
started laughing. “There were eight other girls in the review…and all they can focus on is me?”

  “Well…we do have some press out of it…” She winced when her phone sounded. “Damn…Hello, Logan…yes…yes, I am on it as we speak. I know…of course they were most definitely not stripping!” Georgette listened, watching Charity step outside, head high and resolve in her eyes. “On the upside, boss, I think I’ve found you my replacement. Yes, I am serious…and yes, I believe she would be very good. I’ll get back to you. Enjoy your brunch!”

  Chapter Five

  Charity moved to the door, lifted her coat and slid her arms into the slots before zipping it and stepping outside, drawing in a long, slow breath. She walked halfway down the stairs, eyes scanning the crowd of reporters and cameras with a curious tilt to her head. She stopped and dropped to sit on the stairs, high enough to see them all.

  She leaned to the side, letting Nico step carefully down the stairs. He met her gaze. “Are you sure about this?”

  She lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “I have to do something. It’s me they want for some reason…so…yeah…”

  “I’ll be right back,” he promised, the back of his hand beneath her chin and tipping it up. “I will be right back,” he repeated, meeting the frightened little girl in the wide blue eyes who nodded and offered a little smile.

  Charity stared out at the reporters, microphones and cameras aimed in her direction. She sighed and waited, elbows rested on her knees, hands dangling in between patiently. She didn’t know Georgette stood at the top, watching.

  “Hello,” Charity said in her normal voice, stopping and tilting her head to the side as they all slowly quieted down. “I understand you want to talk to me….and I’ll talk as long as I can be heard,” she waited a little more, vaguely aware that Nico had dragged one of the brunch stools from his unit, leaning heavily on it with a steaming mug of something between his hands.