by Lisa Ladew
“Did I hurt you?” she asked.
“Never.”
She licked her lips at the intensity of his word. His eyes opened and tracked the movement of her tongue. She felt something grow between them. His erect cock pressed against her belly for just a moment before he moved away from her.
She chased him, surprised at herself, but loving his reaction, refusing to let him hide it. She pushed her hips against his, and smiled as he sucked in a breath.
“Cha─Chantel, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” she whispered to him.
Ronald leaned in close, taking hours to get where she wanted him. She closed her eyes, letting him come to her, memorizing the moment, the sensations, her lips anticipating his touch.
His scent invaded her nostrils, and she breathed in deeply. Clean male, a strong sandalwood soap, and the lightest touch of beer. Charlene’s mind stuttered for a moment, as she almost recognized the soothing and oh so masculine smell as important – but then his lips touched hers. She tensed as delicious electricity shot up her spine, making her sigh into his mouth. He felt it too, she could tell, as a soft moan escaped his chest. The kiss intensified, making her gasp for breath.
Relic! Relic! Relic! her mind screamed at her and she pulled away, confused, hurt, saddened beyond belief.
“I-I can’t,” she told him. “I want to so much, but I can’t.”
He gazed deeply in her eyes, his own sadness spearing her, confusing her more. “I understand.”
She stepped backwards, separating their bodies. “No, I’m sorry.” She ran for the door, turning around for only a moment. “Please tell my sister I took a cab home. It’s not you. It’s─ I’m in love with someone else.”
Chapter 7
Relic walked down Fifth Avenue, dodging crowds of people, women mostly. He looked in every store window, desperate to find something good enough, special enough, awesome enough to express the remorse, hope, and love in his heart. She hadn’t run from him when she’d seen his missing fingers. She’d touched the scars, with none of the fascination the freak-chasers displayed. No, her touch had been soothing, accepting, a welcome balm that reminded him of exactly how sweet she was, how good and loving. He couldn’t fuck this up. He had to get her back.
A solid gold birdcage in one store window caught his eye. He would’ve laughed if he weren’t so desperate. Charlene would not want anything from Fifth Avenue. She would want a trip, or something practical, or nothing at all. But she deserved something. Something beautiful and delicate and sweet like her. Something that she could look at and see how he felt about her.
His eye fell on the largest geode he had ever seen, just inside a store window. The Astro Gallery of Gems. He pushed his way inside, praying he would find something that would appeal to her, be worthy of her. The store was filled with fascinating items, more geodes, racks of perfectly preserved coral in every color, a t-rex thigh bone, and more jewelry than he had ever seen in one place.
Did he dare buy her jewelry? He wanted to, but he had fucked up so badly, would jewelry send the wrong message?
He had no idea. Maybe as long as he didn’t buy her a ring, he was safe.
After an hour of wandering and turning down three salespeople trying to help him, he stopped in front of a headless mannequin displaying a brilliantly purple gem surrounded by glittering silver. It was gorgeous, and he knew from her letters that purple was her favorite color. He read the card: Amethyst and White Topaz Halo Necklace in Sterling Silver.
It cost six hundred dollars. If money could buy forgiveness, he would have spent every cent he had on her, but he knew Charlene wasn’t like that. She would not be swayed by anything but true love and forgiveness coming from her heart, and if he spent too much on her she would refuse to take it at all.
He picked the necklace off the mannequin and held it in his hand, remembering how she had looked the night before. This necklace would have looked amazing on her. No matter what she decided about him, he wanted her to have it.
He nodded at the saleswoman buzzing around him and let her ring up his package. While he was waiting, his phone buzzed in his pocket. A text from Kerry.
She wants to go back to the club tonight. She wants to see you again.
Relic’s heart soared in his chest, until he remembered she didn’t know who he was. She wanted to see Ronald, not him.
I can work with that, he told himself, determined to do whatever it took.
I’ll be there, he sent back.
He texted Gavin.
I need another favor. A big one.
Chapter 8
Charlene pulled the covers off Kerry. “Get up. You have ten minutes, or I’m going by myself.”
Kerry turned in the bed and stretched, wincing at the bright light of the afternoon flooding through the patio doors. “You won’t get in without me,” she said, cradling her head in her hands.
Charlene threw her a look. “Then unless you want your favorite sister standing in a three-hour-long line, I guess you’ll haul your ass out of bed.”
Kerry dragged herself out of the bed as Charlene eyed her distastefully. “Do I even want to know what you two did last night after I left?”
Kerry stared her straight in the eye. “You don’t. But it was hot.”
Charlene blushed involuntarily. How could two sisters be so different? Kerry smirked at her then walked to the other bed, pulling the covers off Susan. “You coming?”
Susan covered her face with her pillow and moaned. “Leave me alone.”
Kerry faced her sister and motioned toward Susan. “I guess she’s staying here.”
Charlene was already heading for the closet. Kerry watched her and asked, “What are you wearing?”
Charlene pulled her new little black dress out of the closet, simple and not low-cut, it hugged her curves in all the right places but was not too revealing. She also grabbed the low silver heels she had picked up with the dress earlier that day while Kerry and Susan had slept off their hangovers.
She held the dress in front of her body and posed for her sister. “Do you like it? I bought it on Fifth Avenue this morning.”
Kerry grunted. “It’s boring.”
“Better boring than so small everyone can see my panooza,” Charlene said, raising her eyebrows.
“Next time don’t look,” Kerry said, pawing through her clothes. “Okay, I’ll wear this.” She pulled out a latex slip dress that was smaller than what she had worn the night before.
Charlene didn’t care what she wore, as long as they made it to Club Privé sometime soon.
Charlene hurried to get into her dress, nervous fingers brushing at her throat. What if he wasn’t there? If not, at least she would have tried, and maybe she could talk to someone else who worked there. Get his real name. Maybe his number? She felt sick at the prospect of leaving New York without at least that much. The man had touched her in a way no one had since Relic.
Just over an hour later, hair done, makeup perfect, they pulled up in front of Club Privé.
“Wait,” Charlene breathed as they got out of the cab, more nervous than ever. “How did you get VIP yesterday? You don’t have it again tonight, do you?”
Kerry waved her hand. “Don’t worry, chickie. When have I ever failed you?” She strutted to the doorman, and Charlene breathed a sigh of relief when they were again let in without having to wait in the line.
Charlene eyed the shelves of masks in front of the club. “Mardi Gras night again?” she said to no one in particular.
“That’s right,” the hulking doorman said.
“Okay then.” She took more time choosing a mask than she had the night before, finally picking a pink cat’s-eye mask she thought would contrast nicely with her black dress.
They moved inside the club, taken aback again by the opulence, but Charlene dismissed it quickly and searched for Ronald. She kept her disappointment at bay when she didn’t see him by telling herself t
hat it was still early. He could show up later, or be somewhere else in the club. The blaring dance music picked her spirits up immediately, getting her in the mood for fun, while the gorgeous, masked people standing in small groups or dancing or flirting made her think of what they all seemed to have on their mind, sex.
Charlene turned to her sister and found that she already had her eyes on someone. Kerry pointed Charlene to the bar, then made her move. “Mmmm, I’m gonna go say hi to him, if that’s okay,” she said, pointing her body at someone near the edge of the dance floor.
Charlene barely looked at who she was talking about. “Go, go. I’ll be fine.”
Kerry kissed her on the cheek and took off. Charlene made her way to the bar and ordered a long island iced tea.
“Let me get that for you,” a male voice to her left said.
“No thank you,” Charlene replied over the music, without looking up.
“I insist,” the man said, and his money was on the bar before Charlene could react. She snuck a look at him. He was handsome, in a lumberjack kind of way. Big. His energy was a bit domineering, but nothing that set off her alarms too much.
“Thank you, but I’m waiting for someone. I wish you would have let me pay my own drink.”
He smiled at her over what looked like a scotch. “Beautiful women should never pay for drinks,” he said, his eyes glittering.
The bartender returned with her drink and she took it, sipping it lightly. “Thank you,” she murmured again. She pushed off from the bar, moving several paces to the right. She felt, rather than saw him follow her. She turned away, not wanting to deal with him, but he walked purposefully around her, so she had to face him.
Charlene set her shoulders. “I don’t owe you anything,” she told him, “and I don’t want to talk to you.”
His face became hard immediately. “So you’re just a bitch, then. Maybe you should wear a sign.”
A large hand fell on the man’s neck and he winced. Charlene looked up to see Ronald there, wearing the same large mask as the night before, but a dark-gray suit this time.
Ronald pulled the man’s face close to his and spoke intently, just loud enough to be heard over the music, the intensity in his voice clear. “Just because a woman doesn’t want to talk to you doesn’t make her a bitch. Time for you to go. You can come back if you want, but not for twenty-four hours. If you ever talk to a woman in this club with anything but the utmost respect again, it will be a lifetime ban.”
Ronald nodded at a behemoth of a man dressed all in black behind him, and the man stepped in, replacing Ronald’s hand on the guy’s neck, then maneuvering him to the door.
Charlene almost felt sorry for him, but quickly forgot all about it as her eyes fell on Ronald. “You’re here,” she yelled over the music. “Are you working?”
“No.” He stared at her intently. “I came back because I hoped to see you again.”
Heat and gladness flooded through Charlene. “I’m sorry about last night,” she said. “I –“
“Don’t be sorry. Ever.”
She wanted to take his hand, but she didn’t. She wanted to ask him if they could go back upstairs, but she couldn’t. She smiled and sipped her drink instead.
“Would you like to dance?” he asked, motioning to the dance floor, his raspy voice drawing her in.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Somewhere more quiet?” Her heart sped up in her chest as she waited for his answer. She wanted nothing more than to get to know him.
“Of course,” he told her, holding out his arm. She threaded her own through it, thrilled at his touch. Heat rolled off his body, warming her from the outside in, a promise of searing things to come.
Chapter 9
Charlene followed Ronald down the same hallway as she had the night before, with the same anticipation and eagerness but without any trepidation at all. Who knew what would happen inside that suite, but she knew whatever it was, she wanted it. She would tell him not to block the door open this time. Privacy worked for her.
He stopped at the door and swiped his keycard, then pushed inside, his head down, holding the door open for her.
Charlene stepped inside and her breath caught between her teeth. Two dozen candles burned on the counter, providing enough soft, moving light for her to see the two towering flower arrangements on either side of the bed, like what she might see at a wedding.
She stared, wondering at the unexpected romance, almost scared for a moment, until Ronald spoke from behind her.
“I have to tell you a story. A story about a soldier who made a huge mistake and now wishes he could change it more than anything.”
Charlene froze, unable to think, unable to breathe, chill bumps dancing across her skin, making every hair on her body try to stand up.
She knew.
She turned slowly, tiny steps, so tiny it seemed to take her an hour to get there, her eyes firmly on the floor.
She lifted her gaze slowly, and when she reached his face, the mask was gone. Relic stood there, his back against the door, the left side of his face looking fairly normal, but the right side scarred, pitted, and deformed from chin to forehead, the vertical scar she remembered him having still there, but twisted and overtaken by the new scars. He was still essentially Relic, but his looks had changed. He reached a hand to his ear, and pulled. “This is fake,” he said. “Just a prosthesis.” When he moved his hand, she could see that much of his ear was gone and his hairline on that side was crooked, jagged.
She bit her lip and tried not to crumble, uncertain which emotion was hitting her the hardest. Relief? Love? Anger? Confusion? Distress? Sadness? Anguish?
She walked to him, watching his eyes, seeing only defeat in them. He thought she had already checked out, thrown him away, and she hated him for that.
But no. He had some hope, some belief in her, or the candles and flowers would not be there.
“Please don’t be mad,” he told her, his eyes begging. “I know what I did was horrible, but I’d like to tell my side.”
She stopped a foot in front of him, taking him in as a whole, not looking at his injuries. She nodded, swallowing everything inside her long enough for him to get his story out.
“I love you Charlene. I have since almost the moment I met you. Your last letter to me had me celebrating and feeling like I never imagined I would feel. Remember?” he asked, inclining his head. “You said you wanted to get married again, and that you also wanted two children and the white-picket fence and a dog and a cat. When I read that I just knew our future would include that. I started a letter to you that night that asked you if you wanted me to get out of the Army, or be a career soldier. I wrote long lists of the pros and cons to each. I was ready to do exactly what you wanted. On the back, I sketched a copy of the engagement ring I was going to have created for you.”
He rubbed the side of his face, the scarred side, which made that eyelid droop. He pushed it back up with his fingers. “Before I could send the letter, we had to head out on a patrol. We were meeting a supply convoy halfway, escorting them to the base.” He shook his head. “It was bad. We met the convoy, traded off with the unit who had been escorting them, then went on our way. We were ambushed as we passed by a wadi, a kind of valley that holds water in the rainy season. The first vehicle ran over an IED and when the rest of us stopped, blocked by the explosion, they hit us hard on both sides with rockets and AKs. We called in air support but we were on the ground, fighting from an indefensible position, for almost an hour before they showed up.”
His raspy voice hitched and broke. “I pulled my friends from burning and twisted boxes of metal with one hand as I shot back at the Taliban with the other. At one point, a dozen of us sheltered under a burning deuce and a half. It was either stay there and smell our skin fry, or pull out and get shot. It was a horrible decision to make, and I never was so happy as when the helicopters finally showed up to clean house.”
His voice dropped and Charlene’s heart wrenched and her stoma
ch coiled. She knew the worst was coming. She didn’t look away from him, as much as she wanted to. His pain seared right through her.
“I ended up at Bagram Air Force base, shot through the right lung, two fingers short, burnt over thirty percent of my body, and completely unable to speak, my lungs and vocal cords damaged from breathing in so much burning fuel. But worse than that, I’d lost seven friends.” A tear tracked down his cheek, making Charlene’s throat close as she watched it.
“I was flown to Walter Reed Army Medical Center for surgery after surgery and treatment for my burns. I wanted to call you, I wanted to have someone notify you, but at night, I would look at my blackened skin, the holes where my fingers had been, my ruined face, and my missing ear, and ask myself what I could offer you. Tell myself that you were better off without me.”
He held up a hand. “I know that was awful of me, selfish of me, and assumed many things about you that aren’t true, but if there’s one thing I know you can understand, it’s that an experience like that changes you.” His eyes twisted to the left and his expression grew pained, even as the scars on his face stood out in the dim light. “In truth, I have to admit that I was scared. I saw the pity on the faces of the nurses who took care of me, and I thought if I saw that pity on your face and watched you turn away from me, I might as well hold a gun to my head. I checked out mentally for many weeks.”
Relic stood straight and tall, and Charlene could see his military discipline still alive and well in him. She chewed on her tongue in an effort to keep quiet, to let him say his piece.
“I found out that it was a soldier who told the Taliban where we would be and when, and even sent our air support off on a wild goose chase so it would take them longer to get to us. A soldier who was ‘disenchanted with the war effort’. Who had decided the government was wrong for being there in the first place so he tried to use our very lives like poker chips. The botched missions this guy had a hand in are still being discovered and his body count is still rising.”