by Petrova, Em
Christine’s fingers traced his scar. “Hard times either pull a couple together or break them apart.” Charlie read between the lines. She asked whether this embezzlement scandal would pull them apart or bring them closer. He had no idea. “I’m so sorry.” She bent to kiss his scar. He shut his eyes at the sweetness of it. He didn’t deserve her, but God he needed her.
The Tardis squealed. Charlie pulled them both to their feet. “Go ahead and answer your daughter.”
Christine shook her head. “It can wait.”
“Answer her.” A little space and distance might not be a bad thing. “I’ll take care of the dishes. You cooked, I’ll clean.” Charlie patted her bottom and squeezed one cheek. “Then I have plans.”
“I do as well.” She squeezed his ass, making him chuckle before she walked away.
Charlie started to wash dishes. He should feel burdened, as he always did when he thought of the accident, yet the crushing weight of guilt seemed lighter. Christine had made the burden less heavy and shown him what life with her could be. If only. He finished drying the few dishes, put them away in the cabinets, being sure everything was organized and the kitchen spotless. A few photos hung on the refrigerator, Adam and Anna, her children.
She’d called his son by his true name. Christine was a wonderful mother, a wonderful woman. He wandered to the doorway of her home office. Large photos of Australia dotted the walls and a gorgeous waterfall print hung to his left.
Christine sat behind a massive cherry wood desk he recalled had belonged to her great grandfather. The deep color complimented the room and matching book shelves lining the walls. She typed away on a computer keyboard set before a flat screen monitor. “I’ll just be a minute. Anna is doing well in her classes. She loves college. Her best friend is a guy, and he keeps adding things for her to tell me.”
“Judging from your smile, I’d say this is a good thing.” Charlie watched her fingers fly.
“He’s a fine young man, and they get along so well. I think he’s in love with her and a bit afraid to tell her. But we’ll see. There’s no rush. They’re young.”
A bit like us, best friends, he’s in love with her. Like mother, like daughter. Charlie gave a loud sigh. “Well I suppose there’ll be a wedding soon and then you’ll be a grandmother.”
Christine glared at him. “Bite your tongue, Jergens.”
He laughed and moved around the room. The dozens of books, all genres from romance to mystery, bestsellers to thrillers, proved she loved to read as much as he did and kept as many ‘dead tree’ print books as she did electronic ones. He thought of all the nights they’d talked online, how he’d seen her in the leather chair, grinning as they chatted, and wondered how she’d appear riding him as he leaned back and thrust inside. They could now make the fantasy real. Charlie moved behind her and glanced at her screen, not to see what she was typing, but to gauge the height and figure how best to slide under her so—then it hit him like a brick. “Do you always have those minimized programs at the bottom of your screen?”
She typed ‘see ya’ and glanced up. “Do I what?”
Charlie bent closer and pointed. “Those programs icons here at the bottom; they’re on your hard drive, bank, email, messenger, any file you have open. Correct?”
Her head tilted. “Yes. Why?”
“Do you also place them like this at work with the orders? Say mine, California’s, maybe New York’s, Texas’?” She nodded and his excitement grew. “Are they pass coded? Each file, so someone has to enter a password before he or she can open it?”
“No, but the system itself is password protected so no one else can get in.”
Charlie pushed her hand from the mouse and clicked on one small rectangle box. Her email home page filled the screen. “Anyone can pull them up. The computer doesn’t realize this is me and not you at the mouse.”
He saw the realization in her expression. “So if I left my desk, someone could pull up any of the orders I had at the bottom.”
“As easily as I just did.” Directive or not, he’d show her and share this bit. “How long is it before the screen saver and password prompt appear?”
“Um, it usually takes three to five minutes.” Christine gazed at the screen, but he could see the wheels turning inside her head.
“Do you always lock your office when you leave?”
“Yes.” A tiny frown line appeared in her forehead. “I do most of the time. I mean, not when I go for coffee or to the restroom. But they’re just down the hall. I’d see anyone who goes into my office.”
Charlie lifted a brow. “You can see your office from the restroom stall?”
“Of course not.” She waved her hand. “But it’s so short an amount of time.”
“It’s enough time if you’re experienced, aware what you need, and how to do it,” he reasoned. He’d found the missing piece. “Who has your password?”
“Jim, Kathy, probably Tom from IT, and Laci since she took over for me.” Christine slid him a side glance.”You do.”
Charlie gazed down at her. “True. Someone had access to the orders on your computer. Once he or she accessed your system, it became child’s play to change the numbers, print, sign your name, and submit for payment.”
“What about your signature?”
“I scan my invoices to you and leave the document unlocked so you can make changes. Again, child’s play to whoever changed all the numbers.”
“So the person who changed those orders did it from my computer?”
“All the information would be there. A quick click, change the numbers, and send to another computer to print out. It’s not hard around our offices to find something you signed and copy your signature. Only he or she signed in the wrong place.”
Her jaw dropped a bit. “You noticed?”
“Of course I did. You always sign directly over me. You like to be on top.” He stroked her cheek. “In more ways than one.”
Instead of his comment making her grin or blush, her shoulders slumped. “So this is my fault.”
“This is not your fault.” He raised her chin. “It’s a violation of your office and computer, of you, me, us.” He bent to capture her lips. Pulling her to her feet, he sank into her chair and tugged her onto his lap. “I think we started something a few minutes ago in the kitchen.”
“But, Charlie, we need to...”
He thrust his hips up so she could feel what he needed. “Yes, we do.”
“You’re going to kill me,” she said with a laugh.
“What a way to go.” He opened her robe.
Christine wrapped around him, her arms, legs, and her delicious scent. “Remind me where we were.”
Charlie palmed her breasts. “Here, I think.”
She pushed aside his robe and stroked his cock. He responded instantly, hard and ready. “What about here?”
Their tongues mated as they strained to be closer. It should amaze him, this hunger, the way he couldn’t seem to get enough no matter how many times they made love. Fondling and stroking, their moans and breathless sighs filled endless minutes. Christine opened above, welcoming him. The leather creaked as they rocked together, tighter, closer. Charlie held her gaze, gripping her hips, helping her move against him. He watched her teeth sink into her lower lip as she shook her head. Holding back, he realized, wanting him to release first. “Christine”—he grunted—”go over, come with me.”
“Charlie, I tried, I can’t wait, I, oh God.” Christine leaned back, and tightened around him like a fist squeezing his cock. He moaned and flicked a finger back and forth across her clit, watching her as they both exploded over the edge.
***
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Charlie finished tying his shoes.
Christine laughed. “Jogging isn’t my thing, but you go have fun.”
“You did have a lot of exercise last night.” He grinned.
“So did you.” They’d taken a long hot bath then slipped into bed. His arms wrapped
around her all night. “And you still have the energy to jog. My goodness. You’re a man among millions.”
“Don’t you forget it either.” He hugged her and whispered a suggestion for after his jog. She stood at the front door and waved him off, amazed how even the sound of his whisper made her desire flair. He disappeared around the corner. She hurried to the phone, searched through the numbers indexed, and dialed Tom’s cell. He’d given it to her after a customer demanded visuals of last year’s invoices and she needed help after regular hours with the graphics. “Hi, Tom, it’s Christine Howell.”
“Um, hi, Christine. When are you coming back? We all sure miss you.”
“I hope very soon. I wanted to ask a few questions about computers.” She could almost picture Tom’s smile. “When I send the orders to be processed there’s a computer log, right? A way you guys who run all the systems can see what my computer sends?”
“You make us sound like Big Brother or the CIA. But yes, there is. We can also track where documents and emails were sent, to whom, the day, and the time. It’s called an electronic trace.”
“Like telephone records?”
Tom laughed. “It’s something similar.”
“Could you pull the trace of my computer, with all the Hawaii orders for the last year and not let anyone find out what you’re doing?”
“Is this about the case where you’re accused of taking the corporation’s money?” His voice stayed low as if he didn’t want someone to overhear.
“If you don’t want to help me, I understand. You could get in trouble, and I shouldn’t have asked.” Christine rubbed her temples. Stupid idea, it was crazy to think she might figure this out herself.
She heard voices and then he said, “Of course I’ll help. You didn’t steal. You don’t have the computer savvy to do something like this.”
Christine laughed long and hard. “Guess my computer ignorance is a plus this time.”
“You aren’t ignorant, just not a master with tech stuff. It may take a while, but I can get you the print out.” He paused as someone shouted his name. “I’ll go to the office supply place near the coffee shop across from the office. Fax from a corporate non-network is the best way and nearly untraceable. Or it will be, since I’ll pay in cash and have my girlfriend who works there erase the log after I send it. What’s your fax number?”
Christine rattled it off. “Thank you so much. This means a lot to me.”
“No problem.” He paused to laugh and give morning greetings to someone who called him. “It should be there in like a couple of hours or so.”
“I thought you said it would take a while?”
“Well, hours are a while to us techies.” Tom laughed. “It shouldn’t take longer than that since I don’t have anything pressing. Talk to you soon.”
Maybe she could figure this whole mess out after all. If she cleared herself, it would help Charlie. He’d wanted this promotion for so long and he deserved it, but even with his record and contacts, any claims of embezzlement could hurt his career. She opened the front door and stepped onto the porch. As for hers, well, maybe she needed to take a long hard look at whether she wanted to stay with this corporation. She strolled out to the back yard in the crisp air scented with a bouquet of dew, soil, and the coming spring. The distant engines of cars told of people going about their daily routines, the sun peeked through the clouds to shine on the trees, and bushes stood about to burst with leaves and cover the wooden fence surrounding the yard. Isolated enough she could walk around in her robe and no one would see her, peaceful, and safe.
A violent shove slammed her face into the side of the house. Dazed, she cried out as everything started to go black. “Whore!” A voice rang in her ear, rough, angry. “Fucking him, thinking no one sees.”
She screamed thin and weak as hands tore at her robe. Everything spun. Pain burst in her head, face, and arms. Fear, vicious and sharp, gripped her as she raised a hand to retaliate like she’d once learned. Her arm was wrenched behind her shoulder and another fist slammed into her side. She screeched as something inside her broke. Every bone in her body jarred as she collapsed to the ground. Dirt and blood filled her mouth as the assailant delivered several kicks to her ribs. Something sliced against her, ripping her robe and flesh. The pain tore at her. Why? Why? Hands groped her breasts, pinching, bruising. Can’t stop it. Hands gripped her thighs. No. Stop. No.
“Nooo.” Christine cried, begging as laughter filled the air. Struggling to get away, a fist slammed into her face, exploding colors and pain overwhelming her. This couldn’t be happening. Charlie! Help me! Please, Charlie.
***
Charlie halted, off stride in the easy jogging pace he’d set. Did he just hear Christine? Her voice screamed again in his head. He turned and increased his pace to a flat out run. She’d probably laugh when he told her he’d returned much sooner because he heard her calling to him. Or maybe suggest a better workout for them. He entered her yard, some odd instinct making him head around the house to the back. “Christine!”
She lay crumpled on her side. Blood covered her, matting her hair and soaking the ground. Oh sweet God. Her lovely face was battered, her robe in rags. Cuts on her skin so numerous he couldn’t begin to count them all. Even worse, she didn’t move. Charlie felt for her pulse, becoming terrified when he couldn’t find it. There it was, faint but strong. Oh thank God.
He yanked out his cell and ripped off his jacket to cover her. She never moved or made a sound. He wanted to hold her, but he knew better than to move her in any way. Her arm twisted at a funny angle; her legs oozed blood. It broke him to see one foot clad in a blue slipper and the other bare and muddy. He paused to wipe away the moisture on his cheeks. What the hell happened? Who could have done this?
“Christine.” He lay beside her and held her hand. “I’m here. I’m here. Come back to me, my Gem. Don’t leave me.” He heard sirens and flashed back to that rainy night. Christine would not end like Anela. No. He’d kill whoever had hurt her.
The emergency workers arrived and rushed to them. Charlie answered their questions, tried to stay out of their way and still remain close to her. They were so gentle with Christine, handling her carefully. He ignored the suspicious glances they threw at him. He’d bear anything if they’d help her. She didn’t wake or respond, even as they tapped her cheek and prodded her body. The ride to the hospital seemed endless.
“Who are you, sir?”
Charlie turned from the swinging doors where they’d entered with Christine strapped to a gurney. “I’m Charlie Jergens. Please, can you find out how she is?”
“I mean who are you to her?” The nurse raised a brow. “What is your relationship?”
“I’m her fiancé.” He lied without shame. He wanted it, wished for it, and if she got better, he’d make it true.
“Please fill these in for us.” She handed him a clipboard stacked with forms. “You can wait over there. The doctors will be with you as soon as they can.”
He filled in blanks and waited. The nurse brought him some coffee, told him the doctor attended Christine and would update him soon. Charlie thought about calling her children but wanted news first. She’d seemed so fragile, so broken. He didn’t want to upset them. Oh God, who could have done this? And why?
“Mr. Jergens?”
He jumped to his feet. “Doctor, how is she? When can I see her? What is her condition?”
“I’m Doctor Bell.” The white coated man with gray hair held out his hand. “We have your fiancée stabilized and have sent her to radiology for x-rays. Can you tell me what happened?”
It took forever for Charlie to explain how he left for a jog and found her minutes later on the ground. The Doctor nodded several times, his face searching Charlie’s as he told of Christine’s injuries and answered his questions. Then the police arrived to interview Charlie, take a statement, and tell him they were working to find her attacker.
Finally, hours later, he was able to see Christine. He
sat beside her bed and took her swollen hand between his own. The machines monitoring her beeped and hummed. She had a concussion so bandages were wrapped around her head and hair, her dislocated shoulder tucked in a sling. Her face. He’d kill her attacker alone for her bruised and swollen eye, the puffy discoloration of her cheek, and deep cuts along her neck. But she lived and would recover. Thank God.
Charlie brushed a soft kiss across her lips and laid his head beside hers. Her breath stirred against his cheek. Mine. I love you. I’m so sorry I didn’t protect you. But I will. I swear from now on I will. And the person who did this will pay.
Chapter Twelve
Christine heard someone whisper her name over and over, but blessed quiet and the feeling of being wrapped safe and secure in a warm blanket filled her. Nothing mattered except staying in the blanket. “Christine,” the voice pleaded, soothing as hot tea on a sore throat. “Please, Ku`u Lei, wake. Christine.”
“What do you want?” She tried to say, but a grunt left her throat. As the last folds of the blanket peeled away, pain took its place. So much pain she cried in broken, hoarse sobs. Not a single spot didn’t hurt, especially her face. She pried her left eye open as though it weighed a hundred pounds.
“Shh, Ko`u Aloha, I’m here.” Charlie’s face appeared in front of her. “Christine?”
Swallowing hard twice then three times, she croaked out the first thing she thought. “You look tired.” She tried to touch him, but he held her hand. Her right eye wouldn’t open. What had happened? Then she remembered. Her face hurt because she slammed into the house. He had hurt her. No, no, no.
“We were so worried about you.” Charlie laid his forehead on hers. “Thank God you finally woke. Welcome back, Ku’uipo, Ku’u ‘I’ini. Let me get the nurse.”
“Don’t leave.” This time the words ripped from her throat. “He’ll come. Safe with you. Don’t go.”
“Shh, my Gem. You’re safe. I promise he’ll never come near you again.” Charlie gripped her hand, relaxing his hold a bit when she moaned, and wiped his face with his other hand. “You’re in the hospital. You’re safe. I’ll never leave you again.”