by Mimi Barbour
“I want us to get married. I figured we’d get hitched after our finals next month. I thought you’d be happy.” By her actions, it was pretty fucking clear to him, she wasn’t.
Not knowing how to handle rejection, his heart broken, he’d tried to be the good guy, the understanding mate. So, he’d told her to keep his ring, take it with her when she went home for the Memorial weekend. Then, when she’d made up her mind, start wearing it.
Full of expectations that she would be showing it off the next time he saw her, especially after the passion they’d shared that night, the shock hit him hard. Not only wasn’t she wearing his ring, she wore another’s instead.
Seems his loving gift, the diamond he’d sweated and saved for over long months of working every job he could fit between his few hours a week with her and his classes, had pushed her old boyfriend into growing a pair.
The cheating bastard had apologized for his past behavior, promised fidelity and… gave her a solitaire too. Not one to brag, but it that made Blake’s look like the Krupp Diamond.
He’d learned well from that event. The so-called weaker sex – which was pure fallacy – could not be understood and never trusted. He should have known as soon as he’d seen the color of her hair. Carrot red and frizzy, like his mom, the nasty control freak his dad had put up with until he and his two siblings had left home, and the old man right behind them.
From then on, Blake disliked and distrusted red-headed women; stayed as far away from them as possible. Something about their mean temperament and cheating ways brought back bad memories.
He flipped his covers off and wriggled to find comfort. Just thinking about his mother made him twitchy, uncomfortable… with the urge to reach for the closest bottle. She’d been a real piece of work. Crabby on her good days and unbearable when she wasn’t feeling good, which happened more often than not.
He’d left home at sixteen and never looked back, other than to connect with his brothers every so often and get the lowdown on his dad who lived alone in a trailer park somewhere in Florida. Old bastard deserved a decent retirement, peace and quiet from the harping and a few bucks in his pocket that he’d never had while living with her.
Those early traumatizing lessons had given him an insight into the twisted labyrinth of the minds of God’s creation called Woman, and he’d never made the mistake of trying to get close to one of the strange creatures again.
Keeping his heart protected, he’d fooled around with them sure, but made his rules clear from the start. He’d give them as much enjoyment as he’d take. If the ladies offered, and they did a lot of offering, well what kind of a fool would turn them down? No male on the planet would blame him and very few women would either.
Very early on, he’d gotten a glimpse of the reality women live with, the almighty clinging to their youth; heaven forbid a wrinkle should appear, a rogue hair on a chin, or even worse – a pimple. OMG!! As the years passed, he’d noticed their penchant for clutching at their youthfulness with an increased desperation and that floored him.
Sure, men can be equally careful about their bodies. Watch their weight, some even have hair fetishes and go crazy on products that promise miracles. But in his experience, females were hands down bat-shit-crazy in their quest to stop the inevitable.
Strangely, Charli seemed not to care. He’d seen the way she controlled her curly hair with combs at the side or even bobby pins, like he’d seen his mom use back in the day. Not that it looked bad on Charli. Hell, quite the opposite. Her soft curls were bouncy and attractive.
The urge to pull one and watch it recoil had prompted him to piss her off at the airport, and the hunger to do it again haunted him.
He flipped over, unsettling thoughts disturbing his rest. Agitated, his mind revisited the shock he’d felt hearing Kayla’s whispered 911 call for help. She’d eerily moaned Charli’s name over and over, as if in a trance of terror for her make-believe sister.
Remembering his own ungodly fear, the stumbling when he’d rushed to get from his car, tripping, shaking, prayers uttered at the thought of their danger, he admitted to not having felt that kind of rookie trauma in a very long time.
No way would Blake admit to Charli that he’d been on the street sitting in his car, watching the house. It would infuriate her and undermine her confidence as an agent. He’d planned to stay until midnight when he had another officer detailed to take over the surveillance.
After reading the file on Dylan Ross, the infamous Silverado, there was no way he wanted the girls alone in the house. And the phone session he’d had with Deputy Chief Prowler, enlightening him to Charli’s recent past, her undercover case, her exhaustion, meant he wouldn’t be taking any chances that she’d be at her best, which he’d learned was better than most.
Then again, he’d originally planned on spending every night with the girls, and they’d have been covered. Well that went down like a defective bomb, didn’t it?
Charli had crankily put the kybosh on that idea, and knowing they needed to have someone watching the place, he’d had to scramble for a replacement. After he’d called in to find out the men he could trust to keep their mouths shut about this place were covering a street concert downtown with a top headliner band, he decided the hell with it.
He’d take the first shift, and he’d call his Lieutenant, Bill Newton, to start at one a.m. at the latest. Bill was an Aussie who’d emigrated from Queensland five years earlier, a good man, one who owed him many favors.
With this guy, no explanations would be necessary. He knew the circumstances about the witness protection program, took orders, didn’t ask questions and could be relied on to stay awake and do his job. He’d be arriving soon, then Blake could leave.
Nope! That wasn’t going to happen either. He was exactly where he wanted to be.
Suddenly, still restless, he had the urge to check on the girls. Figured if he got caught, he’d use the excuse for needing the little boy’s room. But he wouldn’t be able to sleep now unless he knew for sure they were safe.
Sliding from the couch in his underwear, he slipped his pants back on and tiptoed to the first door in the hallway.
He peeked in and had the shock of his life. What the hell? The bed was empty. His head reeling with too many horrifying images whirling around, he crept closer and checked the other side in case Kayla happened to be a weird kid who slept on the floor. Nope! The room was empty.
Son of a bitch!
Moving quickly and in his haste, stubbing his toe, he clamped down on the cuss words, jogged awkwardly to the second door, and quiet as a burglar, he pushed down on the handle to open the door.
Moisture collected in his eyes at the beautiful sight that awaited him and a soft mushiness invaded his whole being. The two girls lying together – Charlie with Kayla nestled against her side – slept like babies. He slinked closer, drawn by an invisible force, only to be met with the barrel of a gun inches out of the cover pointed directly at his heart.
Chapter Eighteen
Gesturing toward the hallway with the barrel of her weapon, Charli followed to ream him out. She’d tried to sleep but every sound the strange house produced had stopped that from happening. She’d only dozed and the results were that she felt jumpy and mean.
“What in the name of all that’s holy possessed you to come into our room. I was seconds away from blowing the top of your head off.”
“Actually, you were aiming at my heart.”
“Pure semantics, my dear Watson.”
“Aha! Quoting Sherlock Holmes, you can’t be that mad.”
“I never get mad. But I hate things that don’t make sense. You, Watson, you don’t make sense.”
“So you hate me?”
“Now you’re just being an ass. And you’re quibbling… answer my question.”
“I couldn’t sleep and decided to check on you ladies. When I found Kayla missing – trust me – it took a few years off my life. I had to make sure she was with you before calling i
n the troops, didn’t I?”
“When you put it that way, it makes sense. Okay. I would have done the same.”
“So, does that mean you can put your gun down now?”
Charli’s eyes had settled on his naked chest and for some ungodly reason, her hands wanted to follow, to search those strong lines, the muscles, his nipples, to caress and stroke. Charli, he’s asking you something! “Ahh… pardon me?” The glint in his knowing eyes, his cocky grin and his husky teasing stiffened her resolve and got her mind back on track. “What?”
“Put your gun down. You’re pointing it at me again.”
Sure enough, she now had it aimed right at his groin, and it pleased her to see the cockiness he’d worn a few seconds earlier had disappeared. “Sorry.” She lowered her arm. Realizing her silky pajama top was no cover at all from his prying eyes, she turned to go back inside. “Goodnight.”
“Do they always bounce?”
What? “Does what always bounce?” Her mind in the gutter thinking he was talking about her chest, she itched to aim her weapon once more so he’d start behaving.
“Your golden curls. They bounce.”
Why she turned back to face him, she’d never know.
He reached out and tugged at the one draped over her forehead, the same bunch she constantly had to pin up to keep out of her eyes.
The very gentle way he handled it, kind of like her Poppa John often did when he wanted to make a point and get her to listen; it wrenched her heart from its hidden shelter and left it unprotected, accessible, searching for proof that here was a person it needed to bond with.
Good God, no!
Before she could wrench away, he’d lowered his lips and kissed the golden locks in his fingers. His manly smell filled her nostrils and his body heat titillated her own body to accept, to move closer… to investigate.
Sucking in her breath, she froze. Again, why she didn’t stop his nonsense kept her awake the rest of the night, but the intrigued female entity inside refused to let this moment pass without experiencing it fully.
His nose pushed at the hair on her forehead as he kissed there, too. Then he made his way to her ears while his hands cradled her face. “Charli, girl, I have no idea why, but those curls do things to me, give me very ungentlemanly feelings. So, before we both end up in that empty bedroom Kayla abandoned, I believe you need to stop me now.”
She didn’t move, couldn’t. His voice had put her in a trance. The husky, sexy tones had her quaking with needs she’d kept tamped down for a very long time.
He moaned. His lips moved to hers and were descending, his hot breath close while the sweep of his long eyelashes brushed her cheek. For just a second, she savored the feel of his soft mouth against hers, and then she lifted the gun and dug it into his side.
He backed off, her message clear. But his husky muttering left her shaken to the core, “Oh, baby, you know you’re gonna be mine.”
Chapter Nineteen
Charli couldn’t believe how the weeks sped by. She missed her grandfather, Poppa John, with a vengeance and had to stop herself from trying to find a way to contact him. But there was none. He was too precious to endanger, and in case Silverado had connected her to the night of the shooting – no sign yet that he had – then they needed to be on extra alert with her only family.
The lodge staff had been given strict orders that if they saw anyone who didn’t belong near John Madison, they were to contact Detective Crawley immediately. By all the reports Blake passed on – his thoughtfulness a nice surprise – things seemed quiet back home, and Charli could breathe easy.
Here in Fort Lauderdale, she spent the days resting or pretending to work on her fictitious blogs, which usually started off with some inane drivel no one could decipher. Then, with a smirk at her own inept silliness, she’d pass them on to the expert, Suzanne F, to totally redo before she’d post them.
And… she helped Kayla get assimilated into the nearby High School. The girl was woefully lacking the normal teenage necessities. Rushing, they bought her school supplies, a new phone and personal oddities like makeup and toiletries.
Next, Kayla’s wardrobe depressed Charli to the point that she used her own money to outfit the kid with some decent, modern shit: jeans, tops and underwear that fit.
Almost comatose from excitement by the end of the shopping trip, Kayla had finally put a stop to Charli’s spending. “No more, Charli. I love everything, but you’ve gone overboard. Besides, I don’t trust you when you say the budget covers all this stuff. You can’t make me believe the Government’s this generous.”
But the glow in Kayla’s sparkling browns spurred her on.
“Just a few more things. Come on, kiddo. You need a couple of bathing suits and shoes, right? I love shopping for shoes.”
By the time Charli ran out of wind, they’d hit most of the stores in the Galleria Mall and were loaded with shopping bags. She hadn’t expected to have so much fun spending her money, it hadn’t happened in a long time, and seeing Kayla’s excitement, her joy and disbelief in everything they chose made it worth every penny.
The evenings were relaxing and exactly what Charli needed. She and Kayla worked out together: yoga, defense lessons and taking turns exercising on the various machines Blake had chosen to outfit his private gym.
Other than the nightly drop-ins from Blake, who teased the teenager outrageously until they both dissolved into fits of laughter – Charli hiding her grins – the two females hit a plateau where they fit comfortably.
Charli admitted that Kayla was the more easy-going of the two and smoothed any friction between Blake and her with a well-placed quip. Her personality had blossomed from a girl used to keeping her thoughts to herself, to a happy-go-lucky teen, building confidence that pleased Charli every time she could see the new Kayla stepping forward, putting it out there… taking a chance.
After dropping Kayla off at school and maybe grabbing a few needed groceries, Charli would spend her mornings reading and snoozing by the glorious pool. The refrain that echoed daily – What a life! – was instrumental in her nerves relaxing their steel-like restraints and her changing sleep habits.
Now that Kayla slept in her own bed again, thanks to Charli’s offering to put baby monitors in their rooms so they’d be in instant communication, the nights weren’t near as restless. She’d managed to cut down her house inspections spurred on by random noises to only one or two a night.
The one bone of contention she had with their routine were the nightly visits from Blake, but because he’d pass on different messages to her from Crawly, who’d begun to drop by to see her grandfather every few days, she kept her mouth shut and just made sure they were never alone.
Instead, she watched him from afar, careful never to come into physical contact and continued to relive their breathless, electrifying… almost kiss.
Last night, he’d passed on what the middle-aged cop told him. That what had started out as part of Crawly’s job had become an activity he looked forward to, spending time with old-man Madison. Seems the men, both widowers, had hit it off, and Crawly enjoyed John’s witty, dry humor, the odd game of Shuffleboard and wine with her gramps by the pool at the lodge, one of her favorite pastimes, too.
Considering her gramps only had vision in one eye, and even that was slowly deteriorating to peripheral, he managed to play those Shuffleboard rocks well enough to have beaten her many times. Not that he’d boast about winning unless you could call a loud WOOWIE with a fierce high-five, a small dance and grins from ear to ear crowing. Yeah,Right!
Crawly had passed on a “John” story to Blake that still had him snickering, and Charli comically shaking her head when he’d shared it with her.
The men were in John’s apartment, and two of the young, pretty caregivers working at the lodge had stopped by to deliver John a blister pack with his daily pill – one pill mind you – ninety years old and only a blood thinner. He liked to mention that to her as often as… every freakin’ sing
le time she saw him. Warmth spread through Charli and she missed her gramps so much it hurt.
She knew why the girls came. Sure, they had to deliver his pill, but he was a favorite, and they liked to fuss over him, to offer assistance in case he needed help at bedtime.
Blake continued, “Seems they gave a quick knock and entered the room. Then your gramps had looked at Crawly, winked and asked him, “Which one do you want?” Crawly said the girls just giggled and smacked the older man gently while shushing him. John grinned at them, but in an aside to Crawly, he retorted, “They think I’m kidding.” It took longer than it should have for Crawly to finish telling me this, but he kept cracking up before he could get the story out.”
Charli could tell by the way Blake talked that he’d gotten a huge kick out of the tale.
Still enjoying the humor of the story, Blake laughingly admitted, “I’d sure like to meet your grandfather. He sounds like a real character.”
“Me, too, Charli.” Kayla had sat entranced and had laughed uproariously at the old man’s antics.
“Oh, he is. Most of his life he worked on engines, in car garages in his earlier years, which kept him, Grandma and their kids, my mother being one of them, poor as church mice. Then he moved on, took a diesel mechanics course by working his regular ten hour days and studying late at night. My mom used to tell me how she’d come out to the kitchen in the middle of the night for a drink and find him passed out over his books at the table. After my parents were killed when I was ten, I moved in with them. By then, he’d been working in the mines where he did quite well, became a foreman, and his wages improved.”
“Did he work underground?”
“Of course, right at the face. He specialized in what he used to call the Moving Carpet where he fixed drills and all kinds of heavy-duty equipment.”
“Man… that had to be a hard life.”
“Especially hard on his body. After he retired, he went back to school to be retrained – in food preparation of all things. Him, sixty-two-years-old, and nineteen others in their late teens and early twenties, who all adored him. He then worked as a breakfast cook at a restaurant in town. Finally, the long hours of standing got to be too much, and my grandma put her foot down, made him quit.”