by April Hunt
“Maybe the flashbacks only come back when you’re sleeping, but do you mean to tell me it doesn’t affect your everyday life?” Charlie debated whether or not to push. And what the hell…playing it safe had never been her thing. “You’re a rule follower—sometimes to the point where you begin questioning your gut. You don’t do relationships—”
“Neither do you,” Vince pointed out. “That’s not a crime. It’s called an agenda.”
“For some. For others it’s called avoidance.” Charlie crawled next to him—and waited. When he didn’t move away or tell her to get lost, she laid her hand on his knee and continued. “I don’t know what happened on that mission, Vincent, but what I do know is while we’ve been here in Miami, I’ve seen what kind of an impression it’s left on you. And do you know what else I’ve seen? Your mind quiets when I slide in bed next to you.”
“I told you to leave me alone when it’s happening.” Instead of a growl, Vince almost sounded…tired. Beaten.
“And you know I don’t always do what I’m told.” Charlie gripped his chin and drew his attention toward her. The flood of emotions swimming in his eyes almost undid her right there. “Your mind quieted when you let someone in, Vince. You can do it. You can let me in.”
Chapter Nineteen
Fucking-A. He couldn’t deny it. He tried avoiding it by not bringing up the fact that both times he hadn’t woken up drenched in sweat, she’d been wrapped around him like a cocoon. But the jig was up. The secret was out—or at least some of it. Now it was a matter of whether or not he wanted to give her the picture in full color.
“What did I say in my sleep?” he asked, in an emotion-choked voice.
“Murmurs mostly. Something about ‘your fault.’ And a name—‘Rico.’”
Hearing his buddy’s name said aloud fucked with his head. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, Charlie hadn’t moved.
Vince warned her, “If I tell you, I don’t want you worrying I’ll fuck up now like I did then. Because that shit is over and done with.”
“I promise, I won’t think you’d fuck up any more than I do now,” Charlie teased.
Vince gripped the back of her head, his heart pounding with the idea of sharing his past. “I mean it.”
“Relax.” Her hand reached up, stroking his arm until his fingers eased, and when he released his hold, she took his hand in hers and held on tight. “I’ll deny it if you ever mention it to any of the others—because of fragile male egos—but there isn’t anyone at Alpha I’d trust more to watch my arse than you.”
“That may change when I tell you about Afghanistan.”
Charlie squeezed his hand. “That won’t change. Ever.”
She didn’t push, goad, or try to trick him into talking. She waited in silence, something very un-Charlie-like, while Vince took his time gathering his thoughts.
“We’d just come off a mission, providing support to a village being terrorized by a local insurgency. We’d been out in the field three weeks. Maybe three and a half. We’d finally made it within sniffing distance of our base when we smelled smoke.” Vince took a deep breath, almost tasting the rancid scent in the back of his throat. “They’d bombed the hell out of the place—the insurgents we’d just gotten done fighting off. I guess they wanted a little payback for ruining their plans, so they took it out on our friends while they were sleeping.”
Vince heard Charlie’s quick intake of breath and continued. “Our orders were to return to base…but the guys…Rico…they all wanted to go after the ones who did it. Hell, I did too. We didn’t need to be standing next to base to know there’d be carnage down there, but we weren’t medics. We couldn’t have done anything except stand around with our thumbs up our asses. Going after the assholes was in our field of practice.”
“So you went after them?”
At the soft declaration, Vince met her gaze. There was no disappointment, no judgment. He nodded, his throat drying to the point that his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.
“It was my call to make,” Vince admitted. “I let my need for payback get in the way of orders. We tracked all the hostiles through the ravine, but when they split up, we had to do the same or risk losing them. Rico was adamant he could handle the single escapee on his own, and so I let him, and we found him an hour later, his throat slashed. Dead. Alone.”
“I’m so sorry, Navy,” Charlie murmured softly. She rubbed across the back of his shoulders, gaining his attention. “I know this doesn’t help, but it wasn’t your fault. I mean, you gave the formal order, but you said your team wanted to go after them.”
“But it wasn’t up to them. If I had continued on to base camp, none of it would’ve happened. He’d be alive, a husband to his wife and a father to his little girl.”
Something clicked in Charlie’s eyes. “The woman from the dock. The pretty one with dark hair.”
“Dawn.” Vince nodded, clutching Charlie’s hand as if it was a parachute. “I haven’t seen her since Rico’s funeral, when I put an American flag in her hands. I knew she’d had a girl. I’ve been…” Vince sighed, unable to believe he was about to admit it. “I’ve been putting money into a special account for her since the day of Rico’s funeral. It doesn’t make up for getting her father killed, but I hope it’ll make her life a little easier.”
“I can’t imagine Dawn blames you for what happened.”
“She doesn’t have to. Rico would still be alive today if I hadn’t let my emotions get in the way.”
“She gave you something before you walked away.”
Vince arched a brow. Leave it to Charlie to have seen that from dozens of yards away. “Her number. She’s in town for another week or so. She wanted me to call her when I could.”
“Then you should. You should meet up…and talk.”
“And say what?” Vince sneered, unable to meet Charlie’s eyes. “Sorry I fucked up your life?”
“Truthfully, I don’t know what you should say. But I think you need some kind of closure. I think both of you do. She wouldn’t have given you her number if she didn’t want you to use it.”
Charlie was right—on all fronts. Way too fucking right. He pulled away and grabbed a shirt, needing some kind of distance from the raw ache in his chest, but it followed him. Hell, it latched on with fucking claws.
“I’ll tell you what, English.”—he prepped to act like a world-class asshole as he yanked a T-shirt over her his head—“I’ll make peace with myself the moment you do.”
Eyes wide, Charlie froze in place as if she’d been slapped. But instead of getting sparking mad, she drilled him with a hard, wounded stare. “We weren’t talking about me.”
“You’re right. We weren’t. You’re fine with talking about what others should and shouldn’t be doing, about doling out advice and being open and honest, but you’re not even being honest with yourself,” Vince lashed out. “Maybe when you’re finally willing to come out in the open and share some of your nightmares, I’ll do what I have to do to get rid of mine. In the meantime, we have a sex club to visit, young women to find, and a sick bastard to sniff out.”
Vince stalked toward the bedroom door, Charlie’s gaze heavy on his back; and despite the severity of it, it was nothing compared to the weight pushing on his chest. He no longer knew which way was up or down, left or right. All he was certain about was that at some point during this assignment, Charlie had started seeing him more clearly than he fucking saw himself.
* * *
After being subjected to an hour-long talk with Sinful Delight’s manager and then led on a tour of the club, Charlie came to two conclusions. The first: She should’ve done a more thorough scrubbing after their first visit. An hour-long soak in a bleach bath might have done the trick. And the second: She wasn’t as good an actress as she’d thought.
Evidently, she’d done a piss-poor job of masking her irritation with Vince because the manager, homing in on the awkward silence, made sure to state tha
t whatever happened outside the club stayed outside of the club. And vice versa. Meaning she needed to pull her shit together.
Had she liked Vince calling her out? No. Was he right? Yes. But just because their conversation made him uncomfortable, it didn’t give him the right act like a bloody arse.
Sinful Delight’s manager brought them to a stop at the main bar. “And that concludes our little tour. I hope you can see we take our clients’ safety very seriously. It’s our primary goal, followed immediately after everyone’s enjoyment, of course.”
“You guys seem to run a tight ship.” Vince ran his hand down Charlie’s back. It took everything in her not to turn around and bite it. “I don’t foresee us running into any problems. What about you, English?”
Charlie forced a smile. “None. It seems a perfect spot to sate our needs.”
“I’m so glad to hear that.” The manager offered a slick smile. “Maybe on another night, our owner will be here to speak with you. She loves welcoming new members. But unfortunately, she was called away on business.”
“Like I said before, it’s not a problem.” Vince shook the man’s hand.
“Of course.” The manager, a young man no older than his mid-twenties, nodded. “So you have our handbook. In it are the policies and guidelines we hold ourselves to as a club, and expect from our members. Background checks are done on all SD clients, so you never have to worry about whether you’ll have a fun, safe evening. And in the odd case that a problem does arise, our security officers are efficient in handling it.”
“Good to know.”
“Enjoy the club…and may all your delights be sinful.” He flashed them a wink and gave a slight bow before disappearing into the crowd.
Charlie counted to five before she murmured, “My delight right now would be a decontamination chamber and an eyewash station. I’m never looking at my GYN’s stirrups the same way again.”
Beside her, Vince snorted. “And here I thought it was pretty inventive.”
“There’s no real substitute for good taste—although I shouldn’t project that belief onto you, should I?” Charlie said dryly. She tossed him a glare. “I wouldn’t want to skew your decision, one way or another. You know, with my horrid opinions and all.”
Vince’s arm banded tighter around her waist as he leaned close. “Is this how it’s going to be all night? You freezing me out?” he murmured against her ear.
“I’m not freezing you out. This is just me, being my secretive, dishonest self.”
“You’re purposefully twisting my words around,” Vince growled.
“Better your words than your neck—which would be my second choice.”
Even though no one could hear their low conversation amid the loud music, Charlie noted a few curious glances being shot their way. She amped up the wattage on her fake smile and curled into Vince’s side. “Which of the amenities would you like to partake in first, love?” She drew a finger over his chest. “Or we could take a stroll and see what tickles your fancy.”
Vince’s eyes darkened, and his hand gripped her hip a little harder. “You tickle my fancy, sweetheart, and everything else. But I like the sound of that stroll.”
Charlie told herself the innuendo and the touchiness was all for show, but the truth was, she didn’t know. Lord knew each time she touched him, it felt less like a job and more like a constant need to be around him. And touch him.
And she shouldn’t still want that after his jerky tantrum.
Shouldn’t.
But she still did.
They started their walk by skirting the dance floor. No less modest than they’d been the last time she and Vince had been there, people didn’t bother hiding the fact that their hands, mouths, and other various body parts were busy exploring—basically everything and everyone. But the back room?
Vince and Charlie stepped through the heavy velvet curtains and, suddenly, Charlie was glad for Vince’s presence.
Far from a prude, she knew her way around a good sexual romp as well as the next girl, but she didn’t know her way around…this. Not only was the back room where inhibitions and reservations were shed, but apparently clothes, too. Even a pasty or uncomfortable G-string was a hard commodity to spot.
People strutted around, naked and free, and way more open than Charlie could have ever thought possible. Off in the far left corner, the same dark-haired man from the shibari demonstration their first night was in the midst of another one.
With her arms bound and straightened high above her head on a beam, a woman stood naked and exposed, her body facing the watching crowd, while the man on stage stalked around her, a leather flogger in his right hand and a feather contraption in his left.
At her side, Vince’s body straightened. “Eleven o’clock.”
Charlie glanced left. Tina.
She put Catwoman to shame, wearing a skintight black bodysuit that made Charlie wish she’d been blessed with her cousin’s height. Tina strutted around the club, not looking the least bit self-conscious as she stopped and spoke to the occasional couple.
Apparently, Little Miss Hostess was back—and so was Brock. He stepped up behind her cousin, his massive arms wrapping around her waist.
“What the ever loving hell?” Charlie’s mouth dropped open.
“Well, look at that. There’s definitely no fighting happening now.” Vince’s face broke into an amused smirk. “They look awfully damn cozy, don’t they? I thought they couldn’t stand to be in the same room together?”
Charlie blinked a few times, hoping the scenery would change, and that her cousin and Brock weren’t about to suck face. “They can’t—or couldn’t. Not to mention Arturo would never let someone on his payroll mess around with his daughter.”
But they couldn’t deny what was right there in front of them—especially when the young manager stepped up to Tina. The two spoke in hushed tones before her cousin said something to Brock and stalked away with the younger man.
“I say we follow Loverboy this time,” Vince suggested.
“You follow Brock. I’ll go for Tina.”
Vince all but snarled. “The last time I did, someone fucking shot at you.”
Charlie turned on him, way too emotionally tired for this shite. “No affecting the job,” she reminded him. “You promised me before we started this…whatever.”
“That’s not what I’m—”
“Yes, it bloody well is. Ask yourself, ‘Would I be objecting to this if she had a penis?’” She only paused a beat before answering, “No, you wouldn’t. Glad we cleared this up. Now go and stalk Brock while I find out once and for all what kind of tie my cousin has to this place.”
Charlie didn’t give him time to object. She followed Tina through the back of the club, making sure to keep her distance even when Tina and the manager took a right down a long corridor. Charlie waited an extra beat before following at a fast clip. Doors lined the long hall, some with titled plaques: VOYEUR. PLAYTIME. PEEPING TOM.
Charlie bypassed them all, taking the very last right into a much smaller hall. One single door stood open, with Tina’s barking voice coming through it.
“I thought this was taken care of,” Tina snapped, her voice rising in pitch.
“It was. They came out and assured me it was fixed. Again,” the manager’s voice stated.
“Did they give any reason as to why it keeps going under?”
“Not a damn one. Maybe these guys aren’t as top-notch as you think. I have a friend who dabbles in alarms; I could have him take a—”
“No,” Tina cut him off. “We owe our clients more than someone who dabbles. Call the firm again and make them send someone out. And make sure they know that I’m not handing over any kind of service fee for what should’ve been fixed eons ago.”
“We don’t have security inside the club. Do we really care what happens outside of it?”
“We don’t allow video recording inside Sinful Delights to ensure our guests’ privacy. But we still need
to protect them—which is why we need working cameras at the exits and along the perimeter.”
We. Our. It almost sounded like—
“I understand, boss,” the manager agreed. “I’ll call the security guys myself and get our team in their down-time positions.”
Tina wasn’t a guest. Or a hostess. She owned Sinful Delights. Charlie was still reeling from the shock when she realized someone had stepped up behind her.
“Guests aren’t allowed back here.” A firm hand dropped onto her bare shoulder. Her first instinct was to shrug it off and return the favor tenfold, but she kept her face devoid of emotion and turned, prepped for a performance.
“I’m sorry, love. I was looking for the loo and got turned around.” Charlie amplified her accent. “My mum always told me I could get lost in a paper bag. Point me in the right direction, and I’ll be on my way.”
“Who is that, Rollins?” Tina’s voice asked.
“A guest who’s lost her way,” the guard answered. “Don’t worry, ma’am. I’ll take her back.”
“Bring her here.”
Bloody hell.
“Really, I just need the ladies’ room,” Charlie tried bartering. But the tall security guard ushered her toward the open door. The second she stepped into the office, she chuckled at Tina’s shocked expression.
To the manager and the guard, Tina ordered, “Leave us.”
“Ma’am?” the manager asked.
“I said leave us alone and close the door…and for the love of God, get everyone into their positions.”
Both men listened, closing the door behind them.
Charlie slid Tina a naughty smirk. “Fancy meeting you in a place like this. Guess we don’t know each other as well as we thought, huh?”
“What the hell are you doing here?” Tina demanded.
“I could ask the same of you. This is a far cry away from the country club scene. Either that, or the golf club has gone through a hell of a change since I’ve been gone. As for what I’m doing here…” She glanced down her leather-clad body. “I should think it pretty obvious. Vince and I are soaking in the local sights.”