Saving Charlie (Stories of Serendipity Book 9)

by Anne Conley

  Stories of Serendipity

  Anne Conley's

  Saving Charlie

  Anne Conley

  Text copyright © 2014 Anne Conley

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of a brief quotation embodied in critical articles and/or reviews.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead are purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover design by Laura Hidalgo with BeyondDEF

  Edited by Tiffany Tillman with BeyondDEF

  Special thanks to J.L. Thomas, for writing the lyrics to The Female Deity

  First Edition

  Table of Contents

  Books by Anne

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue: six months later

  Note from the Author –

  About The Author

  Contact Anne

  Books by Anne II

  For The Reader

  Other Books

  Stories of Serendipity:

  Neighborly Complications

  Chef’s Delight

  Dream On

  Hot Mess

  Falling for Him

  Gambling on Love

  My Mistake

  Wrecked

  Saving Charlie

  Four Winds:

  Falling for Heaven

  Falling for Grace

  Falling for Hope

  Falling for Faith

  Falling for Cyn

  Falling for Eternity (Complete Four Winds Box Set)

  Pierce Securities:

  Craze

  Wire

  Click

  Grab

  Book B!tches:

  Power of Love

  Stand Alones:

  Best Laid Plans of Boys and Men

  The Fixer Upper

  This book is dedicated to all the young women who aren’t given choices. And to the people who have devoted their lives to helping them.

  Acknowledgements

  Special thanks go to all my readers, Suzanne, Fabie, Mike, Lisa, Kelly, and the rest of my street team. You guys are super awesomesauce, and I appreciate every damn thing y’all do for me. In the immortal words of Hillary Clinton, “it takes a village.” Thank you all.

  My mom and husband, who both had a hard time getting through the first chapter, also get super special shout outs.

  And to my fans, who have stuck with me and supported my journey thus far, thank you all.

  Prologue

  Hey, I’m Les. You may have met me before, and Ms. Conley has been kind enough to write my story (finally). Some of you may have been looking forward to something funny, as I’m a pretty funny guy. But for the most part, my story is only funny where I’ve done stupid stuff to mess everything up.

  Usually, I’m pretty happy, satisfied with my lot in life. Lately though, looking at all my buddies, and seeing their happiness has made me want more than just my job, my music, and fun with friends. I want to have a family, and by family I don’t necessarily mean kids. I want to need someone like air. Or water. I want my other half.

  And I think I’ve found her.

  But her story’s not pretty. She hasn’t had the life I’ve had, the family I’ve had, the friends I’ve had. None of it. And she’s managed to make it and be stronger for it. And I love her for that.

  This is our story. It’s not always pretty, but if I know anything, it’s that life isn’t always pretty, wrapped in a bow and served with a side order of chocolate.

  And it’s not always something we want to see.

  Chapter 1

  Two percent of human trafficking victims are rescued.

  —www.refugeoflight.com

  The phone woke Charlie at two-thirty in the morning. Rubbing her eyes, she reached for it only to hear heavy breathing. She knew who this was. It excited her in a way that she hadn’t felt in years, making her feel dirty and shameful. She had to admit she liked it, the way some women liked rape fantasies. She’d never in a million years admit that, but the pleasure was there, nonetheless. Her response was almost Pavlovian.

  “Are you wet?” The guttural tone of his voice forced her to respond. It always had, even before she figured out who it was.

  “Um…you’re late. I have to get up in half an hour.”

  Sounds of hoarse breathing met her protests. She was usually up for this guy’s games, but he didn’t usually wake her from a dead sleep. She’d give it a shot tonight though. Impulse control had never been a strong suit.

  She sighed. “Okay, no I’m not wet, I was asleep. Give me a minute.” Charlie rolled over on her back and slipped her fingers inside her panties and started rubbing. “Talk to me, I need to get in the mood.”

  The calls had started about a month ago, soon after Les had started ordering stuff from her. Les’s voice sounded a lot like her dirty caller, low and rough, like something grinding across her skin. She assumed they were one and the same, even though Les’s voice was smoother when he called her at work. But the caller whispered, and it was rough, and familiar. A voice she reacted to with a visceral desire she couldn’t control.

  When he’d first started calling, she’d hung up. But he would call back, cussing her and calling her names. Names that brought back memories she didn’t want to revisit. So when she decided to play along, and the caller had gotten a little less aggressive with her, she’d realized she sort of liked the attention. Her therapist would say it was inappropriate, but whatever.

  “You know what I want to do to you?”

  She rubbed a little faster, trying to get off. Lord knows she hadn’t done it with Justin in a while.

  “What do you want to do to me?” She played along, breathlessly.

  “I want to wrap your pretty hair around my fist with you on your knees sucking my cock.”

  Okay, it was working. “I’m wet now. You gonna get off?” His gasping pants and the sound of skin slapping met her ears.

  “Oh yeah, baby. After I come all over your face, I’m gonna stick my big dick inside you and pound that pussy…” He sucked air in through his teeth, and Charlie could hear he was close.

  “Hey, slow down, I’m not there yet.”

  “You touching yourself for me?”

  “Yeah.” She was a little breathless, but not near where he was.

  “That’s so fucking hot.”

  Her fingers were working her clit, dipping down inside to spread he
r juices up around it while she rubbed furiously. Finally, it was working.

  “You coming for me?” His whisper was hoarse and she heard the slapping noises, louder.

  “Yes…yes, I’m coming.” Her muscles spasmed around her fingers as the climax swept through her.

  “Fuck… yeah…” Grunts and slapping along with hissing air met her ears through her cell phone, and then he hung up abruptly. Just like always.

  “What, no pillow talk?” she asked the dead air of the phone line. Sighing, she rolled out of bed, and got into the shower. She might as well get up and start her day. Charlie looked at her clock. Two a.m. With the run tonight, she had a long day ahead of her.

  Charlie dressed in black jeans, a black long-sleeved shirt, and twisted her long blonde hair on top of her head before putting on a black cap and grabbing her knapsack. Driving to the motel, she thought about the necessary steps in her head before she got there. She compartmentalized herself, removing herself from any sort of personal aspect. In her mind, this was a job that had to be done.

  She tried to prepare for every eventuality, but there was always something that could go wrong. Hopefully, tonight wouldn’t be one of those times.

  The first time she’d done this, she’d nearly lost it as soon as the door shut behind her, trapping her in the motel room with the girls. She’d been transported back in time, and was no longer free to come and go, nearly ruining the girls’ chances of rescue. She’d gotten better at shoving those memories into her pit of repression since then and hadn’t had any trouble.

  She pulled up outside the motel and used the maid’s key. Silently entering the room, she looked around. Sounds of weeping from the bed stole her attention, but as soon as she closed the door behind her, they stopped.

  “It’s okay. I’m here to help. Are you alone?” Charlie whispered into the darkness, willing her eyes to adjust to the light.

  “Y-yes…” the broken voice replied. She sounded really young.

  Too easy. They never left them totally alone, especially during the seasoning period. Charlie knew they weren’t far away. She had to work fast.

  Quickly, Charlie moved over to the bed, removing the bolt cutters from her knapsack, along with a knife. Noticing the girl was cuffed to the bed, she slipped the knife into her back pocket.

  Using the bolt cutters, she freed the girl’s hands and helped her to sit up.

  “I’ve got clothes in the car for you. Can you walk?”

  The girl, who couldn’t have been older than twelve, nodded. “Where are you taking me?” The inexperienced ones didn’t ask questions, just following blindly. This girl had some sense, which could bode well or not. The ones with sense meant they were usually repeat offenders, and would be a flight risk.

  “Someplace safe. Come on. They’ll probably come check on you soon.”

  Charlie led the girl out of the room, checking for lookouts, before rushing her to the truck. She sped out of the parking lot, handing the girl a sweat suit to put on, and drove away quickly. As always, she bit her tongue against the questions she wanted to ask. While part of her wanted answers, another larger part wanted the whole thing buried even deeper. Instead, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number from memory.

  “I’ve got her. We’re on our way.”

  Chapter 2

  From Carla May’s journal — written July 1995 — Age: sixteen

  Shrinkage says I need to start a diary, so here it is. I call her that because she’s old and shrinking. And she’s a shrink, so the name seems to fit in more ways than one, if you know what I mean. I don’t know if she’s ever going to read this or not, but I should talk about some messed up shit, so she’ll give me some good drugs, you think? Not that my life all by itself isn’t messed up enough. She wants me to write about why I do what I do, if I can. So here goes…

  I like sex. I shouldn’t, because of everything that’s happened to me. But when I have sex, I have someone’s undivided attention, and that’s the only time it ever happens. Shrinkage has been talking a lot about different types of attention, and how I’ve been looking for the wrong kinds. But that’s honestly the only attention I’ve ever really gotten. I mean, The Man gives me attention sometimes, but it’s usually right before I give him a blow job. He says I give the best head.

  I used to really love The Man, and he’s the only person I’ve ever really known. Until Adam rescued me.

  I don’t think Adam will stick around if I don’t have lots of amazing sex with him. He doesn’t love me like I love him, and I need him to stay. Especially since the people here tell me The Man’s gone. Adam’s the only good person who’s ever shown me any sort of attention.

  He’s so out of my league. Both of his parents love him, and have jobs and stuff. He’s got everything he’s ever wanted. Adam plays football, and will probably get a scholarship to one of the huge colleges or something. He’s got a car, an old Camaro. He doesn’t really drink much, which is weird, but at that party he found me at, he was the only one who wasn’t totally wasted, although I could still smell beer on his breath. But when he took me home with him, his parents were throw-uppy nice to me. They’re the ones who brought me to this place, and Adam comes in to visit sometimes too. When he does, I manage to sneak him off somewhere and kiss him. Once I went down on him. He liked it so much, even though he tried to get me to stop. It’s only a matter of time before I can get him alone long enough for sex, and after that, he’ll be mine forever.

  Well, my hand hurts so I’m stopping for now. Shrinkage didn’t say how much I have to write, just that I have to do it every day. So there, I’m done for now.

  Charlie sat at her desk, going over the books, drinking her fifth enormous cup of coffee when her phone rang.

  “Charlie’s Recycled Restoration, how may I help you?” She stifled a yawn, anxious for interaction. Maybe an actual conversation would wake her up. Between her dirty caller and the rescue run, she hadn’t managed too much sleep last night, especially after getting Justin to finally leave.

  “Hey there, Sweetness. How’s my favorite girl today?” Les’s smooth voice washed over her through the phone.

  “Pretty good, Les. How’re you doing?” She flushed at the memory of the call, crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair.

  “Better than I deserve.” His standard reply. Les was a sweet guy, and not too hard on the eyes, but Charlie knew better than to try to start anything with him. Except of course for their midnight escapades, which by unspoken agreement, they did not address during daylight hours. “What do you have in the way of crown molding? My client has suddenly decided they need crown molding in the dining room.”

  She smiled. “I’ve got an entire shed full of it. You want to come out and look?”

  “Awesome. I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Do you ever get a day off?”

  “Nope. The boss is pretty strict.” She laughed to herself. Les had assumed from day one that Charlie was a man, who was never there. For some reason, Charlie played along, never correcting him. Oh the games they played. Les was fun though. A great sport.

  Judging by his night-time phone calls, a great sport with a filthy mind.

  Thirty minutes later, Charlie had splashed water on her face to wake up and changed shirts. It was starting to get hot, so she put a short sleeved button-up over her tank top, exposing tattoos she’d had forever. Living at her place of business had its advantages.

  When Les got there, he walked in as if he owned the place, and Charlie’s pulse quickened, in spite of the mental talking-to she gave herself. It was a strange dualistic experience around Les. Her muscles relaxed while everything else tightened. She sort of liked it, even though it was a wholly inappropriate reaction to a customer.

  Les wasn’t a tall man, only a couple inches taller than her own five foot six inch frame. But he was a builder, doing most of the labor himself to cut costs, and it showed. He was muscular in all the right places, filling out his jeans and tee shirt well. She noticed with a li
ttle disappointment he had pulled on an over shirt today, a red long-sleeved button down he’d rolled up to reveal corded forearms.

  “Did you dress up for me?” She instantly chided herself for the flirtatious tone of her voice. Number one, she had a boyfriend, such as he was. Number two, Les was a client, and her business was doing just fine without mixing it with pleasure. And number three, they had their night life, why mess with a good thing? And even without all that, he wasn’t the type of guy she typically dated. Les was, for the most part, nice.

  “Always, Sweetness. I even combed my hair for you.” He leaned on her desk and she could smell his aftershave, a sandalwood scent that did little to mask his natural odor of sawdust and man. She noticed his dark hair was indeed combed back, a departure from his normal tousled curls. He must have used some sort of gel to tame the wildness. She had to admit to herself, she enjoyed the wildness. He kept it a little long on top, and Charlie had had to control herself, on more than one occasion, from running her fingers through it, twirling the curls in her fingers.

  “So, crown molding? Any particular size?” She stood and walked around the desk.

  “Can I take a couple of samples? To let the customer pick?”

  “Absolutely. Come on out back. I’ll show you what I’ve got.” Charlie led the way out the back door to the row of outbuildings where she kept her inventory. She sold architectural details, finishing pieces, so to speak. Stained glass, banisters, flooring, molding, you name it, she probably had it. It hadn’t taken her long to get enough stuff to start her business, and she was constantly going to auctions, and old house sites to salvage pieces most people threw away, and others would pay top dollar for.

  The shed at the end of the row held all of her molding and some of her flooring. Filled with stacks of old wood, it was a critter haven.