by Sharon Sala
“We’ll get there shortly. Do you need a bathroom break or something to drink before we take off?”
“I’m good to go, but I’m getting hungry. How about you?”
Charlie grinned. “I could eat. There are a couple of pretty decent places on the way home to pick up some fast food if you have a taste for fried shrimp and hush puppies, or a chopped brisket sandwich with a little Tex-Mex heat in the barbecue sauce.”
“I’d pick the chopped brisket, since you asked,” Carter said.
“Then get your dandy little ass into the Jeep and we’ll be on our way.”
Carter laughed at the reference. “Your Wyrick is pure nitroglycerin just waiting for a quake to set her off.”
“Oh, she’s not mine in any sense of the word. Sometimes I think I work for her, and I did warn you.”
Carter shook his head. “You can’t warn someone to dodge lightning,” he said and got in the Jeep.
Charlie drove out of the parking lot through the tollgate, then straight to the barbecue joint he liked best. The chopped brisket sandwiches disappeared in rapid order as Charlie ate while he drove, taking an exit ramp off the freeway. It wasn’t until he entered his parking garage that he remembered the stolen jewelry that had come while he was gone. And that his dining room was now his office, and Wyrick would soon be back in her spot, fielding calls, managing appointments and weaving her own magic spell on his computers, coaxing hidden information from the worldwide web.
“We’re here,” Charlie said, as he pulled into his parking spot. “It’s not quite castle-worthy, but it’s where I come to lick my wounds from daily bouts with Wyrick.”
Carter laughed again. The more he was around Charlie Dodge, the more he liked him. A hard man with a soft heart was rare. A loyal man, even rarer.
Charlie grabbed all the garbage from their meal on wheels and dumped it in a garbage can near the door, then went back to get some of the luggage. Between the two of them, they got everything inside in one trip.
Charlie dropped his things so he could disarm the security alarm.
“Carter, consider this your home for the time being. I know I don’t have to tell you not to order food or anything else with your credit cards. Anytime you want something to eat other than what’s here, tell Wyrick. She has a credit card for the business, so it won’t call attention to you in any way. Come with me and I’ll show you to your room.”
Carter picked up his bags and followed Charlie, who was turning on lights as they went.
“Here we are—last room at the end of the hall,” Charlie said as he opened the bedroom door and turned on the light. “You have your own bathroom. The remote for the television is on the nightstand. The closet has plenty of room to hang up your clothes, and the dresser is empty, so use all the space you need. If you like to read, I have a pretty good selection of mystery and suspense novels in the living room. I’m not a fan of e-readers. I still like to hold a book.”
“This is a wonderful room, Charlie. It already feels comfortable.”
“Considering the mess your life is in right now, this was an easy fix. Wyrick will be here later. She’s determined to finish out the day. I have emails to go through. Just make yourself at home anywhere in the apartment. There are cold longnecks in the fridge. Wyrick doesn’t like my beer choices, so I’m sure they’re still there.”
“I’m somewhat tempted to try this bed and take a nap.”
Charlie grinned. “Knock yourself out,” he said and left, closing the door behind him.
But while Carter was kicking off his shoes, Charlie headed for his bathroom. He found the package Wyrick had hidden for him, unfastened the Bubble Wrap and went through the jewelry, one piece at a time. Everything that had been stolen was there. He still couldn’t believe it, and wondered why in the hell this happened now, when Annie would never know or care.
Maybe that was the lesson to be learned. There’d been a time in his life when the loss of that jewelry had been a tragedy for Annie. The loss now was her hold on reality.
He took the package to his office and put it in the safe, then unpacked his things and stowed his suitcases. He left his room sock-footed, making no sound as he moved through the apartment, settling back in the vibe of home. It all looked the same, but it didn’t quite feel the same. Maybe it was knowing Carter was down the hall.
And then he passed the office setup in the dining room again and remembered Wyrick had been in here every day he’d been gone. He sighed.
That was what it was.
Female energy.
Where he ate.
Where he slept.
This was the impetus he needed to find new office space as soon as possible.
Eleven
Charlie wasn’t the only one picking up a late lunch on the go. Wyrick ordered a chopped pork sandwich and a large sweet tea from a little place not far from Charlie’s building. Lady Luck had left her a parking space close to the deli as she walked inside to pick up her order.
Her entrance went unnoticed until she began weaving her way through the tables to get to the counter. She heard the mumbling, and then the undertones of voices stating their opinions about how she looked. She pulled off her sunglasses, hung them over the neckline of the shirt beneath her jacket as a waiter stepped up to the cash register.
“How can I help you, sir?”
“It’s ma’am, and I’m picking up an order to go for Wyrick.”
The waiter blushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Just get my food,” she said and was reaching for her wallet, when she heard the sound of a chair scraping against the wooden floor, then footsteps coming up behind her. Every instinct for self-preservation was on alert. But before she could react, someone grabbed her by the arm and yanked her around to face him.
“You ain’t no woman.”
The waiter came running from the kitchen. “You! Sit back down and leave her alone!” he cried, but the man ignored him.
Wyrick was about two inches shorter than the man who’d accosted her, but she was younger and leaner.
“Take your hands off me,” she said.
“You’re just some queer, and I don’t like—”
Wyrick punched him in the nose. Blood spurted. He cried out and clutched his nose with both hands.
Wyrick calmly paid for her food, then picked up the sack and started out the door. She was reaching for the knob when she heard a roar of rage.
“Look out, lady!” the waiter shouted.
Wyrick dropped her sack and raised her arm to deflect the first blow, but she wasn’t fast enough to deflect the second as the man swung an empty beer bottle at her face. She ducked, getting a glancing blow rather than a direct hit as the bottle shattered against her head.
Wyrick staggered backward into a wall, then pulled a handgun from beneath the back of her jacket and jammed it between his eyes.
“You wouldn’t be the first man I shot,” she said softly, watching the color draining from the bully’s face.
“I called the police!” the waiter said.
“I’ll wait,” Wyrick told him.
It was only minutes before she began hearing sirens, and when they got louder, the bully shifted nervously.
“Don’t fucking move,” she said calmly and shoved the barrel a little harder against his forehead.
He groaned.
The cops came in on the run, and when they saw her holding a gun on a man, they pulled their own weapons and ordered Wyrick to drop hers.
She laid it on the floor, then raised her hands.
“I have a permit to carry,” she said. “It’s in my wallet. May I show you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” an officer said and nodded after she showed him.
“It’s not her fault,” the waiter said. “She was just trying to pick up an order when this guy assaulted her. All she did was fight back. When she punched him in the nose and then tried to leave, he grabbed a beer bottle, chased her down and hit her with it.”
&
nbsp; Wyrick’s head was throbbing as she pointed to her sack of food. “May I get that? It’s my food,” she said.
One of the officers picked it up and handed it to her.
“Your head is bleeding. You should sit down,” he said.
She didn’t argue. The waiter came with a handful of wet paper towels and a bottle of water, and a woman sitting at a table in the back stood up.
“Officers, I’m a nurse. May I help her?”
“Yes,” he said.
Wyrick was beginning to shake from the adrenaline rush. When the nurse took the wet towels and began cleaning away the blood to assess the damage, Wyrick didn’t move.
The officers on scene were taking witness statements, and by the time they were through, they had a clear picture of what happened.
“What are you going to do with him?” Wyrick asked as they walked her assailant out the door in handcuffs to the waiting ambulance.
“He has a rap sheet, and what he did to you violated his parole. He’s going back to prison.”
“Can I go home now?” she asked.
“As soon as the EMTs check you out,” the officer replied.
“I don’t need an ambulance,” Wyrick insisted.
He frowned. “You took a pretty severe blow to the head. You might have a concussion.”
“I’ll be fine,” Wyrick said and was reaching for her food when another cop walked in. He saw her, did a double take and headed straight toward her.
“Aw, man. Last time I saw you, you’d just taken a man down with your Taser. Where’s Charlie working now that the building blew up?”
“At his apartment.”
“Who’s her boss?” the first officer asked.
“Charlie Dodge,” he said.
Everyone in Dallas PD knew who he was and now they were really staring—as if to say, So this is his badass assistant!
“I’m going now,” Wyrick said. She picked up her food and hurried out the door.
She put the sack on the floorboard of the passenger side, then started her car before eyeing herself in the mirror on the back of her visor.
“I did not see this coming,” she muttered as she drove away. She was sad right down to her bones, but it would pass.
When she finally arrived, she entered the parking garage, drove through the ever-circling aisles up, all the way to the ninth floor, and parked beside Charlie’s Jeep.
Once she killed the engine, she sat in the resulting silence for a few minutes, mentally shedding the emotions of what had just happened, then looked at herself in the rearview mirror. There was no way to hide the bruise on her cheek or the small cut on the side of her head. She hated the reality of who she was and glared herself down. Then she picked up her food and her shoulder bag and got out.
Work—and Charlie—were waiting.
When Wyrick reached the apartment door, she never even thought about knocking. She’d been coming and going at will while Charlie was gone, and without thinking, she just used her key and walked in.
Charlie was in the kitchen when the front door opened, and the moment Wyrick stepped over the threshold, she realized what she’d done.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. You’ve been gone ever since this became the office. It appears I’ve overlooked the fact that it’s also your home. Want me to go back out and do this again or what?”
Charlie eyed the defiant look on her face. “I’m not going to dignify that remark with an answer. You came to work, so do your thing.”
She shut the door and started for the kitchen with her food, jaw set.
She realized he’d seen her face. He tried to clasp her arm, but she stepped out of his reach so fast, he froze.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“That is not nothing,” he said. “Your head is cut and there’s a bruise on your cheek. Did you fall?”
“No,” she said and turned her back on him.
“Whatever’s wrong, I didn’t cause it, and don’t pretend we haven’t just spent the better part of the day in a helicopter together.”
Before he could finish what he’d been going to say, his cell phone rang. It was the break Wyrick needed to walk away.
* * *
“Hello,” Charlie said.
“Charlie, this is Officer Dial from Dallas PD. Is your assistant with you?”
Charlie’s head came up. “Yes.”
“Keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn’t have a concussion. She took quite a blow to the head.”
Charlie tensed. “I saw it, but she’s not talking.”
Dial sighed. “She was in Billy’s to pick up a to-go order when some jackass didn’t like her looks. He called her a few names, then grabbed her by the arm and yanked her around to face him. She punched him in the nose and started to leave with her food, but he came after her with a beer bottle. After he hit her, she pulled a gun on him. That’s when we arrived.”
Charlie was alternating between shock and rage when he realized Wyrick was looking at him. Their gazes locked.
“I’ll make sure she’s okay, and thanks for calling,” Charlie said. He laid his phone down and moved toward her, then stopped when they were face-to-face. “I’m so sorry.”
Wyrick was drowning and wouldn’t let anyone save her. He needed to back off.
“This kind of thing is nothing new,” she said. “I’m going to eat before I get back to work.”
Charlie felt her rejection as strongly as if she’d physically pushed him away. If that was how she needed to play it, then he wasn’t going to change her rules.
He turned on his heel and headed down the hall to Carter’s room. The door was ajar, and Carter was reclining on the bed watching TV.
Carter saw him and hit Mute. “What’s up?” he asked.
Charlie closed the bedroom door. “I’m going to be out for a short while. I need to check on Annie before I get back to work. Wyrick just got here. She stopped to pick up some food on the way and someone jumped her.”
Carter sat straight up in bed. “What the hell? Jumped her? What for? Is she okay?”
“It has to do with her looks. Could you keep an eye on her once in a while until I get back? I need to make sure she’s okay. Someone broke a beer bottle over her head. She refuses to talk about it, and I need to know she isn’t concussed. I won’t be long.”
“Oh, my God!” Carter said. “Yes, of course I will. I won’t say anything to her, but I’ll make sure she’s upright and breathing.”
Charlie gave him a thumbs-up and went back to where she was working.
“Carter is in his bedroom watching TV. Use the business credit card for anything he needs or wants. Now that you’re here, I’m going to see Annie.”
Wyrick listened without comment, but when he was finished, she got herself something cold to drink and sat down to eat. Charlie left without looking back.
For Charlie, the moment he pulled the door shut between them, he felt like he was running out on someone in need—then let it go. Annie was his. She was the one he should be dwelling on. He thought about the jewelry that had been returned to him, and wished he could put the gold keepsake ring back on Annie’s finger. But since that wasn’t possible, he’d settle for seeing her. And as always, as soon as he started driving toward Morning Light Care Center, he developed a knot in his stomach, and the closer he got, the tighter it wound.
Later, he would realize how close he’d come to never seeing Annie again, because the wreck that began only two cars ahead of him was sudden and violent.
It took every driving skill he’d ever learned not to wind up in the ensuing pileup, as he braked and swerved all the way onto the shoulder of the multilane freeway.
Metal began flying as one car rolled, and the other one was hit by more cars as drivers tried to dodge the car that had rolled. Moving traffic immediately slowed down as Charlie called 911.
Drivers were pulling to a stop and getting out, running toward the half-dozen smoking cars now piled up a
cross three lanes of I-35. Charlie stayed where he was, eyeing the growing chaos with unease.
And then he saw something through the smoke that made him abandon every instinct he had for self-preservation.
A toddler was crawling out of the first overturned car. She was covered in blood and obviously dazed, because the moment she stood up and saw the smoking mass of crumpled cars, she started toward them.
Within seconds Charlie was out of his Jeep and running, faster than he’d ever moved, praying with every beat of his heart that he wouldn’t be too late.
She was three steps away from the spilling fuel of one car, and the sparks popping out of the one next to it, when Charlie scooped her up and kept running. He was on the far side of a Greyhound bus when the sparks finally ignited the fuel, which then flamed and traveled right back into the wrecks. The resulting explosion rocked the ground where he stood, and the traffic disaster had become an inferno.
Charlie looked down at the little girl in his arms, trying to figure out if the blood was hers or belonged to someone she’d been with.
Earlier she hadn’t uttered a sound, but now she was crying, “Mama, Mama, Mama,” with one little hand clinging tightly to his shirt collar.
Charlie cradled her against him and began talking softly in her ear. “I got you, baby girl. You’re okay... You’re okay.”
He could hear sirens now, and an approaching chopper nearing the crash site. Media swarmed these accidents like vultures circling a fresh kill. He could only imagine what the scene must look like from above. The fire was growing, as each wrecked car caught fire.
Charlie looked down at the baby again and moved farther away from the intensity of the heat. He wasn’t going to visit Annie today. He was meant to be here, to keep a baby girl alive. He’d lived through too many incidents in Afghanistan that should have killed him to question providence anymore.
He glanced back, relieved to see traffic was already being rerouted onto the exit ramp they’d just passed. In the distance, he could see the flashing lights of fire trucks and ambulances speeding toward them, and police cars coming at breakneck speed.