by Cait Jarrod
She knew. “Another one? Wow. You’re so lucky.”
“What do you want to do today?”
“Are you working?”
“Nope. This is my long weekend off. I’m off until Monday.”
“You know Aunt Pamela.”
A week after the kidnapping, Henry had picked up the habit of calling the members of the BOFs his aunts and uncles. “Yes, I know her.” Charlene smiled, wondering where this conversation headed.
“I like her. She gives me cookies like her grandmother used to do for her after school.”
The picture became clear. “You want to go to The Memory Café today?”
“Can I? Please, Mom.” He pulled out the Mom card, to show how big he was. “You could drop me off there. Grand Ann and Grand Ben are going to be there for lunch. Can I go?”
Pamela’s grandparents spoiled Henry rotten with their stories of the past and making him feel special. She wouldn’t dream of keeping them apart. “Of course.”
“Yes!” Henry’s fist pumped the air and he jumped off the bed. “Oh, yeah, Grandma’s here.”
“Here?”
“Yep. She’s here. I let her in while you slept.” Henry’s stocking feet barreled down the hall.
Charlene’s skin crawled. What if Henry opened the door for someone else? “Henry, would you come back here?”
The pounding of his feet against the wooden floor stopped and then she saw an eyeball appear at the edge of the door. “Did I do something wrong?”
Charlene straightened, the covers falling into her lap, and thought about last night. She glanced down at her covered body and sighed. She barely remembered putting on the nightie when Larry left.
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing. I just sat up too fast.” She patted the mattress beside her. “No, you haven’t done anything wrong. I want you to open the door for Grandma, or any of the other BOFs.”
His face twisted. “Does that include Larry?”
Especially him. “Yes.”
“Do I start calling him Uncle Larry?”
“Uh, no.” She hadn’t considered what her relationship with Larry would mean to Henry. “Let’s just leave it at Larry.”
He nodded.
“But, and this is a big but, don’t open the door for anyone else, regardless of how nice you might think they are.”
“You mean Daddy. You don’t want me to let him in.”
“No, sweetheart, I don’t.”
His face dropped. “Okay. Can I go now?”
Charlene breathed in a gulp of fresh air. She didn’t want him to leave, not with him having such a remorseful expression. Making him stay wouldn’t do any good either, that much she knew. “You can go.”
He kissed her cheek and ran off, probably to her mother and pancakes, she thought as the buttery scent drifted up the stairs.
Charlene rested back and thought about her to-do list. Larry had said he’d drive her to Greenwood Manor later today to pick up her car. That gave her time to use her mother’s second car that was parked in Charlene’s garage, to drive out to Colonial Beach to visit a friend, the lone connection she still had to Andrew. If Andrew had been watching her and was near, he’d recognize her new car. She wanted the element of surprise on her side, so as not give him a chance to formulate a plan or be able to talk his way out of the list of questions she had.
She threw the covers off her. The remains of the rose scattered across the fitted sheet. The things Larry did with the petals brought back memories from Halloween: the way he caressed her face and neck. Then he introduced new uses for a rose. Heaven. Heat, followed by need, bloomed to the juncture of her legs.
She scooped up the wilted petals, and placed them inside a potpourri dish in the center of her dresser. The stem tucked behind a leg to the nightstand. She tossed it into the trashcan and headed for the shower.
“Mommy, Uncle Jake and Aunt Pamela are here,” Henry said outside the bathroom door as she finished drying off.
“Be right out,” she said, opening the door, and glimpsed the heel of Henry’s shoe. A moment later, the front door banged shut.
With the towel snuggling around her, she peeked out her bedroom window.
Jake stared at it, his head shaking back and forth. Pamela rubbed his back.
Battered and beaten, the car looked to have taken part in a demolition derby. Charlene quickly changed into slacks and a blouse, dried her hair, and headed downstairs.
“Would you like some pancakes, dear?” Her mother asked, approaching.
“I didn’t know you were coming over this morning. I would have gotten up earlier.”
Her mom looked at her with the expression that ‘mothers know all’ and nodded. “That’s why I didn’t mention it. I knew you needed to sleep and Henry would have you awake at ungodly hours.”
She couldn’t hold back her smile from replaying what she’d been doing at the ungodly hours.
A roar of an engine alerted them to the driveway.
“I bet that’s the tow truck. I better find Henry.” Charlene scooted outside.
Pamela stood off to the side of the driveway, holding Henry’s hand. Their eyes glued to the driver hooking the Chevelle to the back of the tow truck.
Charlene joined them, stopping beside her son. He laced his fingers through hers, a flat-line smile dimming his usually cheerful face.
Pamela released Henry’s hand and hugged Charlene. “This isn’t your fault,” Pamela said, stepping back.
“It feels like it, though.”
“Hi, Charlene.” Jake waved. “Hey, little man, want to help?”
Henry’s eyes grew round. “Can I?”
“Go ahead.”
He raced off.
Charlene folded her arms over her chest and brought her gaze back to Pamela. “I know that look. Might as well tell me what you think.”
“Just remember if I didn’t care, I wouldn’t say anything.”
That much, Charlene knew. Pamela was the most sincere person Charlene ever met.
“Are you planning on chasing after Andrew on your own?”
Damn straight, she was. Telling Pamela her plans for revenge didn’t seem right, like it was a conflict of interest considering what her husband did––does––for a living.
Pamela touched her arm. “Don’t worry about answering. I already know you want to get even with him. I’m asking you… please don’t. Think of Henry, think of us. We don’t want to lose you. He’s a dangerous man.”
Puzzled, Charlene narrowed her eyebrows. How’d Pamela know she planned to get revenge? Yesterday, she didn’t even tell anybody she’d hit Andrew with the bat. Why would anybody think she’d take the initiative to go after him? Then she remembered her mom gasping after Charlene had said, I’ll handle it. “Mom said something to you?” Now, she knew the real reason her mother dropped by unannounced. Charlene eyed the front door and found Doris watching from the porch.
Charlene faced Pamela. “I understand and appreciate your concern, but you know as well as I do I need to convince him to leave me and my family alone.” She looked away to check on Henry. He rattled away to Jake, but shadows had formed over Jake’s face. Clearly, his mind was elsewhere, other than listening to the ramblings of a six-year-old.
“That’s why I’m here. I do know you and I care. I saw how you came to life to make sure we got out of the cabin alive. That day changed us. Well, several days did it to me.”
Charlene nodded. Her friend had been through pure hell.
“We’re fighters, but we can’t take the law into our own hands. Promise me you’ll talk to Jake. He can offer advice. If you need him to investigate, he will.”
Jake approached, holding Henry’s hand. He kissed Pamela and faced Charlene. “Are you doing okay?”
Charlene knew why Pamela fell hard for Jake Gibson. The man oozed badass. Sunglasses covered his beautiful blue eyes; a permanent five o’clock shadow covered his jaw. “I am. Listen—”
“Are you mad at
my mom, Uncle Jake?”
Jake knelt in front of Henry. “I’m not. I’m mad at the person who did this.”
Henry scuffed the toe of his shoe against the pavement. “That’d be my dad.”
Jake nodded. “I know.”
“My dad’s an asshole.”
“Henry,” Charlene chastised.
“I’m not a little kid, Mom. I’m almost seven. I can say those words when I really…really mean them.”
Charlene sucked in a deep breath. How could she argue with such wisdom?
Jake saved her from responding by tugging on Henry’s shirttail. “Are you free to go to lunch today? Aunt Pamela and Marge are making your favorite.”
“Spaghetti?”
“Second favorite.” Jake chuckled.
A toothless smiled stretched across Henry’s face. “Mac and cheese?”
“You got it.” Pamela smiled. “Charlene, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to take Henry with me when I leave. He can run errands and then pick up Grand Ann and Grand Ben with me.”
Henry squinted against the bright sun to look up at her, his sweet face beckoning her. “Can I go?”
She squeezed his hand and smiled. “Yes.”
“Henry, breakfast is ready,” Doris hollered from the front porch.
Henry rubbed his belly. “I have to eat first. Will you wait?”
“I drove separately from Uncle Jake, so whenever you’re ready.”
Charlene looked at the two vehicles parked along the street. Pamela’s red Toyota and some ugly looking car.
“I’ll hurry,” Henry said, rushing into the house.
Charlene had no doubt he’d suck his food down way too fast. “Don’t rush.”
“I’ll see you this afternoon, buddy,” Jake said.
Henry grinned and jogged up the steps.
“Work waits.” Jake kissed Pamela’s lips. He pulled Charlene into a hug and kissed her cheek. “This is not your fault.” His voice lowered. “I’ll see that he pays.”
She nodded, yet thought: Not if I see him first.
He kissed Pamela again and left.
Pamela studied her. “Please consider what I said.”
****
Larry stormed into the ranch-style building that housed Old Towne Detectives. After leaving Charlene’s this morning, he’d given up on the idea of sleep and went to the FBI office to search the databases. “I can’t find the SOB anywhere,” he spouted before realizing Jake’s office was empty. “Hell.” He spun on his heels and observed the empty reception desk.
“Can I help you?” a dark-haired man with an earring in his left ear whose hair touched his shoulders asked.
The man gave Paul a run in the height department. “Who are you?”
He squared his shoulders and crossed his arms, puffing out his chest.
Must be military.
“You’re in my place of business. I’ll ask the questions.”
“You’re in Jake Gibson’s agency,” Larry challenged back.
“I work here. You don’t.”
Respecting the guy for watching out for Jake’s agency, he gave a slight nod and offered his hand. “Larry Newman.”
The man relaxed and grasped his hand. “Pleasure. Jake’s told me a lot about you. I’m Quigley.”
“Quigley? Your parents have something against you?” Larry chuckled.
“Did yours? Only Larrys I know are simpletons.”
Definitely military. “Got a last name?” Larry asked, releasing his hand.
“Collins, Quigley Collins.”
Larry had heard of him. Navy Seal, forced into retirement after a bad drop. The man had an outstanding military reputation. “Good to meet you. Where’s Jake?”
“Right here.” Jake kicked the door shut and carried a box into his office. “What’s up?
Larry followed while Quigley walked back down the hall and disappeared inside another office. The space looked like a living room more than a workplace with a couch, recliner, and TV. “I’ve searched all the databases for recent information on Andrew Smith. It’s like the man has vanished.” Larry slumped onto the couch. Wrapped so tight with need for Charlene, he hadn’t given any more thought to the reason Smith stopped by her home. He hadn’t probed her for more information when he should have.
He may not know exactly what happened, but he did know Charlene possessed enough grit to get her mother and son out of the house before Smith showed his wrath.
The gleam in her eyes spoke volumes for the strength she possessed, a look he recognized all too well. He rubbed his jaw and wondered what the hell happened inside that house to make Andrew Smith furious enough to take a bat to a car.
“I need to find him before he makes contact with Charlene again.” Larry’s gut instinct said if Charlene saw Smith again, the man’s life would be in danger. Not something that concerned him, but Charlene did. If she threatened his life, she could pay for her actions behind bars.
“What’s his angle?”
Larry thought back on past conversations and the details the FBI had learned about him when Charlene and Pamela were kidnapped. Other than Smith realizing he was a putz for walking out on someone as breathtaking as Charlene, he didn’t have a clue. “Don’t know.”
Jake set the box on the desk and lifted a figurine.
Larry raised a brow.
“It’s a wedding present,” Jake said defensively. “I gave her one, so she gave me one. Enough said.” He placed the sculpture of a couple holding each other in the center of his desk.
“Damn, you’re soft.”
Jake glared and tossed the box into the corner. “How are you feeling?”
His brain went right to last night. Charlene’s touch had given him a temporary moratorium to his turmoil and pain he’d endured every day. Each soothing caress had ratcheted up his desire to the point of no return. Arousal shot through him. He shifted, cleared his mind and took in his friend’s worry lines on his face. “Little sore, not bad.”
“You’re one lucky SOB.”
I am. Charlene was a treasure. He narrowed his eyes. No way had Jake known what he did last night. “Why exactly am I a lucky SOB?”
“You weren’t bitten by a venomous snake.” Jake dropped into the chair behind the desk. “What the hell did you think I was talking about?”
“That.”
“Uh-huh. More like Charlene. I’ve seen the connection between you two. Only stands to reason, you’re seeing her.”
Larry said nothing.
Jake’s stern gaze landed Larry’s. “Are you telling Charlene?”
“What?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
Larry groaned. The unspoken subject was clear and didn’t need mentioning. When he remained quiet, Jake said, “If you’re dating or even contemplating dating her, she deserves to know. Otherwise, she’ll never understand you.”
Digging into his past, telling his secret, exposing a side of him that Jake alone knew wouldn’t benefit anyone. Charlene would have empathy for him and their friends with benefits relationship would become cluttered. He wanted and needed simplicity. “We’re not anything.” His throat tightened on the lie.
“You’re not?” Jake leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the desk. “Well then, you must be sick. Whenever she’s around, you turn red, like either you’re pissed or in heat.”
“If you’re noticing that much about me, then Pamela isn’t keeping you busy enough,” Larry retorted.
“Maybe the relationship I have with Pamela allows me to understand what’s ailing you.”
“Ailing? Damn.”
Jake relaxed against the back of his chair. “I’ll drop it.”
Before Jake brought it up, the idea had already been planted in Larry’s brain. Should he or shouldn’t he confide in Charlene?
“Let’s talk shop,” Jake said, interrupting Larry’s musings.
Larry straightened. “Let’s have it.”
“Once Smith left the area, there�
�s no history.” Jake tossed a folder onto the center of his desk. “How in the hell did he vanish from the techno world?”
“Don’t know, “Larry said. “ The FBI has no information.”
Quigley propped his shoulder against the doorjamb. “No record?”
The man had soft feet. Larry didn’t hear him approach.
“Sorry for eavesdropping. I blocked out the girly parts.” Quigley focused on Jake. “Wonder if he assumed another identity to disappear off the radar.”
“Like a Navy Seal.” Larry arched a brow. “You guys are ghosts.”
“We drop from the sky, dressed, and ready to kick ass,” Quigley chuckled.
“By the way, how’s the coccyx?” Larry teased.
“You’ve done your homework on me,” Quigley said. “It’s fine. Wanna check?”
Larry held up a hand. “I’m good. We have no leads, no address, what about his friends? People he hung out with while he and Charlene were married?” Speaking of Charlene and Andrew’s past relationship felt like acid on his tongue. “Maybe someone has been in contact with him.”
“I’ll do some digging. See what I come up with,” Jake said. “If I find anything, I’ll follow up.”
Larry’s gaze snapped to Jake. He knew exactly what Jake was up to. “Man, don’t go there. You can’t take revenge. The authorities will have no choice but to take your PI license.”
Jake’s grunt was his only response.
Shit. Another person to worry about.
“Switching cases, I talked to the Director concerning the lights.”
“Yeah, I got my phone call early this morning.” Larry had just pulled out of Charlene’s driveway when the Director called, demanding a full report. He wanted the case solved ASAP. “What’s the rush on this case?” Before the Director had given Larry all the details, he received another call and had to disconnect.
“The owner of Greenwood Manor is a childhood friend of his,” Jake said. “He’s doing it for a favor.”
“Again?” The case involving Charlene and Pamela had Hal Kennedy asking for favors because of a war buddy. “He’s friends with everyone.”
“Small community.” Jake’s lips pressed into a flat line. “We should do surveillance on the manor, especially in the area of the man-made holes. By the way, I sent Quigley out there yesterday to check for more traps.”