Shit. He silently cursed. It looked like consolations would have to wait. He angled his body toward Charlie.
“Wrap your arms around my neck,” he said.
Charlie’s eyes went wide. “What?”
“I’m guessing we haven’t made a convincing pair of lovers, because your friend at the door is coming over to get a better look,” he said. “Put your arms around me.”
“Oh,” she said and slowly slid her hands up and over his shoulders. “Like this?”
Bowie tensed as her long, slim arms pulled her body close to his. Too damn close. Heat rose in the slim space between their chests. His jaw tightened as her fingertips traced a path up the back of his neck into his hair. She tucked her head against the hollow beneath his collarbone and tilted her chin up. The side of her face nuzzled against his neck.
“You know this might look better if you loosened up a little,” she said. Her words may not have been sensual but her voice was low and husky. Warm breath rushed over his skin. Her sweet and spicy scent filled his senses.
She had no idea what she was asking. He couldn’t relax. Not when an all too familiar war was springing to life inside him. The weak side of him was desperate to give in to the feel of her lithe body pressed against his—to kiss her, to taste her, feel just how soft and yielding her body could be.
But his dominant side would never allow it. That side tightened every muscle in his body. It tried to push down the passion and desire just like it did all the other emotions he’d mastered—hate, fear, pain. But somehow when it came to Charlie his will never quite won. There was always a piece of him wanting more.
And right now, he wanted so much more.
He pressed his lips together tight and concentrated on pulling in one breath after another, until the sound of the man’s footsteps had passed them and gone into the men’s room.
“That’s enough,” Bowie growled. He lifted his hands and peeled her arms away from his neck. Charlie looked up at him, hurt in her wide eyes.
“S-Sorry,” she sputtered. “I was just trying to make it look good.”
Damn it. His tone must have been too harsh. But right now he could either comfort her or protect her, and one was a hell of a lot more important than the other.
Fortunately, luck was on their side. The band started playing a Journey song and the crowd rushed toward the dance floor, clearing a path to the door. The other two Darktide agents, on the other hand, were blocked in by the surge of bodies.
“It’s fine,” he said quickly. “This is our opportunity to get out of here. We need to take it.”
“Of course,” she said. She downed the rest of her drink in one swallow before grabbing on to his arm.
Bowie looked down at the hand wrapped around his bicep, but he didn’t say a word. Instead, he led her to the door and out to the sidewalk. He didn’t slow down until they rounded the corner and slipped inside his vehicle.
He glanced in the mirror as he pulled away from the curb, but he didn’t see anyone coming out of the pub behind them. He looked over at Charlie and found her doing the same thing.
“It’s okay,” he said. “We lost them.”
“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “For five minutes.”
He pulled his brows together. “What do you mean?”
“I mean they didn’t follow us out of the bar—great. But where am I going to go now?” she asked. “It’s not like I can go home. They’re watching my apartment.”
“You can stay with Jake and Verity,” he said. “I know they wouldn’t mind having you.”
And he’d have the added peace of mind knowing that she was in capable hands.
Charlie shook her head. “You think Trevor wouldn’t notice that the same night I manage to give his guys the slip I just happen to have a sleepover with my ex-Special Ops bestie?”
She had a point. If Bishop had his eyes on her, any unexpected behavior would be a red flag. That meant no friends, no hotels, no safe houses. At least, not until they knew what the man was after.
Bowie wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel a little tighter. Unfortunately, that only left one option.
“All right,” he said, his voice tight. “You can stay with me. Bishop already believes we’re in a relationship, so there’s no reason we wouldn’t…spend the night together.”
“Well, there’s a heartfelt invitation. I guess my make out skills aren’t what they used to be,” she said with a laugh. “But don’t worry, soldier, you don’t have to throw yourself on that grenade just yet. We have bigger problems. We have to assume that if Trevor is watching me, he’s watching you now too. Hell, he probably sent men into your house as soon as you pulled out of your garage.”
Damn it.
She was right. There were eyes waiting for them all over the city. Which meant their options were limited. In fact, at the moment their best option was to drive around the city until they could come up with a better plan.
Charlie leaned forward, cradling her head in her hands.
“Well, my life may be crumbling down around me, but the silver lining is my mother isn’t here to see it,” she said. “The last thing I need right now is her voice telling me I told you so for not staying with her.”
Bowie snapped his head her way. “Your parents invited you to stay with them?”
“Yeah.” She lifted her head slowly. Her voice turned wary. “But I turned them down. Trust me, it’s not—”
“Does Bishop know you turned them down?”
“Probably. He seemed pretty cozy with my mom when I left,” she said in a rush. “But you’re missing the point. I would rather singlehandedly take on a dozen Darktide agents than hang out with my family right now.”
“Which is why Bishop won’t be expecting you to show up at their house,” he said, putting his full attention back on the road as he took the next corner. “It’s also the only place that won’t raise his suspicions.”
She let out a loud groan.
“Oh, God, Bowie. I don’t know if I can do it,” she said, suddenly sounding very tired…and more than a little tipsy. “I don’t think I can take a night alone with my family after what I’ve been through.”
“You won’t be alone,” he said, hesitantly reaching across the center console of the SUV and laying his hand on her shoulder. “You’ll be with me.”
Chapter Three
“Oh, Bowie, I’m not going to lie to you,” Charlie groaned the moment her foot hit the top step of her parents’ porch. She stopped cold and craned her head over her shoulder. “This is a terrible idea.”
A flat look and a nudge on her back was his only answer.
She held her ground. “Don’t get me wrong, most of your plans are pretty damn good. But this one…it’s just awful.”
“No, an awful plan is downing three rum and Cokes on a night you knew you needed to keep sharp.”
“Four,” she admitted with a tight smile. “I had one before you showed up.”
Bowie’s brows dipped down even lower. “Charlie—”
“It could have been worse,” she cut him off before he could get his digs in. “If I’d known I was coming back here, I would have made it five.”
“Quit stalling,” he said, giving her another push. A stronger one this time. Her feet slid across the smooth wooden boards toward the nearly two hundred-year-old Prussian blue front door. “We’re open targets.”
Charlie lifted a brow. “Do you really think someone is going to take a shot at us out here?”
“I’m not ruling anything out.”
There was something about the matter of fact way he said the words that sent a chill down Charlie’s spine.
“All right then,” Charlie said, turning around. She drew in a deep breath as she raised her hand toward the doorbell, but she still couldn’t bring herself to press it.
Not that it mattered. Anyone inside the house already knew they were here. They would have been alerted the moment she’d put her code into the security gate on the
street. That had always been one of the biggest downsides to growing up in a historic mansion. There had never been a lack of security…or people watching.
Charlie glanced over at the camera hanging a few feet from the door and gave a tight smile. As if on cue, a half-second later the thick oak door pulled open and her mother stepped into view.
“Charlie,” she said, sounding only slightly annoyed. “What a surprise. We weren’t expecting you back tonight.”
“Honestly, neither was I,” Charlie said. “But here I am.”
Her mother’s somewhat confused gaze slid from her to the man standing directly behind her. “And you’re not alone.”
“Oh,” Charlie said, suddenly remembering her manners. She stepped to the side so that Bowie and her mother were face to face. “Mom, this is Bowie Tamatoa.”
Her mother’s eyes widened…a lot. She froze in the center of the doorway, her hands propped on either side of the frame. Her mouth opened slightly, but nothing came out.
It was obvious that the man standing on her mother’s doorstep was nothing like she expected him to be…nothing like she had hoped for.
Charlie wasn’t all that surprised. After all, Bowie was the exact opposite of Trevor Bishop.
It wasn’t just that Bowie was physically broader and stronger. He also didn’t have any interest in making nice. He didn’t flatter or sweet talk to get what he wanted out of people. He didn’t need to. He had…other methods.
Of course, those methods were usually more effective at stopping armed hostiles than charming rich socialites. Charlie glanced over and found him staring down her mother, his expression as hard and inscrutable as ever.
Great. It looked like this was going to be exactly as much fun as she’d imagined.
“And Bowie, this is my mom,” she prompted him. When that didn’t work, she slapped his arm.
He inclined his head. “Ma’am.”
Fortunately, she didn’t have to smack any sense into her mother. It only took another second for her ingrained manners to kick in. She gave her head a small shake.
“Of course. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tamatoa,” she said through tight lips. “Please pardon my rudeness. It’s just that you’re much larger than I expected.”
Bowie didn’t say a word. His expression didn’t change. He just gave her one more nod.
A strained silence fell over the porch.
See, she knew those drinks weren’t such a bad idea after all.
“Well, this is going just great,” Charlie said, clapping her hands. “So, Mom. Can we come inside, or do we have to sleep on the porch tonight?”
That was enough to shake her mother out of her state of shock. Her brows arched slightly as she turned her attention back to Charlie. “Does this mean you’ve changed your mind about staying with us?”
Charlie opened her mouth, but Bowie answered before she had the chance.
“She has,” he said.
“Well…that’s wonderful,” her mother said. Stranger still, she sounded like she meant it. “Wonderful, but surprising. What brought about this change of heart?”
Charlie shrugged, figuring at this point the less she said the better.
Apparently, Bowie had a different plan.
“I did,” he said. “Charlie was concerned that I wouldn’t be comfortable staying with you and your family.”
Her mother’s shoulders straightened. “Is that so?” she said. “Well, our Charlene has always had a habit of making assumptions about people.”
“And usually, she’s dead on,” Bowie replied.
“But not this time?” her mother asked skeptically.
“No, she was right,” he said. Charlie groaned inwardly at his bold honesty. “You have a lovely home, Mrs. Keswick. But the truth is I’m not very social. I’m much more comfortable on my own. But Charlie wants to be with her family. And I want her to be happy.”
Charlie blinked. Her mind swam. Her face started to warm…and not just because of the rum rushing through her veins. He was certainly throwing himself into this cover. His words were simple but powerful. What’s more, they sounded honest.
And apparently, she wasn’t the only one who thought so.
The tight expression on her mother’s face softened. She stepped back from the door. “Well, you are most welcome here, Mr. Tamatoa.”
Charlie wrapped her fingers around Bowie’s arm as they stepped inside.
“Thanks, Mom,” she said, already heading for the staircase in the center of the hall. “I’m assuming that we’ll be staying in my old room.”
“Of course,” her mother said. “But you can’t go up yet.”
“Why not?”
Her mother crossed her arms. “Because I’m not the only one who needs an introduction to Mr. Tamatoa.”
“It’s been a long evening, Mom,” Charlie said, letting her head fall forward. “Can’t the rest of the family meet Bowie in the morning?”
“No. They cannot,” she said, sounding more than a little disappointed by the suggestion. “Besides, it’s not just family. We still have a guest in the house.”
Charlie froze. A terrible feeling began to take root in her belly. “A guest?”
Her mother nodded. “Trevor is still having drinks with us. After the conversation we had earlier this evening, I’m sure he’d be delighted to meet your friend.” Her mother turned toward Bowie. “My son’s best man also works in security. He seemed quite anxious to meet you.”
Charlie felt a surge of tension race through Bowie’s arm. “So I heard.”
“Mom, I really think—”
“And since my daughter seems to have lost all of her manners, please allow me to be the one to introduce you.”
“Mom—”
“Of course,” Bowie said, stepping toward her.
Of course? Charlie tried to hold him back by the arm, but only ended up getting dragged across the floor.
“Do you really think this is the best time?” she asked.
“I do,” he said, pulling her along. “I think this is the perfect time for Mr. Bishop and I to meet.”
Bowie turned his head so that his dark gaze locked with hers. Charlie felt a chill race up her spine. She’d seen this look before…too many times. He was determined. On the warpath. Nothing was going to stop him. Certainly not her.
All she could hope to do was minimize the bleeding.
She pressed herself closer to Bowie’s side as they followed her mother down the hall and into the dining room. She wasn’t surprised to see that the caterers had already worked their magic. All traces of the party were cleaned up and carted away. Now the cavernous room was almost empty, except for a small grouping of antique chairs situated around a warm, crackling blaze in the fireplace.
Everyone turned in their seats the moment their footsteps clicked against the bare hardwood floor. Charlie clenched her fingers a little tighter into Bowie’s arm as she met their gazes one by one.
“Hey everyone,” she said, pleased that her voice only cracked a little under the pressure. Of course, the hard part came next. “I’d like you all to meet my…boyfriend, Bowie Tamatoa.”
A sea of silent, wide-eyed faces stared back at them. Charlie drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly.
“Bowie who?” her father finally asked after another second had ticked by, his white eyebrows pulling together hard over his nose.
“Tamatoa, Dad,” Charlie said, before turning to Bowie. “Bowie this is my father, Oliver Keswick.”
“Of Keswick Shipping,” her father added when Bowie didn’t react with anything more than the same silent nod he’d given her mother a few minutes before. “The oldest shipping company in San Francisco.”
Charlie stifled a groan. Not this again.
“I’m aware of your company,” Bowie said.
Her father arched his brows. “So, Charlene has told you about our family.”
“No,” he said. “I enjoy history, and your family played a huge role in the format
ion of this city.”
Now it was Charlie’s turn to stare at him with wide eyes. He knew about her family? Sure, she’d never tried to hide where she came from, but she’d never bragged about it either. It wasn’t like the accomplishments of her long gone ancestors reflected on her in any way. The only thing they’d allowed her to do was to grow up in a big house on Billionaire’s Row. Which, of course, came with its own set of golden chains.
“And where is your family from, Mr. Tamatoa?” her father asked.
“Tafuna, near Pago Pago,” he said.
Her father’s eyes shifted to the side for a moment, probably while he scanned his memory for where those cities were located on the map. Charlie didn’t wait for him to figure it out. She jumped on the break and continued with the introductions.
“Bowie, this is my brother, Henry, and his fiancée, Eloise,” she said, sweeping her hand out toward them.
They both nodded politely.
“And this,” Charlie said, finally coming to the tall, slim man standing behind her brother’s chair. “This is Trevor Bishop.”
“Mr. Tamatoa,” Trevor said, lifting his chin. “I can’t tell you how surprised I am to see you here.”
“Why’s that?” he asked.
A sly smile slowly lifted Trevor’s lips. “Just a couple of hours ago your girlfriend was busy telling us how much you don’t like parties.”
Charlie’s blood chilled a little at Trevor’s mocking tone. It was almost as if he didn’t believe they were an actual couple.
Which, of course, they weren’t.
But then again, they couldn’t be doing a terrible job selling it. After all, everyone else in the room was buying it. Weren’t they?
“This isn’t a party,” Bowie shot back.
“I don’t know,” Trevor said. “It certainly seemed like one until a moment ago.”
“I’m sorry,” Eloise said as the tension in the room ratcheted up. “Do you two know each other?”
“Not directly,” Trevor said.
“Mr. Tamatoa works with Charlene,” her mother said, as if that explained everything. And going by the way everyone’s eyebrows simultaneously shot up, maybe it did.
Bowie: The Sinner Saints #5 Page 3