Bowie swallowed down hard. She didn’t realize it, but she was lying. He hadn’t been working that night. He just hadn’t wanted to leave her alone in the office. He told himself it was because the company was being targeted by a power-hungry madman, but that wasn’t the truth. He would have stayed with her even if it had been just another Monday.
“Wait,” Charlie’s mother said from across the table. “You were in the garage where Fuller’s assistant tried to kill your boss?”
Charlie’s cheeks turned a little pink. Bowie guessed that she had a habit of leaving out the dangerous parts of a lot of stories.
Poor Mrs. Keswick. If she discovered even half of the trouble that her daughter had managed to wiggle her way into over the years she’d be appalled.
“I was never in any real danger, Mom,” Charlie tried.
Her mother arched a brow, looking far from convinced.
“Bowie got me out of there before anything could happen,” Charlie went on. Her smile spread as she told the story, until it was so big that it crinkled the corners of her eyes. They shimmered like sapphires in the candlelight.
“Thank goodness someone had their head on straight,” her mother said with a sigh.
“I remember it perfectly,” she said. “He grabbed my hand and led me up into the stairwell. I could hear the shots echoing off the walls. It was the first time that I’d ever heard real gunshots before. They were louder than I’d thought they’d be, sharper, and the truth is they startled the crap out of me. So badly that my legs stopped working. I just froze right there in the middle of the steps.”
Her tongue snaked out to wet her lips as she paused. Her eyes flashed down for just a moment.
She was embarrassed by her momentary lapse of composure, he realized. Even after all this time, she was worried that people would think she was weak for feeling fear.
No, not people. When she looked back up her eyes weren’t on anyone but him. She was only worried about what he thought.
Every part of him wanted to rush in and tell her that it was all okay. That a lot of people have to learn to push past the paralysis that comes with facing a potentially deadly situation. That there was nothing to be ashamed of. No weakness involved.
But he couldn’t. Not here. Not now.
Later…when they were alone.
When he could brush the hair back from her face, look her straight in those gorgeous eyes and tell her that she had nothing to apologize for. That there were all different kinds of bravery, and she’d proved herself a thousand times over.
“Then what happened?” Eloise prompted.
“Bowie wouldn’t let me freeze,” Charlie went on. “He could have yelled or shouted, picked me up and slung me over his shoulder, anything to keep me moving, but he didn’t do any of that. He just squeezed my hand a little tighter and told me that I could do this. That I could keep moving. And the weird thing was I believed him. At that one moment, when I couldn’t believe in myself, I could believe in him. And it kept me going until we reached the lobby.”
Bowie let out the breath he’d been holding. It came out slow, but more surprising than that, it came out shaky. He never shook. Not once.
Then again, he’d never expected her to remember that. Not in such vivid detail…not the way he did.
“So?” Eloise asked.
Bowie turned his head and saw the rest of the table watching Charlie with slack jaws. They were all waiting for the end of the story. The moment that he swept her into his arms and kissed her with total abandon.
The part of the story that had never happened, but the one that every day since he’d wished had.
Charlie let out a long breath before turning toward her future sister-in-law. “So, what?”
Eloise rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated. “So what happened next?”
“Oh. Y-yeah,” Charlie stuttered. She blinked a few times, and Bowie could practically see the wheels turning inside her mind. She ducked her head down low and muttered into her lap, “And then he kissed me.”
It was a simple lie. He had to give her that. But apparently it wasn’t a crowd pleaser. A collective disappointed sigh rushed over the table as everyone sat back in their seats.
Well, almost everyone.
Trevor Bishop was the only one who scooted his chair closer. His eyes narrowed. His gaze sharpened on Charlie.
“That’s it?” he asked. “He just kissed you?”
“Yeah,” Charlie said, raising her shoulders and letting them fall down hard.
Trevor’s brow arched. “Right there in the lobby?”
“Yep.” She nodded a little too firmly.
He leaned in closer, propping his elbows up on the white tablecloth. “With Fuller’s men right behind you in the staircase?”
“Well, no,” Charlie said with a shake of her head. “They didn’t follow us out of the garage.”
“But you didn’t know what they were going to do at the time, did you?”
“No,” Charlie said, visibly becoming defensive. “But it wasn’t like it was a long kiss. It was just a peck, really. After that, we ran to the car and got the hell out of there.”
“So when did that first long kiss happen?” Trevor asked, tilting his head to the side.
Bowie was just about to butt in and save her from Bishop’s barrage of questions, but it turned out she didn’t need his help. All she needed was another half-second to compose herself.
Charlie pulled her shoulders back. She lifted her chin and met Bishop’s gaze. Apparently, she’d had enough of being pushed.
“That’s none of your business,” she said. There was no quiver in her voice now. It was as loud and strong as he was used to hearing.
And much to his surprise, this time her family was willing to back her up.
“Come on, Trevor. It was a sweet story,” Eloise said. “A little intense, maybe, but still sweet.”
“Yeah,” Henry chimed in. “Cut her some slack. After all, you work at a desk all day. I bet you don’t have a story that’s half as exciting.”
Trevor sat back in his seat, but didn’t take his eyes off of Charlie.
“Of course not,” he said. “Why would I?”
“But if I remember right,” her mother broke in, “this incident in Sacramento took place over a year ago.”
Charlie’s lips flattened. “It did.”
“But you two only started dating recently,” she said, her keen eyes narrowing in on her daughter. “Why did you two wait so long after such a memorable experience?”
Charlie picked up her water glass and started taking a sip…a very large sip. She just kept on drinking. Bowie realized that she wasn’t going to stop until she reached the bottom or dreamed up an acceptable answer, whichever came first.
It looked like he was going to have to jump in and save her after all.
“It’s a complicated situation,” he said. “We work in a high stress office that doesn’t leave much time for socializing. The hours are long and hectic. My job, in particular, can be hazardous.”
Charlie’s mother angled her chin.
“Of course. Those are challenges,” she said, drawing in a breath that made for a dramatic pause. “But twelve months is a long time to ignore your feelings. What made you two finally change your minds?”
He glanced over at Charlie. Her lips were pressed together tight. Her smile was even tighter with expectation. Bowie couldn’t help but feel that she was waiting for his answer every bit as much as her mother was.
“I suppose there’s only so long that a person can deny what’s in their heart before it refuses to be hidden anymore.”
Charlie’s mother smiled. “The heart wants what it wants.”
“Emily Dickinson,” Bowie said.
Charlie’s mother’s brows rose even higher. “You know your poetry, Mr. Tamatoa. I’m impressed.”
“You shouldn’t be,” he answered honestly. “It’s a very well-known quote.”
“True. Most people forget the pas
sage that comes after,” she said. “Talking doesn’t ease it. And nothing does.”
“But just itself,” Bowie finished the stanza.
She lifted her wine glass to him. “You have hidden depths, Mr. Tamatoa.”
“We have libraries in Tafuna too.”
“And here I’d thought they’d started teaching love poetry in Ranger school,” Bishop said. Bowie glanced across the table at him. A smug smile was spreading across his face as though some secret suspicion of his had just been confirmed.
Bowie narrowed his gaze. “No, just lots and lots of target practice…among other things.”
“Oh, I’m aware,” Bishop said with a knowing smile.
Of course, the son of a bitch knew. He’d seen his file—his confidential file. And if that was true, then the bastard knew exactly what he was capable of. And still he just kept on smiling. Either Bishop had a death wish, or he truly believed he was untouchable.
Bowie had seen that smug look before. Bishop thought his money, his position, and his connections shielded him from justice. And up to this point, he’d been right.
But all of that was about to change.
He’d personally snap the bastard’s neck if that’s what it came to. He’d relish showing Bishop every one of those special skills that he’d read in Bowie’s file. Especially if he didn’t stop staring at Charlie with daggers in his eyes.
A moment later, the waiter arrived to take everyone’s order, and the conversation returned to polite small talk about honeymoon plans and last minute dress fittings between bites of crab salad and leg of lamb.
Bowie felt some of his immediate tension ease as Bishop began to pay more attention to his dinner than to Charlie. Some…but not all. He still caught the occasional knowing glance that Bishop shot her way.
But what did he know? What did he really know?
It couldn’t be much. Because if Darktide had even the slightest clue as to what they’d been planning back at the office, he and Charlie would have never made it to this restaurant.
So, if Bishop didn’t know how close they were to bringing him down, then what game was he playing?
Chapter Eight
Charlie closed her eyes and lifted her chin the moment she stepped outside the restaurant. She took in a deep breath, drawing in the fresh air rolling in from the bay. There was a slight chill to the night air, but she resisted the urge to pull her sweater tighter across her chest. The truth was that the sting on her cheeks felt good, cleansing even.
She felt like she’d run through just about every emotion that she had in the last hour. Most of them she was too embarrassed to even think about now.
She opened her eyes when she felt Bowie’s hard body brush against her side. She took an extra second to take in the glittering lights of the city before stepping away from the door.
“See, I told you dinner was a bad idea.”
Bowie glanced down at her. He cocked a single brow. “I don’t know. Mine was pretty good.”
Charlie slapped him across the arm, but a smile still pulled at the corner of her lips. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
He shrugged his shoulders. His pace stayed steady. “Then what do you mean?”
“I mean that might have been the most uncomfortable hour that I’ve ever spent in that restaurant…and that’s saying a lot,” she said with a shudder. “My grandmother once spent an entire dinner asking me if I had dyed my hair blue because I was a lesbian. And she was very hard of hearing.”
“I wish I could have been there for that one,” Bowie said, not bothering to hide the smile that broke out on his face.
“That makes two of us,” she said.
He glanced over at her out of the corner of his eyes, but kept his pace steady. “So, which part made you uncomfortable this time?”
“As if you don’t know.”
“If I did, I wouldn’t ask,” he said.
Charlie rolled her eyes, but Bowie was walking so fast that she nearly tripped the second she took her eyes off the pavement. She slowed down long enough to shoot him a glare and caught an unmistakably devilish twinkle in his eye. The kind that said he knew exactly which part she meant. He just wanted to hear her admit it.
Wanted to watch her squirm, more likely.
Yeah, like she was going to expose herself to that kind of embarrassment…again.
Hell, Charlie had no idea what had prompted her to open up like that. Sure, she knew that she needed to tell a convincing lie, but somewhere along the line her emotions had gotten in the way. She hadn’t been lying. She’d been telling the truth. All of it. She’d laid her emotions out on the table for all to see.
And, boy, did they get a good look.
Everyone, including Bowie. By the time Charlie had realized what she was doing, just exactly how much she was telling, she’d been mortified. She’d been downright afraid to open her mouth after that. So she’d left the rest of the lying up to Bowie. Which was what she should have done in the first place, she realized. He was obviously much better at it.
Hell, his lies even came with poetry.
That was a twist she hadn’t seen coming.
No one had. Maybe that was why Carter paid him the big bucks. He was just that good.
But since she didn’t have any spare lines from Emily Dickinson rattling around in her brain she was just going to have to do what the rest of the mere mortals did and spew a little fib.
“The way Trevor Bishop was looking at us,” she said. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” he parroted with another sideways glance.
All right, so she wasn’t a great liar. It was a fault she could live with.
But just because her answer wasn’t technically the truth didn’t mean that her point wasn’t valid.
“Come on.” Her voice was breathy as she puffed, trying to keep up with his brutal pace. “You had to see that scary look in his eye. Do you think there’s a chance he knows something is up?”
“No chance about it,” he said, his voice low.
Her stride faltered. She fell a half-step behind…or she would have, but Bowie’s hand reached back and intertwined with hers. He pulled her back to his side without breaking his pace.
“What do you mean?” she demanded.
“I mean you’re right,” he said. “Bishop knows something. I’m just not sure what yet.”
“Hold up. How can you be sure?” Charlie said, slowing her feet and pulling on his arm. Bowie was having none of it. He didn’t even have to strain to keep her by his side as he kept moving down the street. “Stop and talk to me.”
He gave a single shake of his head. “We can’t stop.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because we’re being followed.”
Charlie fought against the urge to look behind her.
“How do you know?” she asked. “You haven’t looked behind us once.”
“I didn’t have to,” Bowie said. “He was waiting outside the restaurant when we came out. I’ve been tracking him in the reflection of every car window we pass.”
Charlie swallowed down hard. The same cold feeling that she’d talked about over dinner started moving up her legs again.
Bowie gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “We’re fine,” he said.
Charlie shook her head. “What the hell do you mean we’re fine? I thought you said that Darktide liked to follow people before knifing them in empty alleyways.”
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But this guy is staying back. He’s just a tail. He probably has orders to observe and report back to Bishop.”
“So what do we do?” she asked, trying to keep her fear under control. “Walk back to the office? Duck into another bar?”
“No, we’re just going to finish our nice stroll until we can catch a cab back to your parents’ house.” His voice was deep and calm.
Charlie nodded. “Okay.”
It was a fine plan. Maybe not as satisfying as giving in to all the adrenaline surging thr
ough her body and taking off down the street at a flat-out sprint…but fine all the same.
“Okay,” she said again. She kept nodding as she walked. Even though she knew it had to look like a nervous tic, she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Not until they finally came to the corner of California and Kearny Street and managed to hail a cab.
“Do you think he’s still behind us?” she asked when they were a couple of blocks away.
“Probably,” Bowie answered stoically. “Until this is all over, it’s best to assume that there’s always someone behind us.”
Charlie swallowed past the lump growing in her throat.
She didn’t like the sound of that. Not at all.
Fortunately, she didn’t have all that much time to think about it. Her parents’ house was only a little over a mile away and the cab ride was mercifully short. Bowie didn’t waste any time hustling her to the door.
“Looks like we beat everyone home,” she said, opening the door into a darkened hallway.
“Good.” Bowie headed straight for the staircase. “I wasn’t looking forward to cocktail hour tonight.”
“Now you know how I feel,” Charlie said. She let out a little laugh as she followed him up to the third floor.
“Your family is all right,” he said with a shrug. “A little buttoned up maybe, but all right.”
She looked up at him and pushed open the door to her room. “I take it yours isn’t so formal.”
“Not hardly.” The corners of his mouth tilted up as he walked past her. “Our family dinners can get…rowdy.”
“Rowdy?” Charlie closed the door. “I thought you were an only child.”
“I am,” he said, walking over to the chair by her bed. He kicked off his shoes. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t have family. There’re dozens of aunts and uncles. Tons of cousins.”
Charlie smiled, imagining a whole family of Tamatoas.
“I never hear you talk about them,” she said.
“That’s because talking about them reminds me how much I miss them.”
Goosebumps ran down Charlie’s arms at his honesty. Sometimes his gruff demeanor made it easy to forget the depth of his emotions. He lived thousands of miles from the people he loved. Of course, he missed them.
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