Risk the Burn

by Marnee Blake

  Admirably, it took the Bend police less than five minutes to arrive. When they did, he pointed them toward the door and a pair of officers went in, their weapons ready.

  They returned minutes later, shaking their heads.

  Nothing.

  Hunter and Charlie got out of the TrailBlazer as one of the officers approached, the other returning to the police car. “You Hunter Buchanan?”

  Stretching out his hand, he nodded. “Yes. This is Charlie Jones, though. She lives here.”

  “There’s no one inside now, ma’am,” the officer said. “But they’ve done a real number on your place. We can escort you in, if you’d like. See if there’s anything missing immediately, but I would like to ask a few more questions after my partner finishes calling this in.”

  Charlie nodded, not saying anything as she wrapped her arms around her stomach, heading up the stairs. Hunter followed her, because at a time like this, he didn’t want to leave her alone.

  Inside, all of the lights were on. The brightness threw the mess into stark reality. Everything had been ripped up. Books thrown off the shelves, papers emptied onto the floor. Lamps were on the ground, broken. Pictures were either crooked or off the walls entirely. In the kitchen, the refrigerator had been ransacked, food scattered everywhere. Shards of glass from broken dishes crunched under Charlie’s feet.

  But while the state of the place was shocking, her lack of reaction surprised him the most. “Charlie?”

  She trailed a finger along her counter. “Yeah?”

  Asking if she was okay would be pointless. Though his first instinct was to touch her, to hold her hand, he didn’t. She seemed fragile. “I just wanted you to know I’m here.”

  When her eyes lifted and her gaze met his, the brokenness he found there squeezed his stomach. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” She scanned the room again, sighing shakily. “I need to go talk with the police.”

  He let her go ahead of him, following her out of the ransacked house. As she reached the police cruiser, the cop—Officer Randall—nodded. “Did you see anything missing?”

  “My computer was still there. I can’t be sure if there is anything else missing, though, with all the mess.” She swallowed. “I’ll need to look more closely. Later.”

  “Of course.” Randall motioned to the car. “Did you want to talk here or at the precinct?”

  “Here, please.” She shook her head, inhaling as if to steady herself. “My real name is Charlotte Michaelson, though I changed my name legally to Charlotte Jones a few years ago. I moved here three years ago from Chicago after I helped put an abusive man behind bars. His name is Joshua Oldham. I’m afraid that he’s found me.”

  Shock raced through Hunter. Nothing had prepared him for this. Meg had said she was private, and he’d noticed she didn’t talk about herself. God, tonight he’d even called her out for hiding from him. He might have suspected some pain in her past—an old flame, a bad experience—but this was beyond his imagination.

  “Oh, okay.” Officer Randall jotted down some notes. “You know what? Are you sure you wouldn’t like to go to the precinct? I’ll have more resources at my fingertips, to look things up, to take notes. If this isn’t a random break-in, we should have you talk down there.”

  She nodded quickly. “Sure. Oh, but hang on a minute.” She dashed back into the apartment. When she returned, she was holding a piece of paper. “You’re going to need this.”

  “What is this, ma’am?”

  “I received that in the mail earlier.”

  In the streetlight, Hunter made out what looked to be a page from a magazine. On it was an advertisement for a pistol.

  * * * *

  Two hours later, Charlie joined Hunter in the police department waiting room. The place was clean, but it had an institutionalized feel. Nothing matched, a mishmash of army green, checkerboard linoleum floors, and walls that screamed for a coat of paint. She’d told Hunter that she could get a car home when she was done, but he’d insisted on waiting. Truth be told, she hadn’t pushed too hard. She hadn’t wanted to ride home to her ransacked apartment alone. It would be nice to go back there with a friend.

  Which was what he’d proved himself to be this evening.

  Earlier, Officer Randall had offered to drive her to the station. She’d tried to say goodbye to Hunter there. He’d wanted nothing of it, insisting she’d need someone to drive her home later.

  She’d let him. Just like she’d let him sit in the waiting room for two hours while she answered a million questions, aware that he probably had that many as well.

  It was well past ten o’clock. He’d looked tired at Meg’s party, and the dark smudges under his eyes were even more pronounced now. He’d spent the past three weeks doing some of the most physically demanding training out there. He must be dead on his feet.

  Still, he’d waited for her.

  “Are you ready to go?” His brow lifted.

  God, he killed her. Anyone else’s expression would be full of questions, even frustration at being left to wait for so long with no explanation. But him? He only looked concerned.

  For her.

  She wanted to fall into his arms, to let his warm and strong body hold her up. Instead, she folded her arms around her. “Yes. I’m done.”

  He nodded. “Did you want me to take you home? Or is there somewhere else you can go for the night?”

  She’d considered this. Sleeping in her place in its current state would be impossible. What else was she going to do, though? She had no family in Oregon. She refused to bother Meg and Lance when they probably hadn’t even finished the party celebrating their engagement. She could call Olivia, but she’d seen her at Meg’s, already a few cocktails in and eyeing one of the smokejumpers on Lance’s team. Maybe Leslie…

  But she didn’t want to face Leslie right now. It would mean she’d need to address Leslie’s offer. So soon after the break-in, she couldn’t see a time in the future when she would feel safe enough to consider settling down here or anywhere.

  Oh well. If she couldn’t sleep, she could start cleaning up. The police said they would drive by her house more often, keep track of her. Tomorrow, she’d call the landlord about having a security system installed.

  For now, though, she might need to accept that sleep wasn’t in her future.

  “I don’t have family. I’m good. I need to start cleaning up anyway.” She smiled, attempting to convince him that she was fine. Because the concern on his face was too tempting. She could lean on this man, let him help her. She wanted to. But tonight, with everything that had happened, she didn’t trust herself.

  The questions had gone on forever. Having to rehash everything she’d wanted to forget all those years ago? It had been difficult.

  Mostly, it had been a long day. She could use the chance to go home and lick her wounds.

  Except his face said otherwise.

  “You don’t have anyone else.” He scowled. “I’m not leaving you to be by yourself tonight.”

  “You definitely don’t have to do that.” Right now, she couldn’t decide if she wanted him to stay or go. Everything was too raw.

  His eyes searched her face. She didn’t shy away, instinctively sensing that she didn’t need to run from him. He understood, somehow. Maybe it was that he’d been through so much himself. He’d come back from injuries that could have killed him. He’d probably wondered why it had happened to him, what was the matter with the universe that it had chosen him for that kind of suffering.

  She could relate. Maybe that was why they got each other. They’d been through things that couldn’t be explained to other people.

  He covered her hand with his. “Charlie, it’s fine. I get it. I just know that there were times people left me alone because they thought I needed to be by myself but what I needed was for someone to be there.”

  Her eye
s stung. She blinked hard, refusing to cry here, in front of him. She’d made it through the police questioning. She’d walked through the place she’d started to think of as her home without losing her cool. She couldn’t lose it now, under his sympathetic gaze.

  “Come to my place,” he said. “No expectations. Just come and be there. Tomorrow morning I’ll drive you home and you can face everything then, in the daylight. But tonight, come home with me.”

  “Yes,” she answered, before she could give herself time to overthink. “Yes.”

  He nodded. Still holding her hand, he removed it from his forearm and tucked it in the crook of his arm as he escorted her out to his TrailBlazer.

  When he got in, he turned the heat on. It wasn’t cold outside, though, so she crinkled her nose in question at him.

  “Your fingers are cold.” He started the car and they headed toward Redmond.

  He didn’t say anything during the drive. Maybe it was his lack of pushiness that made her want to talk, because she found herself opening up the conversation.

  “You must have questions.” He had to. The entire evening had been one confusing revelation after another. She had changed her name. She was in hiding. She’d been getting threatening notes. And that was only the stuff he knew about.

  He didn’t even know the whole story.

  “Of course. But I figured you’d tell me what you want to tell me.” He glanced at her before returning his gaze to the road. “You never asked me a million prying questions about my accident.”

  And at that moment, she realized she was in serious danger of falling hard for him.

  She might not know him very well. But Hunter Buchanan was so incredibly decent and he’d been through so much. More, though, he respected her. He understood her. She didn’t understand how, but she recognized it, somewhere very fundamental.

  Which was what made her say, “I ran away. From Chicago.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “I ended up there to finish college after two years of community college in Ohio. Northwestern, for physical therapy. When I graduated, I wanted to stay. I’d spent most of my childhood moving with my parents. We never stayed in one place. They liked to travel, try new things. Different countries. I did a year in Buenos Aires, another in Bali. All over the US. They’re in the Southwest now, but who knows for how long.” She chuckled. “I wanted to stay somewhere longer, to actually live in one place for more than a year.”

  Those couple of years after college had been magical. It had been her first experience making friends she intended to keep. She’d lived in a walk-up with two of her sorority sisters. She’d spent those years eating horribly and drinking too much.

  “I met Joshua at the first job I had after graduation.” Staring out the window, the scenery blurred as she became lost in her memories. “It was one of three branches of the same physical therapy firm, all owned by him. He was young, motivated, handsome.” She shook her head. “He was incredibly charming. Though I was sure that going out with my boss was a bad idea, I was young and overwhelmed. What came next was a whirlwind month.”

  Even now, trying to explain, it sounded stupid. Obviously going out with the owner of your company would be a bad move. She’d realized that back then. Her sorority sisters had warned her, told her to tread carefully.

  She hadn’t listened. It had all seemed so romantic.

  “I found out a month in that he was engaged and also pursuing another girl in another branch. When I told him I wanted to end it, he threatened my job.” She shrugged. “I spoke with an attorney. But it wasn’t until I talked to the girl in the other branch that things got weird.”

  She glanced out the window. “Apparently, word traveled fast. She’d confronted him and told his fiancée. He was livid.” She closed her eyes. “When I saw her, she had a broken arm and a black eye.”

  When Kelly had invited her over, she’d worried that visiting was a bad idea. She hadn’t wanted to fall into any sort of drama. As far as she’d been concerned, Joshua had proved he was a cheater and not worth her time. She had only wanted to get back to doing her job and pretend none of it had ever happened.

  “The other girl—Kelly—had said that he’d gotten mad when his fiancée found out and left him. He said that though he’d lost her, he refused to lose either of us.” Charlie snorted. “I hadn’t believed her at first. He’d never seemed like the violent sort. I asked if she had struck out at him, what she’d done to threaten him first.” She glanced at the ceiling of the car, as if she’d find understanding from the heavens above. “Later, I was so ashamed of myself for blaming the victim. I just couldn’t believe it. Joshua didn’t seem like he would ever do something like that.”

  “Until he came for you.” Hunter’s voice was controlled, but his fingers were tight on the steering wheel as he stared ahead at the light of the headlights.

  She wondered what he was thinking. The next part was hard. She’d only confided in her parents and a friend she’d gone to in Chicago. “Yes.”

  He exhaled, and she hurried on, wanting to get it all out. “Kelly got it worse than I did. After we talked, I bought pepper spray. When he followed me home one night, he only hit me twice before I got him with it, called the police.” Still, the memory of those two blows lived on, even years later. “He didn’t do any permanent damage.” He’d hit her in the cheek, punched her in the ribs. One of the bones there had cracked, but it had healed.

  “Where did he hit you?”

  She sighed. He didn’t need the details, did he? “I healed, Hunter.”

  “Where?” His voice was low, broken.

  “My face”—she patted her cheek—“and my ribs.” She touched her left side, low, briefly remembering the pain. Then she returned her hands to her lap. “I made out better than Kelly. Her cheekbone was—”

  “Stop, please.” He pulled over to the side of the road. His hands still on the steering wheel, he dropped his chin to his chest and exhaled slowly.

  She reached for him, placing her hand on his arm. “Hunter?” She shouldn’t have said anything. She’d upset him. It wasn’t pleasant conversation, but it was part of the story and he’d asked to know what happened. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you apologizing?” He tilted his head to her.

  “I don’t know. You’re upset.” She shrugged.

  “Not because of you. You didn’t do anything.” He shifted, taking her hands in his. “Some asshole thought he could lift his hand to you, hurt you, because he didn’t get what he wanted. Like a toddler in a sandbox. Men like that, they aren’t men. I have a mother and a sister, women I love more than anything. If someone tried to hurt them, I’d want to rip their face off.” His gaze met hers in the dim streetlights. “And because he hurt you, I feel the same.”

  She rubbed her fingers over his, swallowing. “It was years ago. I healed. And, well, I convinced Kelly and his fiancée to come with me, press charges. He was convicted of aggravated assault, because of our injuries, and sentenced to five years.” She remembered her relief sitting in the courtroom, watching the verdict being handed down. It had felt like justice, for all of them. “I didn’t stay, though. Right after that, I moved twice. First, to Denver. But the job there wasn’t a good fit. So I came here.”

  Her friends and attorney in Chicago hadn’t understood. Joshua had been in jail. She was safe, they told her. But that hadn’t helped her sleep at night.

  More, it had removed the joy of setting roots down there. She’d decided to find somewhere else. When she had arrived in Oregon, she’d changed her name.

  “I hope he’s spending his time in jail learning how to treat people,” Hunter growled.

  “He must have. Because when I spoke with my attorney this evening, she told me that he’d been released early, a few months ago.” She smiled sadly. “For good behavior.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Tu
rning off the car outside his duplex in Redmond, Hunter scanned the shadows. Nothing, as usual. He lived in a quiet part of town, so he hadn’t expected anything. But he tried to see it all through Charlie’s eyes. He wanted her to feel comfortable here. Safe.

  He pushed the front door open, letting Charlie go ahead of him. Closing it, he made sure to lock the deadbolt and latch the chain, something he didn’t always do when he was here alone. As he left her in the foyer, he turned on the lights in the living room and the one in the kitchen.

  Around him, he surveyed the stark minimalism of his place. Compared to her cozy, almost bohemian-looking one-bedroom, his place looked especially barren. He shrugged at her, sheepish. “It’s not much, but I’m not here often.”

  “It’s great. Thanks for having me.”

  Standing there, she pretended she was solid. Her smile was brave and genuine. Except her skin was pale, paler than usual. When he’d held her hands, they were icy. The smudges under her eyes were dark, a testament to the stressful situation.

  What got him in the gut was that she probably didn’t realize how shaken up she was. As she was telling him her story in the car, it had been like she was reciting details from someone else’s life or a movie she’d watched. When he’d gotten upset, had to pull over because he could barely see through his fury for her, she’d reached for him, checked in on him.

  She’d apologized for upsetting him.

  Christ.

  Even now, he had to take a deep breath. She didn’t need any of that from him. Right now, he had to focus on what he could do for her.

  “What can I get you?” he asked. “Mi casa, su casa.”

  She grinned, gripping her handbag in front of her and stepping further inside. “Actually, I was wondering if it would be too much to ask to use your shower.”

  “Right this way.”

  He showed her into the bathroom, instructed her how to use the faucet in the tub. It was touchy. Place was a rental, though, so he’d learned to deal with the foibles. He got her his fluffiest towel, his softest T-shirt, and his smallest pair of shorts.