All Fired Up

by Lori Foster

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “WHEN’S THE LAST time you saw him?” Charlotte asked, just to keep the conversation going now that it was so amicable.

  “It’s been a while. After that last big blowup with Newman waving around his knife, Elliott was real cautious whenever he came around. Usually he’d catch me on the street when I was away from home.”

  “But he did still come around?” Ros asked.

  “Couple of times.” Weighing his words, Mitch said, “Those last few times, he talked a lot.”

  “About what?” Jack asked.

  “Newman, my mom.” Mitch shrugged. “Mostly he talked about all of you.”

  Charlotte’s jaw loosened at that disclosure. Of all the outrageous, callous...

  Everyone seemed to straighten, drawn up by fury.

  “He talked about us?” Jack asked, and although Charlotte saw the banked rage on Jack’s face, she didn’t think Mitch noticed.

  “I liked hearing it.” Mitch’s hand idly stroked over Brute’s ear again, and his voice lowered. “He especially talked about you, Ros.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, all good stuff, I promise.” He gifted Ros with a charming smile that made him appear more boyish. “Actually, the way he told it, I half expected to see a halo over your head.”

  “That son of a bitch,” Brodie growled.

  Yeah, there was no way Mitch could mistake the mood now.

  He gave Brodie a narrow-eyed stare. “He sang your praises.”

  “To you,” Brodie threw back. “I always knew he was flawed, but that’s low even for him.”

  Charlotte touched Mitch’s arm. “They’re furious on your behalf, not at you.”

  For only a moment, he stared into her eyes, and his expression softened with some anomalous emotion that she couldn’t read.

  Scowling, Mitch turned away. “It was a mistake to mention it. I never meant to cause strife.”

  Thankful that no one else seemed to notice that short, heated connection she’d just had with Mitch, Charlotte retreated to let the others convince him.

  “Don’t apologize.” A muscle ticked in Jack’s jaw. “Dad should have told us about you too, but he...”

  “Didn’t.” Mitch nodded, then explained, “He couldn’t.”

  “Bullshit.” Brodie’s hand curled into a fist on the table. “We’re related. He damn well should have introduced us.”

  That actually made Mitch laugh, the sound more incredulous than amused. “How do you think that introduction would have gone?”

  Without missing a beat, Ros said, “Brodie and Jack, meet your brother.” Her hand slapped the table. “Done. That’s how.”

  Edgier by the second, Mitch shook his head. “It would have complicated things.”

  “For him,” Jack said.

  “And for me. You think my mother or Newman wouldn’t have used me to try to extort money from you? They’d have seen this—” he gestured at the office they sat in “—and figured you had plenty to share. Anything was more than Newman had, because he destroyed everything around him.”

  Concern brought Charlotte a step closer—until Mitch pinned her with his incendiary gaze.

  He appeared desperate...and determined to deny it.

  Seeing that she wouldn’t touch him again, he returned his attention to the others. “You think Newman wouldn’t have threatened all of you, stole from you, or worse? Believe me, he would have.” Sitting forward, Mitch folded his arms on the table. “If Elliott had introduced us when I was younger, I wouldn’t be here now, and that’s the truth. I’d have been too ashamed to ever show my face again.”

  Unable to stand it a second more, Charlotte stepped close and, reaching past the dog—who watched her—put her hand on Mitch’s shoulder.

  He went stiff, his breath catching.

  Did she affect him as strongly as he did her? It seemed so.

  Quiet settled in around them.

  He shifted back—and effectively removed her hand.

  It burned her, that rejection, but she would not let this be about her. Especially since she understood his need to keep control—of his emotions, and the situation. Softly, needing him to accept it, she whispered, “You have no reason for shame.”

  Mitch laughed. “That’s ironic, right? I’m an ex-con, but I’m less ashamed now that my mother is gone and Newman isn’t involved in my life anymore.” He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it messy. “If nothing else, that should convince you that Elliott did all of you a favor, keeping quiet about me.”

  Anyone could see that Mitch believed what he said, one hundred percent. Somehow, that made it worse.

  Though it was unlike her, Charlotte didn’t know what to do or say. She wasn’t good with awkward silences, excesses of emotion, or idle time, and she especially didn’t like it now.

  She didn’t dare touch him again. He might tolerate Ros’s affection, but he’d made it clear where it pertained to Charlotte.

  Trying to find her usual manner, hoping it would help restore some balance, she blurted, “Coffee, anyone?” She already knew what Jack and Brodie would say, so she glanced at Mitch. “I made it right before you got here.”

  As if he couldn’t help himself, his gaze went to her mouth—and stayed there a few seconds too long. “Sure, thanks.”

  More confused by the second, scorched by that intimate look and still reeling from being rebuffed, she had a hard time finding her voice. “Um...cream and sugar?”

  “Black is fine.”

  Filling the mugs gave her a second to regroup. It wasn’t long enough, not with the silence in the room. Trying a smile that didn’t feel too steady, she set a mug in front of Mitch, then turned to get more for everyone else.

  Ros fussed at her, saying, “You should let these slugs get their own.”

  Mitch went still, but Ros smiled at him. “You’re a guest, so you weren’t included in the slug insult.”

  “No, that was strictly for us,” Jack said, blowing on the coffee Charlotte handed him before taking a sip.

  “I don’t mind.” She gave another to Brodie and one to Ros before placing a plate of cookies on the round table. Brodie grabbed two, Jack took two, but Mitch hesitated.

  God, he had beautiful eyes. Not sinfully dark like Ros, Brodie and Jack, but more of a golden brown, and so very intense.

  Stop it. Ogling him would not help the situation one iota. And hey, if he didn’t want her cookies, it was his loss. Personally, she’d found a good cookie helped everything.

  “Charlotte’s a terrific cook,” Brodie said, lifting the plate to hold it under Mitch’s nose. “When was the last time you had homemade chocolate chip cookies?”

  Deadpan he said, “Let’s see, it must’ve been...never?” Giving in, he accepted one, took a bite, and made a rumbling, sexy sound of pleasure. “Damn, that’s good.”

  “Right?” Brodie still held the plate. “Grab a few more before they’re gone.”

  With that same irresistible grin, Mitch took two more and nodded at Charlotte. “Thanks.”

  Blink, she told herself. Breathing would be good too. She gave a ridiculous little laugh that had both Jack and Brodie eyeing her, but thankfully they didn’t say anything.

  Ros asked, “Would Brute like a treat? We keep them around the office since Jack and Brodie have pets.”

  The dog leaned against Mitch’s chair, his furry chin on a denim-covered thigh. “He might.” Mitch stroked down his back, then patted his muscled shoulder. “Want a treat, Brute?”

  The dog’s eyebrows beetled and he slanted a look at Ros.

  “He understands the word treat,” Mitch explained. “And he knows you said it first.”

  “What a smart guy,” Ros praised, scratching under his chin.

  “My dog, Howler—who’s aptly named, by the way—understands any menti
on of food. You can’t ask for an orange highlighter because he thinks you’re getting out fruit and he’s always hopeful there’ll be cheese or meat to go with it.”

  Half grinning, Mitch asked, “You’re serious?”

  “He’s the biggest mooch—”

  “The biggest everything,” Jack interjected.

  “—that you’ll ever meet.” Brodie smiled. “Long legs, long face, long tail...he’s a lovable goofball who tries to mother other animals, especially when they’re shy or timid. You can trust him with Brute.”

  Needing something to do, Charlotte said, “I’ll get one of Howler’s favorite treats and we’ll see if Brute feels the same.” The dog tracked her as she ducked out of the room...and so did Mitch. That hot gaze made her skin tingle.

  This was crazy! Never in her life had she been so aware of a man. Some looked at her, yes. A few had asked her out, but it never lasted long. She’d known for a while that she didn’t have “it,” whatever it was—that elusive something that drew in people from the opposite sex.

  Most in this town only remembered her because of Brodie or Jack. “You work with Brodie Crews, don’t you?” or “Jack Crews treats you like a little sister, right?” There were even a few women who’d tried to get her to set them up with the guys before they’d married.

  Now everyone knew both Brodie and Jack were off the market. Some still flirted, but the guys pretended to be oblivious to the attention.

  They caused a stir—not her.

  Never her.

  Sure, she figured she’d eventually find a guy who was equally unassuming, just as business-minded and...boring.

  Bleh.

  Instead, she had this man, looking at her that way, and it made her giddy with the pleasure of it.

  To make it worse, she was equally drawn to him.

  She didn’t know how to stop it, and wasn’t sure she even wanted to. You only lived once, right?

  When would another man like Mitch come around? If she had to wait another twenty-five years, she’d be fifty.

  Not an encouraging thought.

  Newly determined, Charlotte returned with the flavored bone-shaped treat from the desk in the main office. When she stepped back into the break room, Brute immediately sniffed the air.

  Sitting on the floor yoga style, Charlotte patted her thigh to beckon the dog. Everyone watched her while Brute hesitated, then reluctantly ambled over. She held out the treat on the palm of her hand, and Brute oh-so-gingerly took it from her. Instead of hurrying back to Mitch, he stuck close, sprawling on his stomach to start crunching the bone.

  Charlotte wasn’t sure if he accepted her or forgot all about her.

  “Huh.” A mix of pleasure and fascination warmed Mitch’s smile. “He rarely leaves my side.”

  The dog’s short black fur was soft and shiny as Charlotte stroked along his strong back, proof that he was well fed and cared for. Splotches of white whiskers decorated the left side of his nose and trailed upward like a streak between his brown eyes. Two toes on his front left paw, his belly and the tip of his long skinny tail were also white. Powerful jaws made short work of the snack. When Brute finished, he snuffled her fingers as if looking for more, then rolled to his side and stretched.

  She couldn’t hold back a grin as Brute gave a groan and closed his eyes. “Such a heartbreaker.”

  As a true animal lover, Brodie watched it all with a grin. “He’s a pit bull?”

  “The vet says he’s actually a Pitterdale, like a pit bull–Patterdale Terrier mix.”

  “Where’d you get him?” Jack asked.

  “I inherited him.” He looked over the dog and Charlotte both, then turned to Brodie. “It’s a shit story.” To Ros, he added, “Apologies for the language, but it’s true.”

  “Pfft.” She waved that off. “We know something about rescuing animals.”

  “Yeah?”

  By the minute, Mitch relaxed more, his wide shoulders not as stiff, his muscles less bunched. Charlotte imagined the idle chitchat helped. He’d probably been expecting an immediate round of skeptical questions fired in rapid succession, along with anger and resentment.

  Instead, this wonderful family did the same thing for Mitch that they’d done for her: they offered patience, understanding and acceptance.

  She understood their ploy now too; it’d be easier for him to chat about the dog than all the family issues, so she did her part to help that conversation along. “Brodie rescued Howler. It’s still hard to think about how he was treated.”

  “Chained out in the heat, without water or food.” The memory left Ros scowling. “We were all so glad when Brodie brought him home from there.”

  “After busting a few heads,” Jack interjected, and when Mitch gave him a questioning look, he clarified, “The abusive bastards weren’t happy to have their day interrupted.”

  Mitch grinned at Brodie. “Good for you.”

  Brodie shrugged. “It was my pleasure.”

  With a short laugh, Mitch said, “I get the feeling you enjoy a brawl every now and then.”

  Good grief, but the smile added a dangerous edge to Mitch’s appeal, almost making Charlotte sigh. She kept herself in check with an effort. “Jack adopted Buster, a young Lab retriever, right after he and Ronnie had also rescued a kitten.”

  Jack sipped his coffee. “They’re all good friends.”

  “And part of the family,” Brodie added as Brute began to snore. “He’s good with other animals?”

  “He’s a big baby.” Smile fading, Mitch stared toward the dog with affection. “Given how I found him, it makes sense.”

  “You mentioned inheriting him?” Charlotte wasn’t sure how that would work, especially since he didn’t sound close to many people.

  “Something like that.” His brows came together and his mouth firmed. “I told you I left my mom’s place as soon as I could. I didn’t visit often either, usually only when I knew Newman wasn’t around—or if she’d been hurt.” Muscles flinched his jaw, as if he ground his teeth. “That’s probably why I didn’t know the bastard had been breeding dogs.”

  His expression didn’t change, but Charlotte saw his hand clench, and she saw him deliberately relax again. He put on a front of control but she knew every second of this was difficult for him. Naturally so. He was a grown man seeking his roots with strangers while sharing an unpleasant past.

  “How did you find out?” Charlotte asked, hoping to keep him talking so they could all get through it.

  He didn’t look at her this time, choosing instead to keep his attention on Brute. “Mom died before I was released, but no one took over the house. I didn’t realize it was in my name until the city contacted me. They wanted to demolish it, along with several others, to expand the highway that ran behind it. Not a big loss since it was a dump and always had been.” Derision curved his mouth. “Probably put a bunch of dealers out of business though. For as far back as I could remember, they were always there, on every corner.” He gave a rough laugh. “Hookers too actually.”

  That disquieting revelation hung in the air until Ros asked, “You didn’t get to attend your mother’s funeral?”

  He shook his head. “Probably just as well, though. If I’d seen Newman, I might’ve been facing the inside of a cell again.” He released the coffee cup and blew out a breath. “Five years was long enough, and Newman was never worth it.”

  Sympathy crowded Charlotte’s heart. “How did she die?”

  “Overdose.” No emotion showed on his face. “She was dead a week before anyone found her.”

  Another stunned silence preceded Brodie’s burst of anger. “Where the hell was Newman?”

  Mitch shook his head in dismissal. “Don’t know, don’t care.” Studying Brute again, he drew a slow breath. “Anyway, I went over to the house to see if there was anything to salvage. You know, pictures or
anything.”

  Jack nodded.

  As if he heard something in Mitch’s tone, Brute sat up, his ears going back and his furry little brows twitching. Mitch automatically reached down, his fingers open—and Brute went to him, fitting his square head into Mitch’s palm.

  She couldn’t miss the dog’s apparent understanding for Mitch’s emotions.

  Glancing around at the others, Charlotte was willing to bet a few hearts melted. Hers certainly did. If nothing else spoke of Mitch’s character, the closeness he had with his dog sure did.

  “So,” Jack prompted. “Did you find anything?”

  “Not what I’d hoped.” Mitch looked down at Brute, his dark expression at odds with the gentle way he touched the dog. “What wasn’t stolen was destroyed. There were four people passed out around the floor, squatters too stoned or drunk to even know I was there. The smell was unbearable.” Pain and regret showed in the stillness of his face. “I almost walked out.”

  Charlotte watched his Adam’s apple move in his tanned throat. She hugged herself, knowing it wouldn’t be good.

  When Mitch looked up, it was her eyes he focused on. “I heard something that didn’t sound right. Like a cry, you know?”

  Eyes already burning, she nodded.

  “The dogs were in the basement.”

  Her breath shuddered in. Dogs. Oh, God. She heard Brodie and Jack stirring, hear Ros’s small gasp.

  “The mother was chained to the wall, in her own filth.” His jaw worked. “Starved to death. One of her pups was dead too.” He drew a fresh breath. “The only one alive was Brute.”

  Almost overturning his chair, Brodie pushed to his feet, drawing attention from both Mitch and Brute.

  Jack went completely quiet.

  Charlotte couldn’t move.

  Scratching Brute’s ear, Mitch continued. “He was thin, but I saw a few dead rats. I think that’s how he managed. The lid on the sump pump was moved, so he must’ve been drinking water from there.”

  Water that the mother couldn’t reach. In that moment, Charlotte wished she could chain Newman in a basement. Let him eat a rat and suffer dehydration. Bastard. Miserable, awful bastard.