by Lori Foster
“You have a few hours,” Brodie said. “I’m not even home yet, and then we have to get through dinner with Mom and Elliott. I’ll go after that. Jack will probably want to sit on Ronnie...or maybe bring her along. With those two, it’s anyone’s guess how it’ll go.”
Mitch heard the amusement and marveled anew that this cocky, capable guy was his brother.
It gave him another new experience—pride for a relative.
“Freddie knows me, so I’ll tell him to start listening. Plus we have our guy working there.” On a roll now, Brodie said, “Between them, maybe they’ll hear something.”
“If you hear anything at all, I want to know.”
“Guaranteed. In the meantime, though, you and Charlotte should enjoy your dinner.” The emphasis Brodie put on it had Charlotte scowling at the phone, but made Mitch smile. “Just keep your eyes and ears open, okay? You’re out there alone—”
“I won’t let her get hurt, I swear.”
“Damn right you won’t.” Brodie paused, then asked, “I don’t suppose you’re armed?”
“Ex-cons aren’t allowed to have guns.” Not that he needed one. “It won’t matter.”
“Damn you’re confident. Reminds me of me. I like it.” His tone shifted. “Charlotte?”
She said, “Yes?”
“You’re going to start carrying, okay? Tomorrow, before work, I’ll get you a holster for your purse. Maybe a stun gun too.”
Smile indulgent, she said, “Already planned on it, but the holster will be nice. Thanks.”
After they disconnected, Mitch sat in stunned silence. A gun in Charlotte’s hand? He couldn’t imagine it. The image seemed obscene for a woman as gentle and kind as her.
Picking up on his mood, she said, “If it makes you feel better, I doubt I’d keep my wits about me enough to ever use the gun.”
With his mouth gone dry, he had to clear his throat to speak. “You know how to shoot though?”
Wrinkling her nose, she shrugged. “Let’s just say I know how to aim and squeeze the trigger. Whether or not I actually hit anything? That’s usually fifty/fifty.”
He pulled up to his house. At seven thirty, the sun still shone bright. At night though, it could get pretty dark and since he hoped to have Charlotte over more often, he’d taken the time today to mount security lights on the front of the barn, front, back and one side of the house, and another in the yard near where he parked his car. There’d be just enough shadows left for him to sleep in his tent without the glare of light disturbing him.
Never missing much, Charlotte said, “You put up the lights?”
“I won’t take chances with you.” He parked and walked around to her door. “When did you learn to shoot?”
As she stepped out, an uneasy breeze played with her hair. The air smelled like rain, so it was a good thing he’d put plastic over his broken window.
Looking up at the lights to avoid his gaze, she tried for a cavalier tone. “After Ronnie got attacked, I got...interested. The way she handled herself, how she held it together, it all impressed me.”
“From what Jack told me, that was largely bluster. She’s a proud woman and didn’t want anyone else to see her shaken. Jack understood. Most people would feel the same. But he said he was a mess—and there’s nothing wrong with that. Adrenaline will only get you so far, and when it crashes, it often takes your knees with it.”
She smiled, but her thoughts were introspective. “That one night...” Her voice trailed off. “I know you’ve been told some of her past, the things she’s been through. It hurt her, and it made her tough, but it also left her with crazy instincts.”
He remembered hearing about a lunatic trying to kill her, her bosses and Jack. Charlotte appeared lost in comparisons, and it pained him. Twining one of her long curls around his finger, he smiled. “You’re not her, babe, and she’s not you. That’s okay.” It was Charlotte he’d fallen hard for, no one else.
“If she hadn’t reacted the way she did that night, they all would have died.” Hugging her arms around herself despite the heat, she turned her face up to his. “She’s remarkable—a lot like you, Brodie and Jack, actually. I wanted to learn a few moves myself, but as you said, I’m not her.”
“You don’t need to be.”
As if that didn’t register, she continued, “Jack had already tried to show me a few things with a knife, but that’s hopeless for me. So Brodie stepped in and taught me how to use a gun. He got me this cute little .45 with a laser light on it to help improve my aim. As long as I have time to follow that light, I can hit—or at least come close to hitting—a target. The Glock was just too heavy for me.”
Mitch ran a hand over his face. “And the stun baton?”
Dropping her voice to a whisper, she admitted, “It scares me half to death.”
Good. Mitch hugged her to him, holding her close, fitting her body to his. She nestled her head in under his chin and wrapped her slim arm around him. Her breasts pressed to his lower ribs and sparked a fire in his blood, making him instantly want more.
He had plans for tonight and they weren’t to rush her straight to bed. Helping him to remember that, Brute gave one yap of welcome, looking at them through the screened porch.
One kiss first, he decided, tipping up her chin and putting his mouth to hers. She’d caught on quick, parting her lips and touching her tongue to his. Her enthusiasm scorched him clear down to his toes.
With a groan, he pulled back. “I have to keep it together a little longer, and that’s not helping.”
Expression dreamy, she touched his mouth and sighed. “I suppose we shouldn’t keep Brute waiting.”
“Not unless you want me to mop the floor.”
Taking his hand with a laugh, she led him in.
* * *
CHARLOTTE WASN’T SURE what Mitch had done since she’d last been there, but the house now felt more like a home. Maybe it was the few dishes drying on a rack beside the sink, or the packaged cookies on the counter. The area rug on the floor by the door? The blinds over the windows?
What they’d started for him, he’d finished, and in an incredibly short time.
She hoped she could motivate him that easily to other changes.
As soon as they entered, Brute lifted his head for a few gentle strokes, then stretched forward with an elaborate yawn, his hind legs out behind him, his front paws extended, his muscular neck arched. Sharp teeth showed as he uncurled his tongue. He ended the display by dropping down and rolling to his back, an invitation for her to give him a belly rub.
Little by little, the dog settled in, acting more secure with his situation. Hopefully Mitch would do the same.
“Lazy thing,” he rumbled, joining her in lavishing the dog with affection. “Don’t you want to go out?”
Bolting back to his feet, he shook his butt with excitement.
“I’d say that’s a yes.” Charlotte opened the door and followed him out, Mitch at her side.
At one end of the sky, the sun sank lower, a hazy orange ball that colored the bellies of numerous flat clouds. In the other direction, the skies darkened ominously and the occasional flash of lightning could be seen. All around them, insects sang and trees rustled.
She put her face up to the breeze and closed her eyes. “It’s so beautiful here.”
His arm slipped around her in a casual hold. “Private too.”
It seemed so natural now, for them to touch, to be together, as if they’d had a relationship for months, even years. In some intrinsic, indefinable way, he fulfilled a part of her that had been missing until she met him.
She’d known what she wanted: physical contact, emotional closeness. Understanding and approval. Affection.
Yet no man had interested her enough to make it happen. Now, with Mitch, she constantly wanted more. More of his smiles.
More of his touch.
More of the stirring way he kissed her.
“What are you thinking?”
She opened her eyes to see him studying her, his frown quizzical and amused.
“You.”
One brow went up.
“I was thinking of you and how you make me feel.” Leaning into him was nice. Better than nice. Perfect even.
His brows smoothed out. “How?”
“It’s hard to describe, but like—” She searched for adequate words. “This is how I should have been, but wasn’t until now.”
Both brows lifted, and a small smile formed. “That’s...profound.”
“Are you teasing me?” Not that she’d mind. She liked seeing him more lighthearted.
“Actually, it’s similar for me.” While watching the dog, he smoothed his hand up and down her back. “When I’m with you, I feel things I thought were always out of my reach.”
Oh, now see. That was profound.
Before she could get too emotional over it, Brute trotted back to them. Eyes half closed, his tongue lolling out, he wagged his tail.
“You look happy, bud,” Mitch told him, rubbing his back.
“So do you,” Charlotte whispered.
He glanced at her. “You’re here. Of course I’m happy.”
They still had things to talk about, but she had promised a certain order to events...and she didn’t think she could wait much longer. “Should we head in?”
In stark contrast to his gentle smile, hunger glittered in his eyes. “Yeah.” Patting his thigh, he said to Brute, “How about dinner, Brute? You hungry?”
The dog lunged forward with a bark.
“Yeah, you’re always hungry, aren’t you?” To Charlotte, he said, “Dinner will keep him busy for an hour or two. He’ll eat, then pass out for a nap.”
“He’s so chill.”
“People see him and think pit bull and immediately expect him to be vicious.” He rubbed Brute’s ear. “At heart, he’s a shy butterfly.”
She laughed at the description. “You didn’t help, naming him Brute.”
“He can have his moments.” Holding the door, he waited until she and the dog went in, then he secured it. “He likes to eat and then doze here in the screened room. For both of us, it’s almost like being outside.”
That was another thing she wanted to talk about—the reason he used a tent rather than the house he’d bought. What would happen when colder weather set in?
What if things between them progressed? Eventually he’d want her to stay over, right? Would he expect her to sleep in a tent too?
She would. In her heart, Charlotte knew she’d do just about anything for him, and that prompted her to say, “I love your house. There’s so much character in the structure of it.”
“I see it now, though I didn’t when I bought it. The other half, toward the barn, is set up to run the business. The office there needs as much work as the rest of it, but for now there’s an old desk, a filing cabinet and a half john.”
“It’s perfect, but I worry about you being out here all alone.”
He filled a big bowl with dry food and set it down for Brute. While rinsing out and refilling the water bowl, he said, “This was a compromise for me. It’s civilized, right? A house, the expected model for anyone settling down.”
Charlotte loved watching him move, how easily his large hands handled the bowls, the casual flex of muscles in his forearms. To her, everything about him was beautiful and stirring, even the way he did simple chores. “But?”
Leaning against the wall, arms folded, he averted his gaze. “Sometimes four walls are a bit much for me.” He flashed a twisted smile of regret. “Doesn’t take a genius to know it’s the residual effect of being locked up, right? It’s something you don’t think about—being free. It’s so damn easy to take it for granted.”
She went to him, snuggling in against that broad chest. His shirt was slightly damp with sweat, clinging to all the hard planes and muscled swells of his body. Even better, he smelled delicious, like earthy man, a scent unique to him.
There wasn’t a single thing about his body that she didn’t love, but it was his drive and determination, his basic character, that she appreciated most because it was that unique attribute that had helped him survive.
That had brought him to her.
Wondering how he felt about all the new adjustments in his life, she asked, “You’re easing into things?”
Catching her face in his warm palms, he urged her to meet his probing gaze. In a sultry voice that licked down her spine, he murmured, “I’d like to ease into you.”
Mmmm, she’d like that as well. With a slight nod, she smiled. “Okay.”
“So agreeable.”
“Because in this, we want the same thing.” Wearing a mock frown, she added, “But don’t get used to it.”
She saw the pleasure in his eyes when he murmured, “Yes, ma’am.” Tentatively, he touched his mouth to hers, lingered, firmed, caressing and teasing until the kiss turned soft, deep, devastating enough to steal her thoughts and her breath.
The soft cotton over his shoulders encouraged her hands to roam. Abruptly he turned her, pressing her to the wall and leaning in so that his hips pinned her while he continued to feast on her mouth.
And even that wasn’t enough, apparently not for either of them, because his hands slid down her back to her bottom and he pulled her against a solid erection beneath his jeans.
She freed her mouth on a gasp.
He took it again, his tongue sliding past her teeth, exploring deeply while strong fingers kneaded her flesh, rocking her against him. Easily maneuvering her body, he led her in a tantalizing rhythm.
Nerve endings all came alive—and he pulled back to say, “The bed. Now.”
Never in her life had she been called bold, but here, in this situation with Mitch, wanting him in a way she hadn’t known existed, all that came to mind was, “Race you,” and she slid away from him to stride down the hall.
A pleased, husky laugh followed her and just as she reached the bed, he reached her. Abruptly turning her, he stripped off her camisole in one smooth, probably practiced, move.
She didn’t care. Whatever he’d done with other women, he was here now with her and she didn’t plan to ever let him go.
A hot mix of determination, lust and tenderness drove his gaze all over her upper body. Hand shaking, he reached for the front clasp to her strapless bra.
Before Mitch, she’d always bemoaned her lack of boobs. With him, she felt incredibly sexy. “Let me.”
Hand falling back to his side, his nostrils flared on a deeply indrawn breath.
Loving that reaction, loving him, Charlotte opened the bra...and let it fall to the floor.
* * *
“YOU THINK THEY’LL be watching the girl?”
Newman laughed—and didn’t tell them that she’d bammed him by threatening to track his call. He felt enough like a dumbass for believing it, even for those two brief seconds. “Probably. They’ll be clustered around her, wringing their hands and trying to figure out how to keep her safe.”
Ritchie cackled at the image. “While we’re out here gettin’ old Mitch.”
Yes, he’d get Mitch. He remembered him as a gangly teen, full of defiance and pride, refusing to cower.
When Mitch was bleeding out, when he knew he was dying—and that the women were next on Newman’s list—then he wouldn’t be so damned proud anymore.
And after he finished with Mitch he’d cut Bernie’s throat and leave town. Forget the women. They didn’t really matter other than a means to torment Mitch.
If too many bodies went missing, he’d have the damn Federals on his ass. No one needed that.
Sitting back in his chair, Lee grunted. “It was nice of Bernie to be so accom
modating with info.”
They started another round of laughter.
When Bernie found out Mitch had bought an old place on the outside of town, he’d been all too excited to share the news. “I knew if we waited long enough, something would give. Towns this size spend all their time gossiping.” Apparently a friend of Bernie’s had been at the hardware store when Mitch bought security lights. He’d shared the info with Bernie innocently enough, never suspecting what Bernie would do with it.
Half under his breath, Newman said, “He can light the place up like Christmas. It won’t change anything.”
After leaving Bernie, Lee had come to him and once it was dark enough, they’d head out for some fun.
Withdrawing his blade, Newman examined the razor-sharp edge. “You remember what I did to Bill?”
Ritchie winced. “Yeah, there was so much blood, I’m not likely to forget it. You left him in pieces.”
“That,” Newman stated, “is what’s in store for Mitch.”
“Day-um. Hate him that much, do you?”
What he felt was worse than hate. From the time Mitch was a kid, he’d been defiant and full of disdain. He’d gotten in Newman’s way too many times, and then he’d dared to sell his mother’s house, when it should have been Newman’s. In the process, he’d destroyed his drug supply and damaged his reputation. “Yeah, I hate him that much, and more.” Mitch would give him his money, all that he had. And then he’d give him the satisfaction he’d long been denied.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SHORT ON WORDS but long on need, Mitch couldn’t slow down. Luckily Charlotte seemed to be with him every step. Her little race to the bedroom amplified everything—emotion, need, hunger. Sexy confidence and her own desire kept her standing before him, her gaze direct, her eyes alight with a reciprocal need that filled up all the empty places in his heart.
Drawn to her delicate curves, he watched as his darker fingers curved around her pale breasts, as his thumbs teased her dusky nipples into tight peaks.
Compliments, promises filled his head, but all he said was, “You’re mine.”
