by Anna Blakely
He gave her a friendly grin. “I'm sure.”
Doing as she was told, Charlie got back in her car and waited for the green light. When the man gave it, she eased her foot from the brake and slowly pressed on the gas.
The car rocked back and forth as he pushed against the front bumper in an attempt to free her from the rut she'd made. Before long, she'd broken loose and was pulling the car back up onto the gravel shoulder.
Putting it in park, she got out to thank the kind stranger. As he walked toward her, she couldn't help but notice the confidence with which he carried himself. And the mud that was now all over the front of his pants.
“Oh, my gosh!” Charlie exclaimed. “I’m so sorry.”
The man glanced down at his legs and laughed. When he looked back at her, his dark eyes danced in the light.
“No worries. A quick trip to the dry cleaner's and they'll be good as new.”
“Let me pay for it, then.” She reached for her purse on the front passenger seat. “How much do you think it will cost?”
Already opening her wallet, Charlie started to pull out its meager contents. She didn't have much, but surely cleaning one pair of pants wouldn't cost more than the two tens she had.
“Put that away,” he ordered.
“But—”
“I'm not taking your money...”
The way he let his voice trail, she knew he was expecting her to say her name.
“Charlie. Charlie Stone. Well, Charlotte, but everyone calls me Charlie.”
Sounding perplexed, he asked, “Why?”
“Why, what?”
“Why does everyone call you ‘Charlie'? Charlotte is a very pretty name. Formal. Feminine. It fits you very well.”
Blushing, Charlie bashfully tucked some hair behind her ear. “Um, I don't know.” She shrugged. “It's just what I've always been called.”
“Well, Charlotte,” he emphasized her full name. “I'm Caleb.” He held out a hand. “Caleb Porter.”
Charlie put her hand in his, surprised at how soft and gentle his strong grip felt.
“I don't want your money,” he said with a smile. “But there is one way you could repay me for my kind gesture.”
Panic began to set in.
Oh, crap. Was this guy about to ask for some sort of sexual favor? She'd seen shows like this on T.V., and they never ended well for the girl.
Swallowing hard, Charlie let go of his hand and took a step back. “W-what's that?” Her voice quivered.
Picking up on her sudden nervousness, Caleb smiled. “Don't worry. It's nothing like what you're probably thinking, I assure you.”
Charlie bit her bottom lip, not completely convinced he was telling the truth.
“I was going to say, if you wanted to do something to repay me, I'd love for you to have dinner with me. My treat.”
Wait. He was asking her out? That made no sense. “You...want to take me out? Like, on a date?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?” His eyes widened a little. “Oh, you have a boyfriend. I apologize. I never should've assumed a woman like you would be single.”
That damn blush was creeping back up her neck again. “No,” she shook her head. “I-I don't have a boyfriend.”
“Oh.” Caleb smiled, appearing to be genuinely relieved. “Then, why did you sound so surprised by my offer?”
Charlie scoffed. “Lots of reasons.”
“Such as?”
Best to be honest with the guy. “Well, for one, you don't know me. Two, I'm only eighteen, and three, from the looks of your clothes and your car, you're way out of my league.”
Most girls wouldn't have been so blunt, but that was Charlie. With the exception of her father—because he’d just belittle or yell at her—she had a tendency to say what was on her mind.
Caleb threw his head back and laughed. “I have to hand it to you, Charlotte. You are not like most women I meet.”
It was the third time he’d referred to her as a woman. Did this guy actually see her as an adult, rather than a kid? She had to admit, she didn't exactly hate the idea.
“Is that a good thing?” she asked with a half-smile, her lame attempt at flirting back.
“Oh, yeah.” Caleb grinned. “That's definitely a good thing.”
The two stood there for a few more awkward seconds before he spoke up again. “Listen. I was going to wait until I got home to eat, but it's an hour drive yet, and I'm starving. Please, put me out of my misery and have dinner with me. You can follow me back into town. Or, better yet, I'll follow you. You can even pick the restaurant.”
This made Charlie laugh. “There's only one real restaurant in Parish Point, and it's nothing fancy.”
“Don't need fancy. Just food. And, of course,”—he winked—“good company.”
Damn, if she didn't feel flushed again. She had to admit it felt nice to have this sort of attention from a guy. No, not a guy...a man.
He’d gone out of his way to stop and help her when he just as easily could've driven right by. Not to mention, dinner with Caleb sounded way better than going back home and driving herself crazy with thoughts of Derek and his new girlfriend.
Renewed emotions over that whole situation began to bubble to the surface again. Somewhere deep down, she knew it was wrong. But Charlie couldn’t keep from feeling the need to get back at him, somehow.
Derek may not have intentionally hurt her, but she was hurt, all the same. He’d flirted with her. Made her think there could be something special between them. Then he crushed those dreams by bringing another woman home to stay with him.
Her teenage heart felt jaded, allowing her emotions, rather than logic, to control her thinking. Suddenly, Charlie found herself liking the idea of spending more time with this man.
Maybe that’s why this all happened. Maybe it was the universe’s way of telling her it was time to finally let go of her years-long crush and move on. A crush that was clearly leading to nothing but disappointment and heartache.
Caleb’s a stranger. He could be an ax murderer, for all you know.
Feeling let down by the one person she thought she could always count on, Charlie ignored the tiny voice in her head and heard herself saying, “Follow me.”
****
Chapter 2
Present-day...
“I got the two tangos guarding the door. Both carrying. D, you see anyone else outside?”
Derek West looked down at the tablet he was holding and studied the blurred, orange-red images on the screen.
“I see what you see, Mac,” he told the former Ranger. She was the only female member of R.I.S.C., and one of the best snipers Derek had ever seen. “I'm not pickin' anyone else up around the perimeter.”
“What about inside?”
That question came from their team leader, Jake McQueen, positioned a few yards to his right.
“Affirmative, Boss. There's one just inside the door to the left, plus two more standing about fifteen feet due west.”
“And the hostages?”
Derek used his thumb and forefinger to push the image back, allowing him to see more of the interior. Along the back wall was a long, almost continuous orange blur.
He gritted his teeth. “Lined up against the south wall. They appear to be standing shoulder-to-shoulder.”
Positioned on a hill across the street from the abandoned warehouse, Derek couldn't actually see the women and young girls who'd been taken against their will. But, he knew they were there. Worse, he knew why.
“Remember, D,” Jake spoke low. “Once you hear the code phrase, I'll let Ryker know it's time for his boys to move in.”
“Got it.”
Agent Jason Ryker was the head of a covert unit within Homeland Security. Through this unit, he oftentimes called upon R.I.S.C. to either fully execute or aid in the completion of a mission. Jobs too sensitive for the government to officially become involved in.
R.I.S.C.—which stood for Rescue, Intel, Security, and Capture—was th
e elite, private security firm owned by McQueen. After serving as a Navy SEAL for several years, he’d decided it was time for a change.
While he and the rest of Alpha Team still went on ops similar to those he’d been on as a SEAL, working the private sector allowed for more leeway in both the logistics of the job and their personal lives.
Their team wasn’t held back by as much red tape as the military, which meant they could get the job done in the most efficient and time-sensitive manner. Working for R.I.S.C. versus being a SEAL also allowed him and his teammates more time at home.
More time at home meant more time for fun.
Sean “Coop” Cooper's voice hit Derek's ear, bringing his attention back in the game. “I see headlights turning onto the road now. Has to be them.”
Not far from Mac, Coop was positioned several yards to Derek's left with a clear vantage point of both the road and the front of the building.
As Alpha Team's second sniper, Coop and Mac worked closely together to ensure any threat—either to the team or to any innocents in the vicinity—was taken out with speed and efficiency.
Derek picked up his tactical binoculars. “So help me, they put so much as a scratch on her...”
“You still whining about them using your car?” Jake teased. “Trevor gave you his word they'd take care of it.”
Like Jake, Trevor Matthews was a former Delta Force operator. He’d been in Delta with Jake and was now Alpha Team’s medic and Jake’s SIC, or second in command.
“Her,” Derek corrected the other man. “And she's not just a car, Boss. That's my girl they're drivin'.”
“It's a car, D,” Mac stated bluntly.
“It's a limited-edition Challenger SRT Hellcat with a six-point two-liter V-eight engine and over seven hundred twenty horses runnin' inside her. She's not just a car, sweetheart. That right there's a thing of beauty.”
Mac's snort came through the tiny mic in his ear. “That right there is a big hunk of cumbersome metal. I mean, what good is it, anyway? It's not like you can go off-roading or anything. Hell, you can't even take the top off.”
Without missing a beat, Coop chimed in with, “I bet he's taken plenty of tops off inside the car. Does that count?”
Ignoring the snickers coming from the guys, Mac said, “I'll stick with my Jeep.”
“Ruby?” Derek's face scrunched as he spouted off the name Mac had given her custom-built Jeep Rubicon. “That atrocity ain't got nothin' on my Charlie.”
“And that's another thing.” Mac shook her head. “What kind of name is Charlie? If you're gonna name a car it's supposed to be a girl's name.”
Derek's heart gave a strong thud which he ignored. “Charlie can be a girl's name.”
“As a nickname, maybe,” Mac scoffed. “But a car you claim is a metal goddess should have a sexier name, don't you think?”
Thankful for the cover of the night sky and trees, Derek swallowed hard and looked back down at his tablet. It probably was a stupid move, naming his car after his childhood friend. After all, he’d spent most of his adult life pretending she didn’t even exist.
Eleven years and who knows how many other women later, and most days he didn’t even give her a second thought. Liar.
Mumbling, he told the tiny blonde, “Trust me, Mac. Charlie can be sexy.”
“No, it—”
“Different strokes for different folks, Mac,” Coop interrupted.
Though he couldn't see the other man's face, Derek knew Coop had picked up on his tone and had cut Mac off for his benefit.
Jake's voice hit their ears again. “Grab your popcorn, lady and gents. It's showtime.”
Picking up his binos again, Derek watched as his car came to a stop in front of the abandoned warehouse.
Looking every bit the rich, handsome businessman he was pretending to be, Trevor stepped out of the vehicle and straightened his ridiculously expensive jacket.
Playing the role of bodyguard, Grant got out of the passenger side. They began walking toward the two men standing guard by the door.
“I still don't like them going in unarmed,” Mac conveyed her concern for their teammates.
“You and me both,” Coop agreed.
“These guys are slick,” Jake reminded them. “Can't take any chances on this one. There's too much at stake.”
Derek's chest tightened thinking of the women and girls inside that building.
“Once the money's transferred and Trev and Grant are a safe distance away, I'll contact Ryker and tell him to move in.”
“Roger that, Boss.”
Derek put the small, corded earpiece attached to his tablet into his ear. The glasses he'd designed for Trevor to wear had a two-way mic embedded in the frames. Derek had also replaced the lenses with transmittable ones, meaning whatever Trevor saw was instantly recorded into the program on Derek's tablet.
They'd tested the glasses when Derek first gave them to their GQ-looking medic, but he still wanted to reassure his teammate.
“Visual is clear, Trev. Need to double-check the coms.”
Derek and the others watched and listened as Trevor spoke to the two men.
“Afternoon, gentlemen.” Trevor's voice came through clear as a bell.
“You're late.” The older guard gave the two operatives a cocky grin.
“Your directions were shit,” Trevor casually informed the other man. “The highway you told me to take was re-routed due to construction. Has been for over a week.”
The one guard looked to the other, appearing a bit unnerved. “My apologies.”
“My wife is the one you'll need to apologize to if I arrive home later than expected. She's an amazing cook, and I never miss a meal, if I can help it.”
The other man chuckled. “Does your wife know what sort of business you're in?”
Trevor took a step closer to the man. An intimidation tactic they'd used on countless occasions.
“She doesn't give a shit where the money comes from, as long as I keep her wallet full.”
Both guards laughed, as was Trevor's intention. Grant stood beside him, the stoic bastard not cracking a smile.
“The boss is inside along with the uh...merchandise.”
Trevor slapped the man on the shoulder a little harder than necessary. “I do enjoy sneaking in a little dessert before dinner. Shall we?”
Though he knew it was all part of the act, bile churned in Derek's stomach as he listened to the two guards laugh at Trevor's sick joke.
It was bad enough having seen the things men did to each other while at war. Knowing there were twisted assholes like these two running around in the world made Derek want to puke.
“Here we go.” Jake's deep voice brought Derek back into focus.
Eyes glued to the tablet, he watched through Trevor's eyes as he and Grant followed the other two men into the building. They were greeted by two more men...the one standing guard inside the door and Victor Rizzaro, the scum behind this unthinkable operation.
“Ah, Mr. Campbell. You made it.”
“No thanks to your man's directions,” Trevor—A.K.A. Mr. Campbell—shook Rizzaro's outstretched hand.
“Yes, I got your text. It's the only reason we waited.”
Trevor's view moved from the other man's face to the far wall behind where Rizzaro stood. The bile from before began to boil as Derek got his first look at the sex-trafficking ring's victims.
“Motherfuckers. There's gotta be at least twenty women and girls in there.”
“Easy, D,” Jake's quiet warning hit his ear. “We don't want Trevor to inadvertently react to something you say and blow his cover.”
Damn. “Sorry.”
Derek shook his head. He knew better, but this sort of thing cut him to the bone. He'd never understand how someone could hurt women or kids like this.
Less than ten minutes later, Trevor had “picked” the young woman he wanted to purchase and was shaking Rizzaro's hand once more. “This went much more smoothly than I'd anticip
ated. I see us doing a lot of business together in the future.”
“There it is.” Derek perked up. “Trev just said the passphrase. Tell Ryker he's good to go.”
“Copy.”
The team remained silent and in place. Trevor and Grant escorted the woman Trevor had just ‘bought’ to Derek's car and the three of them drove away. Less than three minutes later, the entire warehouse was surrounded by Ryker and his men.
“That's our cue.”
Jake, Coop, and Mac all stood and began walking down the hill in the opposite direction. Derek waited a few seconds longer. Just long enough to see Rizzaro and his cronies being led—quite roughly—into the back of a government-issued prisoner transport vehicle.
The women and young girls were separated into multiple cars and SUV’s. They’d all be taken to Homeland's private medical facility for evaluation, including the woman Trevor and Grant had with them. After that, they’d be safely transported back to their homes where they belonged.
Smiling, Derek stood and checked his area to make sure he hadn't left anything behind before joining Jake and the others. An hour later, after taking their seats, the team was back on their private jet.
Standing in front of the cockpit door, Jake hollered, “Listen up.” He waited to make sure everyone was paying attention before continuing. “First of all, good job tonight. We got in, shut the operation down, and got out without incident or injury.”
Their boss smiled and waited for the whoops and hollers to die down before speaking again. “As of right now, you're all off until a week from tomorrow. Bravo Team has already been briefed on the jobs we have scheduled and are ready if anything should arise. Also, don't forget about dinner tomorrow night at The Gardens. Lexi reserved the room in the back so we'd have some privacy.”
Shit. Derek was grateful for the reminder. “What time is this shindig?”
“Six-thirty. And if you're late, you'll have to deal with my pissed-off wife.”
“Nah.” Derek grinned. “Olivia loves me.”
Jake ran a hand over his dark scruff and nodded. “Yes, for reasons I'll never understand, she does.”
Derek's smile grew wide, the remark not offending him in the least.
Coop leaned his head into the aisle to see Jake better. “You gonna tell us what the special occasion is?”
