Point Blank (Love Undercover Book 6)

by LK Shaw

  Every inch of me felt like a wet noodle. Until I moved. Then my poor, pitiful muscles screamed in pain. It hurt just trying to wash my hair. This was the second week in a row we’d spent working out inside the ring after the gym had closed.

  Sam had given me a key, even though the door locked from the inside without one. Oliver stopped by each night after his shift, so we could practice fighting. He was relentless. I was tired and sore. This was the hardest I’d ever worked out before in my life. I didn’t complain…much.

  We stood in the kitchen area, the soft light overhead shining down. Sweat poured down my face no matter how much I tried to wipe it away with a towel, and my face was no doubt flushed a bright red from exertion.

  “Have you heard anything more about Los Lobos?” I asked.

  Oliver swallowed his water. “Nothing yet. The other women still have patrols on them, as far as I know, but the investigators in the two murders haven’t been able to find any proof that leads back to the gang. It’s going to take some time. It hasn’t been that long.”

  I sighed. “I know, I just get antsy not knowing what’s happening or going to happen, you know?”

  “I wish I had better news for you,” he said.

  “It’s fine.”

  “How are your groceries holding up? Do you have enough blankets? It’s starting to get a lot colder at night.”

  “I’ve got enough food for a couple more days, and it’s actually pretty cozy in here at night. I think all the body heat from the day lingers even after everyone leaves.”

  Oliver snorted. “As does the lovely fragrance of eau de sweat.”

  I made a faux retching noise and then grimaced a little. “That’s probably me, actually.”

  “Not possible.” He shook his head. “I bet you smell like a bed of roses.”

  “You’re kidding right?” I gaped at him. “Maybe a bed of roses fertilized with cow shit.”

  Before I could even guess his intent, Oliver tugged my arm until I stumbled into him. “I’ll be the judge of that,” he mock growled and then started sniffing my neck.

  “Oh my god,” I squealed, laughing at both this ridiculous behavior and the tickling sensation, and tried to push him away. “Stop smelling me, you weirdo. I’m a gross, stinky mess.”

  He kept up his antics, sniffing along my neck on both sides and moving around my face and along my hairline. “Mmm, roses here. And here. Even here.”

  My belly hurt from giggling so hard, but when, on the next pass, his lips brushed my cheek, and then my lips, my laughter dried up completely. We both froze. Had that been an accident? Oliver’s hands still gripped my hips tightly, our bodies nearly flush and our faces only inches apart.

  His gaze locked on mine, neither of us breathing. Then it dropped to my mouth, and I sharply inhaled. He glanced back up and stayed focused on my eyes. Ever so slowly, his head lowered, and I lost sight of him as my lids drifted shut. With a feather light touch, Oliver’s lips ghosted across mine, back and forth with such gentleness I ached for more. I wrapped my arms around his neck and threaded my fingers through his hair, rising up on tiptoe, shortening the distance between us, to press my mouth harder against his. I didn’t want gentle. Not with this first kiss. It wasn’t nearly enough.

  He took control, sliding his tongue along the seam of my lips, persuading me to open for him. I didn’t hesitate, because it was exactly what I needed. Oliver sought out of every inch of my mouth. He backed me up against the counter, never breaking the connection between us, so I was completely caged in. Our bodies were flush, his impressive hardness rubbing against me.

  Every part of me ached for his touch. He pulled his mouth from mine, and I nearly cried. Strong hands circled my waist, and then I was flying. I squealed in surprise and my butt hit the countertop. Oliver stepped into the cradle of my thighs and stared straight into my eyes. His gaze slowly drifted over my face as though he were memorizing my features. He pushed a few strands of hair that had escaped my ponytail off my cheek and tucked them behind my ear.

  His thumb caressed my cheek. “I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

  “Is that a good or bad thing?” I whispered.

  “Both, I think.”

  My nose wrinkled, and Oliver chuckled.

  “It’s good”—he leaned forward and brushed his lips across mine—“because you’re the first woman who’s never bored me.”

  I perked up at that.

  “It’s also good”—another kiss, this one deeper than the last—“because you’re this strange mix of fragile and vulnerable, yet with an inner strength.”

  My lips turned down at that, but Oliver pressed his mouth against mine again, dipping his tongue in to taste me, chasing the frown away. He continued peppering my face with small kisses, moving across my cheek and along my jaw. He traveled down my neck, nibbling on the tender flesh.

  “Do you know that you’re the first woman I’ve ever woken up next to?” he murmured into my ear. “The first woman and I liked waking up next to you?”

  I tipped my head to give him better access and released a breathy sigh. “You sure didn’t act like you enjoyed it,” I whispered. He hit a spot, and my words turned into a whimper of pleasure. “Your expression said you wanted me out of your bed that second.”

  His lips returned to mine, and his tongue swept inside, teasing and tantalizing me. “How would you feel if your world had been flipped on end? Something no other woman had managed to do? It would have freaked you out a bit as well.”

  When he said it that way, I could see why he’d reacted the way he did. Although I couldn’t help feeling proud and a bit satisfied that I was the one who’d made him feel that way. Me, Charity Yates.

  I laid my hands on his chest and pushed, placing some distance between us. Our eyes met. I swallowed nervously.

  “If those are all the good things, what’s the bad thing?”

  His expression turned serious. “It’s bad, because these feelings I’m starting to have for you scare the shit out of me.”

  Oliver had been gone for a few hours, but I still couldn’t settle down. Not after all his revelations, especially that last one. My heart had skipped a beat at his admission. He had feelings for me? He’d kissed me one last time before helping me off the counter. Then he’d excused himself with the promise we’d talk tomorrow.

  It was pointless, because there was no way I’d be able to concentrate, but I pulled out the book I’d been reading earlier anyway. I stared at the page, my gaze unfocused before I slipped my library checkout receipt between the pages and slammed the book on my bed in frustration. Needing an excuse to do something besides sitting here doing nothing, I got up to use the bathroom.

  My bare feet slapped across the concrete floor as I walked to the locker room toilet. My fingers had just touched the flusher when I paused and turned my head, straining to listen. Had that been glass breaking? As quietly as possible, I opened the stall door and tiptoed toward the short hallway that opened out to the main floor. I paused out of sight and stood frozen waiting for…something.

  ¿Estás seguro de que esa putita está aquí? a muffled voice came from way too close.

  I pancaked against the wall, holding my breath. Oh my god, they’re looking for me. I need to get out of here.

  “¡Sí, eso es lo que dijo José,” a second man answered, also attempting to be quiet.

  Slowly exhaling, careful not to make a sound, I crept an inch forward still listening for any sound, trying to pinpoint where the intruders were. Faint footsteps echoed in the barren space of the gym, making it difficult to tell if they had already passed the locker room or not.

  My small room was at the back of the gym, which meant that I could sneak out the front door before they discovered I wasn’t in there. I needed to time it perfectly though. I’d be fucked if I snuck out of here too early and ran into the bastards. Shit, what if there’s a lookout waiting outside? I’d have to take my chance. If I had to, I’d pull a couple cheap shots that Oli
ver had taught me. I could handle one person.

  A shadow, then another, passed nearly in front of where I stood. There they were. I stayed perfectly still waiting for them to pass by. I counted to ten and slowly stuck my head around the corner looking both ways. Sure enough, my eyes landed on the backs of two men, one wearing an open, plaid flannel shirt with matching bandana tied around his forehead, the other in a white t-shirt and baseball hat.

  The second they turned the corner, I darted out of my hiding place, and headed straight for the exit, my heartbeat pounding loudly inside my ears. I reached the front door, my fingers shaking so hard I could barely turn the lock. They slipped off the metal knob, and I tried again. There was a shout behind me, but I’d already turned to lock and yanked the door open. I nearly collided with the man outside.

  Barely even thinking, I drove my foot straight into his kneecap, and he collapsed with a scream, clutching his leg to his chest. Then I took off down the sidewalk, my arms pumping as fast they could, my lungs burning as I tried pulling in oxygen. More shouting came from behind me, but I didn’t look back. I was dead if they caught me.

  Staying in the shadows, I darted through a darkened alley. A sharp stabbing pain went through my foot, and I cried out. I hobbled, balancing myself against the brick wall, lifting my leg to look at the bottom of my foot. A street light above shined down and caught on something. I grabbed it and yanked before tossing it away. Blood poured from the wound, but I had to keep moving. Ignoring the horrific pain, I took off through the alley, coming out the next block over, and kept blindly moving trying to put as much distance between me and those men as possible. My foot throbbed in agony. Think, Charity.

  “Maria,” I gasped out. Quickly changing direction, I kept racing down the street zigzagging every block to try and keep out of view, my limp growing more pronounced. A stitch grew in my side, but I couldn’t slow down any further.

  Finally, her building came into view. I chanced a glance over my shoulder, but there was no one there. Had they given up the chase or had I’d just lost them? No time to worry about it. My palms slammed against the door, pushing it open before quickly dashing inside, and then I turned, trying to find a way to lock it. Son of a bitch. There was nothing.

  “Miss, are you okay?”

  I spun around, gasping for breath, my hand against my side trying to ease the ache of the stitch still pinching between my ribs. “There are men chasing me. Lock the door and call the police, please.”

  He grabbed the phone while I backed away from the door and moved behind one of the two floor to ceiling marble pillars that decorated the lobby. The doorman was speaking to the 9-1-1 operator, but I didn’t pay attention to the conversation. My entire focus was on the front door. Then I happened to glance down to the floor near the entrance. Blood-smeared footprints decorated the white tile that otherwise shone like a diamond from the bright light shining down from the recessed bulbs in the ceiling. It was as though seeing the blood snapped something in my brain.

  I swayed with the pain that was making itself known, but I practiced slow breathing techniques until I got my body back under control. Everything hurt, but I pushed it all away to deal with later.

  “The police are on their way.”

  I jerked at the voice and turned toward the doorman still standing behind his desk, holding the phone to his ear. “Thank you.”

  He continued his murmured conversation with the person on the other end, while I remained stiff, trying to keep weight off my injured foot at the same time trying not to collapse. The air remained still as though not wanting to disturb the tension that grew.

  The faint sound of sirens in the distance became louder. Flashing lights appeared through the glass front door, the reflection bouncing off the walls nearly giving me a headache. It was as though the colored lights gave me permission to relax. I collapsed against the pillar and slowly slid down the hardness at my back, sinking further and further to the ground until my ass hit with a thud.

  My feet were a bloodied mess. Dirt and grime covered them and splattered halfway up my legs. There was more blood. I shivered from the cold. My eyes drifted closed, and not even the pounding on the door made me open them. Vaguely, I could hear people talking, but the words were indecipherable. Something warm was draped over me, but still my eyes wouldn’t open.

  “Miss, can you hear me? You’re safe now. Miss?”

  From some well, I drew the strength to slowly open my eyes, despite how heavy my lids felt. An officer in uniform squatted on his heels next to me. He had kind eyes. His mouth was moving again.

  “You’re okay. Everything’s going to be all right, I promise.”

  I blinked, and then Oliver’s face appeared in front of me. “You saved me.”

  My hand reached up to caress his cheek, but before I could reach him, I blinked, and his face shifted again, this time into someone I didn’t recognize. My hand dropped to my side.

  “Miss, the paramedics are on their way,” he said.

  No matter how stupid it was, I needed Oliver. “Can you call Officer Oliver Garrison, please?”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry?”

  “Oliver Garrison. He works in narcotics. Can you call him for me?”

  The officer patted my hand. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  I nodded, my eyes drifting shut again. Everything would be okay once Oliver got here.

  Chapter 29

  My arm reached out to smack the annoying alarm going off. Only, it wasn’t my alarm, it was my phone ringing. Snatching it off the nightstand, I swiped to accept the call, my brain muddled from being woken out of dead sleep.

  “Garrison,” I grumbled.

  “Officer Garrison, this is Detective Jordan Ingram.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you know a Charity Yates?”

  I bolted upright, my heart coming to a stop in my chest. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s going to be fine.”

  I was already jumping out of bed and throwing on some clothes. “Where is she?”

  “Northwestern Memorial.”

  “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

  The emergency room was nearly full. There were several crying kids, even more people coughing and hacking. One guy held a bloodied towel-covered hand in his lap. I headed to triage to find out what room Charity was in.

  I knocked on the door. A muffled reply came from inside. Taking it as assent, I pushed open the barrier and stuck my head through the opening. Charity was lying propped up in the bed, sheet pooled around her waist, fidgeting like crazy. She looked so small and fragile, but unharmed. Her skin was pale, her hair a tangled mess, and she looked tired. There were dark circles under her eyes, but they lit up with relief as she met my gaze.

  “Oliver,” she breathed out.

  I stepped inside and closed the door before making my way over to her bedside. I brushed a kiss across her forehead, breathing in her scent, reassuring myself she was fine.

  “Are you okay?”

  Charity nodded. “I’m better now that you’re here.”

  I circled the bed, pulled the chair over, and took a seat. I reached out for her hand, the tender skin already bruised from the IV. She clutched my fingers tightly as though she never wanted to let me go.

  “Where are you hurt?”

  “I have a bunch of cuts on the bottom of my feet including a pretty nasty one that needed stitches from a shard of glass. There’s also a deep slice along my leg I hadn’t noticed either that they had to stitch as well. I lost quite a bit of blood, and passed out for a bit before the ambulance arrived. Other than that, I’m okay.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “It was Los Lobos. They broke into the gym. I’d been in my room reading and had to go to the bathroom. I was in the locker room, when I heard glass breaking. Then their voices. Once I was certain they couldn’t see me, I took off running. There was a guy outside, but I used a move you taught me and put him on the ground. After that I just kep
t running, until I remembered that a friend I’d made on the train a couple weeks ago lived in an apartment not far from there. I raced to her building and the doorman called 9-1-1,” she rattled off the story.

  “How the fuck did they find you?” I murmured almost to myself.

  “I heard them talking, and one of them said that someone named José told them where I was, but I don’t know anyone by that name,” she said.

  “You didn’t tell Shoshana, or anyone else, that you were staying at the gym, did you?” I hated asking, because we’d talked about the dangers of anyone knowing, but I still needed to.

  Charity shook her head. “No, I swear. I didn’t even tell Yvonne.”

  I squeezed her hand again. “I trust you. I’m sorry I had to ask.”

  There had to be something. “Besides Shoshana, did anyone know you worked at the gym? Maybe the other women at the shelter? Somebody Los Lobos could have gotten the information from?”

  “Maybe. I mean, there isn’t a lot of privacy in a homeless shelter, so anyone could have heard me talking about it to Shan. You may not know this, but I’m not really a people person,” she smirked, and I snorted. “I was polite with the women at the shelter when I needed to be, but I didn’t go out of my way to be besties with any of them. Everyone mostly keeps to themselves. So I didn’t readily share with anyone there, but it doesn’t mean none of them didn’t know.”

  I nodded absently. We’d need to question the women at Brenda’s House then. See if anyone was asking them about Charity or if they mentioned her to anyone. “Anyone else? What about this friend you mentioned? The one you met on the train?”

  Charity blinked at that. “Maria?”

  My body jerked.

  “I’m trying to remember if I told her or not,” she continued, oblivious to my reaction. “We talk about a lot of things.”