‘Course this really wasn’t the time for a quickie.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked her.
She kneeled down and pressed the shirt to my wound.
“Shit!” I cursed.
“Don’t be a baby,” she scolded, pressing harder.
Don’t be a baby she says. “I have a bullet embedded in my side and you’re pushing on it.”
“We need to stop the bleeding,” she said. “Push!”
I placed my hands over hers and added some pressure.
Her hands felt warm. It was nice. “You know,” I said, leaning my head against the wall, “in a movie, it’s usually it’s the guy who takes off his shirt to stop the bleeding of his girl.”
The side of her lip curled up. “Good thing this isn’t a movie.”
“If it was, you’d be my girl,” I said, tugging on the end of her hair.
Clearly I was becoming delirious from loss of blood, likely shock and too much adrenaline pumping through my system. I was starting to spout those pretty words I didn’t know how to say.
“Please don’t die,” she whispered, her voice cracking.
“Die?” I scoffed. “This is nothing. Did I ever tell you I walked ten miles carrying a guy who was shot?”
She nodded. “Yeah, you told me.”
“Did I tell you I had been shot too?”
Her eyes widened. “No.”
I smiled. “Takes a lot more than a bullet to kill me, darlin’.”
Charlotte’s palm was warm when she cupped my cheek and smiled.
“I need that phone.”
There was a black phone in the inside pocket of Wallace’s jacket, and she spun, holding it up triumphantly. I grinned and tried to remember the number the Feds gave me.
Charlotte shrieked.
I opened my eyes. Wallace was awake and had his hand wrapped around her ankle, trying to pull her feet out from under her.
I lifted the gun and shot him. He yelped and let go, rolling onto his bleeding arm.
The side door to the building burst in and people began swarming the room. I launched up off the floor, holding out both my guns, and put myself in front of Charlotte.
“Freeze!” a deep voice yelled, pointing a gun at me.
It was the cops. It was about fucking time.
One of the Men in Black came through the door, weaving around all the men dressed in black with the word SWAT across the back of their jackets.
“They’re with us,” he called, motioning toward me and Charlotte.
“What took you so long?” I barked as he approached.
“We need the medics!” he yelled, and people went off to do his bidding. “Did you get the drive?” he asked.
“Yeah. Yeah, we got it.”
Charlotte handed him the drive out of her bag. He slipped it into a clear bag labeled evidence. Everyone in the room was looking at us and I was starting to feel like the big man on campus until I realized they weren’t looking at me.
Charlotte was standing around in her bra, giving every man in here a show.
“Hey,” I said to the man in black.
“It’s Carson,” he said, giving me a name.
“Carson, you mind giving my girl here your jacket?”
He chuckled and draped it around her shoulders.
“Keep that shit covered up,” I told her as the medics rushed into the room, surrounding me with their tools.
She moved aside, giving them space to work, but I kept my eyes on her. Even when the room began to spin and my eyes grew heavy, I didn’t look away.
Shouting filled the distance and commotion erupted around me; people crowded in and blocked my view. I heard her call my name… I tried to answer…
Shadows descended, cloaking me in solitude, and then there was no more.
28
Charlotte
The sound of white sneakers squeaking over a polished floor reverberated out in the hallway. The room was dim, but the florescent light just outside the door made it difficult to sleep. Well, that and the fact I was sitting in the most uncomfortable chair known to man.
Every time I closed my eyes and attempted sleep, I heard the sound of gunfire and felt Tucker jerk against me as the bullet meant for me ripped into his side. After a while of struggling to sleep, I gave up, instead leaning back in the chair and watching him sleep.
He seemed comfortable. The medicine the doctors gave him kept the pain at bay. As he slept, I took advantage of the fact he was out and studied his face.
It’s funny because I would have thought that looking at his square jaw, dark hair, and straight nose would be like a sucker punch every time I gazed his way. I thought he might be a constant reminder of Max, that being near him would hurt and cause more grief than I already felt.
But it wasn’t like that at all.
Yes, he looked just like Max. However, when I looked at him, all I saw was Tucker. He was a distinct man, an unreplicated version of himself.
When I thought of Max, I smiled. I felt pride we had been together. We made a great team. Together we were unstoppable. There would forever be a piece of me that missed him, a piece in my heart reserved just for him.
When I thought of Tucker…
When I thought of him, heat swam through my middle. Passion like I’d never known before took over my body and caused my hands to ache to touch him. With him, everything seemed unpredictable; everything was unscripted. It wasn’t nearly as scary as I thought those feelings might be. If anything, they made me feel alive.
All those feelings were good… yet they made me feel incredibly guilty.
Guilty that I hadn’t felt that way for Max. Guilty that my first thought when I learned Max was gone was that I lost my friend. Shouldn’t I have felt more? Watching Tucker succumb to his wound last night scared me to my bones. The unrelenting fear of him dying still left my stomach achy and weak.
Unknowingly, I told Tucker I liked him better.
It was true.
And for that I would never forgive myself.
Slight movement on the bed caught my eye, and I sat up, pushing forward. Tucker blinked, his eyes opening slowly as he stared around the room.
“You’re at the hospital, Tucker. You were shot.”
He turned his head, spearing me with those endless dark eyes. “Hey,” he rasped, his voice slightly hoarse. He smiled and it tilted my universe.
“Should I get the nurse?”
“You know what they say is the best medicine for healing a wounded man?” he asked.
“What?” I replied, knowing that whatever he asked for I would make sure he got.
“Human contact.”
That was not what I was expecting to hear.
“Come here,” he coerced, pulling his hand from beneath the cover and extending it to me.
I couldn’t deny a man who almost died for me. I pushed out of the torturous chair and stepped to the side of the bed. He slid over, grimacing a little when he moved. I bit my lip, thinking I needed to call the nurse.
“I’m fine.” He promised and held out his arm.
As carefully as I could, I slid onto the bed, stretching out alongside him, my cramped, sore muscles giving a great sigh of relief. He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me closer so the only place to rest my cheek was on his chest.
“You’re cold,” he murmured against my hair.
“I put the blanket they gave me over you.”
I felt his lips move in my hair and my eyes fluttered closed. “Is this okay?” I asked, not wanting to hurt him.
“Perfect,” he whispered.
“Thank you,” I said, twisting my fingers in the side of his hospital gown. “For protecting me. I wish I’d done a better job at protecting you.”
His breathing was even and deep, making me think he’d once again slipped into sleep. A few long moments passed as his heat seeped into my chilled skin and my cheek pillowed itself against his chest.
“Taking a bullet was easy,” he s
aid. “You have the hard job.”
I didn’t understand what he meant. Maybe he was confused from all the meds. “My job isn’t hard.”
“Darlin’,” he drawled sleepily, “I can guarantee you that being the keeper of my heart is most definitely not going to be easy.”
My breath caught. My entire body went numb. Did he just tell me I had his heart?
I pushed up to stare down at his face.
His eyes were closed and a light snore rose from his mouth. He was asleep. I lowered myself back against him, careful not to bump any of the wires and tubes.
He probably wouldn’t remember what he said.
But me… I was never going to forget.
29
Tucker
Underlying tension.
It simmered beneath the surface like a bubbling pot threatening to boil over at any given moment.
For almost two weeks, I was able to ignore it. We were both able to pretend it wasn’t there. But as the wound in my side healed and the sharp ache throbbing in my chest after Max’s memorial service became just a little more bearable, the tension was a lot harder to ignore.
I was still in New York City, first because the doctors told me not to travel while my wound was still fresh and then because the FBI kindly asked me to stay while they built a solid case against Wallace and his band of criminals.
Charlotte stayed with me until I was released from the hospital. She never left my side, even when I tried to order her away. She insisted that I stay at her apartment, and I didn’t argue because honestly, I wanted to be there. Charlie and I went through something together, something most people never do.
We were also both grieving over my brother, grieving over the person we both loved and lost. The memorial service was held here in the city, and the cathedral was so packed people had to stand. I wished Max could see the amount of people that came out to honor his short life. My parents stayed for several days, my mother cried a lot, and my father constantly shook his head.
Charlotte went back to work and my mother hovered in the apartment, constantly checking my wound like it was going to somehow open up and swallow me whole. But I didn’t complain. Making sure her only living son wasn’t going anywhere was part of her healing process. I knew this had been a shock to them. No one ever expected Max to be the one to go so young. If anything, my family always prepared themselves for my untimely death. Considering my old profession, it hadn’t been farfetched.
But as the days crawled by, my mother began to realize that I wasn’t going to die and my father finally convinced her to go back home.
The apartment was quiet during the day, and I spent a lot of time looking through Max’s things, remembering my brother and regretting all the time we lost.
I hoped wherever he was, he knew how much he meant to me.
Nathan and Honor flew in for the service. Actually, they flew in when I told them I was in the hospital and they stayed until after the service. It was good to see them again. They had become my family, and I realized that nothing in life would ever be as important as that.
I was finally ready to stop pushing so many people away. I was ready to take on those relationships, to embrace them, because life was too short to have regrets.
Nathan knew how I felt the minute he saw Charlotte and me together. I never told him and he never came out and asked. But he knew. Right before he and Honor flew back to North Carolina, he came to the apartment and without my asking, he gave me some advice.
“Tuck,” he said, “don’t beat yourself up too bad about the way you feel. Max wouldn’t want that. If anything, he’d want you to be the one to take care of her.”
“That’s the thing,” I told him. “I don’t feel the way I do out of obligation. I feel it because it’s real.”
Nathan smiled. “You know the PI firm sure could use a lawyer on staff to keep you and me on the up and up.”
The suggestion settled inside me; it brought me a feeling of peace. Having Charlotte with me all the time just felt right.
Right before he left that day, he gave me a very manly hug. “Love is never a mistake, my brother. Don’t let who she was with in the past keep you apart in the future,” he said into my ear. “See ya at home.”
I didn’t love Charlotte. Not yet. I wouldn’t let myself. But I knew when—if—I ever lowered those walls within me, even just a little, that loving her would be the easiest thing I ever did.
I didn’t bring up Nathan’s suggestion to Charlotte because I knew how she would react. She was back to pulling long hours at work, getting up and working out in the early morning hours, and while I knew she wanted me here, I couldn’t help but notice how she went out of her way to avoid my touch.
I might be able to get past that she used to be my brother’s, but I wasn’t sure she ever could.
I understood it.
And now it was time for me to move on. For me to go home.
The key in the door was a distinct sound, and I glanced over from my position on the couch, watching Charlotte let herself in.
She was wearing a no-nonsense suit, heels, and her hair was severely brushed back from her face. The exhaustion in her face was clear and so was her unhappiness.
“Hey,” I called.
“Hey.” She dumped her briefcase and bag on the island and stepped up beside the couch. “How did your appointment go today?”
“Doc gave me a clean bill of health.”
“Oh,” she said, not sounding as happy as I expected. “That’s wonderful.”
“Yep,” I said, deciding to test the waters. “He said I was okay to travel. So that means I can go to North Carolina.”
“You’re leaving?” she asked, her voice mildly alarmed yet resigned.
And that’s when I knew.
I knew I couldn’t walk out of here without at least trying. I wanted her too badly and I hoped she wanted me too.
“Nathan can’t do all the work at the PI firm forever.”
“I suppose you’re right,” she said, backtracking into the kitchen.
Backtracking = running away.
A few cabinets opened and closed, and I heard some liquid being poured into a glass. I stood and glanced at her. She was pouring a glass of wine.
I stifled a grin.
“What are you doing home so early?” I asked, noting it was only early afternoon.
“I wanted to see how your appointment went.” She took a sip of wine. “And now I know.” Another swallow of liquor made it down her throat.
“I’m sure you’ll be glad to get me off the couch and have the bathroom to yourself.”
Charlotte grabbed the glass of wine and spun, putting her back to me. “You do snore.”
I laughed.
When she kept her back toward me, I knew she was upset.
“Come with me,” I said.
She stiffened and spun, clutching the glass in front of her. “What?”
“Come to North Carolina with me. The firm needs a good lawyer to keep me out of trouble.”
The longing in her eyes practically stopped my heart. Damn. I knew she felt something for me, but I was always afraid that it hadn’t been as strong as what I was feeling.
I was wrong.
The sheen of tears coated her eyes, making them sparkle against the afternoon sun filtering through the kitchen window. “I can’t,” she said, her voice catching.
Charlotte spun away again, turning so I couldn’t see her face. The apartment grew still and quiet. Neither of us moved.
I asked. She answered. I should have walked away before it got any harder.
Fuck. That.
“There’s more to living than just being alive,” I said softly. My voice was like the pin drop you could hear in a silent room.
Her breath hitched and I knew I had a captive audience.
“There’s more than just going through the motions of daily life.” I took a step forward.
When I moved, she looked over her shoulder, our eyes coll
iding. It was as if we were tethered together, tethered by the words that rushed softly out of my mouth.
“More than putting on a suit and sitting behind a desk for eighty hours a week. More than scheduling time for everything from eating to brushing your teeth.” The distance between us closed with every step I took, and it was like there was this invisible pull—this gravity that was pulling me toward her.
She swallowed thickly. I felt the movement more than I saw it. I knew how she felt. I knew exactly what her insides felt like.
It was the feeling you got just stepping off a tilt-a-whirl that spun you in erratic and random circles. It was the feeling that you experienced when you got shocked by something charged. Little sizzles of electricity raced just beneath the skin, causing everything to vibrate, everything to hum.
I knew that’s what she was feeling…
Because I felt it too.
I stepped up close and her body swayed toward me, like fighting the pull between us was proving too hard. “I know you want to make your father proud,” I said, reaching out to release her hair. “You want to follow in his footsteps, but he wouldn’t want that for you. He wouldn’t want you working so much and so hard that you have a fatal heart attack.”
The clip slid out of her hair effortlessly, and I let it fall from my fingers onto the floor. Cascades of thick honey-colored hair waved out, falling down her back.
I grasped her by the shoulders and guided her around so I could delve not one, but both of my hands into the thick mass and pull my fingers through the silky waves, spreading it out over her shoulders.
“You’re too beautiful for this,” I whispered, tugging on the very tips of the strands. Her breathing caught when my knuckle grazed over her breast. “You’re too beautiful to spend your life closed off from everyone, doing only the things you’ve made a list to do and refusing to veer from that path.”
Leaning forward, I pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips, just enough to tease the fullness of her mouth, but not enough for complete contact. When I brushed against her again, I tasted the damp saltiness of a tear. I cupped her face, tilting her head back, and looked into her eyes. Single, silent tears were falling over her lashes and melting into my skin.
“Come with me, Charlie. Take a chance on life. Take a chance on me. I’ll make you happy.”
Tricks Page 18
