James jumped to his feet. “Like hell you are. You’re concerned about not making waves with the mayor and the Falling Rock residents.”
“That’s not fair,” Harlan snapped.
A voice sounded from the doorway. “I can assure you, Sheriff, that I’m not unhinged. Although I’m not sure how one goes about proving their own sanity.”
Charlotte leaned against the door, face washed of emotion. It was as though she’d donned a professional mask of indifference. But Harlan’s words had to cut her deeply.
“You don’t have to prove anything,” James said hotly.
“Sorry you overheard it this way,” Harlan apologized. He turned to James. “I’m afraid she does have to set my mind at ease. I can’t risk your safety, or any of my other officers’ safety, unless I’m convinced there’s good cause.”
“Can you give me until the night of the fund-raiser to prove my case?” Charlotte asked. “Just a few more days.”
He nodded stiffly. “Sounds fair. In return, I ask that any inquiry you make into the alleged trafficking ring is done discreetly. This office can’t afford to alienate the mayor and a significant portion of the people we’re here to serve.”
“Understood.”
With that terse word, Charlotte turned on her heel and left.
Tension clouded the air between him and his boss. “May I be excused?” James asked.
Harlan waved a hand toward the door. “You two have until this Sunday to find enough proof of the trafficking to obtain a subpoena, or better yet, get this matter resolved.”
“You’ve made that very clear.” James strode to the doorway.
“Wait a minute. James...don’t let your emotions blind you to the facts.”
“Don’t worry yourself on my account. And don’t you let the bigwigs dictate what your office can and should investigate.”
He retreated before Harlan could whip out another angry retort.
* * *
THE RIDE HOME had been tense and quiet. “I don’t want to talk about it” was all Charlotte would say about the matter.
He stirred the camp stew and took the cornbread from the oven.
“I’m glad you know how to cook,” she commented, setting out the plates and silverware. “Because I sure don’t.”
“You can thank Lilah. She always cooks more than enough for her family and then sends me the frozen leftovers.”
“She’s too good for Harlan.” Charlotte clasped a hand over her mouth. “Oops. Didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
“Harlan’s okay. We used to be best friends in high school. The two of us and Sammy used to go hunting and camping almost every weekend during deer and duck season. We did our share of sipping moonshine together under the Appalachian moon.”
“Sounds like a real manly bonding experience. Did it bother you when he married your sister?”
“Took a little getting used to.” He set the stew on the table. “Did feel strange at first when I got back from my tour of duty.”
“And he offered you a job working for him?”
He returned to the kitchen for the cornbread as Charlotte ladled the stew into their bowls. “Yeah. Not sure how much of that was Lilah’s doing, or whether or not he really needed me.”
“You’re a good cop. He’s lucky to have you. Do you like the work?”
“Surprisingly, yes. Solving cases is like putting together the pieces of a puzzle.”
A smile curled her lips. “I see you haven’t had time to get jaded yet.”
“The army already did that for me.” His cell phone vibrated, signaling a text message. He picked it up from the table and swiped the screen.
Back off.
What the hell? The phone number didn’t ring a bell. He’d run a check on it tomorrow, but odds were that it was generated from a burner phone.
“Problem?” she asked.
“Nothing to worry about.” He turned off the phone and laid it down. What good would it do to tell her of the vague threat? And he certainly didn’t plan on mentioning it to Harlan, either. He’d only point out that Charlotte might have sent it, or that the threat could be about anything and not necessarily the trafficking case.
“I have to admit this is nice.” Charlotte bit into a piece of buttered cornbread and then took a sip of sassafras tea. Her knee injury was almost completely healed. Luckily she enjoyed the tea’s strong, tangy flavor and dutifully drank a glass or two a day.
“What’s nice?”
“Being able to relax in the evening and have dinner with a friend. Usually I grab fast food, when I remember to eat, and scarf it down in front of the TV.”
Friend? To hell with that. He wanted to sleep with her the night through and wake up with her every morning in his bed. Images of her spread on his couch in T-shirt and panties the night he’d tended her wound interrupted his train of thought. What had she just said? Something about food. He cleared his throat.
“I can relate. If not for Lilah, I’d never get a home-cooked meal.”
“Ribs still hurt?” He’d insisted on X-rays and was relieved to discover none of her ribs were broken.
“Not too bad. The bruising looks worse than it feels.”
He reached for the butter at the same moment as Charlotte. Their fingers touched. Heat traveled up his arm like an electrical charge—hard, fast and almost painful. He’d tried to be hands-off, but these nights alone with her had taken their toll. Everything she did and said drew him deeper into her spell.
She jerked her hand away from his as if the contact had burned. Charlotte felt the fire, too. He read it in the spots of color staining her cheeks, in the sharp inhalation of her breath. James reached for her hand and held fast. Her gaze moved slowly up from their clasped hands until her teal eyes, darkened to the color of the forest, bore into his own.
“Charlotte,” he breathed. His heart skittered as if he’d run a race for his very life. He pushed back his chair. Wordlessly she rose from the table and came to him, never breaking their handhold.
* * *
IT WAS AS if every ounce of her considerable willpower had flown the coop. She dropped into his lap, pressing her hands into the top of his shoulders.
And then he kissed her.
His tongue danced inside her mouth and she was drowning in a flood of desire. She needed him—all of him. His fingers raked through her hair and then pressed into her scalp, drawing their mouths even closer. His desire pressed against her left hip. James stood and his hands cupped her ass, pressing her more intimately into his erection.
“Wait. Stop.” She withdrew from his kiss and took a deep breath. “This is too fast...”
He let go immediately, leaving her dazed and disoriented, as if she’d lost her mooring. Charlotte grasped the edge of the table behind her for balance.
James ran a hand through his hair. “If you’re not ready, okay. I thought...”
“It’s not that I don’t want you,” she quickly assured him. “It’s just... I don’t want you to think it changes anything. No matter what happens at the fund-raiser, by this time next week I’m back in Atlanta.”
A momentary flash of some emotion—pain? Sadness?—swept across his normally stoic features. “I get that. But it’s not like Atlanta’s on the other side of the country. We could visit.”
“No. You don’t understand.” How could she make him see? “Being undercover is nothing like a regular job with regular hours. If you visited my place at the wrong time, you could jeopardize my cover.”
“So? I’ll call first or we could meet elsewhere.”
Charlotte stepped away from his intense scrutiny and paced the kitchen. “There’s more. Sometimes an assignment requires me to be away for weeks at a time. That’s why undercover officers hardly ever have intimate relationships. Or if they do, it rarely lasts.”
“We could try,” he insisted.
Damn, James was stubborn. She threw up her hands, exasperated. “Don’t you get it? I’d be terrible for you, for any man. Harlan’s right—trouble follows me. I never know when some ex-con with revenge on his mind might find me.”
He held up a hand, warding off her objections. “I’m willing to tolerate a little inconvenience. And as far as danger, I can handle it, so stop borrowing trouble. We can take this one day at a time.”
“Are you sure?” She anxiously searched his face. He deserved more than what she had to offer. He deserved a Lavender Mountain woman who could spend her evenings with him, share these cozy meals and be there to listen as he unwound at night and talked about his day.
She was not that woman.
“You’re an all-or-nothing kind of man, James. With strong views about right and wrong. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Let me worry about my own feelings.” He crooked a finger and gave a lopsided grin. “I’m a big boy and can take of myself. Trust me?”
Like no one else. He’d never abandon her when danger went down, unlike Danny. And James cared about her.
She slowly walked toward him, drawn to his strength and to her body’s urgent need to feel him inside her. To know him intimately. His hands rested on either side of her hips and he kissed her forehead, his lips tender and warm.
The tenderness completely undid her. Some small knot of reserve deep inside melted. Charlotte buried her head against his chest and shuddered.
“You alright?” he asked gruffly.
His voice rumbled against her cheek, the vibration setting off a corresponding rumble in her heart and a seismic shift in her soul. This wouldn’t do. “One day at a time,” he’d said. For tonight, she’d find pleasure in his arms and not analyze her feelings. The trick was to focus on the physical, to imagine this as a temporary fling.
Charlotte raised her chin and found his mouth, eagerly succumbing to the passion. She pressed her body against his so hard that the table slid against the wall. He groaned, and the knowledge of his need fueled her own even more.
His hands were everywhere at once, down her back, against her ass, then roaming up the sides of her ribs toward her breasts. All while his lips trailed kisses down her neck and to the hollow of her throat. Impatiently she tugged at his belt. Without missing a beat, James undid the buckle and she pushed down his uniform pants.
He groaned again—or wait—was that her? Or both of them? Didn’t matter. She cupped his most intimate parts and felt the velvet steel of his erection. “I need you. Now.”
“Not yet.”
He suckled her nipples and inserted a finger into her core. When had he removed her pants? Her fevered brain hadn’t noticed anything but the unbearable throbbing at the apex of her thighs, the need to be joined. “Now. Please,” she whimpered against his mouth.
“Hell, yeah,” he growled. “You’re so hot and ready for me.”
He took her hand, evidently intending to lead her to the bedroom. But that would take way—way—way too long. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, wait. Charlotte shook her head. “Here. Now.”
“If you’re sure you really—”
She smothered his mouth with kisses and wrapped her arms around his neck.
As if she weighed nothing, James hoisted her legs around his hips and flipped their positions so that she was seated on top of the table. He entered her quickly and she met his thrusts with an increasing urgency.
Harder, harder, harder...faster, faster, faster. Her body tensed and then exploded with pleasure and release. The muscles on James’s back tightened and spasmed beneath her hands as he reached his own orgasm.
His head sank onto her shoulders and the sound of their labored breathing joined together. Her fingers gently traced lazy circles down his sides.
“I think I need to sleep,” she said with amusement. “About ten hours or so.”
He laughed and swept her into his arms. “I don’t know about sleeping, but I’m all for going to bed early and often. No more sleeping in the guest bedroom for you.” He waggled his brows.
Charlotte returned his grin, feeling more relaxed and carefree than she had since Tanya had called two weeks ago saying that Jenny was missing. “Lucky for you—” she began.
An angry buzz vibrated the tabletop.
“Not again.” He stared at it, frowning.
“Better answer. It could be work.”
“It is.” He let her down and she hastily pulled her clothes together.
“Officer Tedder,” he said. A moment’s pause. “Okay, we’re on our way.”
Hope fluttered in her chest. “Any news on the traffickers?”
“Nope. Domestic disturbance.”
“No one else is available?” Resentment quickly spoiled her afterglow, followed by the familiar weight of guilt. It was her own fault the sheriff’s office was stretched thin.
“The surveillance at Falling Rock leaves us shorthanded. This shouldn’t take long; the disturbance is just a small piece down the road.”
Amusement tugged his lips as he surveyed the spilled camp stew that ran off the table and puddled on the floor. “This will be a mess to clean up later.”
Charlotte put her hands on her hips and arched a brow. “Are you complaining?”
“No, ma’am. I wouldn’t change what happened between us, even if it means staying up all night scrubbing floors.”
His lopsided grin made her breath catch. Who was she kidding by thinking that sex with James could be a mere physical fling? That her life and heart could continue on same as before?
Tonight had changed everything.
Chapter Eleven
Blue strobe lights flashed across the night landscape, illuminating a disheveled clapboard house that had enough junk lying around the yard and porch to stock a small store. James hopped out of the car and headed for the door. “Stay behind me,” he ordered.
Charlotte shot him the dagger look. “Like hell I will. And next time it’s my turn to drive.”
So much for postcoital afterglow. It was back to business as usual.
Screams reverberated off the house walls.
“You cheatin’ sack of—”
“—crazy heifer. Put that poker down or I’ll—”
“—who is she? I’ll kill you first and then I’ll kill her.”
James shook his head. “I believe we can ascertain the root of the argument here. Which was no doubt enhanced by shots of moonshine.” Idly he wondered if it might be some old batch of ’shine his father and uncle had produced. The irony of that never escaped his notice.
“You been called to this house before?”
“No, but these domestic disputes are amazingly similar.”
Charlotte kicked an old tricycle out of her path. “Voluminous consumption of alcohol and a short fuse by one or both partners?”
“Followed by a cooling off period and teary reconciliation until the next round of drinks. You got it. Remember, these types of calls can turn out to be the most dangerous.”
“Even undercover cops know that,” she said, voice brusque.
James pulled open the screen and wrapped on the door. “Sheriff’s office. Open up.”
“See what you done did, woman?” a man shouted from inside.
“What I did? What I did? You stupid, lying—”
James turned the knob and discovered it was unlocked. He entered and took in the scene at once.
A heavyset woman in a floral print dress brandished a poker in her right hand. The man wore only a pair of boxers. Blood ran down his nose and he swayed slightly, off balance. But James’s focus quickly passed the couple arguing and traveled to the couch where two young girls—probably ages four and five—huddled together beneath a Hello Kitty blanket.
“Ma’am, put down the poker,” he said
firmly. “Let’s discuss this calmly.”
“Ain’t nothin’ to discuss. I told him to git out and he won’t leave.”
“This is my house,” the man bellowed. “You go.”
James caught a movement from the corner of his eye—Charlotte reaching for her firearm. He flicked his wrist downward, motioning her to put it away. She raised a brow, hand hovering over the sidearm, but nodded and dropped her hand to her side.
“I’m ordering you to drop that weapon,” James said, stepping between the two.
The woman lowered her gaze and stared at the poker blankly, as if she’d forgotten she held it. Her face was flushed and her eyes wild with rage.
Charlotte also stepped between the couple, facing the man and spreading her arms out wide. Together, the two of them provided a visual and physical barrier between the couple.
“There we go,” James said, his voice softer. He stepped closer and took the poker from her shaking hands. “That’s better. Could you do me a favor, please?”
“What the hell do you want? I ain’t done talking to him yet.” She tried to walk around him and James blocked her path.
“Ma’am, see your kids over there on the couch?” he asked. “Maybe it’d be a good idea to take them to their bedroom. You don’t want them to witness this. You’re a good mom and know this isn’t good—”
“It’s his fault,” she muttered. “Pulls my chain every time.”
“Officer Hanson, could you go with her and the kids? Sir, I need to you take a seat over there.” He pointed to the recliner across from the sofa.
The man did as told, and Charlotte walked to the children, giving them an encouraging smile. “Everything’s going to be alright. Your mom’s going to tuck you in bed. Good deal?”
The youngest girl clutched her doll tighter and regarded Charlotte with solemn eyes that belied her age. The older one asked her mom, “You want us to go?”
The mother pursed her lips into a tight line and faced Charlotte. “I want him gone, ya hear?”
“We’ll discuss that later,” Charlotte said. She bent her knees and came eye-level with the youngest girl. “Such a pretty doll. What’s her name?”
Appalachian Abduction (Lavender Mountain Book 2; Appalachian Magic) Page 12
