He’d described Roxie to Eddie Jansen, wishing instead that he had a photo to email him. It had been a long shot, but after the astute PI had sent him several pics, Charlie had found the right woman. Her hair was dark brown but he’d have known those charming blue eyes and that kissable mouth anywhere.
“How did you know who I was talking about?” he asked Eddie, who was in Boston.
Eddie snorted. “You mentioned she was cultured and that alone ruled out about ninety-eight per cent of the population. After that I ran a cross-check of society women who’ve gone missing in the last six months, and there you are.”
Sounded easy enough. “That’s what I pay you for.” Charlie had laughed, but he’d become businesslike again in seconds. “Who’s after her that she’s hiding out and afraid to be found?” He’d heard Eddie riffling through several sheets of paper. Eddie printed everything out and didn’t trust electronic devices much.
“Several suitors, her father and the bodyguards he hired to protect her—and who, I might add, were doing a lousy job. And—this just popped up—a biker-looking fella with a rap sheet longer than your arm.”
Charlie finished for him. “Otis Rowter. Assault with a deadly weapon.”
“He’s the one,” the PI agreed. “I’ve talked to some associates and the strange thing is that he can’t be found.”
“Associates”, Charlie had learned, were Eddie’s contacts on both the right and the wrong side of the law. “I just did,” Charlie muttered. “Why is Elizabeth his special project?”
“Looks as if her father refused to help him front the medical bills for his only son, who was terminally ill. Now he’s on a vendetta of sorts.”
Charlie rubbed his chin in irritation. “I suppose he’s about to take away Harrier’s only daughter?”
“That’d be my guess.”
Charlie disconnected, tapping the End button on his cell phone as if it were the enemy. He’d roamed the blocks around the diner for half the night, been approached by several winos and a prostitute, but he’d found no sign of Roxie.
Now as he waited between the alley and the cross street, he worried. The sex with her had been phenomenal and he knew what she was hiding and why she’d left so quickly last night. She must have been afraid he’d find out who she was.
Then he saw her. Her glorious hair tied up in a chignon, the ever-present twinkling earrings and the jaunty walk, as if she were enjoying her moments of freedom. Her pale yellow sheath showed her figure off to perfection. She kept looking up at the sky, but a quick survey told him there was nothing unusual there. Of greater interest to him was whether there was someone following her. He stepped farther into the alley and watched keenly. The nearby cathedral bells pealed out the midmorning hour.
About to turn away, Charlie saw a slight flash, as of glasses glinting in the sunlight, before it vanished. It didn’t reappear. Had it been his imagination? Roxie was walking closer, a small smile of delight hovering on her lips. Apparently she was oblivious to the danger she was in.
Should he make his presence known or should he wait? If Rowter was behind her, had he known all along where she lived? Why hadn’t he acted when he’d been alone with Roxie, when he’d had the chance? Or would Rowter make his move in a public place to get attention for his heinous act?
Roxie had spent a restless night, alternately tossing and turning and listening for unfamiliar sounds before she’d fallen asleep and dreamed wicked daydreams about Charlie. Sixty-nine sounded so right—her tongue lapping at the tip of his cock and its pearly drop of moisture. Next, she’d be riding him with her hair flying out in a stiff breeze, then she’d be pinned under him, moaning as his huge shaft filled her until he could no more. As morning light came, the dreams had left her sweating and her mind saturated with erotic images. If Charlie had been anywhere near, she’d have jumped him.
But he wasn’t, and she was determined as she set out for work that he was part of her past. Yet it didn’t hurt to satisfy her longing by fantasizing about him, did it? The cathedral bells were ringing, and although it would make her late for work she stopped to listen, to admire the sound as it permeated the air. She’d miss this part of her day when she moved to another city, but what choice did she have? None that she could see.
The aroma of baking bread and pastries surrounded her. The alley lay in dark grayness. For some inexplicable reason, her heart began to race as she remembered the discomfort of that sense of being watched.
No one knew she was in LA.
She passed through a heavily shadowed area and jumped when a cardboard box in a leaning garbage pile thudded onto the ground.
It’s only a box, silly. It’s not out to get you.
Yet the uneasiness and frayed nerves persisted. Maybe she shouldn’t have used the alley to get to work, but what if Charlie was waiting for her at the diner? What would she do?
He was the most glorious male she’d ever seen and his lovemaking had been beyond what she’d ever experienced.
Roxie drew in a deep breath. She’d enjoy sex with him again. Elizabeth Audrey! You know you can’t. He might find out who you are, and he might report your whereabouts to your father. You know how connected rich people are. They can’t keep a secret.
She heard the faintest of taps, as of a shoe sole hitting the ground ever so softly. Had it come from behind her? Whirling around, she saw nothing. Far away, the labored grinding of a large truck interrupted the heavy silence. Determined to get to the diner and the safety there, she straightened her shoulders—and smashed into Charlie’s broad chest.
She hadn’t noticed him, since his muscle shirt was black and his legs were hidden behind a plastic container. The few lines on his handsome face were etched with worry, and his trademark scent, a hint of lemon, wafted by her.
“You’re coming with me,” he told her in an urgent, husky voice. His hand snaked out and seized her wrist.
“I most certainly will not!” she replied, outraged that he would waylay her and demand she go off into the blue yonder with him. She had half a mind to hit him with her duffel bag but restrained herself.
“Listen, Roxie. I know who you really are. Do you want to come with me or do you want your father to find you first?”
That was sure a hell of a choice he was giving her. His statement and question alarmed her, and her knees began to tremble with fear.
Charlie’s hand tightened around her small wrist bone. She clutched her duffel bag in white-knuckled fingers. “That’s blackmail,” she whispered in dismay. Had the sex been so good that he wanted more, and was willing to do anything to get it?
He edged her into deeper shadows. “Listen. I don’t want anyone else to know where you are—I want to respect your privacy—but your life is in danger. If you come with me I can protect you. If you don’t come with me, then Rowter will hurt you. His intention is to kill you.” His eyes darted everywhere restlessly.
She shook her head. None of this made sense. “Rowter? Who is he? You’re making this up aren’t you?”
Charlie fished his cell phone from a small pouch hanging from his belt. “I’m trying to save your life so you can enjoy it however you desire.” He scanned the area behind her and flicked through some photos on his phone before lifting it to show her. “Rowter. The man at the diner. Have you seen him before?”
She squinted. A shiver of dread hurtled down her spine. Was it possible Charlie was telling her the truth? “He was on the bus with me all the way from Maine to LA.” She mightn’t have noticed but he was hefty and wearing a plaid shirt, and she disliked plaid. He hadn’t posed a problem as far as she’d seen. She might not have liked him, but he hadn’t threatened her.
“That man has been in jail countless times for assault with a deadly weapon. He’s been searching for you.”
Roxie bristled. “He’s not who you say he is. He offered to help me with my luggage. If he intended to hurt me, then why didn’t he?”
Charlie remained absolutely still, although his eyes were b
usy scanning the area over her shoulder. “I can’t answer that. I’ll explain in the car.” He began hauling her toward the end of the alley.
“You could show me anyone you wanted and declare he’s a danger,” she protested, dragging him to a standstill. “I’ve got to get to work.”
Glaring at her, he pursed his lips. His phone rang softly. “Yes?” he answered, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers didn’t ease on her arm.
Roxie watched his sensual lips and felt a craving to outline them as she had his eyebrows and his nose. His jaw was rigid and tense. She could meld her body with his, touch his cock and play with the burgeoning hardness, watch his gray eyes light up with pleasure.
A garbage truck rounded the corner, its gears grinding harshly. Roxie turned to look.
Without warning, Charlie pulled her in the opposite direction, toward the dead end. “We’ve gotta to get out of here. That’s Rowter, meaning to run both of us over.”
“How do you know?” Roxie dug in her heels. She wasn’t moving until she got some answers. Was Charlie being followed too? Was he in on this? Was that why he could get a call and figure out what was happening?
The truck driver ground the gears again. For all she knew the garbage disposal vehicle could be picking up the trash in the alley and pose no threat to her whatsoever. Then she heard the engine rev up, and the vehicle sped forward. Metal crumpled against concrete with a horrendous, ear-splitting sound. Charlie’s eyes bored into hers as terror took hold of her.
A quick glance at the darkened window and the driver told her that the man at the steering wheel was Rowter. His facial features weren’t set in kind lines, either—his lips were curled in a vicious snarl.
Disbelief seized her. Rowter, if that was his name, had no reason to be cruel to her. Why was he doing this?
Charlie hauled her forward, already at a dead run. “Explain later.”
This wasn’t the way she’d expected to die.
Chapter Five
Panic, an unusual emotion for Charlie, threaded through him. His heartbeat accelerated. He could think of a number of ways to breathe his last, but this wasn’t one he'd ever anticipated. Rowter’s truck would flatten Roxie and himself against the solid wall and the cops would have to use a spoon to retrieve their bloody remains. He didn’t relish the thought. If only he’d thrown Roxie over his shoulder and run after he’d seen the truck, they wouldn’t be here racing for their lives. He could only fervently hope that the back door of Woody’s Diner, or any of the businesses along the alley, was open. None were and when, panting, he reached the diner with Roxie in tow, he saw that door too was firmly closed. He began praying that someone on the inside had forgotten to lock it. If they hadn’t, Roxie and he were dead. There was nowhere to run with the heavy truck bearing down on them.
At his side, he saw Roxie’s chest heaving up and down in terror. Thank God for Eddie, who’d had one of his buddies plant a GPS devices in the hems of Rowter’s shirts to track him. Rowter couldn’t be charged with a crime that hadn’t yet occurred and a man couldn’t be arrested for being a former convict. The tracking mechanism had been the only way to keep an eye on him.
Praying as he never had before, Charlie pushed on the door with the scrawled letters “Woody’s Diner”. Roxie’s small hand was clenched in his—her nails dug painfully into his palm. The disposal truck was almost upon them. He could smell the oil from the engine and its grill loomed large. There were only seconds left.
The entrance creaked ajar and with a hard push it opened. Charlie threw Roxie inside, their bodies separating, and followed, his footsteps inaudible as the truck’s gears whined. The door flew off its hinges as the huge vehicle hit it. The sturdy wood cracked resoundingly. Then the big beast came to an abrupt halt past the diner.
The ensuing silence was deafening. Having prosecuted many killers, Charlie sensed what was about to happen. Having missed them once, Rowter would try a second time, with another, more portable weapon—like a gun.
Roxie pressed her lips together tightly. Her eyes were wide with fear.
His heart wrenching with pain for her sake, Charlie warned her, “He’ll try again, Roxie. We have to keep moving.” He seized her wrist with an urgency that belied his calm words. He felt her shivering and her muscles tensed. She appeared lost and more frightened than he’d ever seen a woman before.
Tightening his grip, he hauled her through the kitchen. Several employees gaped at them with shocked expressions. “Sorry about the door,” he yelled at Gerry. “Send me the bill.” If I get out of this alive.
Gerry yelled back, “Will do,” then to his employees, he said, “Get down!” The man’s barking tone, which brooked no dissent, caused Charlie to think he might have been in the army at one time. Relieved that the boss would care for those who worked for him, Charlie fled with Roxie a step behind him. In the back of his mind was one persistent, nagging question. Why had Rowter waited so long to get to her?
Roxie hesitated at the kitchen doors inside the diner, which thankfully was empty apart from the staff, then dug in her heels. Charlie and she had outrun the garbage disposal truck but she knew how to take care of herself. Didn’t she? And Charlie seemed to know everything else, along with whomever he was in contact with on his cell phone. Well, she had a big surprise in store for him.
With her free hand, she dug into her duffel bag, and retrieved the can of pepper spray she reserved for extreme emergencies. Charlie tugged on her arm but she wouldn’t budge. She could hear Rowter’s heavy footsteps behind her, still blocked by the wall. She gave a glacial frown in Charlie’s direction. “Remember I can handle myself?”
She knew from his frown that he was about to disagree with her, but she cut him off with a perky smile. She wasn’t prepared to run any longer. She would stop Rowter.
Mutely, Charlie shook his head. She turned her back on him and fell into a crouch. If she didn’t conceal herself the window glass might give her position away to Rowter. Charlie followed suit. His thighs and the heat of his body felt reassuring.
“I should be taking care of you,” he whispered frantically.
The hurried footsteps were inching closer.
“You did, in the alley,” she told him without turning her head. But now she would stand up to Rowter. In the far distance, she heard the shriek of emergency vehicles. She’d deal with Rowter, then she’d flee for freedom once again. Charles Vernon knew far too much about her, although she would enjoy making love to him again if she had the opportunity. Which she wouldn’t get.
Rowter was about to come through the swinging door. His heavy breathing and cumbersome tread tipped her off. She lifted the pepper spray higher, ready to spring into action. Her aim had to be right the first time. There wouldn’t be a second chance. The door crashed, swinging wide. Roxie leaped up and sprayed. The only sound in the diner was the hiss of the can dislodging its contents.
Rowter screamed. The gun dropped from his hand and clattered to the floor. Charlie scooped it up as the injured man began to shriek. “Bitch! I’ll get you yet!” Rubbing at his eyes with his knuckles, he fell and rolled around on the floor in agony.
“You have to find me first,” she murmured, hoping Charlie wasn’t watching her, intending to quietly slip away. With Rowter screaming in pain and the diner’s employees fixated on him as if he were the most fascinating piece of news they’d ever seen, it should have been an easy task. But Roxie hadn’t counted on Charlie.
She ran out of the diner as a police car screeched to a halt on the already hot pavement. She’d run back to her apartment, get her scanty belongings and her bike, and get lost again, making certain no one could find her this time.
Hugging the wall, making herself as inconspicuous as possible in a throng of passersby, she found Charlie at her side. He swept her into a big bear hug, squeezing her slender frame. Sunshine lit his midnight hair, accentuating the dark blue strands. She would have pushed him away but her arms were trapped against his muscled chest, leaving he
r helpless, unable to do anything more than return his seeming affection. Why hadn’t she slipped out the back? But the chaos in the alley would have frightened her even more, and she couldn’t face that her carefully constructed world was rapidly crumbling.
His voice, raw and harsh, intruded on her dismal thoughts. “Are you planning to run away?”
Every nerve in her frame hummed in resistance, yet in Charlie’s arms there was a moment of rest, even though the world around them was disintegrating. The lone police car was now surrounded by several others and an EMT. Roxie discovered her body was shaking, and despite herself sank against Charlie and the comfort he provided. Why hadn’t he remained behind to deal with the Rowter melee?
“I feel safer when no one knows who I really am,” she murmured into his shirt. She sniffed the soothing scent of lemon on his skin. Roxie glanced up into his face for a reaction.
“You owe me.” His stance was as uncompromising as the muscles in his jaw.
“I thought we were even. You saved me in the alley and I saved you in the diner. We didn’t get our heads shot off.”
He pulled himself taller. His arms wound around her tighter. “True, but I wasn’t thinking of the last few minutes.”
She gazed into his eyes and witnessed a glint of laughter in their depths. She was beginning to get the drift of his words. Escape from Charles Vernon wouldn’t be as easy as she’d believed. “I owe you what?” she managed from a dry throat.
“A sixty-nine,” he said, as another police vehicle slammed to a halt at the curb.
Two officers jumped out and immediately dismissed them, quite possibly, Roxie decided, because Charlie and she appeared to be oblivious to what was going on in the diner. They appeared to be lovers who simply couldn’t keep their hands off each other. “A what?” Her heart leaped in a dance of wicked desire.
Full Throttle Yearning Page 7
