by D. C. Stone
“If it’s all the same, Charlese, I think the name is beautiful. With your permission, I’d like to continue calling you by it.”
How could she resist when he asked like that?
She nodded, and breathed, “Yeah, I can deal with that. In public, just call me Charlie, please. Last thing I need is for the boys to be reminded I’m a girl.”
Trent chuckled, the sound vibrating between their chests. “Trust me, they know you’re all female. And it’s something I can’t ignore when I have this very sleek, very sexy body pressed against my own.”
His free hand cupped the side of her face and he kissed her so thoroughly, she wanted to be closer, needed more, and scooted toward him. He broke the kiss off with a strained chuckle.
“Sweetheart, I need to go.”
She blinked, not just at the endearment, but also the abrupt words.
“I’ve got to transfer Echols to the city.”
Her mind spun with hundreds of questions.
She sat abruptly, the earlier warmth around her heart chilling as if she’d jumped into a freezer. Holding the sheet, she hugged it to her chest. She didn’t want Echols here, had fought to keep him away, but one mention of his name and memories pinged one by one. Ugly, sick reminders of what Echols did.
Trent went still, let out a heavy sigh, and gathered her into his arms. She protested at first until he tightened his grip, his strength like the jaws of an alligator—unrelenting. This man was so damn sweet, so caring.
“He won’t get to you again. I’m going to make sure of that.”
“God, when is this going to go away? This feeling of him in my mind?”
She tucked hair behind her ears and looked at him. Lines around his strong jaw were set with determination. Her warrior, protector, Special Agent.
“You’re going to need time. It won’t happen overnight. Nevertheless, he will never, ever get to you again. Do you understand that, or shall I say it again, because I will, until you hear me.”
She glanced between his eyes and shook her head. “No. It’s okay.” She turned, suddenly shy around this man who pushed her to bare all. He didn’t leave any inch of her skin undiscovered, or any spot without pleasure. He demanded her submission with words, too, and it was almost too much. He was leaving. That dreadful clock ticked down, and the closer it got to the moment, the more she couldn’t seem to meet his eyes. She didn’t want him to see how much this affected her, didn’t want him to see how much she really didn’t want him to go.
And he needed to. Staying wasn’t an option. He had a job to do, just as she did.
“Hey.” He chucked beneath her chin. “Talk to me. What’s going on in that head of yours?”
She hated this vulnerability, this neediness for a man. With the recent attack, feeling safe in Trent’s arms reminded her of the men in her life, of her father, the chief, and Tony, ones she could count on. Where the hell is all this coming from? She didn’t, couldn’t allow her heart to care for another one who would leave. They always did. At least with her, they did.
Instead of answering, she tossed out the first thing that came to mind. “You’re leaving? Huh. Well that was fun, right?” Damn it, again? Now? Her voice sounded so damn small, so unlike herself.
He sighed again. “Yeah, I need to get Echols processed federally. Charlie, look—” He urged her face toward him with a forefinger. “I want to ask you a question again. I need your answer. Honestly.”
“What is it?”
“You going to answer it, no matter what?”
She shrugged, fought to find the strong woman inside. Not this needy little creature. “Maybe.”
He studied her face for something he apparently found because he asked, “What did you mean with all those questions? Just before I left for the city, you said you couldn’t say who I was out loud. Right before I left the last time, on my trip to the city when Echols called you.”
Every muscle in her body locked. She swallowed. Back then everything made so much sense, yet now, she didn’t realize how far off the mark she’d been. “Can’t we move pass this now? You really want to know?”
He nodded and pressed his lips together. “I do. I think I know what it was and I want to get this out there so we can talk about it. But I need you to say it first.”
She dropped her head. Looking back, she felt ten kinds of fool for what she thought, but at the time, it had seemed like it was the only choice. The clues, the mark on his face, all of it had led her to believe she had identified the killer. Yet, even then, had she really believed he could do something like that? Or had she been trying to find ways to clear him? Her mind whirled with thought after thought, each step of the case, breaking down every detail.
Trent remained quiet, tolerantly waiting. The silence, his patience warmed her and encouraged her to open up.
She met his eyes, her gut churning with all the possible ways he’d react.
“I thought you were our guy.”
Trent’s lips thinned. “Be specific. Say the words.”
Her heartbeat increased, pounded in her chest. “The killer.”
He nodded, but didn’t say anything, continued to hold her stare. The silence was thunderous, agonizing.
Charlie took a deep breath, let her chest cave by blowing the air out slow, like pressure released from a tire. “Looking back, I realize it was stupid. But at the time, all the signs pointed to you.” The words rushed out in a gush. Having this truth out there released the tension in her shoulders. Sure, she judged him before knowing all the facts. What she had done was wrong, and telling him might very well ruin their chances, but it needed to be said. “You’d disappear for hours or even nights at a time, showed up with marks on your face, seemed as if you were holding in secrets, and knew a lot about who we seemed to be tracing.”
He still didn’t say anything, only watched her with intense, probing eyes.
The silence drove her insane.
She scrambled to her knees, clutched the sheet to her chest. “Then that night, you showed at my house, you were poking around at my back door and everything sorta clicked into place.”
“Now wait just a minute,” he began, “I explained that.”
Charlie sucked in a sharp breath as his eyes hardened, clouded with emotion. God, it was human nature to want to defend yourself against accusations, especially ones she knew now were stupid, but he had to understand, she had to make him understand that back then, she had no choice.
Trent’s entire body thrummed with barely contained energy—just waiting to release. The perfect storm.
“I know…now. At the time though, it wasn’t even close to what I was thinking.”
His face shifted minutely.
“Don’t you judge me! I see it in your eyes. You’d do the same thing, think the same way, Agent. And after all those times you’d just disappear, what the hell was I supposed to think?”
Trent shook his head and slipped from the bed. He stood and reached for his pants, giving her a wonderful view of his tight backside. Sculpted muscles played with each of his body’s movements. She admired the sight even while her chest clenched with shame.
“Dammit, Trent, please. Explain yourself.”
He turned to face her, whirling so fast she flinched.
“Hold up, if you thought all of this. If you believed I was capable of so much violence, then why…” He broke off with a strangled sound, but continued to stare as if he could see right through the fraud she was. She knew what he asked and still felt the betrayal to her own ethics, to the oath she’d sworn to uphold. Promises she’d made seemed as recklessly broken as Echols had.
She slid off the bed as well, putting the large piece of furniture between them. A place where hours before she’d given pleasure and taken it. A place where she’d handed over her heart. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, but you asked. I see now that I was wrong in thinking those things, in suspecting you, and even back then, I don’t think I really believed it. I just—” She slapped her
hands in the air and back to her sides. “What am I supposed to say!” Her eyes burned. “How the hell am I am supposed to defend my actions? I can’t. But you left me no choice. Still, you stand here and you won’t give me an explanation.”
She stared at him, willed him to say something. Don’t let it end like this! She wanted to shout at him, urge him to understand. But she couldn’t even understand herself. The conversation had gone in a completely different direction than she thought it would. But really, hadn’t that been the case with her thoughts for weeks now?
“I think I should go.” She turned, clutched the sheet tighter and searched for her clothes. Pressure built in her chest, her heart breaking like shattered glass. Keep it together. You had damn well better keep yourself together.
“Charlie, goddamnit, stop.” He pushed a hand through his hair and rounded the bed, grabbing her arm. “Help me understand. Please, help me put it together in my head. I don’t get it. Why would you risk it all for me?”
She stared at his chest, watched it rise and fall. His gaze was like a touch to her face, boring into her skin.
“How else can I explain it? I think you get it. I beat myself up over the same decision. It’s why I wouldn’t answer your question that night, why I refused to say the words. Admitting who you were—or whom I thought at that moment—would have put a halt to everything we had. I didn’t want it to end. It may have been selfish of me, but I wanted you.” She looked up, met eyes lined with pain. “I wanted you then as much as I do now. While somewhere in the back of my mind I pleaded for it not to be true, for me to be wrong, I pushed away my oath, and took the risk selfishly.”
Trent crushed her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her body. He ducked his head and warm lips brushed the shell of her ear. He whispered, voice raw and harsh. “You stupid, stupid, adorable, beautiful girl. What would you have done if I was the suspect? You could have been hurt. I am so damn angry with you right now, that you would have set yourself at risk, but so ridiculously happy to know you felt that way.”
He pulled back and kissed her so sweetly, she swooned.
“Charlie, I’m an extremely private person. I don’t like to let anyone in on my business. I only told Echols and the chief because I had to. My private life is mine and it’s something I hold dear.”
“It’s okay. I don’t want you to feel as if—”
“Shut up,” he interrupted. The words harsh, but his tone brutally loving. “I don’t feel as if I have to tell you anything. I want to. I care for you, Charlese. You may drive me insane at times, make me want to lock myself up in an institution, but at the same time, you make me crave things, give me the desire to want more, to have a connection with one person who truly gets me. I want to confide in you. I want to feel as if I could tell you anything and be able to do the same for you.
She stared at him, unable to find words for a response.
“My mother is sick. She’s been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. It’s a long and disgusting story, but she suffered at the hand of my abusive stepfather for years until I started to suspect something was wrong. I intervened, but it was too late. Her body and mind had already suffered too much damage at his hand.”
Tears threatened again. “Trent, that’s horrible.”
“I brought her back to the city, set her up in a home, thinking they could help her get on with her life, and help her manage things. However, the disease had progressed too much, and there weren’t enough nurses to keep an eye on her.
“She,” he paused and thinned his lips, “escaped is the only word I can think of, from the home on more than one occasion. The night you saw that mark on my face was when I had to go searching for her. I found her in Central Park, at the location my father proposed to her. She fought back when I tried to take her home. She didn’t even remember who I was. Thought her son was some stranger.”
His voice grew rough, and the dam of her tears boiled, tipped over and spilled along her cheeks. He didn’t look at her, though. He stared over her head as if he was seeing things of the past.
“She attacked me and I had to hold her down until help arrived. I took her back, but the next time she left, she got hit by a truck and sent to the hospital. That’s where I was when I got the call about Echols.”
He looked at her now. Eyes bore the pain of a man who had seen too much ugliness in the world, alone, even though people surrounded him.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, sweetheart. It’s a part of life. But she is my focus. I need to make it up to her and take care of her when I couldn’t do it so many years ago.”
She nodded, understanding the need for family. Life was too short, people left before you had a chance.
“I get it. I think it’s important, too.”
He wrapped her tight and kissed her again. This kiss was a pitcher of feelings, all tumbling out, a fierce possession and intent lined with every caress of his tongue. She met his mouth touch for touch, tangling and exploring, discovering and possessing every bit as much as he did. While the kiss was a turbulent ride of emotion, peace stole over, giving her hope things would be okay. Not just for her, but for them both.
When he pulled back, his breathing was harsh and body hard, ready and pulsing against hers. She moaned, wanting him all over again, a deep ache between her legs that only he could fill. How could she want him so much? “Trent,” she breathed, “tell me you want me right now.”
He groaned, frustration lacing the sound. “Ahhh, sweetheart. I have to go. Damn if I don’t want to finish this, though.” Squeezing her shoulders, he stepped back and released her. A hand scrubbed his face, and he ran his gaze in a languorous path down to her toes and up again.
“We will finish this. That you can be sure of.”
With those words, he snatched his shirt off the back of a chair. She watched, mesmerized in his movements, as he grabbed his badge and service weapon, then walked out of the room without another word. She just stood there, a hallow hole cutting its way through her chest.
“He’ll be back. He said as much,” she murmured aloud, needing to hear the words one more time…
But, why did it feel as if he was walking out forever?
Chapter Twenty-One
One week later, Charlie moved to the back wall of her living room, a six-foot wide and eight-foot tall window and looked out. Fall colors dotted the trees along her property, speckles of reds, oranges, pinks, browns, and greens. It reminded her of a child’s artwork, displaying a vivid design of colors merging into Mother Nature’s flawless canvas.
The large windows captured not only the beautiful sight but also heavyset clouds, tinged in gray, indicating a change of season. Wind blew, leaves rustled, and critters scampered trying to find food to hide away for the months of winter ahead. The hot, sunny summer days were fading away.
She stared ahead, but couldn’t concentrate on the beauty outside. Instead, a dark, handsome federal agent held her mind captive. With each thought, her heart clenched painfully, and she rubbed at the phantom feeling, still staring outside, unseeing
Seven long days without a call from Trent. Each time her phone rang, hope sparked. She hated the letdown that followed when the one she wanted to talk to wasn’t on the other end.
The same applied to email, although it was a moot point. Trent would call, wouldn’t bother with virtual contact, but still, when the display showed unopened mail, her heart galloped like the hooves of a racehorse.
Tears stung her eyes, and the mood tore at her chest. She mused over their last conversation and thought on how she could have prevented him from leaving as he had. Did he regret things happening? Did he feel the same for her as she did him? Or worse, was the entire thing just some game he played while she had his attention?
She frowned and turned away from the uncertainty of her thoughts, her hand still rubbing the area above her heart. Cereal and Killer wound their way around her feet, soft fur brushing her bare legs. She reached down and scratched
their heads, hating how pathetic she felt.
It seemed each time she texted Trent, he was not only evasive in his responses, but sometimes hours would go by before she would get an answer. And while she knew she should let him go, push on and move forward, she was helpless to say goodbye.
A loud knock sounded on her front door. Her heart sprinted forth in an erratic rhythm. Everyone knew she was on leave, and most had avoided her the past few weeks. Between her mood swings and one-worded answers, she wasn’t the best of company.
Tugging the house robe around her body, she tucked the ends beneath one another and kept her arms wrapped around her waist. She crossed the great room, through the dining room, and grabbed the knob and whipped open the front door.
Dwayne stood on the front porch, and her hope sank like a rock. She tried like hell not to let the disappointment show. She needed to get a grip, pick up on a clue. Trent would not be coming back. If he cared, wouldn’t he be reaching out to her?
She must not have been doing such a good job at schooling her features because Dwayne chuckled.
“Happy to see you, too, Charlie.”
She stuck her tongue out at him and rolled her eyes. “You should know by now I’m really not in the mood for company.”
Ignoring her blatant dismissal, he lifted an arm, set it above on the frame of the door, and leaned forward. “You need to amend that statement. You haven’t been in a good mood at all. And it’s been going on for about a week.” He paused and gave her a pointed look. “Since a certain someone left town a week ago. Hmmm…” He dropped his arm, leaned his shoulder against the frame and crossed his arms. “I wonder if the two are correlated.”
Charlie scowled. “Doesn’t take a detective to figure out your mouth is going to get you in trouble one day. Nice of you to stop by, D, it’s been what, a few days since you moved out?”
He didn’t say anything and just continued to stare at her.
She was sick and tired of being looked at like she was some kind of experiment. “You know what? Forget it, I’m busy.”
