“Hmm. We can come up with a plan for something sturdier. Measurements?”
“On it. Hold on.” He let go of Tyler and handed the phone to Carlie, trading it for the tape measure. “Tyler and I will measure; you relay the information to Noah. All right with you, partner?” He peered down at the boy.
The hint of a smile lit Tyler’s face, and he nodded. Carlie went to one of the kitchen drawers and pulled out a small pad of paper and a pen.
“OK.” He put the end of the tape measure on the outside of the broken frame. “Hold it here for me, Tyler.” It would’ve been much easier and faster to do the task himself, but he wanted to take the kid’s mind off the scary stuff. The two of them measured and gave the dimensions to Carlie, who wrote them down and relayed the information to Noah.
Once the task was completed, he took the phone back. “What do I need to get?” He listened while Noah gave him a list of supplies. “Got it. I’ll call you back when we have everything together. Later.” He hit End Call and took the pad and pen from Carlie to make a list. “Get jackets. We’re heading to Home Depot. You can call Jenny and Harlen on the way.”
“No, Wes.” Carlie averted her gaze. “I owe you an explanation first. You have a right to know what you’ve stepped into.”
“No. I don’t.” A fresh surge of adrenaline fired up his nerves, sending his pulse skyrocketing. He sandbagged his heart and hunkered down behind the barricade. Knowing stuff about Carlie meant getting close. Too close. Too personal. “You don’t owe me a thing.”
CHAPTER TWO
CARLIE STOOD IN THE MIDDLE of her kitchen, dying a little inside. How had Jared found her? For the past two years, she’d clung to the notion that she and Tyler could have a normal life in Perfect. Guess not. And Wesley. Her stomach dropped, and shame burned through her. After seeing her like this, he’d never look at her the same way again. That was far worse than the black eye and split lip she’d suffered at her ex’s hands. “Why are you even here, Wesley? How did you—”
“I stopped by the diner like I always do, and you weren’t there.” His gaze strayed to the yard outside the shattered back door. “The Maurers were worried. Harlen was about to head out here himself, but that would’ve left Jenny and the diner in a pinch.” His eyes came back to her. “I offered to check up on you and lend a hand if need be.”
“You have no idea how glad I am you did.” Her chest tightened, and she had to force herself to take a deep breath. “Tyler, get your tablet and headphones. You can watch a movie or play a game while Mr. Holt and I talk.” Her son cast her a look that said he didn’t want to miss the adult conversation, but he went back to the living room and did what he was told. She and Wesley followed.
Once Tyler was settled on the floor with his headphones in place and the tablet on his lap, Carlie gestured for Wesley to sit on the couch. She loved the way he moved—so sure, so confident. Powerful, but in a good way. She didn’t sense any meanness in Wes the way she did with some people. With her history, she’d developed an instinct when it came to judging a person’s character.
Her insides fluttered. Hearing the back door burst open, seeing Wesley with his gun drawn and charging after Jared—that was a sight she’d remember for the rest of her life. Her ex would’ve killed her and taken Tyler; she harbored no doubts about that. He’d certainly come close enough in the past—more than once. She ran her tongue over her lower lip, wincing from the sting.
After today, things would be awkward between her and Wesley, to say the least. He’d probably find somewhere else to have his breakfast. What must he think of her? The retired Marine had no idea his visits to the Perfect Diner were the high point of her days.
Since the first moment he’d walked into the diner, she’d been drawn to him. She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off the big guy with his broad shoulders and solemn hazel eyes. He just seemed so . . . solid. Safe. Six feet tall, built like a tank, quiet, kind . . . What would he think if he knew she’d created an entire fantasy world around him?
She’d known all along nothing could ever come of her attraction to the big Marine. After her ex, she didn’t want to chance letting another man into her life, or her son’s. Another disappointment in the daddy department would shatter her boy, not to mention the devastation she’d suffer. Instead, she fantasized. The dreams had given her something to look forward to, like his daily visits to the diner. Regret stole her breath, and more tears filled her eyes.
Picking up the folder from the couch, she took a seat beside him. “I was born Kara Hague. Before I moved to Perfect, I had my name legally changed to Carlie Stewart. Stewart is my grandmother’s maiden name. I had Tyler’s last name changed, too.”
“OK.” Wes slapped his thighs and stood up. “Good to know. Let’s go.”
He didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to know anything about her. Her chest ached—an all-too-familiar sensation since her heart had been broken a least a thousand times in the past two decades. It was a wonder the thing still beat. She rose from the couch and walked to the door. “I get it, and I don’t blame you.”
Wesley’s dog hadn’t moved. The German shepherd raised his head from his paws to peer at her, his tail thumping on the rug. Carlie stepped around him. “I can’t even begin to tell you how grateful I am for your help this morning.” Gritting her teeth to keep from sobbing, she opened the door. “I’ll call my landlord about the back door. It’s not your responsibility.”
Color flooded his face, and he stared at his dog. Perhaps he wasn’t quite as solid as she’d thought. She’d built him up in her head, imagined he was as drawn to her as she was to him . . . from a safe distance, of course. “It’s OK, Wesley. You can go. Sheriff Taylor is sending a deputy, and I’m sure they’ll have my ex back in custody before the day is over.”
“I’m not leaving.” He widened his stance, crossed his arms and shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t want to hear your story, Carlie. It’s just that . . . I’m just not good at . . .” He shrugged his big shoulders. “It’s your personal business.” His gaze met hers, and his expression seemed to beg for understanding.
“And you don’t want to get . . . personal,” she muttered. “It’s all right. I don’t want to get personal, either, but I can’t accept your help without telling you. I won’t accept help from you unless you know what you’re getting into. Don’t ask me to explain why that is, because I can’t.”
She gripped the doorknob so hard her hand hurt. “I just . . . it’s there, you know? My past.” She glanced at Tyler. He followed what was going on between them, his eyes huge. “I know I’m not making any sense. Please, just go. It’s best you don’t get tangled up in my problems anyway.”
Wesley heaved a huge sigh, walked back to the couch and sat down. He picked up her folder and held it out to her. “I’m not leaving. If that means you need me to listen while you spill your guts, then that’s what I’ll do.” He made a hand sign to his dog. Rex got up, moved to Tyler’s side and lay down, his tail thumping again. Her son’s face lit up, and he turned his attention to petting the dog.
Walking back to the couch, she almost smiled. Wesley looked like a man facing his execution. “You don’t have to stay, Wes. We’ll be all right.”
His brow rose. “Which part of ‘I’m not leaving’ did you not get?”
A nervous laugh escaped. Here goes everything—another dream bites the dust. It was for the best. No more fantasies. She didn’t want Wesley, or anyone else for that matter, entangled in Jared’s sticky web. Her ex was a jealous and violent man. Wes needed to know what the danger was before he decided whether or not to take another step toward her heap of trouble.
“Harlen and Jenny are the only ones in Perfect who know my story—some of it, anyway.” She took the folder from him and sat down. “I have . . . kind of a troubled past.” She glanced at Tyler, relieved to see he was still more interested in Rex than he was in listening to her. The dog had rolled onto his back, so Tyler could scratch his belly.
> Carlie drew in a long breath and began. “I ran away from home when I was sixteen. I had a serious drug addiction by then, and I pretty much lived on the streets until I was picked up by the cops just before my eighteenth birthday.” She stared at her hands. “I’m a recovering narcotics addict, but I’ve been clean and straight for seventeen years now.”
Wesley leaned forward. Propping his elbows on his knees, he stared straight ahead with his chin propped on his fists.
She hated admitting even that small bit of truth to Wes. He’d think less of her. How could he not? What would he do if she blurted out the horrible things she’d done back then to get her hands on the cash she needed to buy drugs? Bile rose to burn the back of her throat. She couldn’t do it.
The burden of her past was always there, hanging over her like a cloud of poisonous gas. The sordid details of her poor choices separated her from life in the present and made a liar out of her. She was weary to the bone of living in the shadow that cloud cast. The poison affected every aspect of her life, and she longed to step out from under the darkness—just not today. Coward.
“Being arrested was the best thing that ever happened to me. Since I was still a minor, the judge was pretty lenient. Probation. Treatment.” She brought the folder to her knees. “I got straight, got my GED and started taking classes at a community college.” She sat a little straighter. At least she’d managed to get an education and get herself on the right track—until Jared came along.
Wesley hadn’t moved, but he’d started pulling on his lower lip with his thumb and forefinger as if in deep thought. Her bad judgment and the choices she’d made would kill any interest he might have had, and it was best she let him go—not that she’d ever really had him.
Letting him go shouldn’t matter—she hardly knew him—but it did. It mattered a lot.
“Jared and I met in a narcotics anonymous group five years after my arrest. We weren’t supposed to get involved with group members, but he and I dated. I saw signs of his temper, but he swept me off my feet, and I ignored the red flags. By then I was halfway through working on my degree in hospitality. I had a pretty decent job as a waitress at a nice restaurant in town, and he operated a forklift in a warehouse.
“We married a couple of years later, after I finished my degree. Things went fine for a while. We had fights, of course, and a couple of times he shoved me around, but he always apologized and swore he’d never do it again. I should’ve left him the first time that happened, but I didn’t. I forgave him.” Bad judgment, the hallmark of her life. She kept her gaze fixed upon the folder on her lap.
“When the economy went into a recession, Jared lost his job. I was pregnant with Tyler at the time, and the pressure and stress got to Jared. He couldn’t handle it. He blamed me for everything wrong with his life, and the shoves turned into slaps and then punches. He’d feel so bad about what he’d done, he’d break down, swear he loved me and promise never to do it again. Then the cycle would begin all over again.” Her life had become an unpredictable living hell during those years.
“He tried to get another job, but after a year of being unemployed, he gave up and started dealing drugs. Nothing too serious at first, but after a while, it wasn’t enough for him. His dealing soon morphed into drug trafficking on a larger scale.” She shuddered. “I feared for my life, for my son’s life. Jared insisted I quit working and stay home with our son. To keep the peace, I did what he wanted me to do, and we lived on his drug money.”
She opened the folder and pulled out the picture that was taken after her husband had beaten her so badly he’d put her in the hospital. She recoiled from the memories the picture evoked. He’d broken her jaw and three ribs that day. Her face was one massive swollen mess. She handed it to Wes. He took it, studied the eight-by-ten for a minute, then handed it back without a word.
“I realize now that separating me from my job and from my friends was another way he had to control me. After this beating,” she said, running her finger over the photo, “I was desperate to find a way out, because I knew I’d die at my husband’s hands if I stayed much longer. Jared had already threatened to kill me more than once.” She swallowed the lump forming in her throat.
“If I had died, where would that have left my son? I didn’t want him to become a monster like his father. I pressed charges for the beating. Jared was already in the system, and he was on the DEA’s radar by that time. Two agents came to me when I was in the hospital, and I agreed to cooperate with their investigation. I gave them more than enough information about Jared’s drug dealings to put him and a few of his contacts away for a long time.” She sucked in a breath. “Jared Baumann is a dangerous man, and the people he associates with are even worse.”
Glancing at her son, she continued, “He went to prison. I divorced him, got full custody of Tyler and had my ex’s parental rights terminated. That was four years ago. I lived with my mom and grandmother for a while, worked, saved money and changed my name in the hopes that Jared wouldn’t be able to find us.” Carlie put the photo back into the folder. “The rest you know. Two years ago, I moved here to work for Jenny at the diner.” She waited and watched. Wes pulled at his bottom lip again.
“Why Perfect?” he asked, casting her a questioning look.
“My grandmother is from here. She and Jenny are distant cousins. Gran contacted Jenny and asked her for help on my behalf. Gran also knows Harlen Maurer. She knew I’d have some support here in Perfect.”
Her throat closed up as memories of that time in her life flooded through her. “Things just fell into place. Jenny wanted to cut back on her hours at the diner, and she was looking for someone to take over some of the management duties at the diner.”
“Makes sense.” He nodded.
“That’s it? Out of that entire sordid tale, all you want to know is ‘why Perfect?’” She raked her fingers through her hair. “I’m a recovering drug addict. Don’t you have anything to say about that?” she whispered.
“Nope. Like you said, you’ve been straight for a long time, and I’m in no position to judge.” He rose from the couch. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re one hell of a strong woman. You pulled your life together under the very worst circumstances imaginable—more than once.” Wes stared into her eyes. His were filled with resolve. “Pack some stuff for you and Tyler. You aren’t safe here.”
She huffed out a strangled laugh. “Where is it you think Tyler and I can go where we will be safe? I changed my name and moved to a small town in the middle of nowhere, and Jared still managed to find us.”
“The two of you are going to stay with me until your ex is back behind bars. I live on the third floor of L&L in a three-bedroom apartment. The building has a state-of-the-art security system.” When he’d agreed to take on the job of building security for L&L, along with his other supervisory responsibilities, he’d insisted on the alarm system. Given where they were located, it was definitely PTSD overkill, but he’d still insisted, and Noah had backed him on the issue.
“There’s plenty of room, and I’m always there to protect the two of you. I have friends and coworkers who are also veterans. They’ll help. The building is hardly ever without staff on site, and other than Paige Malloy and Ted Lovejoy, every single one of our employees are stand-up veterans with combat experience—male and female. You and Tyler will be protected around the clock close to where you work, which is a far sight better than what the sheriff’s department can provide.”
“Five minutes ago you didn’t want to get personal. Now you’re telling me Tyler and I should move in with you? I can’t do that! What will people think?” She blinked at him, her mind spinning from the unexpected turn their conversation had taken. “What will they say?”
“They will say that under the circumstances, you’re making a smart move.” His gaze bored into hers. “Besides, you won’t be moving in with me, Carlie. You’ll be staying in my apartment as my guest in your own room until your ex is apprehended and put back behind ba
rs.”
He motioned for Tyler to take off his headphones. “I work nights and sleep during the day. You’ll have the place pretty much to yourselves. I’ll walk you to work in the mornings, take Tyler to school, and I’ll be there to walk you home and pick him up from school in the afternoons.”
“School!” She shot up off the couch and went for her purse. “I have to call Tyler’s school . . . and Jenny. I have to—”
“Pack,” Wes commanded. “You can make your call to the school once we’re on the road, and I’ll call Jenny and Harlen while you’re getting your stuff together.” He pulled out his cell again. “Tyler, you and your mom are going to come stay with me and Rex for a while. Is that all right with you, partner?”
Her son’s enthusiastic nod weakened her defenses. She frowned. Living under the same roof with the object of her desire was not a good idea, especially now with her ex on the loose. Doing so would send Jared into a jealous rage. He’d be even more dangerous. “Wesley, I didn’t agree—”
“It’s not open for debate. I want to keep the two of you safe. L&L’s third floor is the best place for you and your son right now.” He held out his hand to Tyler. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go get some of your stuff together, enough for the next few days, and then you can help me nail that back door shut.” He shot her a look that said don’t argue. “We can come back for more of your stuff as needed.”
She caved, and her knees went weak with relief. What would it be like to feel safe, to have someone in her corner, protecting her and Tyler? She’d almost been lulled into believing she was safe, until this morning. “Only until my ex is behind bars again.”
“Exactly,” Wes said, heading down the hall with her son’s small hand in his.
Studying the circle of wetness the bag of corn had made on her couch and the matching circle of wetness caused by her son, she struggled to pull her thoughts together. Her lip still stung, and the entire left side of her face throbbed. Until today, she’d managed to keep her past a secret from everyone except the Maurers, and they knew only a small portion. Now, everyone in Perfect would hear about her ex. No way could she hide her bruised face, and news of the manhunt would get around. It was only a matter of time before they found out about the rest. Grabbing the thawing bag of corn, she stood up. Once Jared was back in prison, she’d start looking for a new job somewhere else—somewhere out of state.
The Twisted Road to You (Perfect, Indiana Book 4) Page 3
