Saving Charlie (Stories of Serendipity Book 9)

by Anne Conley

  Holding her breath against the musty smell of the room, her eyes adjusting to the darkness, Charlie noticed a lump in the bed farthest from the door. It was covered with a sheet, which wasn’t typical, and she swallowed thickly, suddenly nervous. She couldn’t leave a girl, though. Adrenaline ratcheted her nerves. Suddenly hyper-aware, Charlie slowly walked over to the side of the bed, each step seeming to take an eternity. She was striving for silence, but her steps seemed to be taking her someplace different somehow. This job seemed different. Something was off.

  Reaching out, she grasped the sheet between trembling fingers. The fingers of her other hand tightened on the open knife. Mentally, she told herself to get a grip and do her job, and Charlie quickly pulled back the sheet.

  To reveal a man with a huge grin on his face.

  While her brain registered the set-up, another man’s arms grasped her around her torso, pinning her arms down. Her heart stopped momentarily, while her mind immediately went down a dark path. She had to stop it though, or she would never get out of this alive.

  Panicking, she tried to loosen his grip, but with her arms immobilized, her efforts were ineffective. She could smell his sour breath as he laughed a guttural, unfamiliar sound that reassured her he was an unknown, like the man in the bed. For some reason, this spurred her into action. If she didn’t know these men, they couldn’t hurt her like The Man could.

  He lifted her off her feet and she used the momentum to kick at the man in front of her, bloodying his face. A fist punched her in her chin, knocking her head sideways, and she struggled again, managing to stomp the man’s instep behind her with her boot-clad heels.

  Belatedly, she remembered the extended knife in her hand and imbedded it in the man’s thigh who held her.

  A grunt escaped him, and she used the distraction to kick at the man in front of her while she tried to reach in her hoodie pocket for the pepper spray. The man in front reached behind him, pulling out a small pistol that chilled Charlie’s blood. Seeing it from this vantage point, looking down the smooth black barrel instilled a sense of power in her mind. She could only fight. Instead of freezing like the man intended, it only spurred her into action. She snapped her head back, hitting the man behind her in the face, as the pistol went off with a flash and a bang and the acrid smell of gunpowder. He released her, and she released the pepper spray on both of them before she ran out of the room and got into her truck.

  Chapter 18

  From Carla May’s journal — November 1995 — Age sixteen

  The Man treated me different from the other girls. I think I was one of his first, and he liked me better. At least that’s what he said, anyway. He would give me breaks, but I didn’t really like them. He would leave me alone for weeks at a time sometimes between big jobs in the beginning. I would be locked in my room alone, with nothing to do except eat the meal he would get someone to bring to me. I had lots of pills to help with the boredom, and sometimes, he’d let me have a joint. But most of the time it was pills. I have no idea what they were, but they helped the time pass. Later, I didn’t get so much alone time. That was fine. I was happy to have company, men to talk to and fuck. Most of them were really nice to me, happy to have a young woman to show them some attention. The Man always said I was the best. I was his diamond in the rough. That’s what he called me. He always promised to get me Pocahontas, the one with the little raccoon in it, like the toy I had. But he never did.

  Les was working on his speech, hating the whole public speaking thing, but knowing in this case it was necessary. And he had some things he needed to say.

  Somebody had set up the Liberator, and Les had a feeling The Refuge of Light had seen the last of the anonymous woman who brought them girls. It had been a mystery for several months, and all they had to go on was the descriptions from girls, who were mostly high, and had seen her under extreme duress.

  The description always varied, as the Liberator was always dressed fully in black, hiding her hair under a hat. She was white, but shades of white varied with the amount of drugs pumped into the girls. Her eye color changed with each descriptor. He’d had the girls work with sketch artists, with varying results. In the end, they still had no idea who she was.

  Rachel was the only reliable person to see the woman who dropped off the girls. She’d described the truck, but never gotten a plate number, and the woman was careful to hide her face when she stopped the truck.

  Being asked to deliver the key note address had surprised him, although as it was explained, he was the most down-to-earth of the board members. He didn’t feel too terribly down to earth in his tuxedo. More like he was playing dress-up.

  Les had always had a problem going against the grain. He was raised to do what he was told and help people in need. That’s why he’d initially become involved with the Refuge, because they needed one last board member, and he’d already won the bid for building their house because he didn’t see a reason to make a huge profit off the organization who just wanted to help kids in danger. He was supposed to just be a figurehead, the easy going representative who could relate to members of the community for fundraising efforts.

  His friends made fun of him and called him the Stay-puff marshmallow man, because he never said no. But they knew they could always count on him when they were in a bind. It always gave him a good feeling, a feeling of empowerment, to be able to help others. That’s what he got from helping the Refuge and his friends.

  As always, his thoughts turned toward Charlie. He wished she would open up to him, and let him help her. She needed help with something, and he wanted to be there for her, but she had yet to open up to him. There was something buried inside her, and he just needed to earn her trust enough for her to let him dig it out.

  He had to change his paradigm with Charlie. She’d never been romanced, and by her own admission, flowers and chocolates wouldn’t work. He needed to do something different. He needed Charlie like he’d never needed a woman before. There was an innate desire to be with her, and not just sexually, although the memory of her desk surfaced with a vengeance.

  He adjusted the sudden tightness in his pants and willed the memory of her laid out before him away. No, he needed to be with her, more than just sexually. He wanted to know what she was doing all the time, wanted to help her with her daily routines, needed to be a part of her life.

  He was going to marry that girl.

  But everything he wanted, no, needed, was all stuff she said she hated with other guys she went out with. As soon as they started getting “clingy” and wanting a relationship, she backed off. Even though she’d admitted once she would let him try, something had happened to make her back off. Again. He thought it had something to do with her phone calls, but for the life of him, he had no idea beyond that.

  He had to get her to see they were meant to be together. And for that to happen, she had to let him in enough to help her. Because that’s what a relationship was about. Helping each other through rough times.

  He certainly wasn’t doing anything about it standing here though. He checked the time on his cell phone and decided he wouldn’t be too early if he left now. The speech was as good as it was going to get, and he was just making himself more nervous focusing on it.

  Charlie didn’t even give him a chance to gape at her appearance. When he knocked, she opened the door as she was turning back into the house, revealing a tantalizing flash of skin and dark material streaming behind her.

  “I’m not ready yet. You can come on up for a few minutes, can’t you?” She was yelling at him from half-way up the stairs, where she was quickly disappearing.

  “Uh, sure.” He followed, trying not to lose her. He’d never been in this part of her house, only the side entrance where her office was. It was an old Victorian, with a wrap-around porch and two front doors. The side door entered into a parlor, or her office. The front entrance entered into a grand foyer, with a winding staircase that led to a hallway of doors, one of which was open.

>   “Your house is beautiful,” Les admired the woodwork framing each door. It looked like pine, but it had aged to a rich finish. She obviously maintained it well. He’d followed her into her bedroom and tried not to gawk.

  It wasn’t anything like he’d imagined. He’d thought she might express a hidden femininity through her boudoir, but Charlie’s bedroom wasn’t like that. It still held a richness the rest of the house exuded through solid wood furniture, but there wasn’t anything fluffy or feminine about her bedroom. The massive bed with spindled posts was dressed and draped with burgundy and black bed covers and pillows. She stood in front of a wide dresser, again buffed to a gleaming shine, that held no jewelry boxes, no perfume bottles, just a couple of old cigar boxes stacked on one end, the other held a marble lamp. There was an overstuffed chair and ottoman in the corner, black with dresses discarded on top of it. A full-length mirror was her only allowance to vanity, next to the chair. His eyes roamed back to the bed, neatly made.

  He wanted to mess it up.

  Les looked back at the woman standing at the dresser, putting on earrings. The back of her dress was unzipped, revealing creamy smooth skin.

  “I’m sorry I’m running late. Nothing seemed right. I hate stuff like this.” She jogged over to the mirror where a pair of black patent leather high heels lay. “Will you zip me?”

  As she got into her shoes, Les tried not to purr as he skimmed his knuckles up her back zipping the dress. He managed a chuckle instead.

  “You’re taller than me, now.” When she started to kick off the shoes, he stopped her. “It’s okay. I like them. You look stunning.”

  There really wasn’t any other word for it. She wore a deep green dress that showed off enough cleavage to be alluring, yet remain tasteful. The skirt was knee-length, and made of a material that swished around her legs when she walked. The only jewelry she wore was a single strand of tiny pearls at her throat and two pearl studs in her ears. He stared at her reflection in the mirror, and it must have been a little too long, because a red flush started creeping up her neck to her face. Beautiful.

  Unable to help himself, he dropped a kiss on her neck. Just one. And a little nibble. Well, now he needed to smooth it over with a small lick. And another kiss.

  “Les…”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” He took a step away from her, releasing her. Actually, what he really wanted to do was throw her on the sexy bed over there and claim her, mark her, fill her with him. He wanted her to go to the banquet with his scent all over her, so everyone there would know who she belonged to.

  Not tonight.

  The banquet was at Estelle’s, a rather upscale restaurant in the area, which had opened up a branch for catering, as well as remodeled for a banquet room. It was in an old Victorian house, and Charlie had been meaning to try it out, but had never taken the time. She was pleased that her first date with Les would be there.

  Wait. Was this really a date? As she waited for Les to come around and open the door to her side of the truck he’d borrowed for the evening, she looked down at herself. Yeah. It was. She’d seen his eyes earlier in the evening. She’d seen his desire, his willingness to skip the function and stay with her all night long.

  Trembling with a sudden onset of delayed nerves, she took a deep breath and smiled when he opened her door.

  Les in a tux took her breath away. Every time she looked at him, it was as if her lungs shrank a bit and air was hard to catch. She was sure it was a rental, as nobody in Serendipity really owned their own tuxedo, but he wore it well. It fit over his broad shoulders, tapering down to his slimmer waist, emphasizing his strength, both physical and spiritual.

  Right now, she considered herself lucky to be with him. Tonight was going to be a good night. She kept telling herself that, anyway.

  The banquet room was upstairs, and as they climbed the staircase, Charlie saw a cluster of people in the hallway at the top, waving over the banister at them.

  “Hey, Les! The man of the hour…” “There he is!” and “You clean up nice!” all echoed down at them as they climbed the stairs, Les’s hand on her lower back possessively. A couple of the people looked familiar to her, as she’d probably seen them around town somewhere. But one thing struck her: They were all attractive. She suddenly felt inadequate, a wholly unfamiliar feeling for her in her adult life. She thought she’d gotten past this. Making a mental note to call her damn shrink, she plastered a smile on her face as they reached the top of the stairs.

  He introduced her all around. She met Max, whose truck he’d borrowed for the night, and his wife, Claire. She met Brent and his very pregnant wife, Casey. She met a musician buddy Jason, and Renae. Her eyes widened at the name, realizing this was the last woman he’d given his heart to, and the buddy who ‘stole’ him from her. And Dalton, Renae’s brother, was there with his wife, Alyssa. When he introduced Sam and Rachel, Charlie felt a shiver run up her spine. Rachel was the volunteer intake coordinator for the Refuge of Light organization, the one who Charlie herself had taken the girls to.

  She looked for signs that she identified her, but Rachel showed no outward signs of recognition, for which Charlie was grateful. She had tried to remain as anonymous as possible in her dealings with Rachel, but she knew the woman had glimpsed her at least a couple of times. Charlie looked very different tonight than she did when she picked up the girls. There was no way Rachel would recognize her, was there?

  A bell tinkled in the distance, signaling time for everyone to go into the banquet room and sit down to eat. Grateful for the interruption from all the introductions, Charlie removed herself from the inquisitive stares of Les’s friends and walked next to him into the room, where they found the table where they were all sitting. Charlie managed to seat herself between Les and Sam, which meant if Rachel wanted to look at her, she’d have to lean forward a bit and be obvious about it. Charlie hoped the woman had more tact than that.

  Her head spun as she tried to keep up with all the conversations going on around her. The keynote speaker was coming soon, and servers were putting glasses and plates in front of everybody, and Charlie was feeling very much out of her element. People kept getting up to speak, thanking others, while everybody clapped and kept up their quiet conversations.

  “I heard The Liberator is an ex-wrestler…”

  “Did she die last night?”

  “Naw… Nothing can kill her. She’s probably superhuman or something.”

  Conversations were being thrown at her from all around, both her table and the surrounding ones. Her senses were hyper-alert, her nerves quickly fraying at the seams. As she pasted a fake smile on her face, she glanced around, trying to make sense of her surroundings. And she saw a familiar shock of dark hair.

  No. He couldn’t be here… As quickly as she’d seen it, it was gone, and Charlie attributed it to her imagination, and being in an unfamiliar situation. Before she realized it, Les squeezed her thigh and whispered in her ear.

  “Wish me luck.”

  Les walked up to the podium, as always emitting more power than he had any business for a man his size. Charlie watched him, surprised he was such a big deal in this organization, and more than a little taken aback by it. She knew he was on the board, but keynote speaker?

  He cleared his throat and looked around the room, his eyes finally landing on Charlie. She smiled at him, and he winked back before speaking.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I want to thank y’all for coming out tonight. This has been a heck of a year for the Refuge of Light, and I’m going to just run through the highlights. First off, we’ve acquired an anonymous donor over the past few months, whose sizeable donations have enabled us to break ground on the new safe house for these girls next week.” He paused for a smattering of applause and a few whistles from his table of friends. “I’m pleased to announce this calling of Mr. and Mrs. Donahue,” he motioned to an older couple at the table front and center, who waved and smiled brightly, “is finally coming to fruition.”

&n
bsp; Charlie looked around the room and noticed everyone was watching Les, pleasant expressions on their faces. He was well liked in the community and was hiding his nerves well. He’d told her he didn’t like speaking in front of large groups of people, but you couldn’t tell by watching him now.

  His face turned somber, a rare look for Les. “On a more serious note, we have also acquired an anonymous helper. It’s a woman we’ve termed The Liberator. She has inside knowledge somehow on where some of these girls are being kept, and rescues them and brings them to us. She is an angel, but we only have vague descriptions of her from the girls and one of our workers. We know nothing about her at all. But thanks to The Liberator, almost thirty girls have been taken off the streets.” He paused, looking around the room. “Up until last night, all of her rescues were successful.” He glanced at Rachel, who Charlie didn’t dare look at, but noticed a slight nod out of the corner of her eye. “Last night, a local motel owner was shot, and evidence of a struggle was found in one of the rooms of his motel. We suspect this motel is where the girls have been rescued from, although none of them know for sure which motel they were actually in.” He took a deep breath. “The thing about these girls is, they are usually run-aways who’ve been snatched up by predators. They don’t have a life to go back home to, and they aren’t accustomed to being loved in a healthy way. The Refuge tries to instill in them a faith and love that they’ve never experienced, and a lot of times, they run away from us, too.” His voice had risen in fervor and pitch, and he took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “I’m sorry; I went off on a little tangent. I need to pay attention to my notes better.” He tapped his index cards on the podium in front of him to nervous chuckles throughout the crowd. “We would like to know who The Liberator is, so she can come in and accept some sort of appreciation from us. We would like to know how she gets her information on where the girls are kept and see if she’d be willing to work with the girls more. Some of them formed a sort of attachment to their rescuer and would like to see her again, to thank her.”