by Cait Jarrod
Larry twisted to look at Quigley who shifted from one side of the doorjamb to the other. “Find any?”
“Yeah, there’s one about every twenty yards, just inside the fence row.”
“Sounds like we’re dealing with an underground operation.”
Jake propped his elbow on the armrest. “That’s my guess.”
The front door squeaked open.
“Hey, Q,” Steve said walking past to Jake’s office. “What’s the word?”
“Not much on either count. The little we have on Greenwood Manor concerning the lights is in here.” Jake handed Steve the folder.
“What’s next? Are you setting up surveillance?” Steve asked, thumbing through the few pages.
“I thought you had an assignment in another country?” Jake asked.
Steve lifted a shoulder. “Not at the moment. Looks like I’m homebound for a while. I told the Director to cut me some slack. I need to work out issues with Celine. Still, if the FBI calls, I’m gone.”
“Damn, another guy’s talking smack,” Quigley chuckled, turned toward the sound of the door opening, and whistled. “Gotta go.”
“Want to head to the manor this afternoon?” Larry asked Jake.
“Sure.”
“Hi, I’m looking for—” a woman’s nervous voice drifted in from the outer office, “Jake Gibson.”
Larry bolted upright. “Charlene?”
Chapter Twelve
Charlene didn’t expect to come face to face with Larry so soon. Still reeling from the surprising, intense feelings that slammed into her last night, she tried to keep them in check to get through the day and to get done what she planned without falling victim to fantasizing about him. Knowing firsthand the incredible feeling of having Larry touch her made the task difficult.
His masculine scent mixed with his clean-shaven face aroused her in such a way she could hardly breathe. But it was his dress pants hugging his butt and thighs, and his button-down shirt stretching across his broad shoulders, that yanked on the knot that resided low in her belly, threatening to make her come just by looking at him. “Hi.”
He grasped her arm. The unusual gentle grip contrasted with the hardness of his muscles bunching under his shirt.
“Is everything okay?” His gaze locked on hers, and crinkles of worry appeared on the corners of his eyes.
The sweetness of his voice, his concern, touched her, yet tartness seeped its way into the sensation, making her a little nervous. Dragging Larry into her personal vendetta would cross the non-committal, ‘just friends’ line.
The only reason she came to Jake’s office was to appease her friend. What Pamela had said about losing Charlene would have made sense if her goal was to obliterate Andrew. The mere thought of killing someone ran chills up and down her spine. Despising somebody was on a different playing field than not wanting them to breathe.
Larry lifted her chin with a finger. “Charlene.”
“Everything’s fine.” His intoxicating, charismatic grin that had probably stolen its fair share of hearts nipped at hers. Larry had no clue how incredibly handsome he was.
He kissed the tip of her nose. By tenderness in public, he’d crossed over the non-committal friends’ line.
Baffled and not knowing how to respond, she latched onto her purse strap to channel her awkwardness and adjusted the piece of leather on her shoulder. “Pamela convinced me to come by to speak with Jake.”
“Charlene, come on back,” Jake yelled from his office.
Larry escorted her into the room, stopped at the doorway, and whispered. “Do you want me to stay?” A hopeful expression crossed his face. In such a short time, he stopped schooling his features around her and let his face reveal his feelings, another epiphany she didn’t know how to manage.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with Jake alone.” And then she did something that felt like her normal day-to-day routine. She kissed his cheek.
With his eyes fixed on hers, he pulled in his bottom lip and nodded. She wondered what Larry thought. The mix signals of kissing him, yet not wanting him to sit in on her and Jake’s conversation, had to confuse him.
He placed a hand on the curve of her waist and kissed her lips. Without a word, he walked out of the office and closed the door behind him.
Charlene stared at him, mouth agape. “Is he for real?”
Jake’s chuckle caught her attention, making her realize she spoke out loud. “Oops.”
“No worries.” He crossed to the front of his desk, rested against it, and motioned to the couch. “Have a seat. What can I do for you?”
“Pamela insisted I stop by. She’s afraid I’ll do something that will put me in trouble with the law. I won’t, but I do plan on talking to my ex-husband by myself.”
Jake studied her for a long moment. Finally, he said, “Okay. It’s your call.”
“Really? No lecturing to tell me I’m making a huge mistake?”
He stopped halfway back to his chair. “Why assume I’d give you a lecture?”
Why indeed. She was used to them. Andrew gave her one after the other. “It’s what—” she stopped short of saying, “I expect.” Enough was enough of her assuming other men would mistreat her based on Andrew’s behavior. After all these years, the light bulb turned on. If she wanted to move forward with her life, she had to stop assuming all guys were jerks. “I’m mistaken. You wouldn’t have.”
Jake winked. “I’m glad we had this talk.”
Her heart filled with gratitude for having the BOFs in her life. “Thank you, Jake, but nothing’s changed. I have to talk to Andrew alone and I appreciate it if you’d keep that bit of information quiet.”
He slumped into his chair, the leather squeaking from the contact, and knocked his knuckles on the desk’s surface, his eyebrows narrowing to frustrated slashes. “You want me to keep this from Larry?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, Charlene,” Jake said on a sigh. “You’re asking a lot out of me. Larry and I have been friends when I didn’t have anyone else to trust. Asking me not to tell him something is like suggesting I don’t tell Pamela.” He paused and rubbed a hand down his face. “You want to keep this from her, too?”
She nodded.
“You’re killing me, woman. Flat out killing me. Might as well put a gun to my head. That’s what’s going to happen, you know, if either of them suspects I know something concerning you and don’t tell.”
“Well…it’s not yours to tell. It’s mine. You’re not telling because I asked you not to, not by choice.”
“You’ve never been on the receiving end of Larry or my wife if they think they’ve been kept out of the loop, have you?”
She’d seen Pamela upset a time or two but couldn’t imagine she’d had it in her to be that mad. As far as Larry was concerned, he may be a redhead, but she’d never seen him yell at someone. “No, I guess not.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way. Tell them just what you told me. That it’s your choice and you don’t need them hovering.”
“I didn’t accuse you of hovering.”
“No, but adding that bit in there will get their attention.” He stood. “I’ll get Larry. We can discuss what happened at your place. It’s your choice if you tell him anymore. But know, if he straight up asks me, I will tell him the truth, the same with Pamela. Honesty is always best.”
“Do you talk about your other cases?”
Jake released the doorknob. “I’m not investigating a case for you.”
“What’s your fee?”
He jabbed his hands on his hips. “I can’t and won’t take money from you.”
“Will you take my case?”
“What is that, exactly?”
“Find out any information on Andrew. Where has he been since he left?”
“That’s easy. He has no history. It’s like he vanished for the last couple of years.”
“You’ve already investigated?”
“Of course, so has Larry.
”
Men like them, naturally they investigated. So then, how could she convince Jake to stay quiet?
“Can I let Larry in now?” Jake grabbed the doorknob again.
She slipped a five out of the side pocket of her purse and laid it on Jake’s desk. “Consider yourself working for me.”
His head fell forward. “You play hardball. Will you report to me? Tell me every action you make where Andrew is concerned?”
“Yes.”
“Know this, if I think you’re in trouble, I will tell Larry.”
“Agreed.”
Jake opened the door.
Larry leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, eyeballing them.
“Come on in,” Jake said. “Steve, Q, wait a sec.”
Larry strolled into the office, plopped down next to Charlene and without any questions grabbed her hand.
She smiled, loving the sense of safety and comfort she felt in his presence. “I want to fill you in on what happened at my house yesterday.”
Jake closed the door and returned to his cushioned chair.
“Your mom filled me in on what she witnessed when she called,” Larry said. “So after Henry and Doris left, what happened?”
“Andrew demanded money. He knew about the award and wanted me to give it to him.” A lump formed in her throat and her eyes stung as she remembered his next words. “He said if I didn’t, I’d never see Henry again.”
“Do you think he’d follow through with the threat?” Jake’s tone was firm.
“I don’t. He’s talking out of his head, idle threats.” She shook her head. “Taking him from me…no way…he wouldn’t.”
“You’re sure?” Larry asked, squeezing her hand.
“I am. Henry would get in his way. Andrew showed me that we weren’t worthy of his time.” Whatever criminal activity Andrew was caught up in, it was more important than family.
Larry rubbed a circle with his thumb over the back of her hand.
Her nerves went on alert. The soothing action meant either he had bad news to share or the question he was about to ask she wouldn’t like.
“Do you know what caused Andrew to hit the Chevelle?”
She thought back to the fight, the bat hitting his ribs and wrist in particular. Acid burned her stomach and rose to her throat for the brutality of her actions. He left her with no alternative and she’d do it again if he backed her into a corner.
“After he threatened Henry—” she paused and fought back the mountain of rage forcing its way to the surface, “—I hit him.”
She looked from Jake chuckling to Larry pressing his lips together as if trying to hold back a smirk. The gold specks in his honey-colored eyes sparkled, easing the tension knotting in her shoulders. “What?”
“Now, I’m getting the picture,” Jake said. “You got the best of Andrew so he took his frustrations out on my car.”
Was that what she’d done? Gotten the best of him? “I didn’t think of it those terms.”
Larry lifted her hands and examined them. “Are your knuckles bruised?”
“Oh, no. I didn’t use my hands.”
“I’ll take a guess, you used a bat?” Jake asked, a grin still stretched across his face.
She nodded.
“I understand why you believe Smith won’t come back.” Jake looked at Larry and nodded his head toward Charlene. “Slugger here is a force to reckon with.”
Larry’s all-knowing sigh created prickles on her skin.
“In more ways than one,” he said, next to her ear.
“All right, I’m out of here.” Jake rose and crossed to the front of the desk. “Don’t forget what I said.” He kissed Charlene on the cheek and gave Larry a nod. “I’ll catch up with you later. Oh yeah, Pamela called. There’s a party coming to The Memory Café tonight, so Cocktail Hour has been pushed from four to five.”
“Does she need help?” Charlene tugged out her phone and checked for any missed calls. “She hasn’t phoned.”
“She and Marge have it covered.”
A little ping rushed through Charlene that she couldn’t help. One of the things she missed most about running a café was the party planning.
When Jake walked out of the room, she stared at the closed door and tried to think of how to tell Larry she needed to leave. If Andrew was at his friend’s house in Colonial Beach, the earlier in the day she arrived, the better chance she had of catching him. “I should probably—”
Larry threaded his hands through her hair and tilted her head back and devoured her in a hot, demanding kiss, sending a thrill of excitement straight to her core. On a breathless moan, her lips parted and his tongue slipped inside, stroking and reliving what their bodies did earlier that morning. He tasted of coffee and sex. She wanted more.
“I could do this all day,” Larry said around the kiss.
“Me, too.” Nose-to-nose, mouth-to-mouth, she opened her eyes and gazed into his. Hope, belonging, and desire stared back at her through cautious eyes.
He pecked her lips, the tip of her nose, and eased back. “Do you have a minute to talk?”
She scraped her teeth over her lower lip. She wanted to give him a whole lot more than a minute.
“There’s a detail about my past you should know.”
Her mind churned on what possibly turned his features so serious. Had he been married? Did he serve time in jail? “You’re leading a double life?” Instinctively, the question spilled from her mouth.
“No.” He shifted to sit on the coffee table, his legs straddling her knees, and linked their hands together. “Ah,” he sighed. “Not in a million years did I ever consider divulging what I’m about to say with another person.” He spoke in a low tone, keeping his gaze on hers.
Warmth spread through her veins, and in unison worry crept in, dampening her surreal moment. She slid her hand from his grasp and stroked a finger down the side of his smooth face. Last night, the euphoria she experienced with him shocked her, leaving her unsure whether she should stop herself from feeling what came naturally. It made her doubt the need for rules she created to protect her heart.
Had he had a similar type of experience, one that had him acting outside the norm by confessing secrets?
She wanted to hear what he had to say, yet by him doing so, the stepping over the line of non-committal friends toward a relationship was becoming a habit. A pattern they needed to beware of.
His impossibly handsome face studied her.
“Your hands are distracting.” He moved her hand from his face and kissed the back of it.
She arched a brow and smiled. “I like getting to you.”
He chuckled. “You get to me more than you know; that’s why I have to say this.”
“I’m listening.”
He slid her hair off her face and knew he eyed the bruise from where she hit the wall yesterday during the fight with Andrew. “I can’t stand violence.”
The meaning of his words and the kindness in his gaze weakened her self-imposed rules more. “Odd considering you’re in the FBI.”
“It’s the reason why I’m with the Bureau. I’m defensive when warranted.”
“So, you’re saying you don’t hit, yell, or manipulate to acquire what you want?” Yesterday, she promised herself not to let her relationship with Andrew interfere with her future, but she had a hard time not questioning Larry.
“Charlene, we’re a pair.”
The slow drawl of his voice and the tenderness in his tone tugged at her heart.
“You’re scared to let me in because of how your husband—”
“Ex,” she said.
“—treated you. For me, I have difficulty letting someone know me because of how I was raised.”
“Raised?”
“My father didn’t treat me or my mother well.”
What had his father done to make a grown man cautious, especially one who was trained to fight and protect? Horrible thoughts crossed into her mind: had he touched him inappropr
iately…? She shook her head and stopped her wayward thoughts.
“My father,” he swallowed, “was mean. Not just when he had a few drinks. My mom and I were punching bags.”
Charlene gasped––a hand flew to her mouth and the other her chest. “Oh, no.”
“As a child I didn’t have the ability to fight him much. When I became a teen, I fought more, but when I did he retaliated on my mother. Often she told me she didn’t want or need my help. When she did, I’d blow off my anger by running the streets of the neighborhood. Clearly, I was in a no-win situation.”
Charlene thought back to her situation and how hers wasn’t that much different, except she sheltered Henry from Andrew’s emotional cruelty. A mother not protecting her child left her feeling sick.
“I joined the FBI and went through training. The first day I visited my parents afterwards, my dad came at me. He wanted to show me who was boss. He as much as said so.”
Larry’s face turned beet red as if he relived the experience. She wanted to touch him, but knew he needed to finish telling the story without interruption.
“I beat the living shit out of him. I’d hoped what happened taught him a lesson and he’d leave my mom alone.” Larry stared at the spot of floor between his legs. “I cracked his ribs, gave him a swollen eye, and a fat lip. My behavior was not becoming of an FBI agent. I could have lost my job.” When his eyes met hers, anger raged behind them. “A few months later, my mom called, crying my father attacked her. I rushed to the house. When I arrived, I learned he hadn’t laid a hand on her.” Larry shook his head. “She had lied.”
What Larry said was unheard of. Why would his mother play such an awful trick on her son? “What?” Her voice quaked. She didn’t want to show any emotions, knowing it’d be harder for him, yet couldn’t stop them from encroaching in her voice. “Why?”
“Maybe he wanted to see what I’d do. In his sick mind, he probably thought he did me a favor. He enjoyed testing my control, my integrity. No matter what I did, he said I fell short of behaving like a real man.”
“A favor?” With her forefinger and thumb, she pinched her lips together. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I’ll stay like this.”
