by Cait Jarrod
Between them all, they could resolve this situation quickly. The lights, Smith, and the Impalers were all linked together somehow.
“Consider this,” Larry said. “Someone’s trying to make a name, become a big dog. They want Steele out of the picture, so they call in tips. If we find enough evidence, we’ll arrest him, opening up the head spot. The Impalers are small time crooks. They don’t have the loyalty or the hierarchy established yet.”
“Sounds logical.” Jackson straddled a chair. “Think it’s Smith?”
“I do.”
Charlene released another gasp, but remained silent.
“Here we are,” Marge sang, coming into the room. Her arms were layered with plates.
“Amazes me how you can carry so much at once without dropping them,” Jackson said, nodding at his mother’s arm.
“Oh, hush before every one of these fall.” She smiled.
“Let me help you, Ma.” Jackson hopped up and reached for a plate she balanced on her arm.
“No! Don’t take that one. They would for sure hit the floor. Here, take this.” She handed him one and he grabbed another. He set them on the table in front of Steve and Celine, reached for two more, and placed them in front of Larry and Charlene.
“Hmm, smells heavenly,” Charlene said, waving her hand above the plate to bring the steam toward her, breathing in the aroma.
“It should,” Marge giggled. “It’s your recipe. I’ll be right back with the rest.”
A moment later, she returned, her arm lined with plates again.
Jackson grabbed two of the plates and set them in front of Jake and Pamela. “Here, mommy-to-be.”
“I’m going to be a grandma,” Marge said, her voice excited. She brought her hands toward her chest, forgetting she had two plates stacked on her arm.
“Whoa, ma!” Jackson saved one, but not the other.
“Fiddlesticks.”
Chicken Parmesan covered her apron and shirt. The plate shattered on the tile floor.
“I’ll get the mess for you, ma’am.” Quigley knelt and gathered the broken pieces.
“Oh, phooey,” Marge sighed. “I’ll fix another one.”
“No need. I ate before coming tonight.” The swinging kitchen doors said Marge didn’t hear Quigley or she ignored what he said.
Quigley straightened and tossed the pieces behind the bar in the trashcan. “Where’s the mop?”
“It’s in the supply closet at the end of the hall,” Pamela said. “Thanks.”
“It’s none of my business, but what’s up with you two?” Paul asked between swallows of water. “One minute, you and Quigley are sending each other glares, the next he’s puppy-dogging behind you.”
“An Afghanistan issue. Water under the bridge.” Jackson forked a piece of chicken and stuffed it in his mouth, ending the conversation.
Charlene twisted and kissed Larry’s cheek. “I’m glad you didn’t get hurt tonight or in the well.”
He wrapped a hand around her back. “I still could use R&R.”
She giggled. “I can help with that.”
“I’m counting on it.”
“All better,” Marge said, returning with two plates. “Quigley, I won’t take no for an answer. Sit and eat.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Quigley sat next to Jackson’s mom.
“Larry, I think you should go to the hospital. You might need a shot.” Evidently, Marge hadn’t mothered anyone for a while.
Larry held back a smile. “I’m up-to-date on my shots, ma’am.”
“You sound like a dog,” Quigley laughed and forked a piece of chicken.
Quigley disrespecting what Marge said didn’t settle well with Larry and he bristled.
“Q,” Jackson ground out.
“Maj, that was too good to pass up. Admit it, it was funny.”
Larry shook his head, realizing he was being too serious, and chuckled. “He’s right.”
“Why does everyone call me ma’am? It’s Marge.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Larry and Quigley said in unison.
Steve clipped his cell back on his belt. “I’m officially on standby. So much for the Director giving me some slack.”
Celine’s face fell. “I’m done,” she said, and disappeared into the kitchen, carrying her plate.
“Storm’s a brewing,” Paul said, not making eye contact with anyone.
Steve groaned.
The doors busted open. Celine stormed in carrying a tray. Evidently, everyone was done eating.
Larry and Charlene ate faster.
“Figures, you’re leaving,” Celine screeched. “You probably have a second family.”
The storm hit and rolled right over Steve. His face turned beet red and his hands fisted. “Why would I?” He scooted his chair back and straightened. “I can’t take any more nagging than what you give me. I’m out of here. Larry, I’ll check the cameras in the area after I stop by the police station. Touch base later.”
Celine slumped into her chair.
“Why do you give him so much shit?” Paul asked her.
Celine stared at her hands, her expression switching from pissed to confounded. “I don’t know.”
“Better figure out what you want or you might as well say adios.” Paul ate the last bite of the food on his plate and straightened. “Gotta go.” He kissed the top of Celine’s head. “Ease off. Steve has a tough job.” He pecked Pamela on the cheek, ditto Charlene, and then stopped in front of Marge. “As always, your cooking is out of this world. Thank you.” He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. “Night, everyone,” he waved. “Congratulations, Pamela and Jake.”
“Thanks,” Jake said.
Pamela smiled.
Charlene turned toward Larry as he read an incoming text message. “Promise me, we never behaved that way.”
Maintaining a relationship took time and energy. The continuous arguing made no sense. For the life of him, Larry couldn’t understand why Steve dated Celine when she stayed pissed. Larry twisted, so his knees straddled Charlene’s chair, and he grabbed her hands. “I promise, but I need you to swear that you won’t get mad at me when I have to go to work at a moment’s notice.”
Celine made an odd sounding noise.
Charlene gazed between his eyes. He could see the wheels working as she considered their possible dilemma. She didn’t want their relationship to end up like Steve’s and Celine’s any more than he did. “I swear.”
“I have something I need to take care of,” Larry said, and kissed Charlene on the lips. “I won’t be long.”
“Okay.”
The quicker he took care of this little detail, the faster he could get home to Charlene. Larry untangled himself and eyed Jake. “You coming?”
Jake arched a brow. “You bet.”
Chapter Seventeen
Knowing her mother’s concern about the shooting at The Memory Café and wanting to cuddle with Henry, Charlene drove to her mother’s house.
“Hey, sweetie,” Charlene said, walking into the kitchen. Off to the right, the light from the TV shined on her sleepy-eyed son.
“Mommy!” He rushed over, eager and excited as if he hadn’t been almost asleep, and grabbed her hand. “We popped popcorn.”
Charlene closed her eyes, cherished hearing her son’s excited voice, and shoved back the emotions that wanted to erupt. This evening had been much harder on her than she’d realized. And when Jackson insisted he’d follow her home, she dug her feet in. If the Black Scorpions were in town, they wouldn’t use their man-power to go after her. She’d done everything they wanted. Her concern stayed with Pamela. In the end, Jackson and Quigley escorted an uptight Pamela home.
Henry squeezed her hand, snapping her out of her musings, and dragged her into the family room.
Doris rose from the armchair, closed the distance between them, and held Charlene so tight she didn’t think her mom would ever let go. “I’m so thankful you’re okay,” Doris whispered, a sob choking her words.
/> Exchanging kisses on each other’s cheek, Charlene said, “I love you, too, Mom,” and sat beside Henry on the couch.
He grabbed a bowl of popcorn, put it in between them, and started munching. His eyes were glued to the animated figures flashing on the screen.
Charlene draped an arm around his shoulder and dug into the popcorn. They watched the movie, which ended way past Henry’s bedtime, and she glanced down at him sleeping next to her on the couch. His head rested against the crook of her arm and he held the stuffed bear Andrew had given him against his chest.
At the moment, she wished a miracle could bring back the man she’d married, and get rid of the maniac he’d become. Not because she wanted anything to do with him, but because Henry deserved to have his father, to know the man he once was.
A loud snore, comparable to a chain saw, jarred Charlene to look at her mother. Her mother’s head rested against the back of the cushioned chair and her mouth hung open, snoring.
Some things would never change. Thank goodness.
Charlene eased away from Henry, scooped him up in her arms, and carried him to the room her mother designated as his. Spiderman didn’t cover the walls and bedspread here––Batman did. Last year’s obsession.
She pulled the cover up to his neck and gave him a kiss. “I love you, sweetie.”
“Love you, Mommy. See you tomorrow.” Henry rolled over to his side, his even breathing hardly interrupted.
Charlene made her way back to the family room and kissed her mother’s head. “Bye, Mom.”
Doris opened an eye and grinned. “I’ll bring Henry home in the morning. Have fun, dear.”
****
An hour later, Charlene sat at her kitchen table, sipped some wine, and gazed down at the black, silk teddy she wore. The last time she and Larry were together, she hadn’t gotten a chance to wear the sexy lingerie. She hoped they’d make good use of it tonight, if he ever showed up.
Celine’s dating reservations became clear. Seeing an FBI agent was difficult, their schedule unpredictable. But the way Charlene saw a relationship was simple: if you loved someone, then you’d do whatever was necessary to keep the relationship going.
She smiled. Had she fallen for him? Earlier, she told him she thought she was falling in love with him. Now, she realize there was no thinking, she had. Ever since she met him, her body hummed with need. The last few days, the sensation had deepened, a fact she didn’t know how to manage.
A motor sounded in her driveway. She rushed to the door, opened it, and ran into the crisp, cool, night air, not giving any consideration to neighbors seeing her, or if by chance someone else stopped by.
The chuckle that greeted her warmed her heart.
“You are a sight, babe.” Larry moved closer until the motion detector light affixed to the corner of her house shined on him. A grin brightened his face.
She ran and jumped into his arms.
He gripped her butt, held her against him, and planted a kiss on her lips. A low masculine moan followed, vibrating his chest and tickling her breasts.
“I’m assuming we’re alone,” he asked, against her lips.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry it took me so long. I had to follow up on the camera images. Steve had hoped one store in particular had the images we needed to confirm the identity of the drivers.”
“Is he the one who texted you?”
Larry nodded. “The quality of the film wasn’t good enough to enhance the pictures.”
“So—”
He swallowed her next words in a hot, needy kiss, mimicking the act they craved.
Heat rushed through her body, sending a buzz to her core, a need that demanded attention.
“Let’s get inside before someone sees us and gets jealous.”
Giggling, she rested her head against the hard plains of his chest and thrilled in the stacked muscles in his biceps and shoulders bunching to hold her against him.
He crossed the threshold and kicked the door shut with his foot. “Where to?”
“Bedroom,” she breathed and trailed kisses over his neck.
He climbed a few steps and stopped. “I need to get something from the GTO first.”
She hadn’t noticed the car. “You have a GTO?”
“I do. Does it turn you on?” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Eh…The owner does.”
“I’ll be right back.” He kissed her lips and lowered her.
She intertwined her fingers behind his neck, not letting him release her. “No need. I have a condom.”
Lines formed on his forehead. “Just one?”
“A box.”
“You’re my type of woman.” He moved up a couple more steps and groaned, his expression turning serious. “Do you mind if we talk first? I should tell you a few things.”
His words pinged around in her mind for a moment. “Okay, but just say no to sprinkling bad mojo on what we have between us.”
Lines etched his face and the corners of his mouth and his honeyed eyes filled with worry.
She slid down his delicious body until her feet touched the step. A numbing-tingling awareness ran rampant through her body, even stinging the tips of her fingers. “Okay,” she said, trying to control her shaky voice. Just a moment ago she couldn’t wait to see him, but now his visit worried her. “Do you want a glass of wine?”
“Does it taste like the peach on your lips?”
She placed a couple fingers on her mouth. “Yeah.”
“Okay, but later, I want to sample the wine from other parts of your body.”
Goose bumps pricked her skin and she flushed. “I have a case of wine.”
He chuckled, tucked her to him, and caressed her arm. “Like I said, you’re my type of woman.”
His light-heartedness gave her hope whatever he had to say wouldn’t be a deal breaker.
They walked into the kitchen. Charlene moved away from his embrace to reach for a sweater, hanging on the hook by the door.
“Are you cold?”
She sensed his appreciative gaze and peeked behind her. “No.”
“Then, do you have to wear the sweater?”
She thought it’d be awkward wearing a barely-there nightie while he talked. “No.” She dropped her hand. “I don’t.”
“Good.” He closed the distance between them and grasped her waist. The silk glided over her skin, caressing her. “I’ll hurry, but first…” He bent, put his mouth on the base of her throat, and nibbled.
She closed her eyes and leaned her head back in response to the pleasure. Her nipples went tight and liquid heat shot to her core. “Larry,” she breathed, grasping his shoulders and locking her knees to prevent from falling. “We won’t have a conversation if you keep this up.”
He eased back and blew out a breath, heat blazing in his eyes. “You’re right.”
Standing practically naked in front of him, while erotic and thrilling, put her on an uneven playing field. “I have one condition, though.”
His mouth curved. “Let’s have it.”
“I’m at an unfair disadvantage.” She slid a finger down his cheek, tapped his chin, and moved lower to his chest. “You can see most of me, but I can hardly see any of you.”
His low chuckle sent another shot of liquid heat low in her belly.
“You want me to strip?”
“I do.” She grinned.
He slid one shoulder out of his shirt at a time, and tossed his shirt onto a chair. His movements, the heat in his eyes, made it one of the most erotic acts she’d ever seen.
Her eyes traced over every dip and ridge in his abdomen, his chest, before landing on the bruise from where the bullet hit his bulletproof vest. An ache pinched her heart. If he hadn’t been wearing the vest…she shook her head, dismissing the thought. She couldn’t go there. “I can’t believe what went down in the café.”
“I know.” He sat down in the chair next to hers and shifted until he held the outside of her thighs and his knees s
traddled hers. “This shooting wasn’t as bad as the last. Jackson phoned that none of the bullets hit the building. Last time, the McDowell Brothers had to repair the damage.”
He gripped the wine bottle. “Want a glass?”
On her nod, he filled a goblet and handed it to her, then poured his. “To us,” he said, lifting his glass.
“To us,” she repeated, wondering for the hundredth time what he was about to say.
The intensity in his eyes lessened. The heat in them turned down to a lower simmer, as his expression turned serious. She wasn’t ready to stop their fun banter. “You’re not done disrobing.”
A mischievous sparkle gleamed in his eyes. “I’m not?”
“No. You see, I’m wearing a see-through thong under this nightie. This again puts me at an unfair advantage.”
His honey-colored eyes crinkled at the corner as his gaze slid over her body, devouring every inch of her, and his face reddened. “I noticed. And as you’ll see, I appreciate the outfit.”
She flushed. “Then you better hurry, so we can get to it.”
He choked on a sip of wine. “Damn, woman. You’re killing me. You’re full of surprises.” He untied his boots, toed them off, and removed his socks before standing. Undoing his belt, he stopped. “Should I dance to?”
“Okay.” She giggled.
“Ha. If only I had some rhythm. You should know I can’t dance.” He dropped his jeans. Black material puffed up as if a pole lifted it. Her mouth watered and the nerves between her legs jumped with joy.
“Should I remove my briefs?”
Yes, please. “If you do, we won’t talk.”
His eyes went wide and excited. “No?”
“No. I would be in your lap in a flash.”
“I’m game,” he said, then cupped a breast and tweaked her nipple.
She grasped his hand, holding him to her, and swallowed harshly. Stimulation made it hard to breathe, to think, but he had something to tell her. “I want, but later.”
“Deal.” She sat.
He rested in the chair beside her and straddled her knees. The tip of his penis broke free of its confines. “This will be hard.”
