by Evie Monroe
I saw the back of Cullen’s head in the middle of the theater when I came to the open double doors, his feet up on the seat back in front of him. I couldn’t place the movie on the screen that had his rapt attention. Some gangster flick, like one of the Godfathers.
“Hey,” I said, climbing down the stairs and slipping into the row next to him. He was chewing noisily on what smelled like chewing tobacco.
He grabbed a remote and shut the movie off. “What’s up?” he said, checking his phone. “It’s late, dude. Didn’t expect company. You want a . . .”
He looked around and threw up his hands.
“Fuck. I just finished the last beer. Sorry I don’t have anything to offer you.” He pulled out a packet of Nicotine gum. “You probably don’t want this shit. I promised Grace I’d quit smoking for Ella. But I swear this is a fate worse than death.”
I shook my head. I had more pressing things on my mind than filling my stomach. “I’m good.”
“Everything okay?”
“You know, I have no idea. I’ve been thinking about the kid.”
“The kid,” he repeated, his eyes narrowing. “You mean Joel? Don’t tell me he’s turning on us.”
“No. The opposite. He’s loyal to us.”
“That sounds good. So what’s the problem?”
“What do you think is the problem? The Fury. They’ll fuck him up if he turns on them.”
Cullen punched out another piece of gum and stuck it in his mouth, crunching on it. “You think he wants to be one of us?”
“Yeah. That’s what he said.”
“You really think he’s Cobras material?”
I wasn’t sure about that. I thought that maybe he could be, if he didn’t have Charlie helicoptering over him. But the thing was, having Charlie looking out for him wasn’t a bad thing. She cared. Which meant he had a lot more than most of us Cobras had. A lot of us got into the club because we had no one else to count on.
I sure as hell did.
I rubbed the back of my neck and said, “That, I don’t know. But I know he wants out of the Fury, and we’re going to need to protect him and his sister from them once he makes that move.”
“That’s for sure. That, we can do. But . . . what about this sister of his?”
“Charlie. She’s older. They’ve been on their own for a long time, so she’s been looking out for him since they were kids. She’s cool.”
He raised an eyebrow. “So cool that you’re fucking her?”
I shrugged. “I guess you could say we’ve been seeing each other.”
“All right, all right,” he said with a knowing laugh. “As long as your head’s in the game, it’s not a problem. I just don’t want this kid fucking us over because you’ve been blinded by pussy.”
“No. It’s not like that. I can tell the kid doesn’t want any part of the Fury. The closer he got, the more he wanted to get away. And when I asked him about it, he told me he wanted out, and wants in with us.”
“All right. All right.” He rubbed his jaw, thinking. “Probably can’t make that happen right away. It’s too dangerous.”
“Yeah. I propose we have the two of them lay low for now, and when the Fury move on, then he can join us. Kind of like what Zain did.”
Cullen nodded. “Well, if the Fury’s as much of a shit show as your boy seems to think, we shouldn’t have much trouble taking them out and making it safe for your two friends to show their faces again.”
“Sounds good.”
“Then we’ll have church tomorrow and put it to a vote what we want to do with him and see how soon we can make it happen. This girl of yours . . .”
“Charlie.”
“Yeah. Charlie. Is she good with going into hiding under our protection for a little while? She’s not going to put up a fight?”
“No. She knows what she’s up against.”
“Good. All right. I’ll text everyone about church tomorrow.”
He stood up, and I shook his hand. “Thanks, man.”
As I was heading out, Grace came down the stairs with a sleeping Ella on her shoulder. “Have a good night,” she whispered to me. I wished her one as well, and she closed the door behind me.
On my way back to my bike my phone started to buzz. “That’s strange,” I muttered. Why was Joel calling this late? From what I’d seen in the parking lot, he should have been at home with Charlie. “Hey,” I said when I answered. “Everything okay?”
“Not really. The Fury just called me in,” he said.
I realized I hadn’t been looking too closely at his messages lately. In fact, I hadn’t looked at his phone once all day. The result of his hot, fucking sister. If Cullen had known, he’d probably have reamed my ass, knowing I was supposed to be the one keeping tabs on him. I trusted Joel, but I’d been fucked by people I trusted before.
I’d have to do better.
What the fuck were the Fury motherfuckers doing to this kid? They’d just had him on a string, earlier in the day. They were definitely mind-fucking him, the assholes. It was a wonder anyone wanted to wear their patch.
“All right. Just go with the flow, man. Act natural, and nothing bad will happen, okay?”
It was more than I could do. I didn’t think I could have put myself in a room with those dickwads, knowing what total fuckheads they were, and not want to punch every last one of them in the throat.
“Yeah,” he said, but his voice sounded weak, like his resolve was crumbling. “I was wondering . . . my sister was freaking out when I left her. Could you go and . . .?”
“Sure,” I said. I’d decided to go over there, anyway, the moment he said the Fury had called him in again. “Don’t worry about her. Leave her to me.”
“Thanks. I’m just worried about her being home. Alone.”
“Tell you what, I’ll pick her up and bring her back to my place. No one will think to fuck with her there. All right?”
“Yeah. Okay. That’s good. Thanks, Hart.”
“No problem. Just text me when you can. And be careful.”
I ended the call and revved my bike, gunning it toward Charlie’s apartment. It was nearly midnight. I thought she might be asleep, but when I got there, I spotted a light in the window. When I climbed the stairs, someone’s shadow move behind the blinds.
I used my manners and knocked softly on the door so I wouldn’t disturb the neighbors.
The sound of barking erupted from inside.
She answered a split second later. “You ought to be careful who you open the door for,” I said jokingly. Or maybe not.
She fisted one hand on her hip and pointed at the peephole with the other. “Why are you here?”
I stepped back, in part from the shot of her cold greeting and in part to take her in. Since our crazy hot minute in the park, she had changed into boxers and a camisole so sheer I could see her nipples through the fabric. A big, shapeless cardigan and big socks. She’d piled her hair on her head casual like so strands fell around her neck, and she rocked ridiculous horn-rimmed glasses I’d never seen before, kind of like Harry Potter. She looked like a nerd. A fucking hot wet dream of a nerd.
“You’re coming with me.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Why?”
“Because Joel called me and told me where he was headed and asked me to take care of you.”
She smirked. “You think I need you to take care of me?”
I smirked back. “I think you’d rather I take care of you, than you do it alone.”
She motioned me inside. “Come in before the animals get out.”
She closed the door behind me. The animals started to get riled, attacking my ankles for a chance to get petted. I leaned down and let them smell my hands, then offered a few strokes.
“I knew you didn’t hate animals,” she said with a note of triumph in her voice.
I straightened, ignoring the fluffy little thing leaning into me, wanting more of my attention. “Hate’s a strong word. But I don’t like them, ei
ther.”
She closed the door and crossed her arms over her chest. “Where are we going?”
“My place.”
“On your death trap?”
I nodded. “You can have my helmet. It’s only a short drive.”
The sly, teasing smirk disappeared and a wrinkle appeared on her forehead. “But what about Jojo? What if he comes back?”
“I told him to text me and let me know what’s up.”
She looked around. “Let me change and get some things first.”
I took her hand. “You’re fine like that. I like the getup.”
She looked down at herself, and her glasses slipped from the bridge of her nose. Going to push them back up, she realized she was wearing them and quickly yanked them off.
“I didn’t know you wore glasses.”
“Reading glasses,” she said, motioning to the massive open book tented on the coffee table. The Stand by Stephen King. “I couldn’t sleep. I never can when Jojo’s out.”
I lifted the book. “You ever read this before?”
She shook her head.
“It’s one of his best,” I told her, setting it down.
“I didn’t realize you were a reader.”
I shrugged. “I’m more into non-fiction.”
She took the book from my hands and said, “One minute. Let me just pack some things for tomorrow, okay?”
She put the book back on the table and I waved her goodbye. As she headed for her bedroom, I walked around the living room with a parade of animals at my feet, really getting a chance to take in my surroundings, the shabby furniture, mostly second-hand thrift store shit. Like the coffee table made out of a slab of wood, standing on two milk crates.
But out of everything in the cramped living room, the photographs grabbed my attention more than anything else. She had dozens of them on the walls, all from different times of her life, but the one similarity? They all contained just her and Joel. Never anyone else. Even the pictures of her as a young girl, probably no more than twelve or thirteen years old. Like she was making a statement: the two of them against the world.
She’d said as much. She hadn’t given me details about herself, but she’d said that Joel hadn’t had the easiest life, and she’d been watching over him since she was young.
A second later, as I was looking at a picture of the two of them in front of the roller coaster in Santa Cruz, I saw her face reflected in the glass, behind me. “That was a long time ago,” she said softly.
“You look happy.”
She gnawed on her lip. “I was. The only problem is that happiness doesn’t last.”
“It’s not something that just happens,” I said, surprising myself at the words of wisdom coming out of my mouth. “It’s something you make. Something you choose.”
She let me know her opinion with the scoffing sound that flew out of her mouth. “Yeah. Right. Tell it to that girl right there. Last real smile I remember. Fifteen years old and about to be raped by her foster father every night for a month.”
I just stared at her. Well, now the mystery surrounding my sweet, hot Charlie had been blown wide open. “Jesus,” I breathed.
As if she hadn’t said anything, she leaned down and picked up one of her mutts, stroking it on its fuzzy black head. “Bye Bert. Bye Ernie. Opie. Mags.”
She blew them all kisses, slung a backpack over her shoulder, and strode to the door.
I hadn’t moved.
She looked back expectantly at me; her face was devoid of any emotion. “Don’t tell Jojo. He doesn’t know.”
So she was keeping things from her brother, while trying to raise him right. “What else doesn’t he know?”
She didn’t answer. She just stared at me, like, Can we go now?
I followed her out to my bike, slipped the helmet on her, and adjusted it so it didn’t fall over her eyes. The strap was loose, but it’d do for the ride. I didn’t live more than a mile away. “Climb on,” I said, still not sure what to say about her revelation. “And just hold onto me tight.”
She did, wrapping her arms tightly around my waist as I gunned the motor and we took off toward my place. I felt her thighs squeezing me, her tits pressed up against my back, her face buried in my shoulder blades. “You okay?” I asked over my shoulder as we pulled up to a red light.
“Yes,” came the soft reply.
“You can relax a little, baby. Any tighter and I won’t be able to breathe.”
“Oh. Sorry.” She loosened her grip on me and we made it the rest of the way without any more of her death grips.
“Here we are,” I said when I pulled into a parking space.
She looked up. I think she may have had her eyes closed. “Oh, thank God. That was . . . frightening beyond all belief.”
I couldn’t help laughing. I got the feeling she’d been through some very heavy shit, if that story about her foster family and the way she protected her brother had been any indication. For her to be scared on a bike? She was one funny girl.
When I opened the door to my apartment, she went inside and her eyes immediately fell on the robotic arm on the coffee table. I hadn’t done any work on it in a week.
“Nice conversation piece,” she observed, walking to my desk where I kept all of my computers and parts. She didn’t say anything, but then she walked to the bookcase and started reading some of the titles there. “Oh, my God.”
I had my hands in the pockets of my jeans, just watching her. “What?”
“You’re a nerd?”
I grinned and hitched a shoulder.
She turned and looked at me, wide-eyed. “Oh, my God, Hart. Do you actually like to tinker and build computers and code and shit?”
I grinned over the flush of pleasure at her interest in what I did. “What can I say? You discovered my secret.”
She shook her head, clearly amused, then made the motion of zipping her lips and throwing away the key. “I won’t tell a soul. Would probably damage your rep with the ladies, you know?”
“Yeah? Well, there’s only one lady whose opinion I care about right now.”
“Oh?” She slipped her cardigan off and threw it on the sofa. Then she slowly came toward me, looking so hot and sexy with her nipples pressing right through her camisole that I was hard by the time she got close.
She wrapped her arms around me, lacing them around my neck. I inhaled the scent of apples as she stood on her tiptoes and whispered in my ear, “You want to know my opinion?”
I looked hungrily into her eyes and waited for the answer.
“My opinion is that you should take me to your bedroom. Right now.”
I wasted no time in scooping her up and carrying her down the hall.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Charlotte
Hart gently set me down on his bed and peeled off his t-shirt. I sat up on my elbows while he stared at me.
“What? Don’t tell me you’re at a loss for what to do?” I teased him.
He moved forward, spanning the distance in a heartbeat. At first I thought he was going to crush his mouth onto mine and fuck me hard and fast, the way he’d done before. But when he was at the edge of the bed, he slowly lifted one of my legs and peeled off my big, woolen sock. Eyes never leaving mine, he teased my ankle with a kiss.
Then, he slowly peeled off the other sock, his breath coming hard and raspy.
He tossed them to the side and kissed my other ankle. Kissed my toes. Licked his way down the arch of my foot while his hand trailed down my calves, to my thigh.
“Anyone every tell you that you have phenomenal . . .”
He paused then, his tongue flicking its way up my leg. “Phenomenal . . . what?” I asked.
“Everything,” he said, reaching down and grabbing the hem of my boxer shorts. He pulled them off, and because I wasn’t wearing any panties, he left me bare. He gazed at me as if he’d never seen a naked woman before. “All of you. It’s perfect.”
I smiled and fell back off my elbows,
basking in the compliment. I’d had many men call me things. Whore. Worthless. Trash. But this was the first time anyone had called me perfect.
I couldn’t say I believed it. Not yet. Still, the way he looked at me, so intensely, he could’ve had me believing anything.
My whole body tingled as he crouched at the side of the bed, held me by my ankles and dragged me forward. “Is this okay?”
“Oh yes,” I purred.
“Tell me what you want. Always tell me.”
My voice came out as a croak. “You. Anything you want to do.”
He pressed a finger against my lips. “No, sweetheart. I want to do what you want me to do. What makes you feel good.”
I almost laughed. Everything he did made me feel good.
But then I realized that he was doing this because of my confession to him. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him. It was a leap of faith, even just to make that admission. I’d never told anyone before, because there were some men out there—and I’d met them—who wouldn’t have cared. Who would’ve treated me like the whore they all said I was.
Not Hart. He crouched between my legs; his jeans tented with his hard cock. Waiting for me to tell him how to please me.
I fell a little bit in love with him at that moment.
“Um. Kiss me.”
He lifted his mouth to mine and brushed his lips against them, just a soft, dry kiss, but it made my nipples pucker and my body quiver with need. When he pulled away, his eyes dropped down to my bare pussy, and he planted his hands, one on each thigh.
“Touch me.”
“Sure.” He dipped his tongue into my mouth, and as he did, he gently touched my clit, rubbing in soft, slow circles. His other hand cupped my face, thumb rubbing my throat, up to my chin. His mouth trailed to my earlobe, sucking on it, as his thumb swept across my lip, into my mouth. I tongued it eagerly, sucked it for all I was worth, losing all sense of myself.
Maybe he could see that I didn’t believe him, because he buried his face in my neck. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathed into my ear.
I didn’t react. I guess I didn’t know how.
Then he covered my throat with his big hand and tilted my face so that I had no choice but to look into his eyes. “You understand?”
