The sun was hot on her skin, the air fresh with the scent of a nearby waterfall as she took the last sip of her wine and Lincoln took the glass away.
“This is beautiful,” she said with a shy smile.
“Nowhere near as beautiful as you,” he said as he pushed away the picnic basket and reached out to cup her cheek. “You outshine the sun’s rays, even on the brightest day.”
She giggled, kissing the palm of his hand and biting her lip.
“That’s the cheesiest thing anyone’s ever said to me, but also the sweetest.”
“I’ll take cheesy over being a chump any day.”
She laughed again. He leaned forward and captured her mouth with his, cutting off her laughter. She moaned, wrapping her arms around him and sliding into his lap.
“I’ve been waiting all week to hold you,” he said, kissing her again.
When she finally pulled away, she was out of breath, sitting astride him, her long, flowing skirt fluttering around them in the gentle breeze.
“I want you,” she said as she pulled at the zipper of his jeans, revealing his hard length.
She took him in both hands, stroking his cock while her own heat grew. He was watching her, his hands sliding up her legs and cupping her ass beneath the fabric of her long skirt.
He arched an eyebrow at her, a smile tugging at his lips.
“No panties,” he said, his voice low and raspy with need.
“I didn’t think I needed them.”
“You’re right.”
He pulled her close with a primal growl, lowering her onto his lap and sliding into her. She gasped, head falling back as she laughed deep in her throat.
“It feels so good to be inside you.”
He was smiling at her, eyes raking over every inch of her body. Her skin burned with need everywhere his gaze landed, and it was all she could do to remind herself that they were in the open, and someone could catch them at any time.
Somehow, that made what they were doing even more exciting.
She bit her lip, grabbing him by the shoulders to leverage herself as she rode him hard right there in the open field, and for a blissful moment, forgot everything that had been hanging over her head. Charity bore down, chasing her orgasm with fast, rhythmic thrusts until her heartbeat suddenly increased and the flood of delicious heat ripped through her.
Wrapping herself around him, she gave into the feeling and called out. His name echoed off the trees and the boulders that surrounded the meadow.
When he sucked in a quick breath and began to tremble beneath her, she knew he had found his own pleasure. His heat spilled into her, then he fell back, gathering her into his arms and gasping for air.
She was still quivering when she pushed up onto her elbow and looked down at his handsome face. Using one finger, she stroked the outlines of each feature one at a time, marveling at how they came together so nicely. Lincoln was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen.
He mumbled something and kissed her, ripping her from her musings.
“What?” she asked.
“You need to wake up,” he repeated.
She furrowed her brow, looking around them as the scene dripped away.
“The phone is ringing,” he said, but when she looked back at him, he was gone.
She sat up quickly, looking around the room in confusion, the rapidly fading afternoon sun nowhere near as bright as the sunlight in her dreams.
“Get it together, Char,” she grumbled. “It was just a dream.”
Rolling over in her bed, she grabbed her cellphone.
She got to it just in time, smiling triumphantly when she saw Shanice’s name come up on her caller ID.
“How was New York?” she asked, foregoing pleasantries.
“It was great. I was worried about you, though. I haven’t heard from you in a while. You sound sleepy, are you sick?”
“No, just tired,” she admitted. “I took a nap and I guess I overslept.”
“A nap?” Shanice exclaimed. “That sounds like heaven right now, but that’s not like you. Is everything alright?”
“I’ve been busy,” she said. “The business is taking off again, and I have more work than I can keep up with.”
She could hear her best friend’s smile through the phone.
“That’s wonderful news,” she gushed. “I told you things would start picking up.”
Shanice paused for a moment, and Charity could hear the weight of what she was going to ask next. She braced herself, already used to the direction the conversation was about to take.
“You haven’t seen him, right?” Shanice asked.
“I broke up with him for good this time,” she said.
Shanice breathed a sigh of relief.
“I can’t believe you’re finally done with that loser, and looks like you left him just in time.”
“Just in time?”
“Haven’t you heard?” Shanice asked, her excitement sending Charity’s anxiety into overdrive. “No one has seen or heard from him in two weeks. His parents are all over the news, begging him to call home. They’re on there now.”
Charity hurried into the living room and grabbed the remote with shaking hands, flipping the television on and sitting down hard in the living room chair.
“Crazy, right?” Shanice said as the news played in stereo over the phone. “They said his car is missing and a couple suitcases, but they’re sure that something happened to him. He left without letting anyone know where he would be.”
“Did they try to track him by his car?” Charity asked, wondering about his vehicle, which was probably still sitting in the remote parking lot he’d left it in.
“The GPS unit is disabled,” Shanice said in an excited whisper. “Something else that makes them think there was some kind of foul play. Apparently, his dad had some kind of anti-theft tracker on it and the signal is just gone.”
Charity watched George’s father on the screen as he went over all the information that he had, her stomach twisting with each word. Shanice went silent on the other end as they both listened intently to the assistant district attorney’s steady voice while Mrs. Wittman stood beside her husband with silent tears running down her perfect face. They were watching the same press conference, and the strange, split-second delay threw Charity off balance. The entire thing felt so surreal, but she had known this moment was going to come, no matter what Lincoln said.
“According to the logs, the GPS on our son’s vehicle was disabled while it was parked at his house on the morning of September second. His cellphone is off and goes straight to voicemail, and he left his breakfast dishes in the sink. It’s not like George to go this long without contacting us, and we believe that he is in trouble.” Mr. Wittman looked into the camera, unflinching as he implored everyone who was watching. “If you think you’ve seen our son, please call the number on the screen. I’m offering a reward for information leading to his safe return. And if you have my son, release him, no questions asked.”
The sheriff was standing next to Mr. Wittman, the shocked look that passed over him quickly reined in. Charity was trembling, so engrossed in what was on the screen in front of her that she almost forgot Shanice was on the other end.
“I’m so glad you got away from that monster when you did,” Shanice said. “It looks like karma came for him.”
“Yeah,” Charity said, not really paying attention to what Shanice was saying.
“We should celebrate. How about drinks at Foundation?”
“You want to go out to the club tonight?” she said, still feeling dazed.
“Why not? You’ve had a nap, so you should be ready to go.”
“I’m not feeling it, and I have so much work to do,” Charity said. “Rain check?”
“I guess,” Shanice said. “Don’t tell me you’re upset about this?”
“I’m not,” Charity lied. “But it feels wrong to celebrate something happening to him. What if he’s dead or something really bad happened to him?”
“Good riddance. It’s better than he deserved. Charity, he treated you like a prisoner. It’s okay to be happy that he’s gone. No one is going to trip over it.”
“His parents would.”
Shanice all but hissed through the phone.
“Screw them. They raised a monster, and there’s no way they didn’t know what kind of person he is. They ignored you when you tried to talk to them about his behavior. And you know they’ve paid people to keep their mouths shut about the stuff he’s done, Charity. Don’t pity them. They’re just as much to blame for his behavior as he is.”
“I’m just not up to it,” Charity snapped. “I have a lot to do.”
“Is there something wrong?” Shanice asked. “We’ve been best friends since we were little kids. You know you can tell me anything, right?”
“I do know that, and I’m sorry I snapped. I’m just under a lot of pressure and this thing with George isn’t helping. I thought when I left him I’d be able to put him behind me.”
“I’m sorry I called you about it. I really thought you knew. You’d have to be living under a rock not to see all this on the news.”
“To be honest, the past two weeks I’ve been slammed with work, and I’m just tired. I’ll go out with you, and we’ll tear the club up,” Charity promised. “But right now, I just need to focus on work and making money so I can enjoy the club, you know?”
“I get it, girl. You don’t have to explain it to me.”
“Thanks, Shanice,” Charity said with a heavy sigh. “Thanks for calling. I’ll talk to you soon, alright?”
“Okay,” Shanice said.
Charity quickly hung up the phone, still staring at the images on the television before she groaned and pointed the remote at the sensor. The screen went dark, and she was left there with her thoughts.
She paced the floor, her dream forgotten, agitated by what she’d learned.
“This isn’t good,” she muttered, still pacing.
Forcing herself to stop, she pulled her phone from her pocket and stared at it for a moment. She didn’t know who else to turn to, and she was scared. She held her breath as she opened Instagram and typed in Lincoln’s screen name, sending him a direct message with her phone number, urging him to call before she could think better of it.
She closed the app, the wind gushing out of her lungs so forcefully that she felt lightheaded. With the press conference and the reward, it wouldn’t be long before someone came forward, claiming to know what happened to him. Or worse yet, before someone found his car and recognized it from the press conference.
Groaning, she had just started pacing again when her phone rang. The caller ID showed a number she didn’t recognize. She answered on the second ring, breathless and terrified.
“Lincoln, thank goodness you called, I—”
“Lincoln?” a woman’s voice said from the other line. “It’s nice to know that you moved on so quickly, Charity.”
Charity’s stomach dropped.
“Mrs. Wittman,” she said.
There was silence on the other end, then the soft, sweet sound of her voice, dripping with disdain and exaggerated hurt.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you’ve gone and found yourself another man so quickly,” Mrs. Wittman began. “Our George was so smitten with you, and you never really appreciated him.”
Her words stung, and that old, familiar guilt welled up inside Charity. She pushed it away, closing herself off to the manipulation. George had clearly learned his tactics from his mother.
“I broke up with him because he was abusive,” Charity reminded the woman. “That was almost two months ago. I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to have friends now that your son isn’t running my life.”
When Mrs. Wittman inhaled quickly, Charity almost felt bad for what she’d said. But it was true, and she wasn’t going to let Mrs. Wittman blame her for George’s behavior—not anymore.
“I’m guessing that you haven’t heard by the way you’re treating me,” Mrs. Wittman sniffed. “Even though you broke my sweet George’s heart, I didn’t have you pegged as this callous.”
“You called me and chastised me for having friends,” Charity said dryly. “I didn’t realize this was a social call. Why are you calling?”
Charity’s hands were shaking, but her voice remained steady despite her fear. She wouldn’t admit to Mrs. Wittman that she had seen the press conference. It would open up too many opportunities for Charity to slip up and say something she didn’t mean to, and Mrs. Wittman was far more clever than she let on. No, denial was the only way to deal with this woman, and this call. Charity could break down afterward, but right now, she had to hold herself together.
“I gather you didn’t see the news tonight?”
“I got rid of my TV,” she lied.
“I never could figure out what he saw in you.”
Charity waited, refusing to respond to Mrs. Wittman’s baiting tactics.
When Mrs. Wittman sighed, Charity knew that she was done with whatever game she was playing.
“Charity, I’m sorry. We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. I’m sure it’s partially my fault, so I’ll go ahead and apologize.”
Charity’s mouth dropped open. She couldn’t be serious. Partially her fault? Charity thought angrily, but she held her tongue.
“It’s just that George is missing, Charity. And we were hoping that you’d heard from him.”
“We broke up months ago,” Charity said flatly.
“I heard that you dumped him, but I know he had talked about winning you back despite me advising him to walk away while he still had a shred of dignity left. He never could resist your charms.” The woman sighed again. “I should have known this would go nowhere, but maybe you could spare some compassion for a man who loved you more than he loved himself. George is missing. No one has heard from him since Labor Day Weekend, and we were hoping that you knew something.”
“I’m sorry I can’t help you,” Charity said. “And I’m sorry about what you’re going through.”
“I’m sure you are,” Mrs. Wittman said. “Well, I can’t say this conversation has been pleasant, but at least one good thing has come from it.”
“What’s that?” Charity asked before she could stop herself.
“At least we know that you did him a favor by leaving him. Hopefully, he’s just off somewhere licking his wounds until his broken heart has mended. You did a number on him. I hope you’re happy with yourself.”
The line went dead in her ear.
She sat down hard on the nearest chair, dropping her phone in her lap as she did. Her hands were shaking as she ran them through her hair as a shudder passed through her. It was only a matter of time before the Wittmans came back to her, and next time, it wouldn’t be so easy. She’d stepped easily into the role that Mrs. Wittman had created for her, playing the uncaring, hardheaded ex in order to save herself rather than letting on that she was terrified. But Charity was a horrible liar, and she had no illusions that a face to face meeting would go as easily.
She was in trouble, and there was only one person in this world who could help her.
Feeling desperate and not caring how it looked, she sent another private message to Lincoln through his Instagram, then got up quickly, rushing to the closet. Before she realized what she planned on doing, she grabbed a rolling, overnight bag and her backpack and began stuffing them both with everything she would need for a few days, then packed up her laptop and the rest of her work station. She had no idea if Lincoln was going to call her back, but she knew that she couldn’t stay in her apartment. George had tried to kill her, and Lincoln had been forced to kill George to save her life. There was no way she was going down for George’s death, and she wasn’t about to let his parents get her into an interrogation room for questioning.
She knew she’d never last against the assistant district attorney and his cronies, and she couldn’t afford a lawyer who could go up against them and win. She was trapped, and the only way out was to disappear before they could call her in. Charity didn’t care how bad it looked; George had controlled and manipulated her their entire relationship.
There was no way she was going to allow herself to become a victim again.
Her bags were packed, and she was ready to go. All that was left was to find somewhere to go. She scrolled through the flights leaving Sea-Tac that night and narrowed it down to a few choices when her phone rang again with a new number she didn’t recognize. She took a deep breath, silently praying that it would be Lincoln this time, answering it on the third ring with a simple, “Hello?”
There was silence on the other end that seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Then relief washed over her when she heard a familiar voice.
“This is Lincoln,” he said. “You said it was urgent.”
She closed her eyes against the tears that threatened, then took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. Everything was going to be alright. She had to believe that.
“I did,” she said quietly, then cleared her throat. “I need to talk to you, but not on the phone.”
“I understand,” he said. “Meet me at the Space Needle in an hour.”
He hung up before she could answer, leaving her holding the silent phone and wondering what she’d gotten herself into. Maybe calling Lincoln was a bad idea, but her only other option was to run.
Both options made her look horribly guilty.