Chapter 6

 

Charlie’s bedroom door swung open, and Xander glanced over the screen of his open laptop as a flash of white crossed the hallway for the bathroom. The knob clicked into the latch, a few seconds later, the toilet flushed and water splashed in the sink.

Good, she was up. Time to log on to her mainframe for some research and development.

He saved his search results—lame as it was—backed out of the open browsers and shut down his device. The chair legs scraped along the floor as he shoved away from the table and slipped his computer into the case.

Pain in the ass that it’d been, at least the 404 Error Loop he’d gotten stuck in had given him a fairly decent idea of what he didn’t know. A quick trip across her apartment to stash his laptop beside his duffle, and he ransacked his bag for a clean shirt.

If someone had asked him last night, he would’ve stated with a pretty high level of confidence the plates on that black SUV were government issue. But nothing had popped on the Federal system. Likewise, after a thorough comb-through of the records over at the NY DMV.

Which meant whoever had registered the vehicle, they’d buried the plate number deep enough it’d been deliberately hidden to protect their identity. He straightened and shook out the wrinkles from a heather-gray Henley. In his experience, that type of subversion took more than one or two influential connections. The kind of power that was generally reserved for either the extremely wealthy, or a covert branch of intelligence that specialized in remaining anonymous.

While finding the party responsible was going to take a little more digging than he was used to, this was Charlie. And when it came to her, he was up for any challenge, big or small.

In fact, once he saw her safely out of New York, maybe he’d even fire off an email to his contact at the Justice Department and call in a solid ya owe me. God knew, after bagging Loretta Swinehart, he was due.

Movement snagged his eye from the hallway, and Xander turned.

Simple as that, his world stopped spinning, and any semblance of logical thought disappeared quicker than if he’d held down backspace on his keyboard.

Well…shit. The past two hours, he’d done anything and everything he could think of to bottleneck the constant guessing game that had been streaming through his head. The pre-dawn hike to the corner bakery hadn’t helped. Standing in the shower and pretending not to fantasize about what Charlie might be wearing in bed had wasted more energy than if he’d decided to take up Conga dancing. Over and over while he’d made breakfast, his curiosity had simmered near the surface, until the dam had finally burst and all sorts of torturous visuals had hit him with the same intensity as being waterboarded.

But Christ Almighty. Nothing could’ve prepared him for this.

The fuzzy white robe she’d cinched around her waist was dotted with big, bright daisies, every color in the known spectrum. Hair piled in a messy heap on top of her head, she’d left a few strands loose to brush her shoulders, and the way they caught the muted light from the window made him want to cram his fingers through that heavy silk and pin her against the nearest flat surface. Grind against her and then tug open that belt so he could explore every inch of softness underneath with his tongue.

Wrapped in that downy fabric, she was familiar. Comforting and safe. And stoked his blood so hot the fires of hell were downgraded to the sizzle and pop of a kid’s 4^th of July sparkler.

He made the slow trek back up to her lips, plump and juicy from sleep. Even if he’d wanted to, he wouldn’t have been able to peel his eyes off of her. Not with her standing there as if he were some average Joe who’d just come home to find her waiting for him, tousled and warm after climbing out of bed.

“That’s right, I forgot.” She knuckled one of her eyes and his focus fell to the slouchy pink socks bunched around her ankles, the adorable way she twisted one foot to the side. “You’re a morning person, aren’t you?”

A yawn cracked her jaw, and he shook his head as she repeatedly blinked those heavy-lidded eyes that had always commanded his full attention. Made everything else in the room shrink and blur out of focus.

“Sorry. Old habits.” For as long as he could remember, his internal alarm had been set to six hours of shut-eye. Any more and waking up on the streets—or in foster care—usually brought on a world of hurt. He nodded toward his laptop, keeping their gazes locked. “I was working, but I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, no, I…” Her focus fell to his bare torso, and she tucked the sides of her robe more squarely over her chest, wrenched that damn belt a couple inches tighter. “Not your fault. I should’ve been up hours ago.”

He squinted as she nervously hooked a piece of hair behind her ear, glancing at the floor, the wall, the window. Anywhere, but at him.

What was this now? Some screwy insecurity peeking through? Why? Because he had his shirt off?

Hell, maybe he should march over there and back her against the wall. So she’d get it through her head that even in that loud, fluffy bathrobe she was full-blown sexy 10.0.

“What smells so good?” She pivoted toward the kitchen and took a halting step forward. “Have you been cooking?”

“I had some time to kill, so I made breakfast.” Shortly after their conversation last night, she’d headed for a bath and then bed, and he didn’t like the idea his crashing on her couch had made her skip dinner.

They’d already missed enough meals. Neither of them needed to be passing on any more.

He tossed his shirt over his head and stuffed his arms into the sleeves, tugging the snug fit down his sides. “I’m no Bobby Flay, but I can work out how to scramble a few eggs.”

A slow swivel of her head, and the frown riding her brow was reformatted by a hint of surprise. “Wow. I think you just knocked my socks off. No one’s made me breakfast since…” Her shoulders fell. “Well, you.”

Jesus, there was so much subtext hidden in that sentence, he didn’t even know where to start. So. He cocked a brow. No guy had made breakfast for her since the morning she’d left Malcolm’s, huh? “Then I guess you’re overdue.”

Sack of shit that he was, a part of him got all geeked out to learn he’d been the only guy to ever cook for her. Starting for the kitchen, he made a pit stop at the table and pulled out a chair. “Come on. Have a seat.”

And the rest of him? Damned if it wasn’t really pissed off.

The scent of her sleep-sated skin sweetened the air as she sat and he adjusted her chair. Shit, she smelled like heaven. A caramel apple he wanted to nibble and then lap up the sugary syrup until there was none left.

Unable to resist, he leaned down and brushed a whisper across her ear. “Good morning.”

She shivered against his lips and the temperature in her apartment went from comfortable to the heat of a solar flare as he pivoted for the kitchen.

In the time they’d been apart, he wasn’t dumb enough to believe Charlie had never spent the night with anyone. Unless every red-blooded male in the five boroughs had lost the use of their five senses, it was pretty much a given she’d had her fair share of hook-ups. Not that the tally on her scorecard mattered to him, and since the two of them comparing a list of sexual partners held about as much appeal as giving a wet willy to a light socket, he wasn’t about to ask.

He poured her a cup of mint tea and carried it to the table with a pile of frosted cinnamon scones.

“Aw crap, you found my kryptonite.” She dug in before he’d left the table, snatching one off the plate. “I can’t resist.” A few crumbs stuck to the corner of her mouth, and sweat popped along his hairline as she used the tip of her finger to push them back inside that tempting spot with the rest. “Sorry. These are my favorite.”

Sorry? And why would she have to resist? He’d been hoping he’d remembered right, counting on the fact she still loved them as much as she had as a kid.

A grunt left his chest, and he strolled back to the kitchen.

As her friend, he’d always wanted the best for her. From the second she’d found him holed up in that Chicago subway maintenance building, he knew Charlie’s giving nature made her worthy of every happiness.

But that’s exactly where the signal went haywire in his head.

Using a mismatched set of oven mitts, he pulled two plates of scrambled eggs from the oven and eased the door shut with his foot. To hear none of the dickheads she’d been with could be bothered to Google how to scramble a fucking egg was bullshit. It was the mornings after that counted. Or, at least, he assumed as much since he’d never stuck around long enough to find out.

Hell, maybe she hadn’t either.

And, yep. He was right back to the grinning dork he’d been at sixteen.

“Careful, these are hot.” He centered the plates before their chairs and walked the mitts back to the counter, grabbed the orange juice and cubed melon from the fridge and joined her at the table.

“Mmm…” She slid a forkful of eggs onto her tongue, and her moan of appreciation radiated through every cell in his body.

Christ, did she have any idea what that sound did to him? How he would’ve easily offered the passwords to his entire network to have her whimper like that underneath him, over him, hot and heavy as she chanted his name in his ear?

His knee ratcheted to a fast bounce under the table as he stared at his food. So not what he wanted to eat right now.

Another bite, and she plucked a paper napkin from the holder, pressing it to her lips. “I gotta say, this is a far cry from the soggy cereal and burned toast you made me last time.”

His stomach muscles worked a dry chuckle. “I trashed two omelets before opting for those Cheerios. Trust me. You got the better end of the deal.”

Her quiet laugh thickened the air. Made it dense. Hard to breathe. But based on the way his jeans tightened like a vise, his cock loved the sound. Flexing against his groin, the head prodding his fly like it was wide awake and ready for more.

He speared a cube of melon and crammed it into his mouth. Tasteless. Bland and mushy as a wet sponge. A shitty substitute for everything he craved, just out of reach on the opposite side of the table.

He swallowed and cleared his throat. “So, what hospital is Ellis staying in?”

“New York-Presbyterian.” Charlie broke off another hunk of her scone. “Takes about an hour to get there by bus.”

“We’re taking a cab.” Not up for discussion. There were too many people on a bus. Too many chances they might get separated. She knew that, otherwise she would’ve never agreed to let him tag along. “Both there and back, Chuck. My treat.”

She squinted, and his focus dipped to her mouth as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. His cock sat up straighter for a better peek, and he locked his molars in a hard grind.

Apparently, his grin wasn’t the only thing that thought it was still sixteen.

“Okay, before this goes any further, I gotta ask. Are you positive you want to get involved in this, Xander?” She lifted her mug and cupped it in both hands, easing back in her chair. “To tell you the truth, I’m not exactly sure what I’m dealing with yet.”

Good. She hadn’t wasted a bunch of time by trying to brush off his concerns as if they were unreasonable. Hadn’t tried steering their conversation onto another topic in some weak attempt at throwing him off track.

Whatever was going on with her, whatever she wasn’t telling him, at least she’d admitted that much. Seemed only fair he lay down the same amount of honesty in return. “Until we do, you should know I’m not going anywhere.”

She searched his face, but she could use those incredible blue eyes on him however she wanted. He wasn’t changing his mind.

“You would do that?” Sitting forward, she returned her cup to the table, trapping the steam by placing her palm on the rim. “If it turns out I can’t leave, you would stay in New York and miss the funeral?”

Damn straight, he would. He owed her that much and then some. Even though keeping her safe was about more than reconciling his guilt or the way it had stopped him from searching her out years ago.

During the next twenty-four hours, he had a lot of work to do if he planned on clearing up any confusion about why he was here. To figure out where she stood as a result and decide if telling her what he’d done would cause more harm than good. “Heartless as this may sound, Malcolm and Viv are already dead. They don’t need my help. You do.”

Pursing her lips, she tapped her nail against the side of her cup. “All right then, tell you what. How about we treat this like any other job. You help me and, in return, I pay for your services. Square deal, regular rate.”

Aw, hell no. He collapsed against the chair, crossing his arms. “We’re friends, Chuck.” Hadn’t they already reestablished that? “Friends don’t pay. If she’d called me two weeks ago and asked for my help, I would’ve done the exact same thing for Eden.”

Charlie sputtered. “Eden? Miss even-Steven, cause and effect, everything must remain equal at all times or planets will collide, Eden?” She waved off his comment. “I’m not sure she’s the best example to plead your case. She would’ve found a way to pay you back and we both know it.”

Dammit. His knee resumed its silverware-rattling bounce.

One of the things he’d always appreciated about Charlie was her street smarts. The way she could wield common sense as if it were a cocked and loaded semi-automatic.

Appeared as if it was time he reassess that whole deal.

Her bangs shimmered in the light as she shook them out of her eyes. “Look, all I’m saying is what you’re suggesting goes beyond the limits of normal friendship. Getting me to the hospital and back is one thing. The two of us shacking up until we figure out who’s gunning for me is another.” She opened her palm over the table. “That could take months, for all we know. I can’t expect you to put your life on hold for that long without some sort of compensation. In fact, it would make me uncomfortable if you did.”

Months, huh? The two of them shacking up for months?

Whether here or in Chicago, that didn’t sound like any big hardship. “Are you offering me terms, Chuck?”

Then again, coming to some sort of agreement would definitely take care of the guesswork. Define things in a way that would make her comfortable with him hanging around.

Raising her mug for another sip, she fluttered her lashes by way of a response. But if she thought a bunch of stupid ground rules were gonna stop him from using every moment he got to his fullest advantage, the woman was in for the surprise of her life.

The friend zone sucked. And he’d been stuck there long enough. “Okay, I’m listening.”

“Shocking as this may sound, I don’t take orders well. I’ve been on my own a long time and I’m not about to let anyone bust in here and start telling me how to do things. If you’re serious about helping me, then I expect to have a say in everything.” She aimed her finger at the table. “And I mean everything, Xander.”

So she wanted them to be partners. Make all decisions together moving forward. Yeah, he still wasn’t getting the problem. If the call were his, they’d work as a team for the next sixty years. “Fine. Anything else?”

“Yes.” Her eyes softened at the corners, and he unlocked his arms as she lowered her cup to beside her plate. “Regardless of how this plays out, we agree that, no matter what, we’ll always be friends.”

Hands down, that was a no-brainer. Reaching across the table, he coaxed her fingers off the mug and threaded them through his. He’d been an asshole for letting her go the first time. No chance in hell he was about to repeat that mistake.

“I don’t want to lose you again. If there’s any risk of that happening, I’d rather call it quits right now.” Her grip tightened in his. “I waited ten years for you to show up at my door. It would really suck if I had to wait another ten.”

The corner of his mouth inched up in a smile. Yep. There were definitely some challenges ahead. But agreeing to her suggestion would also give him some much-needed time. An understanding they would stay together so he could figure out when and even if he should come clean. “I’m gonna do my damnedest to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

She grinned, rocking their hands side to side. “Good.”

As of this morning, he still wasn’t sure whether or not Charlie had ever considered exploring the benefits side of their friendship. If it turned out he wasn’t her type, the smarter option might be to spare her the headache altogether.

Neither of them could change the past. Those days had disappeared a long time ago. But that didn’t mean the future was outside his control.

Starting this second, he was going to do everything in his power to convince her they belonged together. And when the right moment came, he’d tell her the truth…and then beg her forgiveness for being such an all-consuming prick.

“So, how expensive are you?” Her hand slipped from his, and she reached for her tea.

Shit, they were back to this? The woman needed a new SD card. “Tell you what, Chuck. How about I charge you the same fee I earned from my last job?”

“Perfect.” She stood and grabbed a second scone off the plate. “Whatever it was, I’ll be happy to pay you in cash.” She turned from the table and he zeroed in on the tempting swing of her hips, fingers itching to yank her backward onto his lap.

Too bad the penalty would be worse than her finding out he hadn’t pocketed a single dime.

An evil chuckle pushed against his breastbone as she sauntered down the hall.

“Be ready to leave for the hospital in ten minutes, Dade. I’m getting dressed.”

Not that he’d had the first clue what to expect, but the children’s oncology ward inside the Morgan Stanley wing of New York-Presbyterian was a lot more colorful than the preconceived images that had been floating through his head.

Xander trailed a step behind the steady click of Charlie’s heels, assessing every person they passed and committing each face to memory.

Uplifting inspirational messages welcomed visitors and incoming patients. Swirls painted in bright primary colors decorated the walls. Children’s artwork hung framed around every corner and even the floor had been tiled in a geometric pattern that reminded him of a hopscotch board.

He had to hand it to the decorator. The place was a lot more…optimistic than he’d anticipated. Upbeat even, which went a long way toward conveying the staff’s commitment in caring for the kids who were unlucky enough to have a room reserved for them on the inside.

A young woman glanced up from the desk as he and Charlie rounded the nurses’ station. Her eyes snapped over for a double-take, and she smiled, scanning him from head to toe.

Green eyes. Brown hair. Small scar above her left eyebrow. Check.

Not that he was overly concerned. Xander bobbed his chin and her smile grew. Even though several shady characters had been loitering outside Charlie’s apartment building, none of them had seemed out of place. There’d been no sign of a tail on the cab ride over and they’d hit the hospital’s front door without drawing any unwarranted attention.

Still… Never hurt to play it safe.

Charlie sighed—loudly—and he peeked at her out of the corner of his eye. “What’s the problem?”

She stopped at room #432 and turned to face him, her hand on the silver lever that doubled as a knob. “You stick out like a sore thumb. Can’t you just try to be…I don’t know. Less attractive?”

Uh-huh. He cocked a brow, taking his own sweet time absorbing every delicious inch of her. The long, red cardigan that hit her mid-thigh, the relentless promise of something white and lacy that made his mouth water every time her slouchy collar slipped off one shoulder. Those tight black leggings bunched around her ankles, over a pair of stacked heels that made his cock pound in anticipation if he risked the visual of them draped down his back.

By some chance, her remark wouldn’t have anything to do with how that nurse happened to be the third one to smile at him since they’d hit the premises, would it?

Funny, how those sarcastic nips kept bringing her insecurities into sharper and sharper focus.

He strode one step forward and Charlie’s spine collided with the door. But the woman was bat-shit crazy if she thought for one second she didn’t shut down all the other ladies in the place. Hell, on the way in, her determined, sexy strut had turned the head of every Y-chromosome in a ten-mile radius.

She smacked her hand on his chest. The tips of her fingers dug into his pec. But her elbow kept right on bending until he’d brought them nose to nose. He angled his chin and her lashes fluttered. “You set a high standard, Chuck. Just doing my best to keep up.”

A derisive snort shot from her throat and their breaths mingled. The tempting sweetness of her coated his tongue.

Not a second later, she rolled her eyes and pushed backward into the room, her fresh scent gusting past his face and yanking him forward as if she led around him by a damn leash.

He stepped inside and his grin pulled an abrupt about face as everything went gray. Gray walls, gray floor, gray blankets on the bed. As if they’d left Judy’s Technicolor world in Oz and crash-landed back in the monochrome black and white of dustbowl Kansas.

Charlie sang a cheery greeting, but any optimistic impressions he’d received in the hallway careened straight toward the gray sky between the blinds, smacked the window and slid down the wall to the floor.

No wonder she’d been panicked to get here. Even the thin, bald kid propped up in the bed was gray.

Christ, life sucked sometimes. Xander scrubbed his hand across the stubble on his jaw. Cancer. And the kid was only ten years old.

A woman he would’ve guessed in her mid-forties stood from a chair in the corner, her cream blouse and button-down sweater more rumpled than straight, brown slacks ending at a pair of scuffed brown loafers.

She smiled and Charlie rushed into her open arms for a hug. “Sorry I’m late. I came as soon as I could.”

“It’s okay, hon.” She cupped the back of Charlie’s head, her olive hand dark in comparison to Charlie’s ash-blond hair. “He had a rough night, but he’ll be happy to see you.”

“This is my friend, X-ray.” They parted and Charlie opened her palm toward Xander, his tongue cramped as he struggled to come up with the right thing to say. “He was waiting outside the building when I got home last night and I haven’t been able to shake him since. X, this is Ellis’s mom, Lydia.”

“Nice to meet you.” He nodded a greeting as Lydia sized him up then down.

She glanced at Charlie and spoke from the side of her mouth. “I can see why you were late.”

His hypnotic-eyed addiction scoffed, tossing a shiny curl over her shoulder. “Don’t look at me, but you may have to clothesline about eight nurses we passed on the way in.”

Eight? Hardly. Her inner calculator had a bug.

The blankets stirred, and Ellis blinked. Yawned. His gaze landed on Charlie, and he frowned. “Where’ve you been?”

Though his voice was loaded with enough gravel to fill a dump truck, the whip-snap of his irritation sure came through loud and clear. Xander huffed. At least the kid seemed to have a good grip on his strength. No fat ladies singing here.

“I know, I know.” She clasped Ellis’ hand and gave it a small shake on the bed. “Blame that tall bully in the corner. He wouldn’t let me come alone.”

Ellis’ frown flicked from her to Xander, once then twice before the creases lining his forehead deepened to an outright scowl.

“Here.” She dug around inside her canvas bag and pulled out a stack of comic books, sat on the edge of the bed and slapped them on the bedside rolling table, easing it within reach. “Omega Men issues five through ten. The guy at the store said the set ends in a cliffhanger, and I’m thinking I just may hold the next one hostage until you decide it’s time to check outta this joint.”

The kid grunted, feathering the top few pages with this thumb. His gaze slid back to Xander, and he squinted.

Yep. Xander lowered his chin against a smile. If Ellis wasn’t sick and about twenty years older, it appeared the two of them might have a little competition on their hands.

“Here, Lydia. Take this.” Charlie offered a thick envelope toward Ellis’s mom but she hesitated, fiddling with the top button on her blouse.

“Charlie, I—”

“Just take it and go.” Charlie wagged the bundle and Xander narrowed his eyes as the tucked flap popped open to reveal a pile of cash. Somewhere in the range of three grand, from the looks of it.

He glanced at Lydia and back to the resolve on Charlie’s face. What the hell was going on here?

Ellis’s mom closed her eyes. Her shoulders deflated like a tire with a leaky valve, but she accepted the envelope, fingers trembling. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Charlie jerked her head toward the door. “Now go. I got him until you get back.”

Lydia nodded, shot a smile at Xander that came off more resigned than happy, and rushed past him into the hall.

He refocused on Charlie as the door bumped closed, but her attention stayed glued to the kid in the bed. For a woman who rented from a slum lord, she’d sure handed off that bank roll in a hurry. Add in how Lydia had hightailed it out of the room, and it was pretty damn clear whatever Charlie had paid for was important.

Shrugging his jacket down his arms, Xander settled in, bracing his shoulders against the wall. Seemed as if he’d finally been handed another piece of the puzzle, and until he saw exactly how this played out, he’d be smart to earjack as much as possible during the upcoming conversation.

“What’ve they been sticking you with?” Charlie reached up and tugged on the IV bag so the label faced her.

“Besides the chemo?” Ellis fumbled for the plastic cup on the nightstand, his hand shaking so bad, something dark and angry coiled in Xander’s gut. “Antibiotics, mostly. Painkillers that make me wicked high. I told my mom she should try to smuggle a few out in her purse. Help pay the rent.”

“Stop.” Charlie scolded him with a sidelong smirk. “I already told your mom the only place she needs to be is right here. Until you’re back on your feet, I’m covering the rent.”

Xander grunted. Not alone, she wasn’t. Not anymore.

She rotated her shoulders and the two of them locked on to him from across the room. Ellis’ frown slammed right back in place, and he glanced at Charlie. “Who is that guy, anyway? And what the hell kinda name is X-ray?”

Hot damn, maybe the kid was in his twenties. That chip on his shoulder sure came across way older than ten.

Frustration tightened the tendons in Xander’s neck, and he fisted his hands.

Or maybe, the more obvious. Ellis had grown up at hyper speed because he’d simply been given no other choice. Christ knew, if anyone understood how reality could suck the innocence out of life, slap a person across the face with a super-sized serving of shit-just-got-real, that person was Xander. And he’d learned how bad the sting could hurt way before his age added up to two hands.

“You heard that, huh?” Charlie answered Ellis with a shrewd frown. “What have I told you about faking like you’re asleep? One of these days it’s gonna get you into trouble.” Her bangs skimmed her lashes as she brushed them aside. “He’s my protection detail. I picked up a target and X-ray’s agreed to help me find out who drew it on my back.” Her lips twisted as she scanned his chest, down lower to his hips and thighs. “You should’ve seen him when we first met, Ellis. Believe it or not, X-ray was skinnier than you. Gives a guy hope, huh?” One of her brows rose. “Now he thinks he’s a superhero.”

Ha, ha. Nothing like adding a little levity to a craptastic situation but, hell. Xander was happy to back Charlie’s efforts. Even if they were at his expense.

He bumped his chin toward Ellis, poker-faced, and raked the skull cap off his head. If he’d read the kid right…

Ellis blinked and the tube on his IV slashed the air as he smacked his hand to his forehead. “Holy shit, Charlie. Please tell me it hasn’t come to this.”

Yep. The three of them shared a laugh as the door swung open. Xander had nailed it, all right. The insides of those comic books had to contain any number of weirdos with bi-colored hair.

Ellis’ mom entered, preceding a nurse, her orange scrubs dotted with Thanksgiving Day turkeys sporting black hats with yellow buckles.

The woman strode straight for Ellis’ IV and jabbed a syringe into the port.

Tears filled Lydia’s eyes as the fluid was injected, but Charlie’s smile was so heart-stopping, Xander nearly glanced at the overheads to see if someone had flicked on a second set of lights.

Damn. Not once, in the years they’d spent together, could he remember a time he’d seen her so happy. He rubbed the heel of his palm over the strange ache buffering through his chest. But there was zero doubt that joy belonged on her face. Shit, if the call were his, she’d always glow like that.

So, the money, the back-handsprings that had just waltzed into the room… Xander scratched at the thick bristle under his chin.

This was no normal round of meds.

The nurse checked Ellis’s vitals, and in the fifteen minutes it took her to jot down his temp and blood pressure, adjust the drip on his IV and ask him about his pain levels, the kid’s color got better. He seemed less green around the gills.

It was bizarre how fast the medication kicked in. Soon after, he and Charlie were trading quips, ribbing each other and laughing. Not an hour after that, an orderly showed up and Ellis scarfed down every bit of food the dude had stacked on the tray.

Satisfied he’d eaten, Lydia finally decided to take off for a well-deserved nap, heading home to shower and change and so she could check in with Mina.

And, as the afternoon passed, Xander standing on the sidelines while one-upping the conversation with a line here or there, it became crystal clear to him how special a connection Charlie and Ellis shared.

The only thing he couldn’t pin down was why. What it was about this particular kid that had made Charlie go balls to the wall? Not that he was looking to make some shitty judgment call on her motives. She’d always loved fighting for the underdog. That personality trait was only one of many that had helped her advance as far as she had in Malcolm’s competition. Ellis was smart and funny, their sharp-tongued personalities were nearly an identical match. It was no surprise she’d do everything she could to give the kid a second chance.

But she was also cautious. Conservative. Years of scrounging on the streets had taught her to use minimum resources to maximize her efforts. Considering the sketchy area she lived in, there had to be any number of tough breaks who would’ve benefitted from her help.

Xander pursed his lips, studying every move as they played cards, flipped through the comics and watched some TV. And yet she’d shown up here with three grand in cash, had agreed to take on the responsibility of paying Lydia’s rent like it was no big deal.

Why would she do that when the same money could’ve gone a long way toward helping several families instead of just one?

Sighing, he pushed up from the wall and ambled toward the window. There were still too many missing pieces for him to generate an answer, especially if he factored in Charlie’s anxiety over that expensive laptop she’d hidden inside her apartment.

Jamming his hands in his back pockets, he scanned the milling bodies four stories below. The good news was, at least now he knew what came next. How to alleviate some of the pressure so the two of them could concentrate on figuring out who was after her and, more importantly, what it was they wanted.

Hopefully, once he started her down that path, she would open up. Learn to trust him again. And if he was the luckiest son of a bitch alive, he’d eventually rack up enough bonus points, she’d aim one of those knockout smiles at him.

The door swished open, and he pivoted in time to catch Ellis’ mom entering from the hall.

Xander waited for her to get situated and then caught Charlie’s eye, tipping his head toward the darkening sky outside the window. Difficult as it was for him to tell if anyone had tracked their location this high up, their visit was running long. If he wanted to get her home before nightfall, they should go.

Goodbye hugs were exchanged, along with a promise from Charlie to come back as soon as she could. Xander offered Ellis a fist bump and, together, he and Charlie navigated the maze of corridors back to the elevators and rode to the ground floor.

The frigid air bit at his face and the tips of his fingers as they stepped outside. The halogens stationed around the hospital and street lights along Broadway did a fairly decent job of illuminating the area, but still.

Unease tugged at his gut.

Dammit. Head on a swivel, he checked every direction but came up empty. He should’ve insisted they leave a lot sooner. Charlie shivered and he accepted the cue to wrap his arm around her shoulders and plaster her to his side.

Sunday evening meant foot traffic was down to a minimum. Most of the storefronts were already dark and the rest would be closing soon. Catching a cab at this hour was going to be a headache.

“Listen, Xander, I wanted to thank you for taking me today. I’m not sure you understand how much that visit meant to me.” She slowed and pushed at his side, but he hauled her right back under his arm.

“You’re welcome.” Confusion creased her forehead as he settled his palm on her waist, checking both ways at the crosswalk and urging her across the street against the light. “I need at least one of your hands on me at all times. You got that? Do not break contact for any reason.”

“Shit.” She tensed underneath him, heels clacking as she hurried to keep up. Her gaze swept the opposite sidewalk as they approached before she stole a glance at his face. “I don’t see anyone. Where are they?”

He relaxed his arm and pace as if they were just a normal couple out for a weekend stroll. Another survey of the surrounding area, and his jaw firmed. “I’m not sure.”

Was he being paranoid? He could’ve sworn—

“Oh, for God’s sake. I think your spidey sense is malfunctioning.” She stopped and her warmth disappeared as she pivoted to face him. “I was joking about that whole superhero thing. Good grief, you’re gonna have me jumping at every…”

Her focus drifted off to his left and, a second later, she snapped her gaze to his.

Bingo. He cocked a brow. Spidey sense, his ass.

“This guy is different. Not the same one as before.”

Wait, what guy from before? He scowled. “There was someone else besides those pricks in the SUV?” Jesus H. Christ. He fisted his hands against the urge to grab her upper arms and give her a good, hard shake. When the hell was she planning to let him in on that secret?

“Yeah. No. I mean, I don’t know. He had reddish-brown hair. Dressed like a Fed.” Another peek over his shoulder, and she nailed him with her incredible two-toned eyes. “This one’s bald. Black leather trench.” She stepped close. “Put your arms around me.”

No need to ask twice.

He smoothed his hands down her back and yanked her to his hips. Wrapping one arm around her waist and then the other, he trapped her right where she belonged.

Against his chest, stomachs touching, nice and tight.

Up ahead, a black SUV pulled to a stop at the end of the block, idling at the light even though it was green. Shit. He glanced toward the hospital as a suited goon pushed through the revolving door, his light-blond hair glowing under the halogen lamps same as the full moon shone past the buildings. “They got us boxed in. Second target at three o’clock and a black SUV on your six.”

She shivered in his arms, cheeks pale. Her breasts met his chest, and he cinched his arms another degree as she fisted the collar of his leather jacket.

Searching her face, he tried to come up with any clue to what might be going through her head, but with her attention riveted on that same distant point over his shoulder, it was impossible to get a read on what she was thinking.

Lifting on her toes, she urged him down to her lips with a slight tug. “Kiss me.”

O-o-kay…? He frowned. The timing seemed sorta screwy, but he wasn’t about to take a pass. He’d waited forever to taste her. To find out if his attraction was one-sided or he stood any chance at stoking their friendship into something more.

He ate up the remaining distance to her lips.

Waited for her reaction.

But she didn’t so much as flinch and, as a result, the ensuing lip-lock held all the passion of a limp handshake.

What the hell?

Studying her past the fringe of his lashes, he held. The light bulb finally clicked on, and his shoulders gradually sank as realization slid home.

She was using the kiss as a diversion.

Whoever they were, the last time they’d shown up, she’d come home to find him waiting on her doorstep. Everyone had scattered once they’d gotten the drift he was there to see her, and by kissing him in full view, she was hoping for the same result.

And if that didn’t work, there was also the added benefit of drawing everyone else’s attention. Whether positive or negative, their call on this little PDA she’d cooked up wouldn’t matter. As long as their kiss did a decent job of getting as many folks as possible to glance in their direction.

Hell, if that’s what she wanted…

He lifted his hand and her slight gasp cooled his lips as he rammed his fingers into her hair. Exactly the way he’d wanted to so many damn times, he’d lost count. She broke away, but he clasped the side of her throat, easing his thumb around in front to angle her chin.

Uh-uh. Not a chance. Despite her intentions, he wasn’t about to let their first kiss turn into some fumbling, double-blind crack at mouth to mouth resuscitation. This was important, dammit. And whoever was watching could go screw themselves before he let the moment pass without doing everything he could to make sure kissing him was something she never forgot.

“If you’re trying to make it look like we’re a couple, you’re going about it the wrong way.” He swept her lips with his. So soft. So fucking sweet. Swept again and again to get his fill, lightly brushing back and forth until she whimpered and softened in his arms. “There you go, Chuck. Give in to me. Don’t think, just feel.”

“Oh, God.” Her breathy sigh warmed his cheek as she tipped her head back. “This is a really bad idea.”

Screw that noise. He buried his face in her neck, dragged an open-mouthed kiss up her throat. The two of them kissing was the best damn idea the woman had ever gotten in her crazy blond head.

Flicking his tongue over that delicious beauty mark hidden by the edge of her jaw, he fisted her hair, lifted and crushed his lips to hers.

Her faint moan vibrated into his chest as her mouth parted. The tip of her tongue swirled a languid circle around his, and he darted and dipped, her flavor drifting across his taste buds as he feasted.

Jesus, as good as she smelled, she tasted ten times better. An addictive combination of warm, honeyed female and smooth, slick lust. He nibbled the corners of her mouth, the supple curve of full bottom lip. His cock stretched and flexed as the sharp edge of her teeth nipped and her tongue soothed the slight sting.

Fuck, the things he wanted to do her. Her arms slid up his shoulders, circled his neck. All the ways he craved making her come apart in his hands. He inched his palm down to her ass, clamped his fingers on that giving round flesh and shoved.

Her breath caught as their hips collided. She shuddered beneath him, and a violent greed screamed through his head as she sucked his tongue into her mouth.

His thighs jerked, mirroring the motion. The heat of her stomach cradled his cock and his low growl grated through the thick fog of his need.

The gut-fisting hunger to be buried balls-deep inside her tightened his body. Tipping his head, he dove deep and coaxed a second heated whimper from her throat. Over and again, he wanted that same shudder to squeeze and ripple around him as she came.

A horn blared on his left, and Charlie startled as reality slammed into his head. Shit, he should stop. Right now. Before he got lost inside her and embarrassed the hell out of them both.

Slowing, he held her cheek, kissed her one last time and rested his forehead against hers. Her heavy breaths were an exact match to his, and a few heartbeats thudded in his chest before his world came back into focus.

“Are they gone?” His voice rasped like he’d chewed a handful of glass. Nice. No tip-off to what she’d done to him there. As if his Class-A boner didn’t take care of the guesswork.

“Yeah, right.” She grabbed his wrist and held tight. “Like I’m supposed to see straight after that?”

A husky chuckle shook his shoulders, and he shot a glance behind them. Checked the end of the block and the opposite side of the street. All clear. In fact, pretty much everyone had vacated the area. He laughed again but it came off rusty, as if he hadn’t done so in years.

“Charlie.” He met her lips. Slanted his head and tasted her again. If the rest of her was as sweet, he’d be spending the rest of his life in some serious deep shit. “Come to Chicago with me.”

He needed her out of this city. With him. So they could lay low for a few days and he could wrap his brain around whatever trouble she was in. The best place to do that was Smith Manor. The security Malcolm had in place could make breaking into Langley look like a cakewalk. “Come with me, and I promise you we’ll figure this out together.”

She blinked, her eyes darting over his face. Her gaze fell to the center of his chest, and his hands slipped from her hair as she backed out of his arms.

“Okay.” Closing her eyes, she sighed, and whatever relief he’d been prepping to enjoy was short-lived.

Something about the misery in her voice… His jaw firmed. Jesus, hearing that from her did nothing but cause him all kinds of grief.

“Okay, Xander. I’ll go.”