Chapter 9
Charlie shot daggers at Xander’s back as he, Eden and the rest of the will-reading entourage filed into the library. The door shut with a snick, and every female head in the room swiveled back toward her.
Fabulous. She brushed her bangs out of her eyes, praying the Earth would just open already and swallow her whole. After that heated kiss, she would’ve stood a better chance at survival had Xander shoved her out the door of a plane with zero instructions on how to pull the damn chute.
The suggestive bounce of Tanner’s brows conveyed exactly what kind of visuals were center stage in her head, and a derisive puff of air spurted past Charlie’s lips.
Total. Disaster.
A conceding nod from Molly as if Xander had given her the boot, and Charlie’s stomach executed a triple back handspring and dove directly for her feet.
She peeked to the side, but found no help there. Mocha was too busy fanning his face.
Locking her knees, Charlie fought the impulse to march straight toward the library and pound her fist on the door. What in the high holy hell had Xander been thinking? There’d been absolutely no reason for him to lay that lip lock on her. Especially here, of all places, in the middle of Malcolm’s wake.
Cute smile or no cute smile, the next time they were alone, maybe she’d draw him a map. Show him exactly what type of awkward island he’d left her stranded on, right after he peeled her hands off from around his neck.
“My mouth keeps watering.” Mocha sighed. “I need something to nosh on before I end up taking a bite out of Archer’s arm.”
Snorting a dry laugh, Charlie eyed the tug o’ war Detective Archer’s bulky biceps were winning against the sleeves of his charcoal gray dress shirt. But at least Mocha had offered a semi-decent distraction. With the way her lips still tingled, Charlie had to wonder if Xander had permanently branded his mark on her mouth. “Too bad you’d break a tooth.”
“Eden carries dental.” Mocha fluttered his false eyelashes. “Besides, it’d be worth it just to see the look on Tanner’s face.”
Another laugh, and Charlie shook her head, darting a frown from Archer to Tanner and back again. Not to mention how Mocha had also confirmed her suspicions about the nearly tangible hostility crackling through the air between those two. “So, what happened? They recently break-up?”
“Oh God, no. Tanner can’t stand the man.” Finally leaving off his fanning, Mocha fingered a strand of the multi-tiered pearls strung around his neck. “In fact, despising him is pretty much the only thing she talks about.”
Ah. Charlie’s chin notched up a degree and dropped in understanding. In doing so, Tanner had stuck herself in one of those reverse-effect cases of protesting too much. No doubt the more she complained, the clearer it became to everyone else Detective Archer had gotten under her skin.
One of Archer’s dark-blond eyebrows rose, and he slowly turned, aiming a lethal stare in Charlie and Mocha’s direction. Oops. Charlie quickly studied the fascinating décor of the room.
Starting out the night by psychically embedding her foot in her mouth seemed like a bad idea. The steam hissing from Archer’s ears already said he was considering ripping someone’s head off, and she preferred hers stayed squarely attached to her shoulders.
Molly chose that moment to amble toward Nick DeFranco and his wife, and Charlie’s attention was snagged by the young boy who’d been hidden behind her, slouched in a corner of the couch before the fireplace.
Elbow propped on the armrest, fingers bracing his forehead, he shuffled the bottom of one Air Jordan over the rug as if he were ready to call the whole thing quits out of sheer boredom.
His small size made guesstimating his age difficult. A few years older than Ellis, maybe. Twelve or thirteen. Though from the telling spark of resentment in his green eyes, Charlie wouldn’t have been surprised to learn he was older. The kinky dark hair shaved close to his scalp spoke of a melting pot of ethnicity, with a smattering of freckles covering his nose and cheeks to offset his toffee skin.
“What’s with the kid?” She slanted her head in his direction. Based on the way he didn’t let his focus linger on any one thing too long, he was a stray like all the others Malcolm had once invited into the house. But why someone would bring him to a wake only to leave him alone in a room full of strangers seemed whacky to her.
“Oh, that’s Trey. Sad story, really.” Mocha crossed his arms. “Archer discovered him during a recent narcotics bust and had to bring him in. Parents are MIA, and since no one has shown up to claim him, Eden and Kelly have sorta taken him under their wing. So far, their efforts haven’t panned out, though. Poor kid’s having a hard time adjusting. Not that anyone blames him, considering the way he was found.”
“What do you mean?” Charlie frowned. “Found how?”
“Well, it was weird.” Unlocking one hand, Mocha twiddled his nails toward Trey. “He was locked in a closet, but Archer told Eden from the number of deadbolts lined down the dumb thing, he thought he’d hit the mother lode. Turns out, the only thing behind the door was Trey and a mattress.”
God, some people sucked. And seriously needed to have their feet nailed to the floor with a set of railroad spikes. Charlie studied the kid a second time. If she had her way, she’d reverse time and line up the jerk who’d done that to him right next to her stepdad.
She’d been where Trey was. More times than she cared to count. Those few years between leaving home and hooking up with the old gang, she’d been rewarded with her fair share of visits to juvy. Not that the frustration over being hauled in ever compared to what she’d been through before she’d run away.
Cracking the minimum security enforced by those institutions was generally a cakewalk, no matter how many locks were fastened to her bedroom door. And by the third go-around, for anyone to pretend she was there for an extended stay was a joke.
It was the panic over being identified that consistently drove her back to the streets. The worry of what that might mean for her and her brother.
Things had already been bad enough before she’d left, and after everything Danny had done for her, the last thing she wanted him to suffer was the resulting backlash of her being carted back home. “Has he said anything about what happened?”
“Nah, overall he’s been pretty tight-lipped.” One of Mocha’s shoulders worked a shrug. “I don’t think Eden was planning on carting him along today, but he’s a flight risk. No matter how much she and Kelly promise him things are gonna be different, Trey keeps disappearing.”
Yep, Charlie was totally in touch with that reality.
“All right, I’m off to find a snack.” Mocha fluffed his hair before tugging on the sides of his short black blazer. “Want anything? Masking a lack of sexual fulfillment with food is my superpower.”
“Nope, I’m good.” Whatever appetite she might have had, Xander had successfully segued that straight off a cliff. “And in case you missed it, sarcasm is mine.”
Mocha’s husky laugh trailed behind him as he crossed the room, and Charlie followed him with her gaze until he’d reached the buffet table and selected a plate.
She glanced toward the closed library door. Stole another peek at Trey and sighed. While she couldn’t do anything about his past, after what Mocha had told her, ignoring the kid didn’t seem like the right move, either. At the very least, maybe she could let him know someone in the room was paying attention.
A short stroll toward the couch, and she opted for copping a squat on the center cushion. Close enough to talk without drawing any unnecessary attention. Far enough, she wouldn’t come off like a creeper.
Trey inched closer to the overstuffed arm, shooting a suspicious frown in her direction, and right then and there, Charlie knew Eden had gotten it all wrong.
The kid didn’t need to be reassured.
Crossing her legs, Charlie settled her clutch purse in her lap. When she was his age, any number of adults had told her things were gonna be different, and she’d never believed them for a second.
Because nothing ever was different. Not until she’d found Eden, Viv and—most of all—Xander, and Malcolm had moved them into this house.
Prying open the magnetic snap on her purse, Charlie checked her make-up in the mirror sewn into the inside flap. What Trey needed was to connect. To know he wasn’t the only one who’d ever felt lost, forgotten. Like he didn’t belong no matter where he went.
“There sure is a lot of rich bank in this joint.” She used the tip of her middle finger to remove the red lipstick Xander had smeared past her lower lip. Poor Outlast lip color hadn’t stood a chance. Closing her purse with a sharp click, she slanted her head toward the end table on Trey’s left. “You see that bowl? The one with the blue Chinese writing on the side?”
His elbow slipped down the inside of the couch as he tracked her gaze toward the antique.
“It’s Ming Dynasty, circa 1450. Which means that old piece of crap is worth over two grand.”
He jerked his head toward her and she lifted a brow. “And see that ugly egg sitting next to it? The green one with the little brown bunny inside?”
His shoulders slid across back as he craned his neck for another shot at the knick-knacks Malcolm had strategically placed on the end table.
“It was made by this dude who lived in Russia about a hundred years ago. Carl Fabergé.” She grunted. “Sounds swanky, huh? Price tag on that bad boy comes in around fifteen large.”
Trey’s chin dropped to his shoulder. A beat passed before he swung his face toward her like a pendulum, lids lowered as if he were trying to figure out what she was doing.
“I know.” She gathered her hair and brought it around in front so it wouldn’t tug between her shoulders and the couch. “I’m sort of a Price is Right Rain Man. It’s what I do.” Brushing aside the fringe on her dress, she laced her hands around her knee. “I got a bad case of sticky fingers. Only problem is, lifting anything here wouldn’t do me any good. The guy who owned the place was OCD about listing everything. It’d only be a matter of time before whatever I palmed came up missing, and since everyone here knows I’m a thief, the first person they’d look at is me.” She picked a piece of lint off her thigh and flicked it aside. “That’s why it’s always important to do your homework. Know your mark better than they know themselves. Never go in without finding out everything you can, kid. Shortcuts can lead to mistakes.”
Lifting his chin, Trey squinted at her past the bridge of his nose.
“So, what’s your deal?” She glanced around the room. “Everyone here has one. I’m assuming the reason you were invited to this shindig is because you do, too.”
The angle of his jaw descended, the tension leaked from his shoulders and, pausing as Tanner strutted past, he finally spoke from the side of his mouth. “Cars. I boost cars.”
“Really?” Bottom lip jutting forward, Charlie nodded. “Ya any good?”
He scowled. “I’m the best. Why do you think I was stuffed in a closet?”
In other words, the kid was a hot commodity, and the asshole who’d put him there had been relying on Trey’s talents to keep him in business. Hearing that, she couldn’t blame the kid for keeping a tight lid on his back story. If too many people found out, he probably worried it was only a matter of time before some other psycho snatched him off the street.
“Huh. That sucks.” She clamped down hard on the frustration threatening to boil over in her chest. For God’s sake, had the idiot even considered the danger he’d put Trey in? The kid fisted his hand on his thigh and she scanned the red welts peeking past the cuff at his wrist. And if he got it in his head to run, someone inevitably went looking to haul him back in, and then probably beat the shit out of him for his efforts.
She stood. “Okay, let’s go.”
He flinched at the sudden movement, and anger marched up beside her and delivered a cold, hard smack to her face. No. No kid should ever be that scared. And if she had anything to say about it, he wouldn’t be. Not anymore.
But she needed to do it right. One step at a time, so Trey’s trust in her would grow.
Life was hard. He’d already learned that lesson and so had she. Coddling him like she could fix what he’d been through in one afternoon was apt to insult his intelligence. And turning this conversation into a pity party would only piss him off.
She’d walked enough miles in his shoes to know.
“Come on.” Turning away from the couch, she started for the front hall. “I wanna show you something.”
A winding path through the mourners, past the library and down the hall beside the stairs, and she approached the kitchen. Several apron-wrapped caterers looked up from arranging food on trays as she pushed back the swinging door, sneaking a peek over her shoulder to make sure Trey had followed.
Sure enough, he dodged around Nick DeFranco at the last minute, hurrying to catch up.
A multitude of delicious scents jumpstarted her stomach as she entered, and she plucked a rolled linen napkin from a nearby basket, shook out the folds, and stacked a pyramid of cucumber-cream cheese finger sandwiches on her palm. Tossing a chocolate chip at Trey, she rounded the butcher block island and headed for the basement.
Her heels clicked a steady rhythm down the concrete steps, along the narrow corridor and past the gym to a metal door. A series of beeps as she tapped the code into the lock, a twist of the handle, and she shouldered the entrance into Malcolm’s private garage.
One step inside, and her heart leapt into her throat.
Shit, that funky shadow in the corner. Adrenaline shot through her veins and her fingertips tingled as she fumbled for the light switch on the wall. Was that a guy?
The fluorescents buzzed and winked on. The shadow disappeared, and she followed each illuminating pulse as at least three dozen cars of varying make, model and age sprang out of the darkness, all parked at the exact same forty-five degree angle, their grills pitched toward the upward slope of the drive.
Trey’s low whistle echoed across the shiny floor, and Charlie offered him a weak smile as he slipped past her and entered. Good grief, she needed to get a handle on her nerves.
Pulling a tight breath, she tracked Trey’s steps toward a tricked-out Lamborghini. She was safe here. Had traveled nearly eight hundred miles from New York to guarantee it. As if that wasn’t enough, the first floor of the manor was crawling with cops.
“So.” She kicked off her heels and her toes breathed a sigh of relief as she padded toward a sleek, copper Bentley. They’d always been Malcolm’s favorite. Seemed right he’d have the latest Mulsanne polished up and ready to go. “How long does it usually take you to jack one car?” Propping her hip against the hood, she opened the napkin and popped the first sandwich into her mouth.
“Depends.” Trey smoothed his palm along the aerodynamic slant of the Lamborghini. The modified Aventador Veneno, if she remembered right. “Any dumbass can smash out a window, but these beauties…” He shook his head. “They deserve respect.”
Nice, kid. A smile threatened, and she pressed the tip of her index finger to her lips as she swallowed. “Okay, then how long would it take you to respectfully jack one of these beauties?”
“A minute.” He shrugged. “Maybe two.” Dropping his arm, he rushed across the aisle to the deadly crouch of a black Lykan Hypersport, smacked both hands on top of his head and gaped at her as if someone had just called in a bomb threat. “What’s the sticker on this one?”
Swiveling toward the car, she inhaled another sandwich. With those jewel-encrusted headlights and scissor doors? “Three and half million?” But there were also the hefty shipping charges to consider. “It’s from Dubai so Malcolm probably paid closer to four to have it delivered.”
“Holy shit.” Trey’s hands hit his thighs with a slap. “I can’t…this isn’t even…”
She waited as he spun a slow circle but, apparently, he’d been struck speechless.
“So here’s what I’m thinkin’.” Spreading the napkin on the hood like a miniature picnic, Charlie left the Bentley and strode for the storage units spanning the back wall. “Any slob worth half a damn could’ve figured out by now you’re good with your hands. Maybe even a little too good considering the number of locks on that closet door. But I’m curious to know how you stack up against the pros, and the best way to find out is a little friendly competition, you against me.”
Inside one of the tall narrow closets centered between the cabinets hung a row of gray garage overalls, impeccably ironed, not a grease stain in sight. A hint of Malcolm’s classic Aqua Velva drifted past Charlie’s cheeks as she tugged the first one off the wire hanger, and she closed her eyes as an unexpected punch of loss almost knocked her off her feet.
But maybe that was just as it should be.
She swallowed at the tightness in her throat. After all, Malcolm and Viv were the ones who’d brought her here in the first place. She held the overalls to her face and deeply inhaled.
In the years before she’d moved into this house, she’d never respected any of the adults she’d had the displeasure of meeting. And even though the relationship she’d shared with Malcolm had skirted closer to a business deal than some sappy father-daughter thing, she’d grown to trust his judgment. Had looked up to him in a way she hadn’t anyone else in all the hard days before they’d met.
Yes, the disappointment had been crushing when he’d asked her to leave. She’d walked out the door bitter and angry. Fed up with his stupid rules and contests. But, over time, she’d come to terms with his decision, and if she were being honest with herself, deep down, a part of her had always known he was right.
She wasn’t the best choice to take over his business. From the onset, she’d never been cutthroat enough. Cold enough. Her need to take care of everyone would’ve been a distraction and, ultimately, she would’ve become too invested in the job.
Blinking away her tears, she draped the garment over the top of the door, collected the stopwatch off the upper shelf and walked the hanger toward Trey. “I’ll give you five minutes.” She offered him the bent end. “For each car you open, I’ll pay you ten bucks.”
He read her face for the sign of any tricks before lifting his hand.
“But.” She whipped the hanger outside his reach. “If I open more than you do, you agree to drop this whole tough-guy routine. Moving forward, you do whatever I say, answer any questions I ask. Got it?”
His green eyes hardened, but the spark of a challenge glittered through the fringe of his curly lashes. “I hope you brought cash.” He snatched the hanger and ran toward a cherry red Maserati, untwisting the neck and reshaping the hook until it evidently met some GTA car-jacking code.
“Ready?” She held up the stop watch, bent thumb poised over the stem. “Go.”
A click and he was off, tripping one latch after the next—from a pearlescent Rolls Royce and lime green Ferrari to the mid-sized Jaguar sedan.
Resettling against the Bentley, Charlie finished the last of her snack, and she couldn’t deny Trey’s talents were impressive. He didn’t leave a single scratch on the paint. Not one fingerprint on the windows. But the real treat was the way his smile grew bigger and wider every time he successfully popped another handle.
“Time.” She stopped the countdown as the red hand ticked over to twelve. “Good job, kid.” All in all, eight driver’s side doors hung open. “You’re a tough act to follow.”
Bent at the waist, hands braced on the knees of his jeans, he struggled to catch his breath. “It’s easier when I don’t have to worry about someone bashing in my skull.”
A long-worn hatred sparked and flared in her stomach. The frustration of being treated too small and insignificant to matter. Man, what she wouldn’t have given for just five minutes alone with the worthless son of a bitch who’d done that to him.
She waited for him to straighten before tossing the stopwatch in his direction. Why did life always have to be so unfair? “Okay, my turn. Hit it whenever you’re ready.”
A flick of his thumb, and he glanced from the timer to her, back and forth as the steady tick of the stopwatch echoed off the concrete walls.
Charlie pushed off from the Bentley and wadded up the napkin, polished the smudges she’d left on the wax and crammed the bundled crumbs inside her purse.
Rummaging around, she found her lipstick, reapplied a fresh coat, and then pulled out her compact to powder her nose.
“Um, four minutes.”
She smiled at Trey over the flap of her purse. “Yep. Thanks.”
Raking her hand through her hair, she finger-combed her curls, shook her bangs away from her lashes and plucked a few blond strands off the front of her dress.
Trey cleared throat, shoes squeaking as he shuffled his feet. “Three minutes left.”
“Uh-huh, got it.” Shifting a few items aside, she worked the leather case from her bag, peeled open the zipper and spread her lock picks open across the hood. A hiss cooled her teeth as she wiggled her fingers over the selection as if trying to decide which one would be best.
Finally opting for the tried and true double bump rake, she slid the pick from its banded slot and blew a piece of lint off the end, swiping the tip across her leg to make sure it was clean.
A short stroll brought her to the padlocked metal box hanging to the right of the door. She fed the pick into the slot and stared at the maze of HVAC ducts bolted to the ceiling, jiggling the tumblers and waiting for the familiar lack of resistance as the shackle lifted and released.
Unhooking the lock from the latch, she flipped back the lock plate and swung open the box. Inside, labeled by make and model near a series of tiny brass hooks, hung the keys to every vehicle in the garage.
“Aw, come on.” Trey threw his fists down at his sides. “That’s cheating.”
“Says who?” Pinching one fob after the next, she unlocked the remaining twenty-eight cars, headlights flashing each time she pressed another button. Once done, she pivoted to face him and lifted her hand as if the metal box rested on her palm. “Never do more than necessary, kid. Never waste time or wear yourself out when there’s an easier way.” She dipped her chin. “Pay attention to your surroundings and conserve your energy for when you need it.”
“Well, shit.” He released the hanger and it clanged to the floor, but the musical jangle seemed off somehow. Mixed with another sound.
Hurrying back toward the Bentley, Charlie dug her phone from her purse and glanced at the caller ID.
Oh, no. Panic fisted in her chest as she stared at the number. Oh God, God no. If something had happened to Ellis while she was gone, she’d spend the rest of her days regretting she’d left.
She tapped the screen and slapped the phone to her ear. “Lydia? What’s the matter? Is everything okay?”
“Pffth.” The sputter Ellis’s mom sent across the airwaves rattled around inside Charlie’s head, no clue where to land. Good or bad? Good or bad? “Is everything okay? Charlie, everything is wonderful. My God, I don’t even know where to start. Thank you. This is amazing. When the doctor came in and told us, I must’ve stood there with my mouth hanging open for a full sixty seconds.”
A frown tightened Charlie’s forehead as she glanced around the garage. “What are you talking about? Told you what?”
Lydia laughed. Really laughed for what had to be the first time in years. “Okay. Deny all you want. But Ellis and I both know it was you. I don’t have a clue how you did it or where you came up with the money but, God. Holy cow. You have got to be the best friend a mother could ever have.”
Charlie screwed up her face in a grimace. The woman wasn’t making any sense. “Lydia, I swear to you, I don’t have any idea what you’re—”
An image of Xander flashed across her brain. Without any say-so on her part, her foot took a halting step forward.
Xander, sitting beside her on the plane, working some strange hacker voodoo as those numbers and symbols scrolled across the screen of his laptop.
He’d said he just needed a few seconds. Her eyes slammed shut. She lowered her chin to her chest. That he wouldn’t even be on, but whatever he was doing was important.
“How much?” Her voice cracked. Tears flooded her lashes. “How much money did you get?”
Lydia huffed. “The account’s open-ended. The doctor said Ellis can get as much LZR-7 as he needs, whenever and forever how long it takes to get him healthy.” Her breath hitched, unsteady against the earpiece as she exhaled. “Charlie. Do you know what this means? Do you? There’s no way I’ll ever be able to repay you. For God’s sake, you’ve given me the gift of my son.”
No, not her. A warm tear tumbled onto Charlie’s cheek. Xander.
Saving Ellis’ life… That was all him.
“Jesus, woman, you scared the shit out of me.”
She spun toward the doorway as he strode through, shoulders nearly grazing the jamb and head ducked so his forehead wouldn’t get nailed by the top rail.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Don’t you know disappearing like that is liable to give me a heart attack?” He glanced toward Trey, shifted a frown over the open car doors, and kept right on walking. “What are you doing in here?”
And with those few simple words, the immense relief shining in his eyes, Charlie knew. As much as he’d hoped to help a sick boy who lay dying in the hospital, what Xander had done for Ellis and Lydia had been just as much—if not more—for her.
“Let me call you back.” Her whisper rasped against the mouthpiece, barely there, and she lowered the phone as Xander strode up in front of her.
Concern leaked into his gaze, and any ideas she might have had to bawl him out for kissing her in front of everyone were tossed aside like yesterday’s news.
Dammit.
“What’s the matter?” He cupped her cheek, clearing her tear with his thumb.
Well, this was perfect, wasn’t it? How in the hell was she supposed to stay pissed at the man, when every impulse she owned shouted at her to leap into his arms? Smother him with kisses so she could get lost in the smooth, supple sweep of his mouth?
His other hand rose to her neck, fingers tangling in her hair. The ball of his thumb followed the edge of her jaw and propped her chin at just the right angle so she had no choice but to look him in the eye.
Geez, the guy had to have the most amazing eyelashes on the planet. Thick and long, the inner blond line sparkling in the bright light as if the sandman had come along and dusted them with gold. “What the hell happened? I swear to God if someone—”
“No.” She placed her hand on his chest, and then internally read herself the riot act for being so stupid. That was a moronic move, resting her palm over the steady beat of his heart. “That was Ellis’s mom on the phone.” A tight breath shot from her nose. “She called to thank me.”
“Oh.” His shoulders fell and, two heartbeats thumped under her hand before he chuckled. “Busted.”
And what was it about that hoarse whisper coming from those lips that always set her inner DVR to the porn channel? The way he could rev her body to an impatient purr with a single phrase just wasn’t fair.
A hint of mischief skipped though his eyes. His husky laugh vibrated down her arm as one shadowed cheek creased in that irritating—adorable—lop-sided grin. “Well shit, Chuck, that’s no big deal.” He ran his knuckles down her cheek and she bit her bottom lip, fighting the urge to lean into his touch. “And here I was all ready to Hulk out. God, woman, I thought something bad had happened.”
Time to call foul. Throw down the yellow flag and back out of his arms. No woman would be able to think straight with those large warm hands caressing her skin. Their bodies so close, his hard thighs kept bumping hers. “Xander, that was… You are…”
Shit, she was drawing a blank. Big shocker there.
Her hand left his chest but, instead of lowering to her side like she told it to, the dumb thing rose to her face and held his palm against her cheek. And still, not one syllable formed on her tongue.
Maybe because he’d gotten it right the first time.
Something bad had happened.
Lowering her lashes, she focused on the top button of his vest. It wasn’t right, letting him get involved this way. Playing dumb while he got mixed up in her mess. Xander didn’t have the first clue why she’d wanted to help Ellis.
To alleviate the hurt and guilt. To get even with Ryan by stealing that stupid laptop that had begun to weigh like an anchor around her neck.
And now…with what Xander had done. Because of her. She shook her head. Somehow everything had gotten stirred together. There was no defining where her efforts ended and his began.
Yes, she was thankful. And what’s worse, there was no way she could ask him to take it all back. Without his help, she could be handing Ellis a death sentence. But he’d recalibrated everything. Had somehow rigged the tumblers so he could be the one guy who held the key to her heart.
Wonderful. She rolled her eyes. He’d given her such a bad case of the bed spins, now she was waxing poetic.
“Listen, I’ll pay you back.” Regardless of where this led them, bottom line was, she’d caused her own trouble, and whatever cleaning up needed to be done was her responsibility. “Somehow, I’ll figure out a way to—”
“Now hold on a damn second.” He eased her head back and her breath caught over the sharp edge his gaze. One she’d butted her toes against, and would most likely step over if she didn’t choose her next words very carefully. “Is that what you think this is? That I helped Ellis so you could feel like you owe me?”
“Of course not, Xander.” She understood why he’d done it. That was exactly the point. She stole a peek at Trey and breathed a little easier to find him sunny side up on a rolling mechanic’s board, legs sprawled between the front tires of a Bugatti. “But there are things you don’t know, okay? Things I haven’t told anyone.”
Xander squinted. “And you think I won’t understand?”
“No, that’s not it, I…” God, this was a nightmare. A complete and total nightmare. She never should’ve agreed to let him help her. If she truly cared about the guy, she should’ve put a stop to his involvement the second he’d figured out someone was tracking her movements.
“And then what, Xander?” Honestly, where did he think this would lead them? He could sweep her off her feet and all her troubles would magically disappear? He could ride in and save the penniless cinder girl like they were playing out some ridiculous fairy tale? “Seriously, what then?”
His shoulders bunched near his ears. A muscle ticked in his temple at the same tempo a raised vein pulsed near the gap in his collar.
But he didn’t speak, and a cold satisfaction settled in the pit of her stomach as silence reigned.
Exactly. She wasn’t the fairy tale type and neither was he. And once it had ended…however and whatever this was between them had ended…they could kiss any chance at a decent friendship goodbye.
“Then this, Charlie.” His hand left her cheek and he yanked her to his chest, his arm a tight band of muscle around her hips. “Then us.”
His fingers sank into her hair, and she gasped as he swept in, capturing her lips, his tongue flicking and stroking the seam of her mouth. Her pulse leapt, racing out of control as he tilted her chin and brushed up and then over. Again and again. Begging her to open for him until the lights dimmed behind her closed eyelids and her lips parted on a sigh.
Dammit, he wasn’t supposed to kiss her this way. His low growl heated her skin as he buried his rough cheeks in her neck, skimmed his full bottom lip up the side of her throat. Arousal raced through her veins and her sex clenched, needy and wet as he tasted the tender skin under her ear. He wasn’t supposed to say things that made her believe in some stupid idea of happily ever after.
The sharp edge of his teeth nipped her earlobe and her knees gave. From now on she was putting her foot down. His palm clamped the back of her head, and a demanding throb moistened her panties as his minty breath heated her ear.
No more hand-holding.
He brought her flush against the rock-solid wall of his body and a thrill slid slick and warm down her inner thighs.
No more kissing or hugging.
Fingers cinching, he lifted her head and crushed his lips to hers.
As soon as he stopped, she was erecting a three-foot safe zone between her and the non-stop temptation of his mouth.
“Oh, gross!” A strangled cough echoed off the high ceiling, and Charlie jerked back mid-kiss to catch Trey clawing at his neck, stiff index finger aimed at the back of throat, gagging and sputtering as he stumbled to the side. “You guys are sick. I’m outta here.”
He scampered between the cars and disappeared through the door at the same moment Eden entered from the hallway. “Whoa.” Raising her arms, she swung her hips to the side to avoid a head-on collision. “Slow it down, hot rod.”
“I thought sick was supposed to be a good thing.” The gravelly lust in Xander’s voice sent a shiver over her skin, and Charlie snapped her head back toward him.
For some dumb reason, he still had her trapped against his hips—she scowled—and when the hell had she slung her arms around his neck?
One by one, she extracted her fingers from his hair, slid her hands down his chest and shoved. The last thing she needed was Eden getting any more wise ideas.
But Xander didn’t get the hint and, as a result, the two of them ended up hop-skipping to the side in some off-kilter version of a foxtrot. Chuckling quietly, he righted their balance, lifting her off her toes and setting her back on her feet…as if that were easy.
“Hey, you two.” Eden shifted a bright smile between them. “Sorry to bust in and ruin the mood.” Her gaze finally settled on Xander, and he gave a minimal shake of his head.
Oh-h-h, no. Charlie narrowed her eyes. No, no, no. Whatever that was about had trouble written all over it. And, by the way, hello! She was standing right here. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Eden raised her brows. “Other than Kelly and I are getting ready to take off. The thing is, we actually have a flight to catch. I promised him a few days away once the funeral was over. Just the two of us. Sort of a mini-vacation. We’re returning this weekend since neither of us wants to be away from Trey very long, but I feel like shit the three of us didn’t get the chance to catch up.” She crossed her arms. “I don’t suppose there’s any way I could convince you to stay until we get back. Maybe, I don’t know, go through the house a little? See if there’s anything you want to keep or possibly donate? I went ahead and had two of the guest rooms made up, and since X holds the largest share in the property, I guess I just wanted to run the idea past you and see what you thought.”
Wait, Xander owned the house? Charlie slowly shifted her eyes back to him. The guy had just become a bazillionaire.
And yet, another bullet point on the long list of vast differences between them.
His eyes widened in alarm, and he quickly raised his hands in surrender. “I only found out a few minutes ago, I swear. This has nothing to do with what I did on the plane.” A tip of his head, and he ran his palms down her arms, twining her fingers through his. “But I gotta say, staying a few extra days sounds like a great idea to me. Whaddaya say, Chuck? Can we extend our trip?”
Like they had a choice? Heading back to New York was out of the question, and unless he owned some private island she didn’t know about, wasn’t Smith Manor the best—and safest—place for them to be?
Eden innocently batted her lashes. Xander brought Charlie’s hands to his lips with a sly wink.
And she did her best to maintain an expressionless mask.
He hadn’t told Eden.
Charlie tightened her grip as he dotted a row of kisses across her knuckles. Eden didn’t have the first clue the danger they were in. If she did, she never would’ve agreed to leave town.
“Sure, we can stay.” But despite all the unanswered questions, one thing was definitely clear.
Xander had made the right call in keeping quiet. Exactly the same as Charlie should when it came to him.
Eden didn’t deserve to be dragged into her mess any more than he did.
There was too much at stake, and Charlie’s next move concerned more than just the three of them or whether or not she spent the next few days fighting Xander off with a stick.
“Have fun on your trip, E.” She smiled. “And don’t hurry back on our account. You can leave Xander and the house to me.”