Alice lowered her coffee cup, a little moon of crimson lipstick remaining on the rim. Shifting in her seat, she answered the man frowning across from her. “No, Matthew. I already told you. I haven’t seen the blonde you were with before.”

He’d shaved again, put on his new suit, almost looked like he fit in, yet lacked all Chicago swagger. “What about Radcliffe?”

“He comes and goes.” She’d never been fully comfortable with the way Matthew’s eyes grew so jarring yet his face could remain so calm. “You don’t want to get mixed up with that man. He’d shoot you just as soon as look at you.”

He tried to keep his voice smooth, but to the point. “Listen, Alice, I need to find Charlotte right quick.”

While Nathaniel and Eli scouted the Drake’s lobby, Matthew had combed the city, going to every place he could remember Charlie showing him. Even so, since coming to Chicago, not one of the Emerson boys had caught a glimpse of her. Sheer desperation led him to seek his old flame, to press Alice into coffee when she’d turned up her nose at his initial approach and forthright questions.

“I can’t help you.” Alice sat back, frowning at her cup. “She’s family to Radcliffe. That man won’t allow a soul to muss a hair on her pretty, spoiled head.”

Matthew snorted, would have laughed if capable of enjoying the irony. “Can you find out if she’s even staying at the Drake?”

Alice put a cigarette between her lips and struck a match. “No.”

“Why?”

“I’m not risking my neck asking questions about a mobster’s kin.”

Impatient, Matthew pressed. “I ain’t asking you to risk your neck. I’ll give you money if that’s what you need.”

Her sulky voice turned sharp. “Don’t insult me, Matthew.”

Feeling the entire awkward conversation had been a waste of time, Matthew stood from his seat. “She saved your life once, Alice. Doubt you knew that.”

“What do you mean?” For a split second, Alice lost a bit of her haughtiness. After chewing her lip at his stony silence, she offered an aggravated sigh. “Fine… sit. I’ll check and see if she’s on the register—but no more.”

Thirty minutes and two cups of coffee later, Matthew was starting to think she’d stood him up, but the door chimed and a disgruntled Alice shimmied out of the cold. “Suite 2334.” Sullen, she offered her hand in a final goodbye. “If what you say is true, then thank her for me… But I don’t want to see her, or you, again.”

There had been a time the raven-haired woman had not been so cold. Once he even tried to convince himself he cared about her. “This place ain’t any good for you, Alice. Go back to your kin in Jackson.”

Alice sneered and walked away.

A few days had passed since coming to the city, most of the time spent locked up tight in her fancy suite, sleeping and ordering room service. Charlie was moping, she knew that, but everyone was entitled to a good sulk now and then. She eventually pulled it together and called on Martha, the woman overjoyed to hear she’d stay past Christmas.

Beaumont, when he’d arrived home in the evening, looked entirely unsurprised at the news. He said no word about it, just pulled out a cigarette and took a seat while Martha prepared his drink.

Handing a dram of whiskey to her man, Martha smiled at her girl. “Charlotte will join us for New Year’s. Make sure the mayor knows we’ll have another guest for the Gala.”

Beau’s answer was the smallest of winks and a long slow pull of his cigarette. “Tommy will escort you.”

There was no point in arguing. Charlie nodded, willing to at least try on the life and see if it fit. Besides, it wasn’t like she had anywhere else to go.

Uncustomarily quiet, she just listened while Martha began outlining what would need to be done. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow and get you something appropriate for the party.” Martha’s dark eyes skimmed Charlie’s simple cotton dress, her nose wrinkled at the country fashion.

“Whatever you say, Martha.”

Those seemed to be the magic words.

Christmas came and went, spent at the Radcliffe’s table just like when she’d been a girl. Every day after was a whir, Charlie’s room and unacceptable wardrobe ignored at the Drake in favor of the family home and comfort of friends.

She didn’t mind any of it, not really. Being lavished with attention from a woman she loved helped ease the melancholy, and the distraction of preparing for the New Year’s party gave Charlie something to do—beyond pine for a life she would never have. Finding a dress had been easy enough, there were only three or four shops in town Martha Radcliffe would even consider walking inside. The day of grooming was not. Charlie had been poked, prodded, plucked, waxed and painted. By the time she was dressed in her velvet gown, she wasn’t Charlie anymore. She was Miss Elliot, Martha’s fashionable niece and Beaumont Radcliffe’s re-hatched Blackbird.

The New Year’s Gala was lively, raucous—the music loud, the dancing wild, and liquor decadent. Charlie smiled through it; she laughed, a bit overwhelmed by the self-indulgent excess, a bit underwhelmed by the life laid out on a platter for her.

Everyone who was anyone was there—movie stars, politicians—all plying Charlie with champagne and conversation, thinking she was somehow access to the powerful Beaumont Radcliffe. Through it all, Tommy remained fast at her side, attentive and charming, a showstopper and the life of the party.

The company was tolerable, Tommy made her laugh and even though she knew it had to be a challenge for the rake, she didn’t once see him look at another woman.

Beaumont noticed as well.

When the kingpin cut between them on the dance floor, Radcliffe, suave in his tuxedo and slicked hair, nodded for Tommy to run off.

It seemed a bit odd to dance with a man she’d chopped up bodies with in the past… and oddly sweet. Yet, he wasn’t going to let her off easy. “So you gonna tell me what’s going on, Lottie? It ain’t like you to be so… compliant.”

A flash of humiliation crossed her face. “I’m sure this won’t surprise you, but apparently I’m single handedly ruining the women of Monroe.”

The infamous mobster burst out laughing. “Small town hicks can’t handle your fire? You don’t belong there. Marry Tommy, be his Martha, and the world would be at your feet.”

Charlie grimaced. “I don’t like Tommy.”

“You don’t have to.” Beau took her chin so she might pay attention, making it clear he was serious. “Have a piece on the side. He will. Your skills are wasted lazing about in the redneck foothills. You belong in Chicago. Help guide him in the business and you would have access to money, power…”

Her grin was glorious though her tone cautionary. “As charming as leading a criminal empire from the shadows sounds, I’m going to pass. Though I am honored you find me worthy, Uncle Beau.”

Beaumont’s blue eyes glittered, the man admonishing, “I just want what’s best for you, Blackbird.”

Jutting out a stubborn chin, she disagreed, “Oh no… you want what’s best for you.”

“Course I do.” Throwing her a warning glare, Beau led her off the floor and handed her back to Tommy right in time for the midnight countdown.

The handsome gangster took her, Tommy wrapping an arm around her middle just as glittered confetti began to rain down. Looking at the man Beau wanted for her, the man Martha wanted for her, she wondered if she could live that kind of life. Tommy gave her a knowing smirk and used the moment to his advantage.

He gave her a kiss.

“Happy new year, Lottie.”

She was a vision right off the silver screen walking through the Drake’s lobby, the long clingy skirt of her velvet gown swaying around her feet. The smile on her face was genuine, as was the matching pleasure of her escort’s smirk.

Under the soft chandelier light, Charlie offered her hand in a final goodbye. “Thank you for seeing me back.”

Tommy Kennedy took her fingers and kissed them. “Now you see. I’m not so bad once you get to know me.”

Incredulously, she pointed to the scar on her lower lip. “I have known you since I was eight.”

He pouted, looking at her mouth like he might take another kiss. “Come on now… that’s not fair.”

The man flirted so flawlessly Charlie couldn’t help but chuckle. “Good night, Tommy. I’d tell you to stay out of trouble, but I doubt you have the capacity.”

“I don’t,” Laughing, wicked, he swept forward and put his arms around her.

Before the man could steal a second kiss, fury roared behind him. “Get your goddamn hands off her!”

Tommy’s lips brushed Charlie’s ear when she turned her wide-eyed attention over her shoulder to find a bristled Matthew Emerson. “Your guard dog is barking at me, Lottie.”

A fist connected with the gangster’s jaw and Tommy fell flat on his ass.

“What the hell?” Charlie demanded, her hands flaring against Matthew’s chest in an attempt to stop the stamping bull. “Knock it off!”

Matthew, murderous, stood over the gangster scrambling to his feet. “I see you touch this woman again and I will break every bone in your body.”

Nostrils flared, Tommy smoothed back his hair. “You may be a hick of some influence in the hills you crawled out of, Mr. Emerson. But here in Chicago, you threaten a man like me and I guarantee it will not bode well for you.”

Matthew lowered his chin to his chest, irate eyes unimpressed. “A man like you?”

Charlie grit her teeth and interceded before the two idiots got blood on her dress. Her first words were for Matthew. “I’m gonna deal with you in a second.” Her golden hair caught the light, Charlie looking back to Tommy, “And Tommy, do you know what kind of trouble you could stir up tossing threats at the men who keep you in business? Even Radcliffe knows which snakes not to tread on.” She took the hiss out of her voice, trying to make peace. “For your sake, I would not mention this to your boss.”

When Tommy narrowed his eyes and looked ready to argue, Charlie offered her hand. “I had a good time tonight. Thank you for escorting me.”

With a cocky smile, Tommy brought her fingers to his lips, pressing an extended kiss to her knuckles, making a point to the man grinding his teeth at Charlie’s side. “Good night, Lottie. I enjoyed our evening as well.” He turned on his heels, announcing over his shoulder, “Best New Year’s kiss I’ve had.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Charlie screwed her eyes shut and tried to get a hold of her anger. She wasn’t very successful. Sapphire eyes flared, darting back and forth to find she had more than just Matthew to contend with. Nathaniel stood by, wearing his outdated Sunday suit, and clearly itching to take the damn thing off. Eli stared at the floor, standing beside him.

Nathaniel tried to break the tension, “Ummm, you, ahh, look awful purdy in your fancy dress, Charlie.”

She didn’t care if the whole damn hotel heard her swear up a storm, she didn’t care a crowd of drunken revelers stood gawking, she just wanted answers. “I’m going to give you to the count of three to explain just what the fuck you are doing here.”

Matthew spoke. “We came to bring you home, Charlotte.”

“Bring me home?” She didn’t even know where to begin. “By threatening Radcliffe’s closest kiss ass? By causing an uproar?”

“He had his hands all over you,” Matthew growled, sounding more animal than man. “Someone touches what’s mine and I ain’t gonna stand by.” He took another step closer and grit out, “You love Monroe.”

Charlotte waved him off. “I have ties here. Beaumont—”

“Beaumont Radcliffe?” Matthew spoke the name with spite. “That man’s the reason you shouldn’t be here. Just associatin with him and his wife draws attention you don’t need. How long before someone else comes bangin on your door?”

Charlie stood her ground. “You think I’m mistaken for caring for the Radcliffes? They’re the only real family I have; share a history with me you know nothing about. And though you may not like Beau’s methods, I am alive today because of him, and I’m capable of caring for myself because of what he taught me.”

“But you’re lonely, Charlotte,” Matthew said it with such conviction, his tone imploring her to open her eyes. “It’s time you understood more than the familiar slice of bad you been livin in. You’ll find that peace in Monroe, where you can sit all you like and look at things; not going to fancy parties, rubbing elbows with gangsters. It ain’t pleasin to you. I can see it plain as day on your face.”

That shut her up right quick. After a moment’s consideration, she took a breath and spoke, “No, it’s not pleasing to me. But being near Martha and Beau is. I’m included, cared for—them knowing me for exactly who I am, and wanting me anyway.”

Eli spoke up, “I’m awful sorry for the way I hollered at’cha, Miss Charlie. I didn’t mean it. I want-”

Charlie cut him off, “Eli, it’s what I needed to hear.”

“No,” Eli clutched his hat to the point of ruining the fine felt, and took a cautious step nearer. “Everything I said was wrong. You coming to Devil’s Hollow, it’s God’s hand. Don’t you see that? Monroe is where you belong.”

“Eli’s right for once, Charlie,” Nathaniel added, tugging on her arm a little. “Come on home now.”

Torn, she looked to Matthew and softly confessed why she couldn’t go. “I can’t be like Alice. I won’t ever be like her.”

Matthew scowled deeply, pushing his kin aside so he might have her all to himself. “I don’t want Alice any more than you want Tommy.” Tucking a small wisp of hair behind her ear, he repeated with more conviction, “You don’t want Tommy and he would never make you happy.”

He had her quiet again.

Leaving his kin, Matthew steered her towards the elevators and away from the growing crowd. “Come on now.”

Charlie barked at the man that she didn’t need a goddamn sentry keeping watch. Matthew hushed her, fixed an arm at her waist and didn’t ease up once during the journey to her floor. When they got to her door, he snatched her purse and dug the key out, glaring at her that she better get inside when she looked just about ready to argue again.

The door slammed shut. He locked it. And Matthew backed her into the suite.

“Stop treating me like…” What began as a snarl turned to a whimper when the man gripped her hips and pulled her close.

“Like what?” Matthew pressed a kiss on her open mouth, shrugging out of his jacket. Holding her, he skimmed fingers over every bit of milky skin exposed by the gown - tracing a line down her back, across the tops of her breasts, the curve of her neck.

Charlie swallowed thickly, struggling to find her voice. “What are you doing?”

“I think you know what I’m doin.”

Deft fingers began to search her dress for hooks, buttons, anything so he might slowly peel it from soft, glowing skin. Work roughened hands slipped inside to knead the weight of her breasts. She did not see it, but felt a smile on the mouth nipping her neck when she sighed his name. He knelt before her, tasting a path between her breasts, the remainder of her dress tugged to pool at her feet.

Matthew was a man who enjoyed the simple things in life, but goddamn if her underwear and all its frilly lace didn’t make his cock jump just looking at it hug her hips.

Feeling it was a whole different level of decadence.

His fingertips hooked her bloomers and - like unwrapping a present - he ever so slowly pulled until they whispered down her legs.

Full lips came to kiss where a bullet had once torn her apart, before Matthew dipped his tongue into her navel, and heard her short breathy giggle. Repeating the action with a firmer lap, he felt her tremble.

Matthew stood, stripping off his clothing, all the while backing Charlie towards the bed. Pushing her to lay beneath him, Matthew kneed apart her thighs and fingered between damp folds before she had a chance to balk. Moving a fingertip around the tight passage he was going to claim, drew out her whimper. His Charlotte was already so wet, eagerly spreading so he might find the spot that drove her wild. Growling over the panting woman, he ghosted over her nub, relishing how her hips pressed against him, begging for more.

Knowing it was her first time, he slipped one finger where she ached, then another, curling them as she cried out. Matthew kissed her jaw, tasted each nipple, her body jumping and clenching with each new sensation.

Charlie was so caught up, she didn’t realize where his mouth was heading until the hand that had been giving her such pleasure disappeared and hot breath blew over her sex. Eyes flying open, she looked as his tongue flicked out to taste her, delving in right where she needed to be filled.

Nothing, nothing on the planet could possibly exceed such bliss. The wet sounds when that ferocious tongue lapped, were sinful. She was gone, swept away, moaning so loud Matthew was near undone at the sound of it.

His fingers spread her lower lips, giving him a view no other man would ever see. He found her perfect, pink and pretty, and so damn delicious his tongue could happily lap forever. But his attention served a purpose. Fingers worked carefully into the writhing woman, his tongue dancing over every spot that made her squirm, providing distraction over the little sting the stretch inspired. When he sucked that delicate nub between his lips, Charlie muttered nonsense to the air. Her climax came so hard she screamed his name and mindlessly bucked.

He needed to feel that spasming pussy all over his prick, he needed to sink in to that pulsing, slippery grip. Kissing his way to her breast, lavishing the soft flesh with a manic tongue, Matthew sucked Charlie’s tight nipple hard enough pain cut through her stupor. Once her passage clenched and twitched anew, Matthew pulled his fingers from her body to smear her juices on an iron-hard cock.

“Look at me, Charlotte,” he purred, running his bulbous crown up and down her folds, teasing and enticing her to soften for all his girth.

Those big blue eyes fluttered open and her lips formed the softest of wondrous smiles.

Matthew knew she was not the type of woman who feared a little sting, understood she would want it over with quickly. With his eyes glowing for her, his brow determined, he pressed a kiss to her mouth and thrust in hard, holding himself buried to the hilt as she bit back a pained, throaty groan.

It was pure torture for him to be surrounded by such tight, spasming heat and remain motionless, to not wildly rut her as hard as he imagined every time he touched himself.

Watching her face for the softening of her brow, he kissed her nose, her cheeks, her jaw, and waited. It was not long before he felt a deep breath leave her, and instinctively, he knew what to do. Small rolling movements ground against her softness, massaging her down below with his body, easing the hurt. Matthew’s tongue undulated against hers, mimicking the penetration of her core, and almost immediately, he felt her grow even wetter, signaling her body was ready for him to thrust.

Whatever discomfort there had been when he first shoved inside vanished. Each plunge was met with eager hips. He got her good and worked up, marveling in the scent of her, the feel, until he was fucking fast, hard, and not at all like a gentleman. He knew he should be tender with Charlotte, but the way she was calling to him, nails clawing his back and urging him on, Matthew lost control. When she screamed out, her sweet sheath going wild and strangling his cock, he groaned, ramming in deep, the spurt of his seed exploding from a deep, satisfying place.

Slick with sweat, he breathed into her neck, senseless and glorying in the trembling little shudders that wracked the woman in his arms. He kissed her, drawing out the purity of the moment, soothing his golden girl into a deep abiding calm.

Matthew woke wrapped around Charlotte, feeling the warmth of her bare skin against his flesh. Midday sun streamed through the window, offering a perfect view so he might admire what he’d touched and tasted all through the night. She was still deeply sleeping, and no wonder… he had gluttonously reached for her twice more in the dark, his thirst insatiable with her soft and naked beside him.

Each time he’d stroked, she’d purred; when he moved to claim her, she’d welcomed him - let him do as he pleased, and became an eager student as he initiated her in the ways of sex.

Beyond the physical release, he needed her again and again just to absorb the unguarded glow of adoration in her eyes. To have the woman look on him so lovingly, to be so exposed, the view was intoxicating and he wondered if he’d ever get enough.

In the morning light, he found faint smears of her virgin blood around his member, on her thighs, and sheets, a pang of guilt following. Moving carefully, Matthew climbed from the bed and walked naked to the lavatory so he might wash himself and fill up the tub where warm water might soothe her.

A knock came. Wrapping a towel around his lower half, he looked to the bed to find the golden girl still dead to the world. Matthew took her rifle in hand and cracked the door.

Radcliffe did not look surprised to see him standing there practically naked. “I heard about the little scuffle last night.” He spoke conversationally, a quirk to his lips and a knowing gleam in his eyes. “I think it’s time we had a talk.”

Matthew said nothing.

“Don’t worry about, Lottie. She was always a late sleeper, and from the looks of you, you wore her out good,” Radcliffe turned, walking away. “I’ll be waiting in the café downstairs.”

Wishing him to hell, Matthew watched him go. The idea of leaving Charlotte in the room alone, even in broad daylight, not one he relished. But he knew a man like Radcliffe would have his coffee, even if it meant sending thugs to drag him from the room.

The moment Matthew took the seat across from Beaumont, two steaming cups appeared.

Radcliffe worked his jaw, looking to the side before speaking. “I know what you think of me in regards to my Blackbird,” Startling eyes flashed back to his guest. “But you don’t know her like I do.”

Matthew said nothing, only picked up his mug and took a long sip, meeting that gaze with a threatening one of his own.

“That kid was tough as nails. Once saw her bite a man’s ear clean off.” Beaumont lit a cigarette, exhaling in a burst of smoke. “No joke.”

“What do you want, Radcliffe?”

There was an arrogant smirk. “You’re wasting your time if you think you could turn her from me. Lottie loves me - was the best son a guy could ask for.”

Narrowing his eyes, Matthew growled, “Charlotte is a woman.”

“Don’t I know it,” Beaumont snorted, laughing around the cigarette dangling from his lips. “Lottie tell you how we came to be close?”

Matthew conceded, monotone. “You bonded over a pistol pointed at her skull.”

“No…” Beaumont looked amused at the assumption. “I took her in that night cause it just felt wrong to have a little girl croak in the gutter. I expected her to die from the bullet wound. Imagine my surprise when the little bastard lived.”

Matthew clenched his teeth.

“No need to get upset.” Beaumont tapped the table with his finger, signaling for more coffee. “About six weeks after the incident,” he chuckled, those devilish eyes sparkling, “I had her laboring for me round the office. One night there was a drive by, two trucks full of Capone’s thugs. They shot up my storefront, killed half a dozen of my men. The bastards were swarming in, guns blazing and I was outnumbered. Out of nowhere, scrawny Blackbird stands over my cowering men with a tommy gun. She emptied it like a champ into the enemy. Killed them all, going so far as to walk outside to mow down the scum trying to flee. When it was done, she set the smoking gun aside and went right to cleaning up. She saved my life, my business… that night I took her home to meet Martha.”

“How very touching.” Matthew had only grown more disgusted through Radcliffe’s sick fairytale. “Saved by a little girl.”

“She wasn’t an ordinary little girl. She was an automaton on a fucking mission from God.” Radcliffe became totally serious. “Nothing, and I mean nothing, would deter her. I offered to take her in, Martha wanted to keep her. Lottie refused, claiming she had to take care of a mother who couldn’t even feed herself most days.”

Matthew felt the coffee churn in his gut. “So you’re some fucking saint for exposing her to your business?”

“She would have gone to another man-of-business if I didn’t keep her; probably even Capone himself if she felt the need to.” The warning look in Beaumont gave him made it clear Matthew was on thin ice. “Keeping her close, she was as safe as she’d let herself be. I taught her how to take care of herself. I raised her.”

Clearing his throat, the brawny country boy leaned back in his chair, and sneered. “Then why did she leave you?”

“She killed one of my men.” A puff of smoke came out with the answer. “A real piece of work that had a tendency to be a little rough with the ladies. I suspect he figured out what she was and tried to have at her. Found his severed pecker clear across the room from his body. Dressing like a boy kept her alive and employed. The older she got, the harder it was to hide. The guys started to notice Blackbird never needed a shave… never pissed in front of them. Gangsters tend to be a stupid lot, but after nine years…”

Sitting in angry silence, Matthew waited for the mobster to get to the point.

“Don’t think I don’t know what she’s been doing - hunting down her daddy and god knows who else.” Beaumont chuckled while he lit up a second cigarette. “Now that Ronnie Pearson has been dealt with, now that she’s free of her nutso mother, I want to see her settled.”

Matthew’s scowl deepened. “She ain’t gonna marry no Tommy Kennedy just to please you.”

“No,” blue eyes danced, Beaumont certain, “can’t say she will. I already told her if she married Tommy it didn’t need to be a regularly consummated union, if you get my drift. Lottie refused.” After a long inhale and a good hum of smoke, he confessed, “I want her to be happy, but I know my Blackbird, she was made for greater things than…” Beaumont eyed him up and down, less than pleased with what sat before him.

“You think you know what’s best for her?” Appalled, his voice grew grainy, Matthew standing from his chair to lean menacingly over his host. “You don’t know a fucking thing about her.”

“I’m the nearest thing she has to a father.” Though his tone was conversational there was a quality to it that was downright chilling. “Lottie is independent and will do as she pleases. But I got my eye on you, Matthew Emerson. You make one misstep with my girl, and I’ll cut your goddamn head off personally.”

A look of utter disbelief crossed Matthew’s glower. This was not a negotiation for Charlotte. This was a father having the talk with a suitor. Dumbfounded, Matthew retook his seat and gulped down his coffee, brows low as he absorbed the grave warning on Radcliffe’s face.

“You’ll always have to share her with her family in Chicago. My Martha’s real keen on having her around, and a wise man doesn’t deny his wife anything.” After those parting words, Beaumont stood and left without so much as a goodbye.

-Went for coffee. Tubs full.-

The note Matthew had left made Charlie smirk - a man of few words even on paper. The tub was still steaming, looking awful inviting. Lowering her sore body into the heat inspired a sigh, the ache in her hips and the tenderness between her legs disappearing. Over the years Charlie had listened to the crude stories of gangsters, overheard detailed descriptions of sex and knew some of the more risqué things lovers did. Never in a million years did she think Matthew would do them to her.

Even worn out, the thought of his tongue dancing between her legs made her flush, her nipples harden, and the twinge became a very different sort of feeling.

She was turning out to be a disreputable harlot.

The reflection made her snort a laugh and slip deeper into the water.

Hearing the door open and close, Charlie automatically reached for the rifle leaning against the lip of the tub. “Matthew? That you?”

“Yeah.”

Her heart slowed. She saw him peek in at her as she leaned the weapon back in its resting spot, unsure if the man’s glare was one of approval or reprimand. “Come on in and keep me company.”

The door swung in, his eyes skimming the glistening swell of bosom exposed by foamy water.

Hoarse, he asked, “You feelin alright?”

The downright wicked grin she gave him made Matthew fractionally raise his brow.

“I have come to the conclusion that in one night you have made me a shameless woman, Mr. Emerson. The things you did… I don’t expect many women get tended to quite so thoroughly.”

Charlie knew he would not answer her, his preferred form of communication nonverbal, and watched his throat move as he swallowed. Glancing to the swelling of his impressive, growing manhood trapped by his trousers, she licked her bottom lip. He gave out a groan like a tied up dog, eyeballing her like a bone beyond his tether.

“What you got there?” Her voice was innocent but her eyes stared straight at the tent in his trousers.

“You keep talkin like that and lookin like you are,” he growled, unwilling to be daunted by one wet, teasing woman, “And you’re gonna end up in some trouble.”

Charlie grinned as she stood, water running down her pinkened skin. “I quite like your brand of trouble.”

He knew he should let her body heal, but swept her into his arms like a goddamn maniac. She squealed and giggled as he tossed her down on the bed, Matthew already hovering to embrace her when she bounced.

He wanted to touch, to explore in the light, and spoiled her with languid caresses, his hands and cock far gentler than the demon who’d thrashed between her thighs in the dark.

When both were satisfied, Charlie nestled into the side of his body, tracing the muscles of his torso while she hummed, “I have somewhere I got to go tonight - a four or five day trip if I hurry.”

He tensed under her fingers. “Where?”

Leaning up, she put her chin on his chest and debated on telling him. “I, uh…” she looked away then whispered very low, “I need to visit my mother.”

“Is that where you been going when you sneak out of town?” He turned her head, seeking out her eyes. “Didn’t you tell Beaumont she passed on?”

“I implied as much. Not a soul knows where she is. I wouldn’t want someone going after her cause of me.” All her ease was gone. “I should be back by Friday, latest, if I leave tonight.”

Matthew stroked her back. “You want me to go with you?”

“No.” She hid her face against his chest, kissing to distract. “You have your own business to attend to and… it would be uncomfortable for you.”

Matthew was not a squeamish man. “Why?”

Her fingers scratched lightly over his chest hair. “You ever seen a deranged person?”

“No.” He wanted her to continue, to explain.

Forehead to his chest, Charlie sighed, “You know what I am and where I come from. But knowing and seeing are two different things.”

It was a low spoken statement, not a question. “And you think it’ll frighten me off.”

“I’d like to think you’re a better man than that.” She put her ear over his heart. “I just… I’m not…”

He knew what she was unable to say.

Matthew ran a hand through her mussed hair. “I’ll pick you up at Gap Mills Station when your train comes in.”

He felt her smile against his skin. “I’d like that.”