Chapter 2
One month ago.Barlow, Indiana.
If Charlie had a home,she would consider that to be her grandmother’s house in Barlow, Indiana. After her father had gotten arrested, her mother had brought her to Granny’s. The three of them had lived there together for an excruciating few weeks, during which Mom sobbed on the phone a lot and Charlie tried to focus on her new school. With her height, she had no chance of blending in, so instead she pretended she was above it all, a glamorous outsider stranded in the Midwest.
Once word got out that her father was on trial and likely going to prison, she had no choice but to double down on that act.
Only one person had seen through it—Lila Romanoff. Lila had set out to make friends with Charlie, and no one could resist that fairy-like blond elf. All of a sudden, Charlie had friends. Molly, Ani, Lila and Charlie all knew what it felt like to be outcasts. They’d bonded almost like sisters, supporting each other through one trauma after another.
Like when Charlie’s mom had had enough of Barlow, Indiana and fled to Paris to try to resume her old career as a model.
“You can come with me if you like,” she’d offered half-heartedly. “Or you can stay with your granny for the school year and stay with me in the summers. Of course it would be lovely to have you all year round, but you’d have to learn French and?—”
“I’ll stay here.” Charlie had cut her off before she could shred her heart even further. “That way I can still see Daddy.”
“Sure, honey, but you know after the trial he’ll most likely be in?—”
Charlie had jumped to her feet so they were eye to eye. She’d gotten her height from her mother. Nearly six feet at the age of fifteen. “But I can still see him, can’t I?”
I won’t abandon him, not like you. That was the subtext, and her mother had picked it up easily.
“Yes, you can. I hope you do. You’ve always been such a Daddy’s girl. I know he’ll love to see you.”
That was the thing about being at “home,” Charlie thought as she laced up her running shoes in the little entryway of her grandmother’s old ranch-style house. The memories didn’t leave her alone. Granny had died three years ago and bequeathed the house to Charlie. Her mother had never come back to the States.
Charlie stood up and stretched from side to side, trying to release the tension in her body. With her father’s diagnosis, she couldn’t wait any longer. He’d die in prison if she didn’t get him out. All the pieces were in place, and it was nearly time to pull the trigger. Breaking someone out of prison was an expensive job, but she’d acquired the necessary funds in the most poetically perfect way—by hacking the parent corporation of her father’s former company, the one that had hung him out to dry.
Yup—the corporate entity known as the Hobbs Corporation, one of whose subsidiaries had sold out her dad, was now two million dollars poorer. They didn’t know it, luckily. She’d simply changed one hundredth of a percentage point in the amount they allocated to a legal insurance fund. That one tiny change had been steadily funneling money into an offshore account that looked like it belonged to said CEO. If anyone caught on, they’d blame him, and deservedly so. He was a corrupt criminal who had forced her father to take the fall for his fuckups.
It was the least they could do, in Charlie’s opinion. As soon as the last of the transfers cleared, she’d delete that line of code and pull the trigger on the escape plan.
She grabbed her house key and tucked it into the pocket of her jogging pants. Time to shake off the travel dust. She’d just come back from a trip to New York, where she’d seen Molly and Ani, and taken charge of Lila’s goldfish. Glancing over her shoulder, she checked the glass globe tank, which she’d set right in the middle of the dining room table.
“I’m going for a run in the park,” she called to the fish. “Don’t answer the door while I’m gone.”
Goldilocks ignored her, as she’d done ever since Charlie had rescued her from Lila’s New York apartment. How could you explain to a fish that she was probably going to get flushed if someone didn’t take her in? Charlie wasn’t the maternal type, but she wasn’t about to let that happen.
“You should get some exercise too. Maybe a few laps around the fishbowl? Some lunges? Fish yoga, is that a thing?”
Outside, she set a slow pace toward the park, through the suburban neighborhood where she’d spent the last years of high school. It was early May, and everyone’s forsythia bushes were in full bloom. Daffodils nodded cheerfully from sunny borders, and the sound of lawnmowers droned in the distance. The air smelled of blossoms and fresh grass, and she could practically taste the lemonade her grandmother would have made for her after a track meet. It was so calm here, so tranquil, and yet…
And yet…
She couldn’t wait to take off again. It was too tame, too predictable. She didn’t belong here.
She didn’t belong anywhere.
At the edge of the park, the figure of a man up ahead caught her attention. A runner; a good one, too. She knew a decent stride when she saw one. She didn’t recognize him, the way she did most of the other joggers around here. He must be new to the neighborhood.
She slowed her pace, not wanting to cross paths with a stranger, even a good-looking one. Stellar ass, she noted. Those running sweats really showed it off. As she entered the park and the shade of the freshly budding maple trees, she saw the man slow his pace, then stop at the edge of the path. He bent over, hands on his knees, peering at something she couldn’t make out.
Curiosity killed the cat, she scolded herself. But she couldn’t help it. Charlie had always been insatiably curious. Her curiosity, along with her thirst for revenge, had driven her to learn about the financial system that had brought down her father. Combine that with her love of coding and the need to right wrongs…well, it added up to trouble. And yet, several extremely worthy nonprofits had felt the benefits. Like everything, it was a mixed bag.
She paused next the man. “Dead body, this early in the summer?” she asked lightly.
He barely spared her a glance. That was unusual in itself. With her height, and ever since she’d grown into her dramatic features, she tended to attract attention.
But the jogger kept his focus on the leaf debris under the maple. “Shh. You might scare him. The poor little guy’s one shock away from perishing.”
She came a step closer and saw a bird on its side, fluttering in the pile of dead leaves. Its feathers were a soft speckled gray, its one visible eye bright as a jet bead. “He looks like he’s trying to fly. Do you think his wing is broken?”
“Looks like.” On his knees, he inched forward and piled leaves around the bird. Using them to form a cushion under the bird, he gently scooped it up. “I can’t just leave it, my daughter would kill me.”
A daughter. And yet, she saw no ring on any of his fingers. He had dark sweat-thickened hair that curled against his skin. And muscles. And big hands. The way he cupped that pile of leaves in his hands was unreasonably sexy.
“I’d offer to take it in, but my new goldfish might object. Not that she’d tell me. She’s still not speaking to me.”
He finally looked up at her. Dark, dark eyes to go with his hair. Stubble. Lots of stubble, framing finely curved lips. “Silent treatment, huh? Been there.” Using only the strength of his legs, he made his way to his feet. “Do you know the closest vet around here?”
So he wasn’t local.
“I don’t. But I know a pet store that sells fish food. It’s not far. They might be able to help.”
“Great.” He waited for her to continue. In his hands, the bird opened its beak and gave a weak chirp. He murmured to it, “Don’t you worry, Hector. I’m gonna take care of you.”
“Hector?”
“Famous Greek warrior. I’m using positive reinforcement.”
Charlie sighed. He was just too cute, she couldn’t take it. “I’ll call the pet store.”
The pet store clerk told them about a wildlife refuge that took in wounded animals, including birds. It was located just outside of town. “Just try to keep it comfortable until then,” she advised.
“I’ll drive you,” Charlie told the man cradling the bird in his hands. “Hector looks pretty comfortable right now, you can’t put him down.”
“Are you sure? You haven’t even gotten your run in yet.” He shot a quick glance down her body. It left a trail of scorching awareness in its wake.
“I can run later.”
“You don’t have to get to work?”
The question was innocent enough. Most people probably had jobs to get to at this time of day. But Charlie didn’t like to answer questions like that. “Don’t you?”
“I work for myself.”
“Same.”
They left it at that, as if neither one felt the need to know more. That relaxed Charlie; she hated fending off questions with half-truths or evasions. How could she explain that she was a self-appointed Robin Hood hacker who targeted the worst corporate wrongdoers and secretly redirected funds toward nonprofits that needed them more?
That wasn’t the kind of thing you could tell people. Not even her best friends. They knew about the money her father had signed over to her before he went to prison, but they didn’t know how she’d added to it. Occasionally they hinted that they’d love a few more details. But every time she thought about telling them, she imagined their scorn at the shadiness and potential illegality. So she held her tongue.
“I’m Nick Perini, by the way,” the man told her once they were settled into her grandmother’s old Buick.
“Charlotte Santa Lucia, but everyone calls me Charlie.”
“Is that an Italian last name?”
“My family is actually Basque, but only on one side. On the other side it’s pure good old Appalachia coal mining. My mother came from West Virginia,” she explained.
“Beautiful country. Does she still live there?”
“No. She lives in Rome with her new husband and?—”
Why was she talking so much about her mother? That was much too personal. She shifted the topic. “How old is your daughter?”
“Fifteen.”
“Oooh, tough age. Now the whole silent treatment thing makes sense.”
“Yeah, but in her case, there’s a little more to it.” He sat in the passenger seat of her car, cradling the pile of leaves between his thighs. She’d brought him a towel to make the process easier. He effortlessly filled the space with his physicality and his magnetism. “I only met her a year ago.”
“Really!” Juicy. Maybe that explained the lack of a wedding ring. “How did that happen?”
“Oh, it’s a long story. There was lots of alcohol involved but no phone numbers. You see where I’m going.”
“One-night stand, never saw her again, until a teenager showed up out of the blue?”
“Pretty much. She contacted me a few months ago, after I ran into her mom completely by chance.”
He didn’t seem to want to go into it in any more detail, which she respected. She too kept the details of her life vague.
“Are things going well now? Is she living with you?”
“No, we live in different cities. She visits for the occasional weekend. They fight a lot, and I’m the safety valve. I’d like to set up more of a regular schedule, but for now, I take what I get. Maybe I should get a baby bird. That might entice her to stick around longer.”
His hopeful expression made her heart melt a little. She wasn’t generally the heart-melting type, so that was interesting. “You’re welcome to borrow my goldfish if you think it might help. She’s a pretty good housemate, if you don’t count those wild parties she throws in her little mini-castle.”
He gave her a wide, infectious grin, the kind that stretched from ear to ear and made everyone nearby want to smile. She was the only one nearby. She smiled. “What inspired you to adopt a goldfish?”
“She belonged to a friend who went missing. My other friend is trying to locate her. My contribution is to babysit her fish.”
“I’m sorry your friend is missing. Is she from around here?”
Maybe she should stop sharing details. They didn’t yet know if Lila was safe, where she was, who she might be with. As they approached the front gate of the Wildlife Waystation, she shifted the topic. “Do you live around here?”
“No, I don’t. Here on business.”
“What business could possibly bring you to Barlow, Indiana?”
“Investment opportunity.”
That sounded vague. “You’re an investor?” She pulled into the parking lot and brought the Buick to a stop in front of the visitor center.
“Me, no. I do research. On-the-ground research. There’s a lot you can only learn by getting up close and personal.”
“What business are you researching? I know most of them around here.”
“It’s…proprietary, sorry.” He looked genuinely apologetic. “They always have me sign lots of NDAs before I do this work. You never know what might trigger a bidding war or a hostile takeover.”
“Hm.” Not that she didn’t believe him—that rang true with her knowledge of the financial world—but in her experience, people were all too willing to run their mouths. If not, there would be no need for NDAs. If she really wanted to, she could probably get him talking. People loved to impress.
But she had other priorities, namely her father.
Nick opened his car door and carefully lifted the towel piled with leaves and the trembling bird. Before he stepped out, he said, “I appreciate the assist. Can I thank you over dinner?”
She cocked her head at him, feeling sassy and sexy. “Are we talking Denny’s or IHOP?”
“We’re talking whatever’s the best place in town. I’ll do the research on that, it’s my thing. Unless you have a favorite spot?”
“Nope. Research away.”