Chapter Twenty-Three
Lucas
Ilay on my hotel bed staring at the ceiling. It was the middle of the night and I needed to sleep. I was ready to wrap this job up sooner than I'd expected. Especially considering that I was a fucking mess.
I hadn't slept more than a few hours at a time since I'd left Atlanta.
Since I'd left Charlie.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that fucking look on her face when I told her I'd see her around.
At the time, I thought I was doing the right thing.
I did.
It was harsh, yeah. Breakups were best done fast, like ripping off a bandage. Dragging it out never made it any better. I'd learned that from experience.
What I'd never done was break up with a woman and regret it later.
And I regretted leaving Charlie. It was a fucking ache in my chest, like a rotten tooth, the agony of it blooming with every heartbeat.
I couldn't escape it, even in sleep. I closed my eyes and I saw Charlie, the shocked pain in her blue eyes when I left.
In the brief snatches of sleep I managed, I dreamed of her. Her laugh and the way her skin felt against mine. The silk of her hair.
We weren't supposed to get attached. But we did. I knew goddamn well she had feelings for me. I thought she might even be in love with me, or think she was.
I knew I was in love with her.
It was a fucking disaster. The first time in my life I fall in love, and it's with Charlotte fucking Winters. There was no place for me in her world. That benefit was the nail in the coffin, but I already knew.
I was a rough guy who grew up in a rusted-out trailer. Yeah, I was smart and I could fake it with the best of them. That was part of my job. But the things I'd done . . . where I came from. I'd never fit in.
I didn't give a shit what those people thought of me. I don't need the approval of a bunch of rich people to be happy. But I knew what would happen if Charlie and I hooked up for real.
She'd spend the rest of her life defending me to snobs like Elizabeth, to people who would try to use me to drag her down. And eventually, one day, she'd look at me and all she'd see was a liability.
I couldn't do that to her. I wouldn't. I kept telling myself I wasn't the only guy out there who could make her happy.
Charlie, my Charlie, was perfect. Smart, and feisty, and fucking gorgeous. There were a ton of men, good men, who would kill for a woman like her. Men who would slide into the fabric of her life seamlessly.
That should've been the end of it. I'd walked away, as good as told her it was finished. She'd move on. I'd move on. Done.
Except that I couldn't sleep, and deep inside, I knew that none of those good men could ever love Charlie like I did.
They'd never be able to protect her like I could, to let her fly but always give her somewhere to land safely. She needed the freedom to be herself. To follow her dreams.
What if the next guy was like Harrison, who cheated on her and wanted her to change for him?
I needed to let her go, but every day we were apart, I missed her more.
Her security system was still connected to the app on my phone. I didn't spy on her. I'm not a creeper. I did get proximity alerts, and I knew when the system was activated and deactivated.
I also had access to the GPS on her panic button, so I knew she'd spent most of the last week at Winters House. The day before, she'd gone home.
I wished she'd stayed with her brother. I didn't like her being on her own, even with the security system and the panic button. Marissa Archer was safely locked away, but something about her didn't ring true for the stalker.
I had no doubt she was the one who'd been delivering the pictures. That part fit perfectly. And she could've been the stalker. There were some interesting transfers going out of her account.
She could easily have paid off the kid who left the note and the one who'd vandalized Charlie's house. She could've paid whoever attacked her, could even have been the attacker herself. She was older, but she was wiry and she had the right build.
The whole thing should've been neatly wrapped up. When I'd left, I'd been ninety-five percent sure Charlie was in the clear. I wouldn't have gone otherwise.
After too many nights of lying in bed, searching for sleep, the whole sequence of events rolled over and over in my mind and with every day that passed, I felt less certain that Charlie was safe.
Maybe I was making excuses.
It would be so easy to go back, convince her she needed me to watch over her, and get one more taste of Charlie. Just a little more time when I could pretend that she was mine.
I rolled over, punching the flat hotel pillow until it was thick enough to support my neck comfortably. I needed to get a good night’s sleep. I needed my brain sharp to finish up this job.
It wasn't dangerous. I was working undercover as a suit in a cubicle, gathering evidence to trap a clever embezzler two cubicles over. I had almost everything I needed for the client to press charges. In another day or two, I could go home.
Home was the last place I wanted to be. I'd kept Charlie out of my house for a reason. Now that I'd let her in, I'd see her everywhere. I'd never be able to look at my bed again without remembering Charlie there, the sheet wrapped around her long limbs, her dark hair spilling across the pillow.
I should've taken her up on the suggestion of a hotel.
I had to do something. I couldn't go on like this, obsessed with a woman I couldn't have. A woman who probably hated me after the callous way I'd walked out on her.
I couldn't get her back, but I could make sure she was safe. Before I went in to my last day on the job, I'd call Evers. There was no question the Sinclairs had their eyes on her. I could check in and make sure she was all right.
At exactly 8:30 the next morning, I dialed Evers's number. I'd managed to catch a few hours of sleep after I decided to call him.
I was braced for attitude. Charlie was like a little sister to all the Sinclairs and I'd hurt her. She told me the way those guys talked. Given that she'd run straight to her brother, I imagined the assembled Winters and Sinclair crew were out for my blood. It was no less than I deserved.
Evers picked up on the second ring.
"Jackson, I was going to call you today," he said, no hint of anger in his voice. He sounded friendlier than I'd ever heard him.
My guard went up.
"Were you?" I asked evenly. "What about?"
"We'll get to that later. Why did you call me? Something on your mind?" He almost sounded as if he were teasing me. I wasn't going to bite.
"Everything quiet there?" I asked.
"So far. What's bothering you?" Evers's voice sharpened on the question.
"Nothing specific," I admitted. "I just . . . I'm not solid on Marissa Archer for Charlie's stalker. The evidence lines up, but—"
A short gust of air sounded through the phone, as if Evers let out a held breath.
"I'm with you," he said. "We've got eyes on Charlie. Not all the time, but here and there. She still carrying her panic button and being smart about using the system at her house. I want to think all of it was Marissa. Makes it easy."
"But you're not convinced either," I said.
"No. And she's not talking. She hasn't said a fucking word.
The last thing she said was to Charlie. 'He's still out there.
And he's not done.' She knows what happened.
I believe she delivered those pictures, though I have no fucking clue why.
But I just don't see her going after Charlie.
The vandalism, that note—those things were personal to Charlie.
They had nothing to do with her family."
"It doesn't make sense," I finished for him.
"No, it doesn't."
"Does she know?"
"Charlie? Does she know we're not solid on Marissa Archer? No. Aiden knows. So does Jacob."
"The rest of them?" I asked. If her family hovered, it would drive Charlie nuts, but she was safer if they all knew she might be in danger.
"We're trying to keep it low-key. We don't have any proof that she's still in danger.
Nothing's happened since you've been gone.
But if you're convinced her stalker is still out there, then why the hell did you leave?
" Evers's voice went hard. "Everyone said you two were good together, then you just walked out on her. "
"Is this really your business?" I asked. I'd known this was coming, but I wasn't going to talk about Charlie with Evers. Looked like he wasn't going to give me another option.
"Are you fucking kidding me? If you think Charlie isn't my business, you haven't been paying attention. Or you're not as smart as I think you are. Did you get bored? She wasn't enough for you? Or was she too much trouble?"
"You don't know what the hell you're talking about," I said. "It wasn't about Charlie. Charlie is fucking perfect. Anyone who can't see that is an idiot."
"Then what? Seriously, I don't want to do a play-by-play of your whole relationship, but just tell me why you'd walk away from Charlie if you think she's so fucking perfect."
"Because she deserves better, okay? I know you guys checked me out. You know who I am."
"We do," Evers agreed. "Not everything, but we have good access. Birth through your first two years in the Army were easy. After that, the data gets a little sketchy, but we could put together a fairly accurate picture."
"So you know. You know where I come from, you know the things I've seen. The shit I've done. Charlie deserves someone like her. Someone she can be proud of. Someone whose hands are clean. How can you not get that? You should want better for her if you care so much."
"I do. I want the best for her. But what you're describing isn't the best. You think she should be with one of those country club boys?
Like the one who cheated on her or tried to drain her savings account?
Or the one who tried to use her to get a job?
That's what you think she deserves? Because that's what you're leaving her to. "