4. Char
CHAR
“Stupid fucking woman,” I murmured as I ripped my comfort blanket from beneath my pillow.
I shoved it into a bag before turning toward my small bookshelf.
“That’ll help keep me occupied,” I said to myself as I reached for a couple of them.
What started as a mission to grab a few more things turned into packing up damn near half of my apartment.
Grabbing blankets, clothes, and books turned into emptying half of my fucking refrigerator so that the food inside didn’t spoil.
I figured, why not? There were plenty of hungry men back at their place, and I knew they’d eat it if I cooked it.
I shoved things into plastic grocery bags and plucked a picture of me and my mother off the kitchen countertop.
I stared down at it, clutching it so tightly that my knuckles turned white.
I had to remind myself about how beautiful life could be.
About the kind of happiness that I was capable of.
Mom’s smile always reminded me of that.
But the shuffling of feet up the steps pulled me out of my mind. Great. Deac was about to bust in on the party. I shook my head as I made my way back into my bedroom. One bag turned into three, and I yanked all of them down onto the ground before tugging them out into the hallway.
Only for a hard thud to be followed by a grunt.
“Hello?” I called out.
The hallway shrouded me from the front door as silence fell over my place again.
“Hello!?” I asked as my voice grew in strength.
My stomach fell to my toes, however, when that rapid, soft knocking came at the door. It had energy behind it. Almost a nervous energy.
Deac wouldn’t have knocked, either.
“Who is it?” I asked as I dropped the straps of my bags.
“It’s me,” Special Agent DeFleur said, “can you open up, Miss Char? It’s urgent.”
If I wasn’t so fucking fed up, I probably would’ve been in disbelief. “You’re not even a real ATF agent. Why should I open anything for you?”
It took her a moment to respond. “We have to talk before they wake up, Char. It’s the only safe way.”
Wake up? What in the absolute fuck did she mean, wake up? I never moved so quickly in all my life. Every ounce of good judgement I had racing through my head got tossed out the window, and the instant I yanked that door open, I figured out what happened to my guys.
They were slumped on the concrete and wrought iron stairs, their backs against the railing and their legs twisted out from beneath them.
“Deac! Dallas!” I exclaimed.
I went to reach for them, but that woman grabbed my arm. “We need to talk.”
I yanked away from her with wild eyes. “Who the fuck are you? What the hell have you done to them!?”
That’s when I studied her. As I stood there in between my unconscious men and that dumbass bitch, I saw the sweat permeating her brow. I saw her fists balled up at her sides and shaking. Her legs were locked out. Her eyes focused completely on me.
She put up one hell of a fight getting up to my door.
“Who the fuck are you?” I snarled as I stalked back up the steps.
“Miss Char?—”
I tilted my head as I pointed to my men. “What have you done to them?”
“Please, if you could just?—”
I closed the distance between me and that woman and made sure I spat on her skin as I spoke. “Your next words better be answers to my questions, or my next phone call is going to be to a 9-1-1 dispatcher where I tell her that a fake-ass federal agent is stalking around town harassing its members.”
“I swear,” the woman said as she tried stepping around me, “if we can just talk inside?—”
I moved with her, though. “Not without my permission.”
She raked her gaze down the length of my crooked stature. “You really don’t recognize me, do you?”
“Am I supposed to?” I snarled.
“Char,” Dallas muttered groggily.
I didn’t dare release that woman’s stare, even though I wanted to turn toward the sound of his voice.
I watched him out of the corner of my eye, his mangled body trying to move.
Trying to fight whatever the fuck it was swimming around in their systems. It was the only explanation, especially since they didn’t have bruises. She wasn’t bloody, just tired.
She drugged my guys.
That woman reached for my hand. “All I need is a few minutes of your time. Nothing more, nothing less.”
I yanked away from her, stepping back toward the threshold of my apartment. “Don’t you dare touch me.”
“I’m one of the officers that helped to arrest your father,” she said quickly.
I had to admit, I was shocked that she told me.
But what shocked me even more was watching her shove her hand into her back pocket.
I saw her withdraw a piece of paper, folded multiple times over.
It was yellowed at the edges. Time did a number on the crumpled wad as she unfurled it with the tips of her fingers, as if it were precious to her.
“See?” she asked as she handed it to me. “I’ve kept this with me ever since.”
I didn’t take the picture from her, but I did look down at it. As Deac grunted at my feet, his body shifting as he tried to pull out of it, I held my breath until he fell silent again. Collapsed, just like Dallas did.
Jesus fuck, that woman had the same picture in her back pocket that the guys had back at their place. The same picture, with me crying into that woman’s arms while another officer had my father face down in our pathetic, dead grass lawn.
“You may not remember me,” the woman said as she folded it back up, “but I’ll always remember you.”
My gaze met her stare. “So you’re not an ATF agent.”
She tucked the paper back into her pocket. “It’s complicated. Please, just let me in. All I want is to talk with you.”
Whether it was having her in front of me or hearing it from her own mouth instead of studying pictures, the past came crashing back.
I stepped off to the side, stunned that I even allowed her into my place, and I found myself no longer staring at a stranger.
It was almost as if looking at an old friend, with the way she smiled at me and held me close to her on that porch.
The sensation of her arms wrapped around me while I tried to get to my father locked around me.
Her whispered words, a comfort during a time in my life when I thought everyone fought against me.
And when she turned to face me, I saw the heavy bags beneath her eyes. The tired look behind her irises. The gray hair, rising up from her temples and streaking through both sides of her hair. Even her shoulders slumped slightly as she surveyed me, watching as the door ticked closed behind me.
I didn’t know what to say, so I kept my mouth shut.
“I’m not a threat,” she said.
I blinked. “That’s still to be determined.”
She snickered. “Those men illegally sell guns that kill throngs of people every day, but I’m the bad guy?”
I shrugged. “Right now, yeah.”
She studied me carefully. “They’ve already gotten to you, haven’t they?”
“You’re not making any sense.”
The woman rushed me, and the speed at which she moved took me by surprise.
“Jesus, what the?—”
She stood only inches away from me. “Men like them always have a way of turning good people to their side. Don’t tell me they’ve gotten to you, too.”
I slipped off to the side and made a beeline for the kitchen. I needed a weapon, and quickly. My eyes scanned the countertops as I rushed to my fridge. I cracked it open, trying to play as if I searched for a drink as I moved in front of my kitchen knives.
“You thirsty?” I asked as I reached into the refrigerator.
“No,” the woman said plainly.
“Suit yourself,” I said as I grasped a soda.
“And just so you know,” she said as I cracked my drink open, “you won’t be needing any of those knives with me. I’m not here to hurt you.”
I sipped my drink and leaned against the countertop, refusing to move away from them. “Then what are you here to do?”
I took another loud gulp, slurping my drink down as the woman’s eyes stayed connected with my own. Was she dumb enough?
Maybe I could pry more information out of her before the guys woke up and snapped her neck.
“You’re right,” the woman said as she came closer to me, “I’m not an ATF agent.”
“So you are…?”
She stopped just shy of my kitchen. “I’m a federal agent who deals in undercover operations. The ATF is my current cover.”
My mind started racing. “So I’m part of whatever you’re doing for work?”
She shook her head. “I was passing through town on my way to report to my boss to fill him in on some things that have developed in a case I’m running out of Los Angeles.”
I blinked. “There a second part to that statement?”
The woman sighed. “I came into your bar for a small bite to eat and drink, and there you were. That sweet little girl from all those years ago.”
“And you just… decided to stick around to see how I was doing?”
She looked down at her shuffling feet as she slipped her hands into her pockets. “When I saw you, and I saw those guys, I just… got one of my gut feelings?”
“I take it your gut tells you a lot?”
She chuckled as she lifted her stare to mine. “It’s what helped me to climb the ladder. But I saw those guys sitting out in the parking lot sometimes at the bar, and every once in a while they’d get out to walk around the place, and I just?—”
“They were watching the bar?” I asked.
She nodded. “For a while. Layborn is a pass-through town. One of the people I’m tracking comes through here frequently, so I sort of set up shop here to watch things.”
“Uh huh.”
“And when I saw those guys poking around the bar? I just knew it wasn’t good. And there you were, once again, right smack dab in the middle of something you weren’t aware of. I just?—”
“Couldn’t let that slide?” I asked before I took another long pull from my drink.
“Look,” the woman said before she heaved a tired sigh, “I know it may seem like I’m coming off strong, but you have to understand that your case is what changed me.”
“What?”
She groaned as her head fell back. “Every officer has that one case that changes them. The one case that shows them the trajectory of the rest of their career. You and your father’s case was that for me.
I knew that I couldn’t allow children like yourself to continue to suffer.
Seeing you cry while your father was arrested like that?
It changed me, Char. It altered my life, permanently.
I knew that as long as I was alive and breathing, I’d make sure that no child would ever experience what you went through. Not if I could help it.”
I had to admit, the story tugged at my heartstrings.
But not enough.
“Look, Char,” she said as she took another step toward me.
I hopped up onto the countertop. “You can stay put. You’re close enough.”
She scoffed. “I risked a lot in my career back during that time to make sure you ended up somewhere good. Somewhere where you could flourish and be productive. I am not the bad guy?—”
I barked with laughter. I couldn’t fucking help it. The second she uttered those words, I was ready to throw my half-drank soda at her goddamn head.
I doubled over in laughter as I set the can off to the side.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
I gripped my stomach. “Oh my God. Flourish. Right. Okay.”
“What?”
I cackled as I tried catching my breath. “You thought—you thought I—you—somewhere—HAHAHA!”
“Char?”
My laughter ceased immediately and I pinned her with a look. “Bitch, you didn’t do shit. I was abandoned after that trial.”
She tilted her head. “No, you weren’t.”
I hopped off the counter and stalked toward her. “Yes, I was. Tossed from foster home to foster home until I decided that living on the street was better than that.”
Her eyes widened. “No, you weren’t.”
I shoved her chest, backing her up toward my door. “I lived on the street, trying to make a buck for myself under the table while everyone else my age went to school. Got an education. Got their degrees.”
“No, that can’t be true,” she whispered. “I—I arranged for?—”
I got into her face as her back fell against my closed front door.
“You didn’t arrange for shit. I lived on the streets trying to survive.
I sucked and fucked my way out of my fucking hometown, hopping from state to state only to end up here, where I barely managed to piece together a life that means something. ”
“Oh no,” the woman whispered.
“So whatever sacrificial journey is it that you’re on? Leave me the fuck out of it.”
I reached around the woman to grab the doorknob, but she caught my wrist. I stared her down, damn near snarling my teeth at her as she tightened her grip.
“You’re hurting me,” I said flatly.
The woman only gripped tighter, though. “I risked my entire career to get you set up after what happened to your parents.”
I ignored the pain shooting up my arm and got so close to her that my breath pulsed against her face.
“Well someone didn’t get your fucking memo. Now let me go, or so help me God, the sheriff is going to be the next person I call once I rip out of your motherfucking grasp.”
“Char!” Deac grunted out.
“Char, she’s here,” Dallas sputtered. “We gotta—we got?—”
The woman’s eyes widened as she dropped my wrist.
“Sounds like they’re waking up,” I whispered.
I ripped the door open and watched her stumble to the ground.
I held my head high, listening to my men as they grunted and scurried about, trying to get their feet beneath them.
Their drugged voices chanted my name, forecasting a warning that was much too late.
And as I watched that woman clamor back to her feet, I flung the door open and ushered my arm out into the world.
“If I ever see you again, Special Agent Fakeass, I’ll make sure whoever the hell your boss is knows that you’re harassing someone on your off hours whose life you’ve already ruined.”
“Char!” Deac exclaimed.
Dallas cleared his throat. “Jesus fuck, the hell did she shoot us with?”
The woman reached out for me. “Char, I’m so?—”
“Goodbye,” I said curtly.
And as the guys continued to shake off their dreary nature, the woman finally disappeared through my front door, leaving my place without another word spoken.
I knew it wouldn’t be the last time, though.
Understanding her story and how personally she took all of this, I knew we hadn’t seen the last of her.
Not by a longshot.