Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
CHARLI
Quiet descends on the apartment as I set down the few things I brought up.
I left most of my stuff in the car. Always be prepared.
My motto. My life. Not once since Hank got out of prison has he failed to find me.
Here, I’m racing against the clock, praying Mother Nature will cooperate.
If snow comes and the pass closes for the winter, I’ll think about unloading the rest.
For now, I’m safe and warm in this beautiful apartment, and I keep pinching myself to make sure it’s real.
Sleeping in a car hasn’t been the easiest. There isn’t a spare inch of space.
Sometimes it’s loud. Other times, the quiet descends, leaving only me in the world.
Safety is an illusion. Hypervigilance is a requirement. Exhaustion is a constant.
I slide the jacket Macklin gave me off my shoulders and carefully hang it up in the closet. Although I don’t think it’s his. Teague’s cologne lingers in its folds. I inhale appreciatively. Like him, it’s sexy. Dynamic. Fitting for the confident man I met today.
My fingers twitch with the need to draw him.
Unable to stop myself, I reach for my sketchbook.
The broad grin. Smooth jawline. Features I recognized instantly.
I flip to the page I did in Dallas. Teague’s the one sitting at the desk.
With his dark hair the color of an espresso and strong profile, his face an interesting mix of charm and sensuality.
While Macklin’s eyes are a deep blue, Teague’s are sterling blue-grey.
I’ve never seen anything like them. They appear blue at first glance, but flecks of silver turn them to grey.
Add in the broad shoulders and tapered waist on his tall frame, and I’m sure he has all the ladies after him.
The minute I looked up and saw him standing in front of my car, I was transfixed.
Nothing could have kept me from getting closer.
His smile and familiarity put me so at ease that I barely hesitated when he offered his hand.
But the second my palm met his, the world flipped on its axis.
It felt like I was falling off a cliff, and his hand was my only anchor, the two of us locked together in a freefall.
Both exhilarating and terrifying, I used Macklin’s appearance to slide my hand from his and rub my palm down my jeans, trying to figure out what just happened.
At first, I thought it was hunger or emotional overload from the whole witch discussion at Victoria’s shop, but every time he touched me, I felt a faint vibration like a guitar string being plucked. Terrified of having a vision, I continued to keep my distance.
My pencil moves quickly to capture his face, visions and reality merging together in minute detail. I tuck my hair behind my ear and add a bit of shading to make the strong lines of his face stand out, then move to his neck and shoulders. I didn’t know a neck could be so sexy until I saw his.
Even now, with Teague gone, it feels like something is tugging me in his direction. I don’t know what this thing is between us, but I don’t trust it. And I can’t afford it. This job is a lifeline. A path to a better future. The last thing I need to do is mess around with my boss.
A loud noise outside the apartment makes me frown, but when silence follows, I take a deep breath and remind myself that they’re right down the hall. Relax. There’s nothing to worry about. Macklin alone is big enough to take on most threats.
Completing the sketch, I study it, then flip back to the one I did of Macklin.
Two of the three in my vision. It can’t be a coincidence, which means the third man is likely around here somewhere too.
Maybe these six months will shed some light on how I’m supposed to help them.
Save them. Like they’re unknowingly saving me.
The skin pulls on my back when I straighten, and I realize I’ve been sketching for hours.
With a sigh, I close my sketchbook and put it in my backpack, where I can grab it if a vision hits.
Turning my attention to the boxes sitting on the living room floor, I grab the crate that’s served as my pantry for the last couple of years and take it to the kitchen.
I open the cabinet and look at the empty shelves, waiting to be filled, but the thought of not being able to see my food or grab it at a moment’s notice has me closing the cabinet door.
I leave the crate on the counter and move back to the living room.
“I’ll put it away after the snow comes,” I whisper to myself.
My gaze sweeps the rest of the boxes, searching for anything I might need over the next week. I pull out a few clothes, including the ones for work, and put them in the closet. Then, I place my toiletries and makeup on the bathroom counter, along with my flat iron. Done.
Yawning, I glance at my phone and see it’s ten o’clock.
I turn off the living room lights and immediately flip them back on.
It’s too dark, too unknown. I need a nightlight.
Maybe the kitchen light? I flip it on and wince.
Too bright. I spot the microwave and remember my mom leaving ours on when I was a kid.
Reaching out, I push the button, and a soft glow fills the space. Perfect.
Minutes later, I’m sinking into the cloud-like mattress, luxuriating in its comfort.
Plump pillows cradle my head while the downy soft comforter wraps around me like a hug.
I can’t believe this place is mine for the next six months.
Hopefully, when the trial period is over, I’ll figure out something better than my car, maybe something more permanent like a van, or safer, like another country.
My mind drifts back to the conversation with Joy.
The way she spoke about witches and covens.
As if she really believes they exist. And I was one of them.
I shudder. The thought of being labeled a witch terrifies me.
My visions are hard enough to understand without the occult connotation tied to them.
People fear the unknown. Look at Hank, literally tried to burn me to death.
All because one of my visions saved his life.
Closing my eyes, I wait for sleep to claim me, but the whole time, I’m straining to hear any noise.
Did I lock the front door? I get out of bed and pad to the front door to check the deadbolt.
Unlock. Lock. Tug on the knob. I stand there listening, but there’s not a whisper of sound. I return to the fluffy bed.
An hour later, I throw back the covers and slide out of bed.
It’s no use. Grabbing a pillow and the comforter, I shuffle to the couch in the living room.
Lying down, I tuck the comforter up around my chin like I usually do with my sleeping bag and stare at the front door.
Better…but not enough. I get up and recheck the deadbolt.
Unlock. Lock. Tug on the knob. Then return to my little cocoon on the couch. Moments later, sleep claims me.
The sophisticated brunette sitting at the reception desk lifts an eyebrow when I walk into the building the next morning and ask for Teague. “Sorry, the calendar doesn’t show a meeting for Mr. Lochlan. Are you sure you have an appointment?”
Her emphasis of Mr. Lochlan makes me wince. I shouldn’t have called him Teague. “I’m his new PA, Charli. He said to come by and fill out the paperwork.”
She purses her lips but picks up the phone.
“There’s a Charli here for you. Says she’s your new PA.
” There’s a brief pause. “I’ll send her straight up.
” She hangs up the phone and gives me a speculative look.
“Take the elevator to the fourth floor. His office is on the right at the end of the hall.”
I smile and glance at the tag on her jacket. “Thank you, Naomi.”
Stepping into the elevator, I smooth down my hair and straighten my sweater.
I’d worn the light green one that matches my eyes.
A little confidence booster. Nervous, I stare at the panel as the numbers slide by, taking deep breaths in and out to try to calm my racing heart.
The elevator doors open, and I meet Teague’s smile with one of my own.
Deep inside, the taut string between us eases as if it’s satisfied to be near him again, and I absently rub the center of my chest.
Dressed impeccably in a dark grey suit that emphasizes his broad shoulders and sterling blue-grey eyes, he looks sophisticated. Powerful. His attire reminds me that he’s the CEO. Something I sort of forgot yesterday.
“Teague—Mr. Lochlan,” I stammer, unsure of what he wants me to call him.
He bends down and murmurs. “Teague. We’ll be working too closely together for formalities.” He motions to the right, and I turn in that direction.
His hand raises, and I tense, but it never lands on my back, only hovers like a barrier between me and the rest of the world.
“Our HR director, Susan West, is already in my office. She’ll complete your paperwork while I get your laptop and credentials up and running,” he explains, guiding me toward the office at the end of the hall.
My heart thumps loudly in my ears as we enter the room.
It’s the same one from my vision. A large mahogany desk sits near the bank of windows in the corner, with several shining silver monitors sitting on its antique-looking surface.
A quirky blend of old and new. Two leather club chairs sit in front of the desk.
A fireplace sits in the corner but thankfully, it’s not lit.
Above it is a charcoal sketch of the most beautiful old church with a Celtic cross in front of it.
Stunning detail in every line. Thick, solid wood bookcases filled with knick-knacks and books line the wall.
A few framed pictures also sit on the shelves, but I can’t see who’s in them from here.
I memorize the details so I can add them to my original sketch.