Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
CHARLI
Hard to believe it’s been three days since Andros lost it, but when I walk out of the elevator Monday morning at seven a.m., the construction crew is on site, rebuilding and repairing damaged walls. I call out a greeting and hurry to my desk.
Teague’s desk is empty as I knew it would be, but I immediately miss his sterling blue-grey eyes meeting mine as we start our day. I open my email and find one from him with a list of instructions for the next few days. Clicking on the icon, I print it out.
Besides my usual duties, he wants me to check with Sam to see if she’s had time to reviewt his revisions to the schematics. I open our calendars and see she’s free at eight-thirty, so I send her an invite.
Returning to my email, I reply to those that need an answer, file a few, then open the last one. A collage of images appears. A guy screwing a girl, knife at her throat. A woman, cheek pressed against a brick wall, blood on her lip. Brutal images, but their message is clear.
Hands shaking, I pick up the phone and dial Susan. Her voicemail picks up. Taking a deep breath, I ask her to give me a call when she has a moment. I print the email, slide it into the manila folder with the other one, then file the digital copy in the FU folder.
Hands shaking, I take a deep breath, but then the phone rings, and I let out a little yelp. “Hello.” I press a hand against my racing heart.
“Charli, this is Susan. I got your call. What’s up?”
I glance at the time. 8:10. “Do you have a few minutes? I have a meeting in twenty, but this shouldn’t take long.”
“I’ll be at my desk for the next hour,” she replies.
“On my way,” I say and hang up. I gather the things I’ll need for the meeting with Sam and the folder with the emails, then head down the hall to Susan’s office. When I walk in and close the door, she raises an eyebrow.
“What’s up?” Her chocolate-brown eyes study me closely.
I hold out the folder and clear my throat. “I’ve received two emails full of disturbing images. One on my first day of work. The second this morning. I printed them out for you.”
She flips open the file and slowly picks up each of them. Her jaw locks as she studies them. When she looks up at me, her brown eyes are full of anger. “Clearly this is a threat. You should have come to me when you received the first one. Why didn’t you?”
My eyes fill, and I shake my head. “Honestly, I didn’t want to cause any problems.”
She huffs out a breath. “Do you have any idea who it might be?”
I nod and tell her what Martin said in the meeting and his subsequent firing. Then I explain what happened on Saturday. “It has to be him.”
“Where the hell was Teague?” she snaps in outrage. “I can’t believe he didn’t kill him for touching his mate.”
“You know?” I ask, taken aback.
She snorts. “I’ve known Teague for almost seven hundred years. He can’t keep a secret from me. Not to mention all the cubs I’ve raised. Seems like every time I turn around, one of them is falling in love.”
Seven hundred years. She says it so casually it takes me a minute to catch up.
“Um, Teague went to help a friend.” I don’t know how much I should share. “He should be back in a couple of days.”
She eyes me closely, and I try not to fidget. “Macklin?”
I shake my head and tell her they’re both gone.
She straightens. “I see. Must be something important. Normally, I’d reach out to Andros, but given the circumstances, that’s not an option.”
I glance at my phone. “I’ve got a meeting with Sam. Is there anything else I need to do? File a complaint?”
She chuckles. “Supes aren’t really formal. Threats are eliminated. Permanently. Teague will take care of him when he returns. Do you want me to come stay with you until then?”
Shocked at what she’s saying, I stare at her, then shake my head. “Macklin put in a pretty sophisticated security system. I’ll be fine.” Standing up, I gather my stuff. “You don’t happen to be related to Amara, do you?”
It’s her turn to look surprised. “She’s my granddaughter. Why?”
“She helped me find an outfit on Saturday. You have the same eyes, but I didn’t realize it until this morning,” I tell her. “She’s also pretty astute, like you.”
Rushing out, I open the door to the stairwell and stop.
Echoes of Friday linger in the air. Images of the stairs rushing by.
Pain when I hit the wall. I bend over, trying to catch my breath.
Strong hands grip my arms. Teague, shirtless, his eyes full of worry.
I lean against the concrete wall and breathe in and out.
Why wasn’t he wearing a shirt?
Shoving the thought aside, I stare at the five steps in front of me.
Avoiding the stairs isn’t an option. I need more than one escape route.
Might as well tackle this now. I grit my teeth and wrap my hand tightly around the railing, then I slowly step down one by one until I reach the second floor.
When I get there, I sigh with relief and hurry to Sam’s office.
“Sorry I’m late,” I tell her. My excuse dies on my lips when I see the troubled expression on her face. “Everything okay? We can meet later, if you want.”
“It’s nothing. I’m worrying over nothing,” she says, shaking her head.
Pasting a smile on her face, she rolls out the newly revised schematics.
“Teague always forgets to print them out. Seeing things on a screen and looking at them at their actual size makes a huge difference.” She points to the notes she’s made.
“I think most of what he wants will make it to production, but this is the biggest roadblock.”
She walks through what she needs him to resolve, then rolls them up and hands them to me. “I need him to make a decision by Friday, or there will be a delay in the launch.”
I smile and make a note. “He’ll be back by then.” I hope. “I’ll make sure he reviews them first thing.” Standing, I pause and look at her a second time. Her expression reminds me of the first time we met. “Is this about your niece? Can I do anything to help?”
She opens her mouth, then flashes a rueful smile. “I’m being silly. But thank you.” Before I can move, she reaches out and pats my arm.
The vision slams into me, and I drop everything to grip my chair.
Long, black hair wrapped around his hand, he marches her into the kitchen and slams her up against the kitchen sink. “I work hard to provide us with nice things. Do I not?”
She whimpers and tries to nod, but his grip on her hair is too tight. “Yes, you do.” Her voice is soft and full of fear.
“All I ask is for you to take care of me and take care of our home. Isn’t that right?!” he asks softly, and she nods. He grips her chin and asks again, “Right?”
She looks at the single glass in the sink. “Yes. I’m sorry. I set it there when I went to the restroom, but I should have cleaned it first. I didn’t think.”
He releases her and sighs. “It’s my fault. I ask too much of you.”
She instantly shakes her head. “No, you don’t. Really. Keeping the house clean is the least I can do. I’ll do better.”
He pulls her into his arms. “Thank you. I know I can be a bit of a perfectionist.” He rubs a hand down her back, and she flinches.
Exhaling, he steps away to grab a beer out of the fridge, then frowns. “Dinner’s not ready?”
“You’re early.” Her head whips up, bright blue eyes full of panic. “I’m happy you’re home. It’s just I know you like dinner at 5:30 sharp. But it’s done, if you want to eat early tonight. All I have to do is heat it up. Do you want me to serve it now?”
“That’s right. I did come home early.” He smiles and slides a hand down her body. “Clean up this mess, then meet me in our room.”
The scene changes.
She looks around frantically, then picks up the desk phone and punches in a number. “Please be there.” Her voice is barely a whisper as she peers up at the old-fashioned white clock on the wall. The phone rings and rings. A man answers. “Is Sam there?”
“Sam moved. Call her house,” he says gruffly, hanging up.
In despair, she sinks into the green chair as a voice over the intercom calls for the deli manager.
I open my eyes and stare at Sam, horrified by what I saw. “Your niece. You have to get her away from him.” My head reels as I sort through everything in my vision. There’s a sense of urgency with this one. “What’s the time?”
She scrambles up and looks at her phone. “Nine.”
Relieved, I pluck a pencil off her desk and pick up my notebook. “The number you gave your niece. Your old number. She’s going to call. At ten. We have to get there and answer the phone.”
Startled, she rushes to grab her purse and keys. “Let’s go.”
Thankfully, she takes the elevator, not the stairs, and when we reach the basement, she points to the blue truck in the corner. “Hop in.”
I pull my phone out of my pocket. Good thing I always keep it on me. “9:07. How long will it take to get there?”
She grimaces. “This time of day? Thirty minutes.”
Flipping to a clean page, I ignore the past and concentrate on the room with the phone.
Details flow onto the page, and the scene takes shape.
An old metal desk. Black desk phone. Calendar with a beach on it.
Computer. Monitor. I tap the pencil against my teeth as I sift through the details.
There. The paper on the desk. Then I painstakingly draw her.
Bruises on her wrists and neck. Tears on her cheeks.
Blue eyes that have lost their sparkle. Fear stamped on her beautiful face.
We jerk to a stop, and I look up. Surprised to see The Fork in front of me, I turn toward Sam. “What are we doing here?”
She points to a small house on the left. “I live there with my mate. He’s the chef at The Fork. I gave Covey the number to the ranch because that’s where we lived when we first moved out here.” Getting out of the car, she slams the door and starts running toward the right.
Confused, I scramble out of the truck. I haven’t run in…
like forever. Maybe as a kid? Clutching the notebook, I hunch my shoulders against the cold wind and turn toward the restaurant doors, but Sam shouts for me to stop.
When I look up, I see she’s past the restaurant on the other side.
She disappears, and I pick up speed, wondering where the hell she’s going.
Turning the corner, I find her sitting in a golf cart, phone glued to her ear.
With a harsh exhale, I flop down on the seat beside her and grab the handle above when it lurches forward.
Wind whips my blond hair into my eyes, but I don’t dare let go for fear of falling out.
These little carts always seem so cute. Who knew they could go this fast.
There’s a tug in my chest. Teague. My phone rings. It’s him. I slip the notebook under my sweater, so it doesn’t fall off the cart, and shiver as the cold metal rings press against me.
“Hello.”
“Did you have a vision?” he asks, his voice tight with tension.
“How did you know?” The cart jerks to a halt. “I’ve got to go. It’s Sam’s niece.” I hang up and uncurl my frozen fingers from the handle. My phone rings again, but I ignore it. This is more important. I pull the notebook out of my shirt, gripping it tightly. The phone stops, then starts again.
Four minutes. We hit the door running. Sam cuts to the left, and I slide on the hardwoods, but manage to make the turn. Someone shouts, and she yells back. There’s a stampede of footsteps from above us. The phone in the house rings. It rings again.
“I’m here,” Sam says, her chest heaving as she picks up the receiver of an old phone and cradles it to her ear. “I’m here, sweet girl.” She listens for a minute. “I’ll be ready.” She hangs up. Fat tears roll down her cheeks as she sinks to the floor.
“What’s going on?” a low voice asks from the doorway, and I glance up.
A tall man, with tousled brown hair and the most beautiful golden-brown eyes I’ve ever seen, wearing blue jeans and a black T-shirt darts a curious glance at me, then quickly shifts his focus to Sam.
He strides over in bare feet and kneels in front of her. “What happened?”