Chapter Ten #2
"Shit, seven thirty or eight," she said, starting to pull away from me. I didn't want to let her go, but we both needed to get up.
"Stay there. Don't move."
I rolled out of the bed and walked naked to the bathroom. Taking a washcloth from the pile on the back of the sink, I wet it with warm water and brought it to her, saying, "I'm gonna jump in the shower, won't take me a minute."
It would've been more gentlemanly to let her have the bathroom first, but I knew from experience that I'd take less than five minutes in the shower and she would undoubtedly take a lot longer. This way, I could get dressed and start making coffee while she took her time getting ready.
With her bruises, she'd need a long, hot shower far more than I did.
Charlie stood outside the bathroom door when I opened it. I started to apologize for making her wait when she reached up to place a palm on either side of my face and pulled my mouth down to hers.
The kiss was long, slow, and sweet. Her fingers slid into my hair, tugging me closer, her lips feeding from mine in delicate sips, tasting my lower lip, then the top before fitting her mouth to mine and driving her tongue deep.
It was all I could do to let her take the lead when every instinct drove me to wrap her in my arms and devour her.
She pulled back, grinned up at me, and said, "Thanks for the wake-up fuck. Will you make coffee while I'm in the shower?"
"I'm on it," I said, a little thrown by her grin and the tender kiss.
She's not your girlfriend, I reminded myself. I know. I know she's not my girlfriend.
But that was not a fuck buddies kiss.
That was something else.
I put the kiss out of my mind. I had other things to focus on than kissing Charlie. My cock didn't agree, but that fucker was going to have to wait his turn. He'd gotten first dibs today, and now his needs were at the bottom of the list.
Aware that the security team was going to be all over the house, I pulled the sheet up on the futon and straightened the pillows, hiding the box of condoms behind one leg of the frame.
I wasn't ashamed of fucking Charlie, and I didn't think she was embarrassed about me, but I didn't want her exposed to gossip. I got dressed in the shorts and T-shirt I'd put on the night before and went to make coffee.
Evers Sinclair was early. I should have expected it. Charlie Winters was as good as family.
I opened the door when he knocked, fighting amusement as he eyed me up and down, scowled, and said, "Lucas fucking Jackson. What the hell are you doing in Charlie's house?"
"I live next-door, asshole," I said, stepping back to let him in. And because I knew it would irritate him, "Coffee?"
"Yeah. Where's Charlie?" he demanded, following me down the hall into the kitchen, his eyes sweeping every inch of the foyer and what was visible of the dining room and living room. "What the hell is up with this house? Is it going to fall down on her head?"
"Hey, Evers," Charlie said, coming down the hall and walking into the kitchen. "You're early."
"What the fuck happened to your face?" The bruise beneath the red scrape on Charlie's cheek had bloomed into an ugly blue-purple overnight and a bright white bandage covered the raw spot on her temple where the asshole had pulled out her hair.
Evers whirled to face me. "What the fuck did you do to her?"
His arm flew back, ready to strike. Before he could swing, Charlie jumped between us. I slung an arm around her waist and shoved her behind me, catching Evers's arm in one hand.
"He didn't do this, Evers," Charlie said from behind me. "Back off."
Evers wrenched his arm from my hand and dropped it to his side, eyeing me like he was still thinking about hitting me.
"Step out from behind Jackson and look me in the eye while you tell me he had nothing to do with this."
Charlie tried to move away from me. I wound my arm around her shoulders, tucking her into my side. She'd known Evers her entire life, but he was a little too volatile right now.
I wasn't letting Charlie get between us. I could feel her thinking, then she settled into my side. Smart girl.
"I was walking home last night a little after eight thirty and someone jumped me in my front yard," she said.
Her delivery was emotionless, as if she were describing something that had happened to someone else.
"He knocked me down and I hit on my side, face first. My shoulder and hip are bruised up, and he tore out a chunk of hair, but otherwise, I'm fine."
Evers stared at her for a long moment, considering, before he turned to me. "Where the fuck were you?"
Charlie cut in. "Fortunately for me, Lucas was sitting in his truck in his driveway. He saw the whole thing, and if I hadn't tripped in the front yard, he would've had the guy."
"I had him on the ground," I explained. "Charlie took off for the neighbor's house, but she went down and I couldn't see her. I didn't hear a shot, but I couldn't be sure. He could have had backup."
Charlie's cheeks were pink and her eyes on the floor when she said, "I tripped in a hole in the lawn. Stupid. It knocked the wind out of me so I couldn't tell Lucas I was okay. If I hadn't tripped, whoever jumped me wouldn't have gotten away."
"But they did," Evers concluded. "And now we don't know if you have a stalker or if that was just a random attack."
"Whoever it was, he had no interest in her purse or getting in the house. Her locks are shit, not that there's anything to steal," I said. "She needs motion sensor lights, sensors on all the basement and first-floor windows and doors, and a panic button, to start."
"I know my job, Jackson." Evers sent me a scowl.
"Just helping out," I said with a grin. Unlike Charlie, Evers knew exactly who I was. He wouldn't fuck with me unless he had to. It probably wasn't smart to poke at him, but it was fun.
"Do you want coffee, Evers?" Charlie offered.
"Yeah, I'll take some coffee. And while we're getting it, you can explain why Lucas Jackson is in your house at the crack of dawn, Charlotte."
Charlie's spine went straight and her hands landed on her hips. She raised her chin and narrowed her ocean blue eyes on Evers.
"Don't you 'Charlotte' me, Evers Sinclair. It is not the crack of dawn. And I can have my neighbor over for coffee if I want to. It's none of your goddamn business. So fucking nosy."
Turning to me, she said, "They're the worst gossips. Tell one of these boys anything and the others know it five minutes later."
"Hey," Evers protested. "I know how to keep things confidential, Charlie. We've never had a client—"
"I wasn't talking about work, Evers, and you know it. I was talking about you Sinclair boys and the Winters boys and the way you all tell each other everything. Especially when things are none of your business."
I dropped my face to my coffee, hiding my amusement. Evers was honest enough not to argue with her.
"Evers," she said, the teasing tone gone, "you can't tell anybody about this."
"Charlie, you know that's not going to happen." He shook his head at her. "You really think I'd keep something like this from Aiden? Or Cooper? No fucking way."
"Sinclair," I started, and when his eyes swung to me, they were hard and calculating.
"What, Jackson? You don't want me to tell Aiden or Holden that you're banging their sister?"
"Fuck you, Evers," Charlie said without heat, handing him his coffee. "This isn't any of their business."
"You and Jackson? Debatable. You getting jumped in your yard? That's definitely their business, and you know it. I didn't hear about this, so I'm assuming you didn't make a police report."
"She made a report," I said.
"Brennan?" Evers asked, approval in his eyes for the first time.
Charlie looked between the two of us for a few seconds before awareness dawned.
"You two know each other," she said. "How do you two know each other?"
I cleared my throat, trying to think of the best way to explain who I was. Evers took care of the problem for me, the interfering bastard.
At least he told her the truth.
"You remember the president of the Raptors motorcycle club who killed Big John when he went after Abigail?" Evers asked Charlie.
Her eyes went comically wide. I would have laughed if my heart hadn't been trying to pound its way out of my chest.
Charlie wasn't mine, but I wasn't ready to give her up yet. And that Lucas Jackson, the Lucas Jackson who'd been president of one of the most notorious biker clubs around—he wasn't me. Not really.
"That was a temporary thing," I said. "I'm out of the Raptors. I have been for a while, and you fucking know it, Sinclair."
"You have a motorcycle?" Charlie asked, her head tilted to the side, curiosity alive in her sparkling blue eyes.
What?
Of all the things I'd imagined her saying after Evers's revelation, asking about my bike wasn't on the list.
"In the back of the house, under a cover. Actually, I have two. The Harley was my brother's. He's the reason I was working with the Raptors. The Triumph is mine."
"I'll do you a favor," Evers said to Charlie. "I'll wait until the end of the day to talk to Aiden. We need to get the security system up and running. My team should be here any second. Let's talk about what we're going to do."
Evers ran through a list that included everything we'd already discussed, plus a gate on the driveway, cameras inside and out, and a handful of other things that would guarantee no one would get to Charlie while she was in her house.
The Sinclair team arrived and got to work. Evers took charge of the installation, which kept him too busy to bother Charlie or me.
I thought about going home. I had plenty to do and no reason to stay. Charlie was safe. I had work piling up.
Instead, I found myself following her into the living room where she was stripping paint from an old mantle. It was a beautiful piece, made of oak with intricate carving that had been all but ruined by multiple coats of paint.
"Are you stripping all the paint off the trim?" I asked, turning around to study the rooms in the front of the house.
All of them had wood trim that had been painted dark brown. Why you'd paint trim like that a dark brown instead of just staining it, I didn't know.
The trim in my house had been the same, and returning it to its natural state had been a bitch.
"I'm planning to," Charlie said. "This paint stripping stuff is awful though. It stinks and it takes forever."
I crouched in front of the fireplace mantle beside her and picked up the paint stripper and a rag.
"This isn't the best way to strip paint off wood. Not on the regular trim anyway. The way this mantle is carved, it's pretty much your only option."
"There's another way to do it?" Charlie asked.
"Yeah, heat. I've got a thing at my house. I'll lend it to you when you're done with the fireplace. You plug it in, hold it over the paint, and the paint bubbles up—practically lifts right off the wood. I'll show you how it works when you're ready to move on from the mantle."
"That sounds awesome," Charlie said. "I really wanted to stain all of this trim, but after working on the mantle yesterday . . . ugh."
Between the two of us, I figured we could have the mantle knocked off in an hour or two. We worked in silence for a while before Charlie got up to open the windows.
When she came back, she asked, "So why were you with the Raptors? Was it a job?"
"No. That wasn't a job. That was revenge."
"Will you tell me about it?" Charlie asked, sneaking a glance at my face.
I thought about it.
Why not?
I didn't have anything to hide, and her brothers or the Sinclairs would probably tell her if I didn't. But not now. Not with the Sinclair team and Evers in the next room.
Glancing over my shoulder, then back at Charlie, I said, "I will. Another time."
A thud and curse sounded from the kitchen and Charlie nodded. "Later," she agreed.
I wondered if she'd still welcome me into her bed after she knew the whole truth. I was going to find out. The truth was ugly, but I wouldn't lie to Charlie. She'd have to take me as I was, scars and all.