Charlie's Angel (10 page)

* * * *

From the bedroom window, Charlie watched as Roxie started the bike and it roared to life breaking the night silence. She pumped the gas several times before she finally raced off into the darkness. The noise gradually decreased until there was nothing but the chirping of crickets to be heard.

Raw emotion churned in his gut. He turned around and surveyed the bed on which he’d recently found comfort and joy. That whole speech about a rich boy and a poor girl had sounded awfully contrived. He’d heard enough lies in court to know, which once more confirmed his rising suspicion that Roxie was hiding something she didn’t want him to understand. This time he would act on his doubts just like he would have if he had a client who’d ordered him to leave no stone unturned. He lifted the cell phone and hit speed dial number five for his friend, the private eye, he trusted the most to keep a secret.

* * * *

Off the freeway in a well-lit parking lot, Roxie parked alongside a new model pickup truck. She felt as if she were choking. How could she leave Charlie, saying what she had, after the best sex ever? He was one in a million, and of course, she wanted more of him, but she’d left his world behind, and she wasn’t sure if he’d fit in the one she’d made for herself.

She restarted the bike and headed for home. L.A. was a city that never slept, and even at midnight, there was plenty of traffic on the freeway with her. Thankfully, it wasn’t crawling along in lanes that were bumper to bumper. Still, the drive took longer than she expected, but she had plenty of time to think.

In her apartment, she sipped a refreshingly cold orange juice and leaned her hip against the counter. Next door, the neighbors were having a raucous party, but she shut out the sounds of laughing, shouts and crashes.

Incredibly, she was attracted to Charlie and had been from the first second she saw him. He was genuinely concerned about her welfare, and that struck her as odd coming from a man who maintained the lifestyle he did. Still, she had to hit upon a new job, so he wouldn’t be able to find her. Why hadn’t he called her on the fact that she’d pretty much stolen his parking space earlier? Had the sex been so important to him?

Face it, Elizabeth Audrey Harrier. The sex was important to you, too. You wouldn’t have gone out of your way to make the trip to Malibu if it hadn’t been. In the morning, you need to find a new job so Charlie can’t trace you.

The realization startled her. The tall glass slipped in her hand and hit the sink with a loud crash. She hurried to clean up the mess and ran the water from the faucet.

There I go. Confirmation that I’m on the right track of thought. I don’t know how I’ll tell Gerry. He’s been so kind to me hiring me on right away, but I have to leave, even the notion isn’t sitting well with me. But Charlie’s rich, he has the resources to find me if he wants. Just like Father, don’t forget. Why hasn’t he found me?

The question troubled Roxie. Her father, as Charlie did, had every resource he could think of at his command. Then why not find the recalcitrant daughter? Or the escaped lover if she stepped out on him? What part of the puzzle was she missing?

She was intelligent, educated at an Ivy League school, and yet she couldn’t figure out why men did what they did. She laughed a little at that. Men were, quite probably, the greatest enigma ever.

The neighbors pounded several times on the wall adjoining the kitchen. Or was it the neighbors? Trepidation ran up and down her spine as she remembered the feeling of being watched earlier. Why hadn’t she felt those ominous eyes at Charlie’s as they made love?

She sighed, settled onto her cot with its light throw. Had he been serious about doing a sixty-nine? She’d heard about it, but never tried it. If he asked her again, she’d go for it. But he wouldn’t find her. Then again, she owed Gerry two weeks’ notice. Wouldn’t he turn up a brow at her decision to leave so soon? As for Charlie, she’d have to handle him when he came into the diner.

If he did.

* * * *

Charlie waited in the alley behind Woody’s Diner. He’d quit smoking years ago, but this morning, he’d bought a pack at a convenience store and promptly thrown them away. Instead, he’d opted to suck on a strawberry crème candy he found in his glove compartment. His nerves were on edge, and every muscle in his body was prepared to jump into action. He’d seen the sun rise in muted purple shifting into vivid oranges, but he couldn’t rid himself of the feeling he wasn’t doing enough for Roxie or, as he’d discovered, Elizabeth Audrey Harrier.

He’d described Roxie to Eddie Jansen, wishing instead that he had a photo to email him. It had been a long shot, but after the astute PI sent him several pics, Charlie had found the right woman. Her hair was dark brown, but he’d know those charming blue eyes, and that kissable mouth anywhere.

“How did you know who I was talking about?” he’d asked Eddie who was in Boston.

Eddie had snorted. “You mentioned she was cultured, and that alone ruled out about ninety-eight percent of the population. After that, I ran a crosscheck of society women who’ve gone missing in the last six months, and there you are.”

Sounded easy enough.

“That’s what I pay you for.” Charlie had laughed but became business again in seconds. “Who’s after her that she’s hiding out and afraid to be found?”

He’d heard Eddie riffling through several sheets of paper. Eddie printed everything out and didn’t trust electronic devices much.

“Several suitors, her father and the bodyguards he hired to protect her who, I might add, were doing a lousy job, and… This just popped up, a biker looking fella with a rap sheet longer than your arm.”

Charlie had finished for him. “Otis Rowter. Assault with a deadly weapon.”

“Him’s the one,” the PI had agreed. “I’ve talked to some associates, and the strange thing is that he can’t be found.”

Eddie’s “associates” were on both the right and the wrong side of the law.

“I just did,” Charlie had muttered. “Why is Elizabeth his special project?”

“Looks like her father refused to help him front the medical bills for his only son who was terminally ill. Now he’s on a vendetta of sorts.”

Charlie had rubbed his chin in irritation. “I suppose he’s about to take away Harrier’s only daughter?”

“That’d be my guess.”

Charlie had disconnected, tapping the END button on his cell phone as if it were the enemy. He’d roamed the blocks around the diner half the night, been approached by several winos and a prostitute, but he’d found no sign of Roxie.

Now as he waited between the alley and the cross street, he worried. The sex with her had been phenomenal, and he knew what she was hiding, and why she’d left so quickly last night. She must have been afraid he’d find out who she was.

He saw her then. Her glorious hair tied up in a chignon, the ever-present twinkling earrings, and the jaunty walk as if she were enjoying her moments of freedom. Her pale yellow sheath showed her figure off to perfection. She kept looking up at the sky, but a quick survey told him there was nothing unusual there. Of greater interest to him was if there was someone following her. He stepped further into the alley and watched keenly. The nearby cathedral bells pealed out the mid-morning hour.

About to turn away, Charlie saw a slight flash as of glasses glinting in the sunlight before it vanished. It didn’t reappear. Had it been his imagination?

Roxie was walking closer, a small smile of delight hovering on her lips. Apparently, she was oblivious to the danger she was in.

Should he make his presence known or should he wait? If Rowter was behind her, had he known all along where she lived? Why hadn’t he acted when he’d been alone with Roxie, when he had the chance? Or would Rowter make his move in a public place to get attention for his heinous act?

* * * *

Roxie had spent a restless night, alternately tossing and turning and listening for unfamiliar sounds before she’d fallen asleep and dreamed wicked daydreams about Charlie. Sixty-nine sounded so right, her tongue lapping at the tip of his cock and its pearly drop of moisture. Next, she’d be riding him with her hair flying out in a stiff breeze, then she’d be pinned under him, moaning as his huge shaft filled her until he could no more. As morning light came, the dreams had left her sweating and her mind saturated with erotic images. If Charlie had been anywhere near, she’d have jumped him.

But he wasn’t, and she was determined as she set out for work, that he was part of her past. Yet, it didn’t hurt to satisfy her fantasy longing for him, did it? The cathedral bells were ringing, and although it would make her late for work, she stopped to listen, to admire the sound as it permeated the air. She’d miss this part of her day when she moved to another city, but what choice did she have? None, that she could see.

The aroma of baking bread and pastries surrounded her. The alley lay in dark grayness. For some inexplicable reason, her heart began to race as she remembered the discomfort of perhaps being watched. No one knew she was in L.A. She passed through a heavily shadowed area and jumped when a cardboard box in a leaning garbage pile thudded onto the ground.

It’s only a box, silly. It’s not out to get you.

Yet, the uneasiness and frayed nerves persisted. Maybe she shouldn’t have used the alley to get to work, but what if Charlie was waiting for her in the diner? What would she do?

He was the most glorious male she’d ever seen, and his lovemaking had been beyond what she’d ever experienced.

Roxie drew in a deep breath. She’d enjoy sex with him again.

Elizabeth Audrey! You know you can’t. He might find out who you are, and he might report your whereabouts to your father. You know how connected most people are. They can’t keep a secret.

She heard the faintest tap of a shoe sole hitting the ground ever so softly. Had it come from behind her? Whirling around, she saw nothing. Far away, the labored grinding of a large truck interrupted the heavy silence. Determined to get to the diner and safety there, she straightened her shoulders and smashed into Charlie’s broad chest. She hadn’t noticed him since his muscle shirt was black and his legs were hidden behind a plastic container. The few lines on his handsome face were etched with worry, and his trademark scent, a hint of lemon, wafted by her.

“You’re coming with me,” he told her in an urgent, husky voice. His hand snaked out and seized her wrist.

“I most certainly will not!” she replied, outraged that he could waylay her and demand she go off into the blue yonder with him. She had half a mind to hit him with her duffel bag but restrained herself.

“Listen, Roxie. I know who you really are. Do you want to come with me or do you want your father to find you first?”

That was sure a hell of a choice he was giving. His statement and question alarmed her, and her knees began to tremble with fear.

Charlie’s hand tightened around her small bone. She clutched her duffel bag in white-knuckled fingers.

“That’s blackmail,” she whispered in dismay. Had the sex been that good that he wanted more and was willing to do anything to get it?

He edged her into deeper shadows. “Listen. I don’t want anyone else to know where you are, and I respect your privacy, but your life is in danger. If you come with me, I can protect you. If you don’t come with me then Rowter will hurt you. His intention is to kill you.” His eyes darted everywhere restlessly.

She shook her head. None of this made sense. “Rowter? Who is he? You’re making this up, aren’t you?”

Charlie fished his cell phone from a small pouch hanging from his belt. “I’m trying to save your life so you can enjoy it however you desire.” He scanned the area behind her and flicked through some photos on his phone, before he lifted it up. “Rowter. The man at the diner. Have you seen him before?”

She squinted. A shiver of dread hurtled down her spine. Was it possible Charlie was telling her the truth?