Charlie's Angel (16 page)

“Charlie?” Roxie whispered.

He heard the edge of fear in her voice. And he’d also heard a stealthy footstep. Suspecting trouble, he jerked the lamp’s cord from the electrical socket with a light pinging sound. He lifted the sturdy pewter base against his thigh, readying himself for anything.

“Can you get dressed in the dark?” he asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“He’s here, isn’t he?” she asked in so quiet a voice, he barely heard her.

“I think so, but Hector and a plainclothes cop are outside. He can’t get in here. We’re safe.”

The sound he’d heard moments earlier, a slight scuff as of a worn shoe, came again. He hunkered back against the wall, the lamp stand firmly in his hand.

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” a deep, gravelly voice told them. “Where they are they can’t help you.”

Roxie suppressed a cry of abject fear. She didn’t doubt for a moment that Rowter was telling the truth. The outline of his bulky body was almost invisible in the dark. She clapped her hand over her mouth and bit into her lower lip. It was up to Charlie and herself to help themselves. There was no one else.

“Why Rowter? Why wait until now to kill Roxie? Why didn’t you do it on the bus?” Charlie asked, his voice strong and purposeful.

He’s not going down without a fight. Me, neither.
I’m naked, but I can fight dirty if I have to.

An idea hit out of the blue. She’d entice Rowter into bed with her then hit him on the head with the lamp. But she waited for Rowter’s reply to Charlie’s question. She wanted to know, too.

“I wanted her to know that I take care of my own, that I’ll put her in such pain, she’ll be begging me to kill her. My son did that. Day after day, he suffered with lung cancer.” His voice rose to a shout.

Horrified, Roxie cringed. The man
was
mad. How could he take five lives for his son’s? That savage act wouldn’t bring the boy back. Her heart ached for the three who were gone.

Rowter went on. “Mark suffered for months. You know why? Because your father was too much of a heartless bastard to foot the medical bills so he could get the care he needed. If he had, Mark would have survived. He was a fighter. He wouldn’t have just lain down and died.

“I worked for your father for twenty-three years. I cleaned up the messes he didn’t have the courage to clean up. I
killed
for him, and yet he couldn’t give a few lousy dollars to help my son.” His voice trailed off. “Just a hundred thousand so he could get the best care possible.”

Roxie felt his pain like a deep knife stabbing her in the back. “Killing me won’t bring Mark back,” she said soothingly. “Do you have other children?”

“Mark was my only son. I fucked up my life so bad, and by the time I realized I had, it was too late to have other children. Look at me!” he yelled in fury. “I’m an old man. I’m going to die soon, but I promised myself, I’d take you with me. Then your father would know what it was like to lose all his kids.”

Roxie couldn’t make him out clearly, but she directed her voice at him. “Why don’t you make love to me? We could try for another kid for you.” She threw the bed sheet off.

She heard Charlie suck in a deep breath. Then he leaped into action.

“Get down!” he ordered Roxie and sprang forward, a lamp base hefted upward in his right hand. Roxie rolled off the bed and onto the floor, hopefully to safety. Looked like she’d killed a man simply by revealing her nudity.

Everything happened as if in slow motion. Charlie reached Rowter in a sprint and knocked his arm sideways. The gun clattered onto the hardwood floor from his hand. Charlie tackled him to the ground. Rowter wasn’t an easy bastard to vanquish. He struggled with a lot more power than Charlie would have given him credit for. They rolled around, grunting and swearing. Charlie was on top the other man’s flabby body, and suddenly, Rowter’s hands were squeezing his neck hard in a death grip. If Charlie couldn’t get him off, he wouldn’t be able to get another breath.

Abruptly, the man’s hands went limp. Wondering for the slackness, Charlie punched him in the lower jaw. Rowter made a small “oh” sound. His body completely relaxed. With a heavy intake of air, Charlie checked for a pulse in his throat. There was none. The old man was dead.

Charlie sighed. “Poor bastard. Talk about poetic justice. Maybe you can see your son on the other side,” he whispered, his heart going out to the other man. Yet, he steeled himself. Rowter had told them he’d killed Hector and the plainclothes cop. Charlie hoped to hell he hadn’t. Death for a death didn’t solve a wrong.

“Roxie?” he whispered, scrambling from his knees and heading toward her.

He turned his cell phone’s light on. She lay on her side, trembling. Her tear-streaked face was eerily blue in its light. “Did I kill him?”

“I don’t think he could see much of you in the dark. You didn’t have anything to do with his death. It’s all right. He can’t hurt you.”

A sob broke through the darkness. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. If I had known his son was sick, I’d have paid all the medical bills.”

Charlie hunkered on the floor, took her in his arms and stroked the silky hairs at the back of her head. “I know you would have. I know you would have.”

She breathed against his ear, soft puffy breaths that told him she had a whole lot of healing to do before she could easily put Rowter from her mind. Tragedy engendered misery.

“Why don’t you get dressed, come downstairs, while I check on Hector and the other man?” he whispered, hating to leave her but, at the same time, worried about the two who had been assigned to protect them.

She nodded. “And there’ll be more questions, right?” Her face was wet with glistening tears.

He nodded. Questions from the police had become a common occurrence as a result of his relationship with Roxie.

The moon was low in the sky before the police left the safe house. Hector and the plainclothes cop had been shot but, Charlie had been assured, were expected to survive. That meant there was only one thing left to do.

Charlie punched speed dial number five. “Kyle, I’m getting us out of here,” he said as relief poured through him. Rowter was gone and would not chase after them anymore, and hopefully, the cops wouldn’t think of more inquiries. Roxie clung to him, her fingers clutching at his shirt.

“Where are we going?” she asked as he lifted her into the waiting car. She held onto him relentlessly.

Charlie hardly dared ask the question. If Roxie decided she wanted to leave him, could he handle that or would the loneliness he lived with, return? “Where would you like to go?” He waited with bated breath.

“I’d like to go back to my apartment and get my bike.” Her expression was hopeful.

That was a simple enough request. “We can do that. And then what?”

“And then I’d like to make love to you under the stars.” She pressed her nose against his cheek. “To fuck you real good.”

His heart swelled almost to bursting in his chest. He better be careful, or he’d end up like Rowter. “I want that. After that?” he prompted, feeling her warm breath against his face.

“I go back to back at Woody’s?”

Her scent was driving him crazy. He didn’t know what to think. “That sounds more like a question.”

“After that what I decide depends on you.”

He kissed her earlobe. Marriage was a possibility, but he didn’t think she was ready, and he didn’t wish to frighten her away. “I want you with me, but you might not want me because you want to be free.”

Off in the distance, crickets chirped and a lone owl hooted.

“I can be free, work at Woody’s and make love to you when you come to L.A.”

“What if I want to stay here?” The notion had never before entered his head, but suddenly he found the possibility intriguing, especially if Roxie, or Elizabeth, was with him.

“Then I’ll make love to you much more often,” came on a drawn-out sigh, as she pressed her breasts against his chest. “On one condition.”

Charlie suspected he knew what it was. “What would that be?”

“You don’t tell my father where I am?” Her voice sounded expectant.

“He’ll find out sooner or later,” he warned, “considering all the action you’ve been through and that you might appear in the media.”

“We’ll take that as it comes, but let’s get my bike. I think we have an appointment with the stars.”

He laughed with a resounding heartiness. Life was good, and somehow, Roxie would find her place in it, as she already had in his heart. He had no doubt about that.

About the Author

Aurora Rose Lynn lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and conure. She enjoys writing romance with a sensual twist, but first and foremost, her stories must be about love. When she isn’t writing romance, she writes young adult and fantasy stories under a pen name.

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Handcuffs and Lace

Resplendence Publishing’s Erotic Romance Line of
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