Saving Charlie (Stories of Serendipity Book 9) (6 page)

And he’d had trouble sleeping ever since.

Honestly, after wrecking his car, he’d thought he’d died when Sweetness’ face was the first one he’d seen. He hadn’t been able to get it out of his mind. Since walking in on her with that guy suckling her breasts, her mouth open in a breathy moan, he hadn’t been able to curb the jealousy, the desire, the need that welled up inside of him.

Les didn’t particularly care much for the boyfriend, even before he’d interrupted their foreplay. The guy was a possessive asshole, although Les couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t be one, either, where Charlie was concerned. She was stunning. Even over there, driving in jeans, singing along to some song by a teeny-bopper.

“Gorillas? Making love like Gorillas? Really?” He’d just started paying attention to the words she was singing and was appalled at them. Was that a joke? Maybe like a new Weird Al type thing?

“What? It’s a good song.”

He snorted. “If that’s a good song, then song-writing has really gone downhill. Why do you like it?”

She thought a minute, listening while her teeth tortured her bottom lip. “It’s about the primalness of lovemaking, about losing control, about pure animalistic sex.” Les nearly choked on his tongue at the expression on her face—eyes wide, pulse racing in her throat, pink stain on her cheeks, like she was in the throes of said animalistic sex right now.

He cleared his throat to lessen the lump. “Yeah, well there are tons of sexy songs out there that are way better written. I wish I’d brought my iPod.” He started ticking off on his fingers to distract himself. “Roberta Flack, The Beatles, Marvin Gaye… Jeez, the list is endless.” Pointing at the radio, he continued. “That’s just icky. That guy doesn’t even sound like his voice has changed yet. What the hell does he know about animalistic sex?”

She laughed. “The Beatles? They sing about holding hands and stuff. That’s cute, but not necessarily sexy.”

He couldn’t help himself. He busted out with the simple, yet soulful, lyrics of
Why Don’t we Do it in the Road
, and she stared at him, slack-jawed.
Gotcha.

When he was finished, she said, “Okay, you have an amazing voice, and yes, that was sexy.”

He couldn’t let the opportunity pass. “So, you don’t do relationships. Do you have sex?”

She smiled ruefully to herself. “Every chance I get.”

“So, we’ll be on the road for a week, at least—”

She interrupted him, “You don’t seem like the type.”

Not even trying to feign shock he countered, “What? I’m a dude. I’m totally the type.”

She laughed at him, and the husky timbre of her voice made his pants tight. “You’re not the type to have casual sex. And I don’t do relationships.”

“What about your boyfriend? Just the fact he calls himself your boyfriend indicates a relationship of some sort.”

“Yeah, well…Justin’s complicated things a bit. I was trying something new with him; it was a mistake, and now he’s making it a sticky situation to get out of.”

“So, he is your boyfriend?”

“Not for long. In fact, I’ve been trying to break up with him for a week, but he’s not getting it.”

“Well, I’m the expert on being broken up with. What are you telling him?”

She looked at him with a question in her eyes, and he willed her to ask it, but she didn’t. “I’ve told him we’re not working out, this isn’t what I bargained for, there is no us, he has no say over what I do, I’m not relationship material. All the old standards that typically work when a guy gets too needy. They’re just not working on him. Thick-skulled.”

As if on cue, her phone buzzed, and Les saw a picture of Justin come up—a sickeningly sweet selfie of him holding a paper heart with Charlie’s name on it. She sighed. This time, it was an annoyed, fed-up sigh, and he relished that it wasn’t caused by him.

“That’s the fifth time he’s called me since I left this morning.”

She pushed a few buttons on her phone, leaving it in the console. “Listen to this.” She made sure Les was paying attention and spoke toward the phone. “Hey, Justin.”

“Oh thank God, baby. I’ve been so worried. Why haven’t you answered?”

“Because I’ve been driving. I told you I might call you tonight when I got across the state lines, but if I stopped to talk to you every time you called, I wouldn’t ever get there.”

“I miss you so much. It sucked eating lunch alone today.” Les hated the whiny tone of his voice coming through the phone.

“Well, I’m sorry about that, you’re just going to have to get used to it.” Charlie’s voice was patient and calm, as if she’d already said the words before.

“When are you coming back?”

“Next week sometime. I’ll have a better idea on Saturday. Okay?”

“Like, early in the week or late in the week?” Jesus, this guy was a wheedling asshole. How long did he think it took to drive to California and back?

“I’m not sure, Justin. You will just have to be patient. By the way, I wanted to clarify something with you.”

“Okay, go. I’m ready.”

“Are you listening carefully?” She glanced over at Les to see if he was listening, which he was. Raptly.

He nodded at the same time Justin said, “Yes.”

“We. Are. Not. A. Couple. Anymore.”

“Aw…baby. Don’t be like that. I love you.”

“Don’t say that. You don’t know me.” Now she was getting pissed, and Les’s body tightened in anticipation of what was coming next. He could see this woman turning fiery in a heartbeat, and as long as it wasn’t directed at him, he was anxious to see it. It was hot.

“I know which places to kiss to make you come undone.” His voice lowered to a husky murmur and Les felt his insides coil into a knot of pure jealousy, at the same time resisting the urge to plead with the man to tell him the secrets of Charlie’s body. He coughed instead.

“Who was that?” Uh oh. Busted. Charlie shot him a look and he shrugged nonchalantly.

She sighed in annoyance, and this time, she was annoyed with him.

“You remember my customer, Les Paul?”

“I hate that guy.” Les bristled, even though the feeling was mutual.

“Well, he had some car trouble, and he’s going to the same place, so I’m giving him a ride.”

“You’re riding to California with him? For a week?”

“Yes. I am.”

“Oh my god. I’m losing you.” Les rolled his eyes dramatically for Charlie’s benefit, although he was glad Justin was losing her. That, coupled with a week minimum in her truck alone with her, gave him a fighting chance.

“I was never yours to begin with, Justin.” Her voice was rising in frustration. Les could see a vein pop out on her forehead. As bothered as he was by the fact she was so angry at this asshole, he thought it was a little cute.

“Oh please, don’t fuck him.” Lurid images filled his mind at the man’s words, and Les’s body reacted. He managed to put an affronted look on his face. Why had she stayed with him as long as she had? He seemed like the type to be dumped after the first time he opened his whiny mouth.

“Justin, I’ve got to go. Goodbye.” She reached over and pushed a button on her phone. “See what I mean? Every conversation we’ve had for a week has been like that, and I’m at my wit’s end.”

“Sounds like you need a restraining order.”

“He’s not dangerous. And I don’t like to get police involved, unless it’s necessary.”

“Well, he sounds sick in the head. He has a different perception of reality and is unwilling to hear the truth. It could lead to a dangerous situation, Charlie. Be careful with him.”

Her knuckles were white, clenching the steering wheel, and she didn’t answer him. Les wondered what was going on in her mind, and didn’t want to let it go, but her body language was telling him she was finished talking. So he turned up the radio and leaned back, wondering exactly where he could kiss her to make her come undone…

From the Serendipity Herald —

Serendipity has a new hero in town, but nobody seems to know who she is. The Refuge of Light has had a new influx of teen girls that have been rescued and left on their doorstep. While The Herald hasn’t been able to get permission to speak to the girls themselves, a representative of the organization, Rachel Owens, spoke to us briefly. She runs the intake aspect of the Refuge, and also heads the therapeutic rehabilitation of the girls.

“Nobody has really seen her except for the girls, and for various reasons out of their control, their descriptions have proven to be unreliable.” Owens goes on to say that The Liberator, as they’ve unofficially named her, seems to have insider information as to the girls’ whereabouts. “She takes them from rooms at a local motel, and brings them to my house in the middle of the night. At least she doesn’t have the location where we currently house the girls. That’s top secret. We don’t want the traffickers getting wind of where they are and causing them harm.”

When we asked her if she was worried for her own safety or that of her family, she simply shrugged. “I worry, sure. My husband and I talked about it at length before we decided to become involved with this organization. But in the end, the risk seems worth it to get these girls out of the hands of madmen. And honestly, the risk we put ourselves in pales in comparison to the risks The Liberator’s taking in rescuing these children.”

The description of The Liberator is vague: an older woman, possibly thirties or forties. She’s thin and tall. The only people to see her fully are the rescued girls, and they say she always wears a cap to cover her hair. She has no visible tattoos, although she’s said to always be wearing long sleeves and long pants, so that may be to cover identifying markings on her body.

Anybody with information on who The Liberator may be is encouraged to call The Refuge of Light’s corporate offices.

It was almost midnight by the time Charlie made it to the rest stop on the New Mexico side of the state line. She pulled over her truck and dug around in the backseat for her pillow and blanket.

“Here. You can use this if you want.” She offered the pillow to Les.

“No, I’ll just use my duffel bag.”

Well, now she was feeling bad about pitching her fit for spending the night in the truck. He was going to be so uncomfortable. “You sure?”

“Yeah. No biggie.” She could tell he was lying, but as he got out and rearranged everything, standing his guitar case on the floorboard and resting his duffel back across the seat against it, she saw he was trying to make the best of things. He looked around the parking lot briefly before stripping down to his boxers and getting into the front seat. Trying not to look at Les in his underwear, Charlie got into the back, fumbling under her covers to change into pajama shorts. The truck rocked with their motions of settling, and she snickered to herself, visualizing what it would look like to an outsider.

Eventually, they both settled and the truck got quiet of grunts, Charlie listening for sounds of anyone approaching. She’d traveled this way before, a lot, and she never really slept well, but she hated motel rooms and couldn’t afford to stay someplace nice. That would eat all of her profits and make travelling for pieces a moot issue.

Regret settled in her gut as she listened to Les in the front seat. He wasn’t relaxing into sleep at all, and she felt a little bad about that. She also felt bad about him being on this trip with her. His occasional grunts filled the cab, and as his body finally settled, she thought she heard a fart or two. She had to smile to herself. He wasn’t faking who he was. Les was genuine.

She liked Les.
Really
liked him. He was funny, cute, easy to work with, smart, and now she knew he had a fantastic singing voice. She had seen the interest in his eyes before, and knew all it would take was one word of encouragement from her and he would be eating out of her hand. But she didn’t want that from him. He was better than that. He was the type of guy who would do anything for his girl; he would love her, commit to her, and walk through fire for her.

And she wasn’t that type of girl.

The Man had ruined Charlie for normal relationships. He had taught her at an early age that men wanted one thing from her, and taught her how to be good at giving it. He’d molded her into the perfect sex toy, buying her body from her parents for three eight-balls of coke.

Her parents’ abandonment of her, and their selfishness, had insured that she would never be normal again. Adam was proof of that. She couldn’t even tell anyone why she couldn’t do relationships, or basic friendships would be out of the question as well. Adam was the only one who truly knew her past, and that was only because he was such a huge part of it.

She had tried to live a normal life, but it hadn’t worked. Nope, she was suited to her solitary lifestyle. Charlie only had a high school equivalency certificate, and enough college to discover she had an aptitude for numbers. When she’d turned thirty-one, she’d finally received a settlement from the civil court cases against her parents and The Man that wasn’t much, but enabled her to buy her house and property and a truck, and set up her business. It had been running in the black for three years now, and she had enough extra to make donations to the Refuge of Light, a local organization that helped girls who had been sold for sex.