Fighting Back (Mercy's Angels) Read online

  “There is nowhere else I would rather be,” he murmured. We stood like that a little longer. Charlie’s arms were wrapped tightly around my shoulders, my back pressed hard against his front.

  “This is freakin’ crazy. I mean, I know there is no one down that damn hall, you’re right here, and I’m completely safe, but I’m still scared. Maybe those bumps to the head dislodged something,” I whispered.

  Charlie’s head dipped down and his lips brushed against the gentle curve of my neck, causing something in my body to hum with unspoken desire. My eyelids fluttered shut and a small sigh escaped my lips. In that moment, I was filled with two thoughts. Number one, I didn’t think my body would respond to a man’s touch ever again, so this was kinda awesome. Number two…number two? Charlie’s lips moved to the delicate shell of my ear. Oh hell, thought number two was gone along with every other cognizant thought.

  “There is nothing wrong with your head. After what you have been through, being scared is perfectly normal. It can do strange things to the mind. The first step in healing is to acknowledge your fears, and you’ve done that. The next step is to defeat them.” Charlie’s arms slipped from me and I instantly missed the contact. He slid by me and stood halfway down the hall, facing me with a cheeky grin that made his roguish good looks suddenly more boyish. “How about we make this interesting?”

  It took a moment for his words to sink in and I shook my head. “What the hell are you talking about, Charlie?” I wondered out loud. Was my all-consuming fear not interesting enough for him?

  “Well, if you can make it to…” he glanced around and took two more steps away from me, “here, I will give you a reward.”

  From the sexy grin on his face, I had an idea as to what my reward might be, and my body responded appropriately. My mind, however, was still nervous as hell. He had to be no more than ten feet away, a few steps, easy. I almost snorted, a few steps down my own God damn hallway should be more than easy; they should be thoughtless! One deep breath later, my shoulders back, head held high, I stepped down the hall. You’d think I was descending into the depths of hell from the way my heart was pounding with irrational fear. I kept my eyes on Charlie though and he reached out his hand out as I drew closer. I automatically grabbed for it as if his touch alone could save me from falling into an abyss from which there might be no return. Charlie pulled me roughly into his chest and his mouth crushed against mine in a brutally passionate kiss. By the time he pulled away, I was breathless. My fingers lingered over what I was sure were kiss-swollen lips. Charlie’s forehead leaned against mine, a position we seemed to find ourselves in often.

  “Do you realize how fucking incredible you taste.” He sighed. “I could never forget that taste, not in a million lifetimes.”

  My heart tripped over his words as he began to pull away from me. I stood there, feeling dazed, thrilled, and thoughtless! Fearless! I smiled a little. Charlie now stood level with my bedroom door and all of a sudden that fear was back.

  Charlie glanced into my bedroom. “Empty, Betty Boop. Nothing but your things. Go take a look and I’ll give you another reward.”

  I eyed the doorway to my bedroom nervously before looking back at Charlie. My breathing sped up and my heart was beating furiously, but no longer from excitement, now it was out of fear. I closed my eyes trying to block out the images that flashed through my mind. Images of him, images of that night.

  “No, Rebecca!” Charlie demanded. I opened my eyes immediately. “You keep those pretty blue eyes open and you keep them on me. It’s just you and me here, and I don’t want you to forget that.”

  I nodded and bit my lip nervously. Less than ten feet this time—I could do this. Hell, I just wanted another one of those blazing hot Cole kisses. Charlie raised his hand, and without another thought I took the four quick steps forward, practically throwing myself into his strong body. I held on tight, and in return, Charlie held on to me just as tight. I was breathing hard and fast, my head pressed against his chest, my eyes squeezed shut again. The loud beat of his heart was right under my ear and I focused on its steady rhythm, letting it lull me into some resemblance of calm. Finally, I was able to open my eyes and though my hands shook and my knees felt weak, I was okay.

  Charlie took my face in his big palms and looked down at me with a look that I could only describe as pride. “Good girl,” he murmured before pressing a slow, soft kiss to my lips.

  This was different to the last kiss, which had been full of a fiery craving. This kiss was slow, full of adoration, respect and tenderness. When Charlie finally pulled away, I felt nothing but cherished under his hard body and piercing gaze. I wanted to beat my fears not only for me, but also for Charlie. To see him look at me like that filled me with a self-worth that I only now realized I’d been missing. Pressing my forehead against his hard chest, I took another long, deep cleansing breath and I turned my head, my gaze now falling on my bedroom. Just as Charlie had assured me, it was empty apart from my belongings. The curtains were pulled back, allowing light to fill the space. It wasn’t so scary, yet I still felt anxious about going in there.

  “Someone made my bed,” I whispered. I felt Charlie press a kiss to the top of my head.

  “Mercy,” he confirmed.

  Clean sheets, but not that clean. I could still picture him holding me down, touching me, tainting me. His hands had ripped away my confidence and left a stain in its place, a mark that I feared might never disappear.

  “I need a drink,” I groaned after a moment of silence. I promptly turned and made my way back into the kitchen where I grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with a nip of vodka, actually it was a little more than a nip, but I think I earned it. Charlie followed me and began going through my fridge, pouring the sour milk down the sink and throwing the spoiled food into a plastic garbage bag. I threw back the vodka and coughed as the liquid burned a trail down my throat and into my chest.

  “I’m out of practice,” I wheezed.

  “You should probably take it easy. I’m sure your doctor would not approve mixing alcohol with your medication.”

  I poured another shot as Charlie continued to fumble through my kitchen. “I’m not mixing anything. This is straight up vodka all by its lonesome. And hopefully, if I keep this up, I won’t need any sleeping pills tonight.”

  “Well, how about I’m worried. If you get drunk you might try and take advantage of me.” Charlie gave me a serious look and I found myself frowning. He didn’t want me to take advantage of him? Could I take advantage of him? A smile cracked through his serious façade. “On second thought,” he murmured. I hid a smile and threw back a second shot of the burning liquid that was leaving my chest warm and my head a little fuzzy. Charlie carefully poured some water into my Clitoria, the green leafy plant whose vibrant deep blue flowers resembled, well, a clitoris. I couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled from my chest as he carefully moved the flowers aside to make sure the water reached the soil. “What?” he asked, his brow furrowed with worry.

  “You look like you’ve done that before. You are very gentle,” I noted, trying not to laugh.

  He shrugged. “I don’t want to be too rough and damage the flowers.”

  “Oh, those flowers are pretty hardy. They can handle quite a pounding.” Charlie stared at me, his faced etched with confusion. The shots had obviously found their mark and my giggles turned into hysterical laughter.

  “Am I missing something here?” He regarded me, leaning casually against the kitchen counter.

  “That is my Clitoria,” I managed to say between bouts of laughter.

  Charlie looked back at the plant, a horrified expression on his face. “Say again?” he asked for confirmation.

  “Clitoria ternatea, named so because of its clitoris shaped flowers. It actually grows better as a vine, but I don’t want to put it outside because the snow will kill it.” Charlie’s intense stare made me hesitate. The look wasn’t humor, nor was it anger. It was something else, something more
.

  “You of all people should know how careful I am with such an exquisite bud,” he said earnestly.

  I choked on the mouthful of vodka that had just passed my lips. Cheeks aflame, I turned my attention away from the far too sexy man standing so casually in my kitchen, talking about my plant. At least I thought we were talking about my plant. Maybe our conversation had shifted to something far more personal and a whole lot more erotic.

  My eyes settled on a piece of paper that was lying on the hardwood floors just in front of the back door. I considered it for a moment before moving across the room to retrieve it. A small gasp escaped my lips when I recognized the handwriting immediately.

  “Rebecca?” Charlie asked from the kitchen. My eyes darted over the few words once, twice then a third time as I tried to make sense of the note.

  “Who’s B, and who’s Em?” Charlie murmured from over my shoulder.

  “I’m B, when Emily was little she couldn’t say Rebecca so she started calling me B. It stuck and Em? Well Em is my sister, Emily,” I whispered.

  “I thought Emily left Claymont years ago?” asked Charlie. I nodded woodenly. “And what is she making right?” he continued, reading the note from behind me.

  I shrugged as I read the letter again.

  B, I’m so sorry. I promise I will make this right. Love, Em.

  “Betty Boop, what is this about?” Charlie asked suspiciously.

  “I have no idea,” I replied honestly. “I was still a teenager when she left Claymont and I haven’t seen her since. I would be completely oblivious to her existence if it weren’t for the occasional phone call or letter, and up until recently I thought maybe she had forgotten I existed altogether. It had been almost two years since I last heard from her. But over the last month, I’ve heard from her no less than five times.”

  “What did she want?”

  “She wanted me to sell the house. I got the impression she needed the money, but I refused to sell.” Charlie took the piece of paper from me and read it over himself, his hand rubbing the rough hair on his chin. It had obviously been a few days since he last shaved.

  “I saw her,” I breathed. Charlie’s gaze settled on me. His face betrayed no emotion as he patiently waited for me to continue. “Outside the store this morning. At the time I wasn’t sure, it’s been such a long time since I’ve seen her, and she looked so different. Then after everything that happened today, I completely forgot about it.”

  “How can you be sure it was her then?”

  “The last time I saw her she was sixteen, she was still a child really. Her hair was slightly darker than mine, long, down to her waist. She had full cheeks and a curvy figure. She was gorgeous. The Emily I saw this morning was different. Her hair was short, like pixie short, and jet black. She was really thin, she looked tired, and was far too pale. Her eyes were the same though, eyes never change. Emily’s eyes are blue like mine, only a little paler. She hated them, but I always found them beautiful, intriguing. When I saw her this morning, I saw those eyes and I thought right away that it had to be Emily, but the woman looked so different in every other way.”

  Charlie began pacing around the room and it made me nervous. He suddenly seemed agitated. “Why would she be back in Claymont? And if she is back here and was right in front of your shop, why didn’t she come in to see you?”

  I shook my head, I had no idea. “Bouquets isn’t called Bouquets anymore, its Mercy’s Angels and Bouquets and you can’t see my part of the shop by looking through the glass. Mostly you just notice the chairs and tables for Annie’s coffee shop through the windows. She wouldn’t have even realized I was there, and as for why she is back, I have no idea. She was never fond of Claymont, she hated it. Em wanted the city, the lights and all the excitement that goes with it.” Charlie rubbed a hand through his messy hair. “There were men with her—two men—and they were huge, like, intimidating bouncer huge. They looked like they were forcing her into a car.” My heart started to hammer with panic. “What if she’s in some sort of trouble?” Charlie glanced back down at the letter. I grabbed my cell phone off the counter and scrolled through my contacts until I found the last number she called me from. I dialed it and tapped my fingers on the counter beside me with impatience.

  “The number you have dialed is no longer in service,” the monotone recording echoed through my ear. I scrolled through to another number and pressed call. Again, I was greeted with the same recording. There was only one other number that Emily called from recently, and somehow I knew I would get the same result. I sighed with disappointment when the same recording picked up. I stared at the phone, willing it to ring, willing it to be Emily on the other end.

  “Can I keep this? I want to show Dillon and Braiden.” Charlie held the note in front of me.

  “What on earth for?” I startled, his question snapped my attention from my phone and the empty, useless recording.

  “Rebecca, you were attacked less than a month ago, and there is no suspect. Then suddenly your sister, who is hard up for cash, shows up in town with some questionable looking people?”

  I just stared at him, taking in what he was saying. “You think she had something to do with my attack?” I finally stammered. That he was even suggesting it pissed me off. My sister would never do anything to hurt me. We may not have seen each other in nearly ten years, but we were blood, we grew up together. My sister would never hurt me.

  “Maybe your attack had nothing to do with your sister, but it wouldn’t hurt to have Dillon and Braiden poke around and make sure she’s okay. I’m sure you would feel better knowing she is alright.” Okay, that made sense. I nodded as I looked around my home, which now felt so cold and empty.

  “I don’t want to stay here,” I quietly confessed. Charlie took the short few steps to me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into the safety of his chest.

  “You don’t have to, Betty Boop. We’ll grab anything you need and you can come stay with me. We’ll get the rest of your things from Jax and Ella’s tomorrow. On the way to my place, we can stop by Dillon’s office and show him the letter.”

  My head throbbed, my few carefree moments of vodka induced happiness had slipped away, and now, all I wanted was a hot shower and a full night’s sleep. The shower wouldn’t be a problem, the sleep definitely would be.

  * * *

  “This is the most recent photo you have of her?” Dillon Montgomery asked.

  I sensed he knew what my answer would be, but perhaps he was hoping, by some miracle, I could produce a more recent one. It was one of Emily and me on Christmas morning, eight years ago. Emily looked so young, her hair in a long braid, a carefree grin on her lips. I stood beside her, two fingers peeking above her head from behind in a childish taunt. We looked so similar, apart from me being a good few inches taller and slightly more womanly. I began to develop my curves early, but Emily at sixteen, although she had a healthy curvy figure, was still flat chested, and her cheeks still held their child-like roundness. It was our last Christmas together. Two months later, Emily left Claymont, only a note explaining her need to see the world. I shook off the sorrow that threatened to consume me and nodded.

  The office of Montgomery Securities was unusually comfortable. It was big and spacious, with high tech looking computers, combined with massive computer screens. A big comfy leather couch sat at the front of the room in front of a wide coffee table and a large clutter-free counter. There were framed photos on the walls, one of Dillon in his army fatigues, surrounded by a group of laughing children. The others were of foreign cities and landscapes; they were beautiful, exotic, and serene. I wondered if perhaps Dillon or Braiden had taken them. Off the reception area was a short corridor with three doorways. I knew one was Dillon’s office and the other Braiden’s. My mind raced with the idea that the third doorway led to some secret underground warehouse full of James Bond like weaponry and spy equipment. Okay, I really needed to stop watching so many movies. We were spread out around th
e reception area—Dillon was leaning against the neat counter; Braiden was kicked back in a chair, his big boots resting on the coffee table in front of us; and Charlie and I were sitting on the leather couch.

  “We could dig around, look for police reports, driver’s licenses, and arrest records. Might turn up a more recent photo there?” suggested Braiden.

  That was the most I have ever heard Braiden speak. Six months ago, he bought a house in one of the brand new luxury estates on my side of town, and since Dillon was living with Braiden for now, it wasn’t uncommon for him to tag along with Dillon to grab an occasional dinner or drink. He had always been quiet and a little reclusive, speaking only a few words and smiling less. It wasn’t like he went around scowling in that dark and dangerous way you would expect, but instead he seemed to quietly consider everything that was going on around him. Ella told me Braiden had been an officer for NYPD’s Emergency Service Unit before mysteriously leaving to do his own thing as a PI. When Dillon ditched the military to open his own security firm, Braiden had jumped straight in with him. Together they not only ran a successful and rapidly growing business, but were lusted after by every single woman in Claymont. Dillon, with his tall and athletic body, held himself with a confidence that oozed sex appeal. His hair was in a military buzz cut, and his eyes were a curious shade of green that were fanned with lashes that I was envious of! Yes, the Montgomery cousins were impressive.

  “Is it possible that she goes under a different name now?” Dillon asked.

  “I don’t know. She’s always just been Em, and I’ve always been B.” I sighed, rubbing my throbbing head. The vodka shots were not my friends right now.

  “Has she ever given any indication she was in some sort of trouble?” came Braiden’s next question.

  “No, I mean, other than seeming a little desperate for cash recently, no. I just assumed she was behind on her rent or something.”