Fighting Back (Mercy's Angels) Read online

  “Hey, Betty Boop,” Ella answered in a sing song voice.

  “Hello to you, too, short stuff.” I chuckled.

  “So, how is the redneck inn?”

  “Not so redneck,” I acknowledged, taking in the beauty of the mountains before me.

  “Uh-huh, told ya you’d like it.”

  “You’ve seen it?” I wondered out loud.

  “Nope, but Jax told me all about it. Sounds pretty damn wicked. Does it really have a Jacuzzi? I want a Jacuzzi, but not before I get my fucking kitten,” Ella growled, her curiosity morphing into a small temper tantrum. I laughed.

  “Yeah, it has a Jacuzzi. I’m sure Jax would get you one. And why the hell are you waiting for him to get you the damn kitten? Just go out and buy one.”

  “But what if he is really allergic to them?” she asked, her tone gentling to worry.

  “Ask Mercy.”

  “You really are the smartest woman I know,” Ella joked.

  “Well you really don’t know all that many people, so it’s not saying much.” I chuckled.

  “So, you sound remarkably calm for someone whose life has been flipped ass over tit.” If I wasn’t so used to tiny, angelic Ella’s crude and upfront vocabulary, I would have been shocked. Ella spent four years on the run from her stepfather, four long years living in shelters, and occasionally on the street. She has lived a hard life, with hard people and was certainly no prude. But she has come out on the other side with her heart intact, and a back bone of steel. Over the past year, her confidence has only grown. Jax, Charlie, and I created a monster. “You sound like a woman who’s indulged in some horizontal refreshments, perhaps,” the monster went on.

  “Ella, you know I don’t drink while lying down. I drink till I fall down.”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” I knew what she was talking about, but I wasn’t going to give in that easily.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Ella. You’ve been hanging around Lola too long. You both talk in riddles.”

  “You did the fuzzy bump!” Ella exclaimed.

  I could not contain the laughter that spilled from my lips. “I did the what?”

  “Fuzzy bump, you know, bumped uglies.”

  That only made me laugh harder. “Bumped nasties?” I offered.

  “Slap and tickle?” Ella suggested, and I’m sure I was blushing, remembering the tickle fondly.

  “A jiffy stiffy?” I carried on, and Ella snorted loudly through the phone. We played this game often and it usually ended with us laughing so hard that one of us would end up making a dash for the bathroom.

  “You had yourself a shaboink, I can tell from the sound of your voice,” Ella said, and I could just imagine the smirk on her face. Shaboink?

  “There is nothing different about my voice,” I said with a nervous chuckle.

  “Oh, hell yeah there is. You sound all husky and sated.” What the hell did that mean? “Boss, you sound very relaxed and very well fucked,” Ella explained.

  “Well, you are obviously off your game because I wasn’t shaboinked and I’m not your boss anymore.” Ella snorted again. “But I might have had an orgasm,” I quickly added.

  “Big Red?” Ella exclaimed. Damn giant red vibrator. I had once told Ella I refused to use an inanimate object to find release; however, curiosity had gotten the better of me and I had relented once or twice, or maybe a few times. Screw it, I’ve used it so many times I’ve lost count.

  “No, not Big Red. Big Charlie helped, but there was no sex involved. I didn’t think I could even handle being touched, but clearly I can.” I grinned. Damn straight I could. Ella sighed.

  “Of course you can. No asshole, brute of a man is ever going to keep you down. You’re Rebecca Fucking Donovan, you kick ass,” she said it so matter-of-factly that I couldn’t help but smile. Charlie stepped out the front door, two beers in his hands.

  “Hey, I gotta go, I’ll call you tomorrow.” I knew I was ditching her like yesterday’s news, but Charlie, standing before me in jeans that hung low on his hips and a simple grey hoodie that clung to his chest, had me ready for orgasm number two.

  “He’s there isn’t he?” Ella asked with a droll voice. “Put him on.” I handed Charlie the phone and he passed me a beer.

  “Hey, pocket rocket, what’s going on?” His boyish grin made me want to climb up his body and kiss him senseless. As if feeling my heated gaze, he quirked an eyebrow in my direction before pulling me to my feet and taking my place in the chair. Before I had a chance to be outraged, he dragged me down to his lap. Oh yeah, this is where I wanted to be. “Ella, she’s fine, I promise. Anyone who wants to hurt her is gonna have to move mountains first, then me. So as you can clearly see, she couldn’t be any safer.” I felt Charlie’s chest rise in a silent chuckle. “Yes, ma’am, and tell Jax I’m sorry about the office, but he did burn down my tree house when we were fourteen. Perhaps it’s just karma setting things right.” Charlie sat back after disconnecting the phone.

  “Why did Jax burn your tree house down?” I asked, amused.

  “Because he caught me kissing Lisa Bell.”

  “Who is Lisa Bell?” I found myself asking.

  “The girl Jax spent four weeks in the ninth grade trying to kiss. He didn’t miss out on much.” Charlie grinned taking a long pull on his beer. “So, Ella tells me I have to give you no less than two orgasms a day.” Charlie wiggled his eyebrows. “I’m up for the challenge.”

  “Jax has turned that woman into an animal,” I growled.

  “I think she was always one, she just needed to be let out of her cage.” Charlie smiled fondly and I knew he cared for Ella. I wasn’t jealous because I knew the way he cared for her was the way a big brother cared for a little sister. I was happy Charlie had her, especially since he didn’t have any siblings of his own. “You ever fired a gun before, Betty Boop?” I spun around to face Charlie, needing to know if he was serious. The grim look on his face told me he was.

  “Hell no!” I growled. Charlie leaned his head back against the wall of the cabin behind him. After a moment of contemplative silence, he picked me up off his lap and disappeared inside. I stood staring at the door, mouth open, mind spinning. What the hell just happened? A moment later Charlie reappeared, holding a gun. I took a nervous step away. Guns freaked me the hell out. As he held it in his hand, I noted how innocuous and plastic looking it seemed. Perhaps this was some sort of sick and twisted joke. Maybe he would press the trigger and a small flame would pop out the muzzle. Then he would grin and say, ‘gotcha’.

  “This is a Glock Nineteen, 9mm semi-automatic pistol,” he opened the chamber at the top, “not loaded.” He wasn’t joking.

  “Where the hell did you get it?” I demanded.

  “Jax.” Say no more. Jax was a giant was a weapons freak. “I know you’re not keen on the idea, but desperate times call for desperate measures. If handled correctly and if respectfully cared for, a gun could save your life.” Charlie gave me a cocky look. “Ella knows how to use one, in fact, she’s a damn good shot.” He was goading me, and unfortunately it was working. I could never back down from a challenge. “Here, hold it, get a feel for it.” He raised his hand, the gun carefully held with the muzzle pointing away from me, even though it was not loaded. It was lighter than I expected and felt a little chunky in my hand.

  “It’s a little bulky in the handle. You’d be more comfortable with a smaller gun, but this is a temporary situation so it will have to do.” I ran my fingers over the weapon, marveling at how seemingly innocent this killing device actually was. “You want to fire it?” Charlie asked. I continued to simply stare at it. I couldn’t believe this is what my life had been reduced to.

  “I’m a fucking florist, Charlie, not a soldier,” I whispered. His hand circled the back of my neck and he pulled me forward into his body.

  “Rebecca, I’m not Jax or Dillon, or Braiden for that matter. I’m not military trained in any way. I’m just plain ol’ Charlie wh
o knows how to secure a good deal on lumber. I put up a good fight though and I know how to use one of these.” He took the gun from my hand. “You are a hard-ass, tough as nails, sexy florist who needs to know how to protect herself, and I want to give you that, I can give you that.”

  I sighed. His words were the magic key that opened my inner Sarah Connor. I was ready to go all Terminator on someone’s ass. I pushed my shoulders back, rolled my neck and gave Charlie a confident nod.

  “Alright, plain ol’ Charlie, show me how to empty some lead from that thing.” Charlie’s grin was contagious; his subtle dimples came out to play, making him look younger, more carefree. This was the Charlie Cole most people knew and saw. I liked that I was getting more insight into the real man, it made me feel closer to him, significant and perhaps a little territorial where Charlie was concerned. I would always hate the fact that so many women had shared something intimate with Charlie, but at the end of the day it was just sex—straight up sex without emotion. I, on the other hand, was getting something more meaningful from him, his heart. I wasn’t lying when I told him I have a jealous streak. The few boyfriends I’ve had over the years found my green eyed tendencies more of an irritation than a cute display of affection. The more time I spent with Charlie, the more territorial I was feeling about him. If he decided once this was all over, that his feelings were nothing more than protective inclinations towards a mere friend, I would be screwed. It would surely shatter my heart. As much as I tried to protect myself from attachments, from caring too much, Charlie had become part of the special and selective group of people that I could not be without.

  We set ourselves up far from the house. Charlie picked out a tree for target practice, which I felt bad about maiming. Geez, if I was already feeling sorry for shooting a tree, how the hell was I supposed to shoot a human being? Then my thoughts drifted to the asshole that attacked me, and if I were back in that moment, with this gun in my reach, I know I wouldn’t have hesitated to use it. Charlie slipped a cartridge in, bringing me out of my morbid thoughts.

  “Fifteen round mag,” he explained. “The gun has three safety mechanisms, first being on the trigger.” He pointed it out. “The other two internal safeties are released when you fire the weapon.” Charlie put the loaded gun in my hand. Then he turned me to face the poor innocent tree who was about to be on the receiving end of a whole lot of whoop ass. The warmth of Charlie’s body pressed against my back made this lesson in weaponry a whole lot more appealing. I subtly rubbed against him, and Charlie gave me a firm smack on the behind. My crazy body loved it, while my mind screamed at me to hit him back. “Behave,” he growled, his lips close to my ear. He took my hands, and raised them and the gun in front of me. “Move this leg back a little,” he corrected my stance. “This is your trigger finger and it sits right up here above the trigger until you are ready to pull it. This hand goes underneath to help hold it steady.” I was knew I was tense so tried to relax into the stance. After a few short moments, I began to feel something close to confident, maybe even a touch bad ass. I had never considered myself a gun wielding sex goddess! I giggled like a moron. “Concentrate, Betty Boop. I don’t want you shooting yourself, or me for that matter.” The gentle reminder of what we were doing here helped ground me. “You’ve got your sights outlined in white. See?” I closed one eye and watched carefully through the guiding white box to the white dot at the end of the muzzle. “Now you’re just going to pull the trigger nice and slow.”

  Charlie took a small step away from me and I was suddenly nervous without his warm presence at my back. I tried to concentrate on looking down the sight, narrowing my aim and locking the innocent tree into my view. I hesitated on the trigger until I felt Charlie’s warmth at my back again. The confidence I gained at having him there helped me pull the trigger. The gun jarred in my hands, not uncontrollably, but I was unprepared for it. Charlie reached around to steady my hands. “Shit, I should have warned you about the recoil.” I took a moment to catalogue what just happened. I was okay, I was steady, and I wasn’t freaking out.

  “It’s okay, let me try again.” Charlie lowered his arms and took a small step away. I closed one eye and looked down the sight. When I pulled the trigger this time, I was prepared for the recoil.

  “Good girl,” Charlie whispered from behind me. I pulled the trigger again, and again. Six times in all before I began to lower my arms. Charlie quickly grabbed my wrists. “Finger off the trigger, Betty Boop.” I raised my finger and lowered the gun. I didn’t know whether to be embarrassed by the rush I got from firing the weapon, or just go with it and dance around the forest like a crazy nymph. I was more than prepared to embrace my inner Resident Evil fem-fatale, Alice. I imagined myself in a slinky red dress, knee high boots and complimenting thigh holsters. Hell yeah, I was down with this. I smiled at my overactive imagination.

  “Did I kill the tree?” I murmured. Charlie laughed from behind me.

  “The tree is safe, I’m horny as hell, and you need to eat. I could hear your stomach growling over the gunfire.”

  Yeah, all this macho chick stuff was making me hungry and maybe a little horny, too.

  As we made our way back to the cabin, I watched as Charlie took the cartridge from the gun, leaving it safely unloaded. He may not have been combat trained like Jax or Dillon, but he sure as hell looked every bit the hard and deadly warrior. As he led us through the tall firs, it made me wonder about the time he spent with Dave, learning how to overcome his anger. I have never seen Charlie lose his temper. I have seen him irritated, angry, seething in fact, but he has always managed to keep himself relatively contained around me.

  “Did you ever hurt anyone when you lost your temper?” I found myself asking. The panicked look on Charlie’s face made me regret my question. I wasn’t sure how I felt about him hurting someone, especially if it had been a woman. His hand ran through his hair making it stick up in all directions. He didn’t answer right away, and when I began to think he wasn’t going to, he spoke, his voice low and rough.

  “You gotta understand, Rebecca, I was in a bad place emotionally. I was only a teenager, I was fighting both inside and outside the ring. My parents had just about driven me certifiably insane, and I know that isn’t an excuse, and that’s not who I am now. Mercy pulled me out of that life and if it wasn’t for her, I’d be dead, in prison, or worse—I could have hurt someone I really cared about.”

  I stopped walking, and when Charlie realized it, he turned around to face me. The pain in his eyes had me wanting to reach out and take him in my arms, but my heart was pounding furiously with angst. What had he done? He shoved the gun in the back of his jeans and rubbed his suddenly tired looking eyes.

  “I was seventeen and had been matched up to fight another seventeen year old by the name of Michael Hayward. It was an evenly matched fight both physically and experience in the ring. It was a full contact fight with limited protective gear. There were eight, two minute rounds, so it was a pretty intense fight for semi-professionals. Michael was renowned for taunting his opponent, it’s how he worked, making it more of a psychological battle, and even though I was prepared for it, I lost it.” Charlie cast me a worried gaze. “He spent most of the fight insulting my parents.” He shook his head, a grim smile on his lips. “He obviously didn’t realize I could care less what he had to say about them. But he found my weakness when he verbally attacked Mercy. I just lost it. It was like everything else failed to exist and all I saw was Hayward clouded in a red haze. I went at him with everything I had and it took three officials and my coach to drag me off of him.” Charlie kicked at a pine cone, his strong carefully constructed persona suddenly compromised with his guilt ridden admission. “I was covered in blood and Michael wasn’t moving. I thought I’d killed him, and the fucked up thing was, I was still so high on anger, I didn’t care. In fact, if he would have tried to sit up, I would have gone at him again. It wasn’t until later, when I had calmed down, the realization of what I had done hit me. Mich
ael never stood on his own two feet again, a fracture in his spinal cord had him stuck in a wheel chair, paralyzed from the hips down.” I gasped and hated the sadness in Charlie’s eyes when the sound passed my lips. “The only thing that prevented criminal charges was the fact that Michael had a pre-existing back injury that he and his team kept from officials. He wouldn’t have been allowed to fight if they’d known about it.”

  The lost, distraught look on Charlie’s face had me take the few steps to him. I wrapped my arms around his torso, burying my head in his chest. He was quick to return the embrace. “That’s not on you, Charlie,” I murmured, my voice somewhat muffled in his body. “You were just unlucky enough to be the poor schmuck who had to fight the ass. If it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone else. Michael shouldn’t have been fighting, his injury was obviously a ticking time bomb waiting to happen.” Charlie’s lips pressed against the top of my head.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Betty Boop. If I had kept my cool and fought the rest of that match like I had done the previous seven rounds, I would have won. I was ahead on points anyway and Michael’s injury and the burden that lay with it may have eventually lain on someone else’s shoulders. Hell, he might even still be walking.” Charlie released me and stepped away, though his hand stayed on the back of my neck. “But it is my burden to bear and it’s a reminder of what I am capable of. That memory helps keep my temper in check. I never fight in full-contact fights anymore; only light-contact or sparring.” He gave me a pointed look. “I promise you, I will never hurt you. I won’t ever hurt anyone like that again.” Then he grinned with malice. “Unless I get the opportunity to be in the same room with the son of a bitch that hurt you. That fucker is absolved from my no-hitting policy. I will tear him to shreds and not blink an eye while doing it.” His declaration should have scared me, but it had the opposite effect. It made me love him just a little bit more. And love it was. This was no high school crush, no lust driven itch, no simple friendship. What I felt for Charlie Cole was pure, unmistakable, heart filling love.