Sweet Retribution, page 3
“Is it safe to talk?” he queries, worry underscoring his tone.
“I think Charlie has gone out, and I’m using my burner cell in his mom’s bathroom. I doubt there’s any listening devices in here, and I triple-checked this cell for tracking devices and found none.”
“Okay, but use it sparingly.”
“Stop babying me, Drew.”
A pregnant pause fills the air before he says, “Sorry. It’s hard not to worry.”
“I know, but I’m fine. Now put Rick on.”
“Okay. I’ll drop by in a couple days. Provided Father hasn’t got me tied to a chair.”
Acid crawls up my throat. “Talk your way out of it. I’ve watched Charlie stand up to the bastard, and he seems to respect it. Try the same, and it might work.”
“Don’t waste energy worrying about me. Watch your back, A. I’ve seen a side of Charlie you don’t know. He’s lethal. Don’t push him too far.” A shiver skates down my spine. I’ve always known that side of Charlie exists, but I’ve never seen it.
“I’ll be careful.”
More rustling erupts before Rick speaks. “Hey, you hanging in there?”
“I’m fine. How is your brother?”
“He’s got a few cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder, a mild concussion, and some internal bruising, but he’ll pull through. He just won’t be going anywhere for a while.”
I hate he’s so badly hurt, but at least he can’t attempt any retaliation. I also think this might be an opportune time for Drew and me to tell him and Rick that we know it was their father who killed their mother. “Is he awake? Can I speak to him?”
“Sorry, Abby. He’s all doped up and dead to the world.”
“Shitty word choice,” I say, chastising him. “Tell him I called and I love him.”
“I’ll pass that along. He’ll be glad to hear you’re okay. The few moments he was lucid he was panicking about you.”
God, how I love that man. He’s in a world of pain, but his only thoughts are of me.
“Did Drew ask you about the sleeping pills?” I inquire, needing to finish up in case Charlie catches me.
“Yeah, but there are different types, so I kinda have to know what you need them for?”
“I need something I can drug Charlie with so he passes out for at least a few hours.”
Rick whistles down the line. “Wow, so married life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?”
“Funny, ha, ha. Can you help or not?”
“I’ll get something from Uncle Wes. I’ll get it in liquid form, like you requested, but you’ll need to be circumspect with it.”
“I have a few tricks up my sleeves to enable me to get out of the house. This is just one angle, and I’ll use it sparingly because Charlie is fucking smart and I don’t want to make it obvious.”
“Okay. I’ll call Wes now and see if he can get a rush job on it. Either way, I’ll hand Drew something to give you in the next couple days.”
“Thanks, Rick. I’ve got to go. Tell everyone I said bye.” I hang up without waiting for his reply.
I’m walking along the hallway, back to my room, when Charlie appears at the top of the stairs. He doesn’t see me, and I tread softly as I walk toward him, watching him stare at my closed bedroom door with a whole host of emotions gliding across his face.
As I get closer, I notice all the telltale signs.
His hair is mussed up, the way Kai’s gets after an energetic roll in the hay. His lips are swollen, his cheeks flushed, and his clothes are disheveled. But it’s the scratch marks running up one side of his neck that give the game away.
He’s too focused on my door to hear my approach or spot the disgust on my face. “You went out and had sex with someone else on our wedding night?” I hiss, making him jump as he snaps out of whatever daze he was in.
So, okay, it’s not a real wedding, and I currently hate his fucking guts, and I’ve zero desire to sleep with him now, or any other night, but still. It’s disrespectful, and he’s now sunk even lower in my eyes.
I stand in front of him and rip his shirt wide open. Buttons fly everywhere as I yank the shirt off him. I examine his back. Long, red, raised nail marks trail up and down his flesh, confirming my suspicions. “You’re disgusting.” He stands rigidly still, not turning around to face me, so I put my face all up in his. “Thanks for making this easy for me.” He sways on his feet, thrusting a hand out to hold himself up by the wall. I peer into his eyes, noticing how bloodshot and unfocused they are.
“Abby, please,” he slurs, and his sour breath punches me in the face.
I take two steps back. “You’re drunk.”
“My father died today!” he blurts. “And it’s all my fault.” He falls to the ground on his butt, burying his head in his knees.
I slide down the wall, tucking my knees up to my chest, watching him carefully. Charlie is so erratic and unpredictable these days, and I can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t anymore. I wait him out, watching his shoulders rise and fall. His body trembles all over.
When he finally lifts his head to look at me, tears cling to his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I needed a release, and I know you won’t let me touch you.”
“Going out and screwing someone else guaran-fucking-tees it, Charlie.”
“I wanted it to be you,” he unhelpfully adds. “I pretended it was.” My face twists bitterly as my stomach knots up. “Like I always do when I’m fucking any woman. It’s always you in my mind, Abby.”
“Wow. You just keep digging that hole deeper.”
“I fucked up,” he slurs, “and I promise I won’t do it again.” He crawls toward me, and I press my back into the wall. “I need you. Baby. Please.”
I slam my hand into his chest, keeping him back. “Don’t come any closer. You reek of whore and booze, and I want you nowhere near me. I don’t care if I wear your ring and have your last name. You are not touching me with those filthy, disgusting, treacherous hands.”
A mask ghosts over his face, and he rises to his feet, hovering over me with a thunderous look on his face. “I wouldn’t have had to do it if you’d just give me a fucking chance.” His voice is eerily controlled, and it’s like the calm before the storm.
I scramble to my feet. “So, now, it’s my fault? That’s rich.” I cross my arms over my chest, daring him to go there.
“I just needed someone to hold me. I wouldn’t have asked for any more, but you fucking slammed the door in my face.”
“With good reason.” I tilt my chin up. “And you just said you needed the release, so how the fuck would spooning with me have helped.”
“Because it’s you!” He reaches out for me, and I jerk sideway out of his reach.
“Goddamn it, Abby!” He punches the wall, cracking the plaster, and dust and debris rain down on the carpeted floor. “I fucking love you, but you can’t see past Anderson,” he yells, slamming his fist into the wall again. “And I was thinking of you,” he roars, hitting the wall again. A large crack forms in the plaster, splintering toward the ceiling. “Because I didn’t want to stay here and end up hurting you if you rejected me!”
Wow, that’s comforting.
Not.
The wall rattles this time when he hits it, over and over, without stopping.
“Oh my God! Charles.” Elizabeth Barron comes running along the hallway toward us, and Charlie curses under his breath. “Sweetheart.” She wraps her arms around him from the side in an awkward hug. “It’s okay, baby. Shush.” She lifts his arm from the wall, and tears roll down her cheeks as she inspects his torn knuckles. She looks over at me. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but he needs you.”
I snort out an incredulous laugh. “I don’t think it’s me he needs.” Charlie visibly stiffens.
“Whatever the argument is about doesn’t matter,” she says, her gaze bouncing between both of us. “You’re married now.” She levels me with a pleading look. “Your husband is in pain, and he does need you.”
Hearing that word, when it references Charlie, is like having a vat of hot oil poured over my naked body. It makes me want to scream from the pit of my lungs and claw at my skin. But I ball it all up and shove it into the innermost corner of my psyche.
I want to tell Elizabeth that her precious son is a monster, and partly responsible for her soulmate’s death, but she’s hurting enough, so I’ll keep Charlie’s secret.
For now.
CHAPTER FOUR
“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask the next day when a burly guy with cropped reddish-blond hair climbs into the driver’s seat of the red Lexus SUV before I can plant my butt in there.
The garage is packed full of cars, and Elizabeth said to take whichever one I wanted. I make a mental note to ask Drew to help me sneak my Kawasaki from the house and hide it someplace close by.
“Mr. Barron was very exact in his rules, Mrs. Barron,” he says, instantly losing more brownie points. I want to lay into him. To tell him I’ll castrate him if he refers to me as Mrs. Barron again, but I’ve a part to play, and there can be no missteps this time.
“And what exactly were those?” I ask, propping one hand on my hip.
“That I’m to go with you whenever you leave the house and I’m to drive you.”
This is fucking priceless. I whip out my cell and dial Charlie’s number. He answers on the third ring. “I can’t really talk right now, darling,” he says, and I puke a little in my mouth.
“Where are you?” I ask, because he was gone when I woke this morning.
After cleaning his wounds, I left him in the bathroom to shower, while I returned to my room. He didn’t try to join me, and I’m glad to see he still has some modicum of sense left. Because I would’ve gone postal on his ass if he’d attempted to snuggle with me after spending the night screwing some other woman.
“I’m at the office.”
“It’s the day after Christmas. Surely, the office is closed?”
“It was, but I’ve had to call an emergency board meeting to decide how to run the business now my father is gone.” His voice displays no emotion this morning, and I doubt I’ll ever discover the truth behind his father’s demise.
“I need to go to the pharmacy to pick up a script Dr. Wilson called in for your mom, but some goon won’t let me drive myself.”
The man in the ill-fitting suit narrows his eyes ever so slightly in my direction.
“You haven’t driven since you passed your test, Abby.” I can almost hear him smiling down the line.
“It’s a fucking automatic! I think I can manage it. I did get a license after all.”
“Not happening,” he snaps. “You think I don’t know you intend to run to him the first chance you get?” he adds in a lower tone of voice.
He’ll need to grovel to get back into my good graces, and I intend to take full advantage of that, so this is fucking bullshit. “I married you! And I told you I’ve made my decision. I love him, but he’s dead to me now.”
I offer up a silent prayer for forgiveness.
“I want to believe you, but…”
“You’re no better than my father. You realize that? You can’t keep me like a prisoner.”
“I’m not. You are free to go wherever you want, but Jethro will be your shadow until I know you can be trusted.”
Fucking bastard.
“Until I can be trusted? Are you for real?” This is going to make things infinitely harder, and I’m not standing for it. The goon must go. “And do you have a bodyguard? Who’s going to shadow you to ensure you don’t cheat on me again?!”
Jethro’s eyes perk up, and he’s not fast enough to hide his reaction.
Charlie’s heavy breathing echoes down the line, but it’s clear he’s not going to respond.
“I hate you,” I spit out.
“We’ll talk about this later. I’ll see you at dinner.” He hangs up, and I silently seethe as I climb into the back seat, instructing Jethro to take me to town.
When I return, Lillian has gone to her friend’s house, Charlie is still AWOL, and Elizabeth is fast asleep on the couch with an empty bottle of wine lying on the floor at her feet and her wedding video playing on the big screen mounted to the wall. I turn it off, place a blanket over her, and tiptoe out of the room with the empty wine bottle and glass.
I sneak into her en suite bathroom and call Rick first, hoping to speak to Kai, but he’s sleeping again, and I tell him I’ll call later if I get the chance. I really need to speak to him. To hear his voice and know he’s okay. But I won’t stop worrying until I’m looking at him with my own eyes.
I call Xavier next. “Hey, babe. You doing okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine.”
“Abby.” His voice softens. “I know what he did to you. It’s okay to not be okay.”
Intense pain settles on my chest like a ten-ton truck just dropped on top of me. I can scarcely breathe over the pain ripping my insides to shreds.
I cannot think about it.
Not even for a second.
Because I will fall apart, and I need to be at the top of my game. “No,” I whisper, hoping he understands I can’t discuss it.
Xavier curses. “I’m coming over.”
I open my mouth to object, but he’s already hung up on me.
I’ve composed myself by the time he arrives, and I almost trip over my feet when I spot the sweet ride he showed up on. “Holy shit,” I exclaim, stepping outside and deliberately ignoring Jethro. “Where did you get a Yamaha R3 from? And who owns it?”
“I own it. You converted me.” Xavier puffs out his leather-clad chest, and I smother a giggle as I look him over. He’s wearing a tight black biker’s leather jacket and matching pants, with a Batman logo on both, with fitted elbow and knee pads, and heavy black biker boots. A Batman-branded helmet dangles off the handlebars, and I lose control of my giggle, full-on laughing.
Xavier runs his fingers through his fire engine–red hair, frowning. “What’s so funny?”
“You,” I splutter, pointing as I walk toward him. “You’re like a walking cliché.”
He plants his hands on his hips, pouting and tipping his chin up. “I’m Batman.” He deepens his voice as he stabs me with a serious look. “Get used to it.”
I crack up laughing, clutching my stomach in physical pain. He watches with amusement in his eyes. When I compose myself, I wipe at the moisture sitting on my cheekbones and straighten up. “Where the hell did you get all this gear?”
“A dude I know was selling it.”
“I wonder why,” I mutter before wrapping my arms around him. “You shouldn’t have come here, but it’s so good to see you.”
“Why the hell not? Has Charlie boy decided you can’t have friends now?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. We aren’t exactly on speaking terms.”
“Come inside and tell Uncle Xavier all about it,” he says, poking his tongue out at Jethro as we walk past him. Jethro slants a funny look at Xavier, and I arch a brow.
I think Jethro might have liked that.
I work hard to smother another giggle.
“Who’s the scary dude?” he whisper-shouts.
“My new babysitter.” I scowl. “But hopefully not for long,” I add, leading Xavier into the house and down to the basement recreational room which Charlie refers to as a den.
“Shit. Dude’s got some crib,” Xavier admits with an admiring whistle, unzipping his leather jacket and flinging it on the L-shaped black leather couch.
“It’s nicer than that mausoleum I grew up in, but it’s still not home,” I admit, moving behind the bar to fix us a drink. “Want one?” I shake the tequila bottle at him, and he nods.
Removing a small square device from his pocket, he walks around the room with it elevated over his head, and a look of fierce concentration on his face.
“Watcha doing?” I enquire, opening the overhead cupboard and removing two shot glasses. Xavier plops his butt down on a stool at the counter while I pour our shots and slice some lime. I’ve got to hand it to Charlie. He keeps a well-stocked bar.
“Checking the room for tracking devices but it’s clean. We’re good to talk.”
“Could you check my room and bathroom before you leave? I’ve been sneaking into Elizabeth’s bathroom to use my burner cell, but I’d prefer to know if my room is safe.”
“Keep it.” He slides it across to me. “You can hide it in the new purse Drew is bringing you tomorrow. The hidden panel has a decent amount of room.”
“Cool. Thanks.”
He pulls a square plastic sealed bag from his pocket. “Picked you up these tracking devices too. Open the sole of Charlie’s shoe and slide one in. Use the glue tube to seal the heel back on. He’ll never know.” He holds out his hand. “Give me both your phones.”
I pull my normal cell out of the back pocket of my pants. “I only have this one on me. My burner is hidden upstairs.”
“Okay. I’ll add the tracking software app to this one now and we’ll go to your room so I can add it to your burner cell. I personalized it for you, so it looks like a girls clothing app, in case Charlie goes snooping.”
“You really are a freaking genius, aren’t you?” I hand him the salt container and he pours a little on his hand. “You think of everything.”
He beams. “I do my best.”
“You, my friend, are going to rule the world one day.” I waggle my brows at him, fully believing it.
“I sure fucking hope so. Now, hurry up with those drinks, babe. I’m parched.”
I slide a shot to him, along with a lime wedge. “So, those tracking chips and the app means I can see where he is at all times, right?” I ask, dropping some salt on top of my hand.
“Yep. It means if you are out of the house doing naughty stuff with Anderson you’ll have enough warning to get your ass back here in time.” We clink our shot glasses, lick the salt off our hands, and knock back the tequila in tandem. I hand him a lime wedge as I shove the other one between my lips, sucking on it to lessen the burn of the alcohol.
“Damn. That’s good shit.” Xavier slaps his chest. “Wish I could have another.”
