Resurrecting Charlie's Girl (7 page)

Her
body jumped. Every little noise set her off, even his voice. If he didn't get
her calmed down, she might hyperventilate or worse, slip away from reality.

"Charlise."

He
received no sign that she even heard him or realized she sat on his lap. He
pulled away and framed her face with his hands.

"Look
at me, Charlise." He kissed her forehead. "Pay attention,
sweetheart."

Her
eyes stayed closed and the lines over her forehead wrinkled with distress. He
only knew one thing to do. Garrett taught him the same method several times
over the course of the years. Training taught him how to cope with women who'd
been held captive or lived in abusive situations, but he'd never had such a
severe case. Case? She wasn't a damn case. Not anymore.

"Charlise.
Look at me." His voice deep, he demanded she follow his orders.
"Now."

She
remained closed off to him. His gut tightened, and he fought the urge to gather
her in his arms and talk softly to her. To give her everything she deserved.

Buck
up, you have to be tough.

"Damn
it, Charlise. Open your eyes and look at me!" Tom shuddered inside, but
kept his face stern.

One
way he could get past the shield she erected was to appear in control. Give her
no options and make her obey. Therapy studies backed him up that victims
usually related to someone more powerful than themselves.

Her
eyes opened, but those perfectly shaped eyebrows pulled together in a fight to
keep herself out of reality.

"Keep
your eyes open." He ran his hands through her hair, but never let go of
her head. If she stayed focused on him, and let him carry the load for her, he
might be able to pull her back to him without causing her more pain.

***

Why
did Tom sound mad at her? His voice frightened her, and she didn't want him to
talk to her that way. Tom never raised his tone to her. Jared raised his voice.
She wanted to escape.

Tom's
hands pressured her head to stay still. "Don't shut me out, dammit."

She
tried to cover her ears, but he brushed her hands away.

"Charlise,
look at me," Tom ordered.

She
shook her head, but his hands—those big hands that held her own hands when she
needed comfort and that caressed her—stopped the movement.

"No—"
She cut off her words and screamed

It
isn't supposed to happen this way. Tom brought her peace, not pain.

Tom's
hands protected her, held her. The shock poured out in a wail of grief. These
same hands now resembled chains, and wouldn't let her go where no one would
hurt her.

Tom's
hands massaged the back of her neck. "That's it, baby. Let it out."

The
pain of living day in and day out in fear bubbled over and ripped apart the
armor she'd worked so hard to build. She became someone she didn't know and
hated. Someone she never allowed out for fear of being hurt beyond repair.

She
pummeled the hands that held her prisoner. She wanted to lash out at the
injustice done to her. She wanted her life back.

"I
hate him," she screamed.

Most
of all she wanted to drive Tom away. He promised to help her, be her hero, and
she wanted to make him disappear from her life. If she drove him far enough
away, Jared would leave him alone.

She
refused to let Jared reach out of the pit of darkness and harm everyone she
loved. Her life needed to end.

"Go
away." She pushed against Tom's chest, desperate to leave the safe spot he
made for her. "I don't want you with me."

"You're
doing fine, Charlise. It isn't fair. Hell, you've been through so much."
Tom ran his hand down her cheek.

Charlise's
arms weighed down with exhaustion fell to her lap. "Fuck you!"

The
only way to hurt Tom was through her words. "Get the fuck away from me or
better yet, let me out of the car and I'll find my own way."

She
didn't move. She couldn't even muster enough strength to climb off his lap.

Tom's
hands cupped her face. His lips touched her forehead and her eyelids. She
despised herself for falling in love with him. She should've run away from the
cabin instead of letting him take her away from Jared. Now it was too late.

"I
hate you." She spat on him.

Tom
continued to touch her face. He planted kisses around her mouth.

"Don't
you hear me? I hate your guts, and I wish I never met you!" She arched her
neck to get away from him, but he only used the position to kiss along her
neck.

Charlise
sobbed in frustration. The pain too much to keep hidden.

She
lied. She wanted Tom here with her. Without him, she lost hope.

He
leaned back. "Charlise…"

"No.
Don't stop. Make me forget." She moaned and sought his mouth with hers.
She slipped her tongue into his mouth. The urgency to touch every part of him
overwhelmed her.

The
guttural moan deep in Tom's throat encouraged Charlise to get closer to him.
With him, she was strong and invincible. She could forget.

Intent
on getting closer, she blocked out the hands pushing her away. She slapped at
the intrusion. She wanted to bind him to her so he'd always protect her and
never leave.

"Char...please
don't," he said. "Don't do this to yourself."

She
became an octopus, and wasn't going to let him refuse her. He'd cave. Once he
realized she was serious, he'd take her. He'd make her forget and feel. He made
her feel things she'd never experienced before.

Tom's
strong hands shook her shoulders. "Stop."

Charlise
jerked back into the steering wheel. Her breath came out in great gasps.

What
did he mean? Stop? He enjoyed what they were doing. She heard him, felt him,
and his eyes were all soft and intense on her.

"Charlise."
He brushed the hair out of her face and tried to take hold of her hands. She
slapped him away.

"Let's
sit here for a minute—"

She
scrambled off his lap, uncertain and embarrassed. Why did she force him to do
something he refused to do? Her touches obviously sickened him. She was only a
job to him after all.
God, I'm pathetic.

Tom
shifted in his seat to face her. "Let's talk about this."

She
didn't want to discuss what a mental basket case she was. Especially after
she'd made a fool out of herself and couldn't argue with him. Why in the world
did she think he wanted a relationship with her?

She
folded her arms in front of her and turned toward the side window.

"Will
you talk to me?" There was a pause, and then, "You don't understand
what's happening, sweetheart."

She
scooted closer to the car door. "Just drive, Tom," she whispered.

"In
a minute. I want you to listen to me."

She
jerked around and stared at him. "Take me to a motel."

"Wait
a sec…can we talk?"

She
leveled her sight on him. Her chin came up and she narrowed her eyes. "No.
Take me to a motel."

Tom's
mouth tightened and he slammed a fist against the steering wheel. Charlise
flinched and shrank in the seat. Let him be upset. It didn't solve anything.

Tom
started the engine and pulled away from the curb. Staring out the side window,
she ignored him. She was tired of running, of fighting, and living life so fast
she couldn't even think.

The
drone of the engine and shifting gears lulled her into sleep. She no longer
escaped into a place where she denied what happened, but confronted the truth.
No more fantasies of carefree days, no backrubs before bed, and nobody to smile
across the table were in her future. She'd acted foolish, stupid, and Jared was
right, she didn't deserve any of those nice things.

When
she woke, the dashboard clock revealed she'd slept an hour. She didn't question
where Tom headed, or what would happen when he dropped her off when they
arrived at his destination. She simply didn't care anymore.

A
half hour later, Tom pulled over and punched in numbers on his cell phone
without saying a word to Charlise. She ignored the one-sided conversation and
studied a dirty smudge on the outside of the windshield. Probably a lonely
insect whose life ended with one splat against the unforgiving glass.

She
knew exactly what that dead bug must have thought before it smashed into the
windshield. Life came and went. One day you could be flying along minding your
own business and the next
bam
, dead with your guts splattered all over
the place.

Tom
closed his cell phone and threw it into the console between the front seats. "Are
you ready to talk?"

Staring
out of the windshield, she coolly asked, "What did they say?"

Tom
sighed, and Charlise knew her lack of communication ticked him off. Tough. She
no longer wanted to jump his bones and play nice. Ever.

"You
got your wish. I'm taking you to a motel."

Chapter Eight

Tom
pulled into the parking lot of a one-story motel that had seen better days.
Charlise's lips twitched in agitation at the sight of older model cars in the
parking lot. She didn't look forward to drunken neighbors and two-hour
customers all through the night.

"Stay
in the car. I'll get you a room." Tom got out and slammed the door.

She
waited for him to disappear inside the office before kicking her feet against
the dashboard. She screamed in a high-pitched squeal, drawing the attention of
a couple walking past the car.

She
pulled down the visor and pretended to check herself out in the mirror to hide
from their curious stares. She wrinkled her nose at her reflection. It was bad
enough she brought unwanted attention, but the way she looked would scare
anyone.

Being
left alone without any money and no shoes wasn't her idea of the perfect
advertisement for blending into the scenery. She mentally kicked herself for
her carelessness. She'd always made sure she carried her money and the spare
car key in her pocket at all times. She'd lost it all.

With
Tom around, depending on him for her safety, she'd left everything back at The
Ridge and the beach house. Pieces of her only possessions were scattered miles
apart over the state. Not that she blamed Tom. They'd left both places in a
hurry.

She
sat still when then the driver's side car door opened. If he planned to drop
her off and leave, he only needed to say the words. She'd survive somehow.

Tom
got back in the car and said, "Here's the room key."

He
handed her a key with the number twelve on the tag. "Go ahead and get
settled in. I'm going to park up the street and set up surveillance."

"You're
not leaving?" She sat up straighter and broke her earlier promise of never
setting her eyes on him again.

He
ran a hand through his hair and then braced both hands on the steering wheel.
"I said I was going to keep you safe. That was a promise."

He'd
said that, but after the events of the last few hours, she thought he'd want to
hightail it out of here and forget he ever met her. She'd proved her mental
state—he should want to drop her off at any street corner and escape the
craziness she called life on the run.

She
swallowed. "I thought—"

She
ducked her head, embarrassed at how she'd behaved. If she could take back
today, she would. It was unfair of her to unleash her anger on Tom.

Tom
reached over and tilted her face up with a finger. "Hey, you okay?"

She
cleared her throat, and evaded his question. How could she ever explain her
irrational thoughts?

"Charlise.
I promise, when this is over we're going to sit down and hash this out. Don't
give up on me."

She
bowed her head, afraid to say anything in case it came out wrong and she blew
it again. Her behavior ashamed her. He'd done nothing wrong.

With
the motel key digging into her palm, she climbed out of the car and walked to
the door with number twelve on it, and let herself in. Once inside, she bolted
the lock and leaned against the door.

She
gazed around the room. Shrouded in shadows, she admitted to herself that she
was afraid to stay alone in the motel room.

Scarred
bedside drawers, worn out shag carpeting, and the old faded bedspread sent
shivers down her spine. She sighed and pushed away from the door. She might as
well try to make the best of it.

Once
she'd stripped off the old bed linens, she shook them out to check that there
weren't any creepy crawlies. Deeming the sheet clean if not grayed with age, she
remade the bed and lay down, closing her eyes. Exhaustion won out over the
willpower to stay awake, and her body relaxed into sleep.

Later,
the sound of firecrackers outside had Charlise springing up in bed. The fog of
sleep cleared and she remembered where she was—a cheap motel room currently
bathed in darkness and Tom down the street keeping an eye out. The last couple
of days flashed in her head, and she tried to shut off the instant replay. She
wanted to look toward the future. Thanks to Tom, he gave her hope that she'd
survive this fight against Jared Blatwell.