Saving Charlie (Stories of Serendipity Book 9) (30 page)

She’d gotten off topic, but Les didn’t have the heart to stop her. Her voice was getting stronger, so it seemed like talking was helping.

“Adam has become a sort of mouthpiece for human trafficking, he’s a lawyer now, and takes on all these human rights cases. He’s been a great dad to Trent. And Sarah’s been an amazing mother. I couldn’t really have done him justice if I’d kept him.”

Les tightened his grip but didn’t say anything. He knew that words at this point would be useless. He wasn’t even sure she realized he was still here.

“But Adam didn’t tell me The Man had been paroled. I don’t know why. He should have told me.” She was quiet again, locked in her own head. Her arms snaked around Les’s torso, and she clutched him, muscles shaking with the force of her hold. “Somebody should have told me…” She squeezed the air from his lungs, but he let her. “I’ve been talking dirty to The Man for six months.” Tears etched her voice. “Six months, Les. His voice did something to me, something I’d forgotten all about. I had this response to it, the sound of his voice over the phone made me want to do dirty things. Like before.” She sobbed into his chest, deep, body-shaking sobs that Les had never heard from her before. This wasn’t the silent tears of a strong woman. This was the bawling of a little girl lost. “The worst part of it all, though, was that I honestly thought you were calling me, you were showing your kinky side. I enjoyed it because I thought I was talking to you.”

Now Les felt dirty that he’d been mistaken for a trafficker, but he let the dirty feelings wash over him in a vague attempt to be able to relate to Charlie. Jesus. That felt wrong on so many levels.

Still, though, some part of her story wasn’t quite fitting together, and he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was. But he didn’t pry, not yet. He just held her and let the emotions she poured out through her tears wash over him, seep into his skin, and chill him to the core.

While she cried, Les’s mind reeled. Most of the girls he’d dealt with went back to drugs and the life after leaving it. It had an unbelievably high rate of recurrence. Most of the girls didn’t have a home life they wanted to go back to, or they didn’t know how to live a normal life. That was why places like the Refuge were so important. It was a half-way house of sorts, trying to acclimate them back into society. But sex trafficking laws hadn’t even come to the forefront of law enforcement or society until almost 2000. So she had been trying to break out of this vicious cycle before there was even mainstream awareness of it.

He couldn’t stop the word from coming out. His whispered, “How?” made her head pop up to look at him, as if she hadn’t realized he was even there. “How did you do it?” She snuffled and wiped her nose before taking a deep breath and speaking.

“Something inside me didn’t want to live that life anymore.” She smiled at him sheepishly, as if remembering he was holding her. She tried to squirm out of his lap, but he held her tightly, unwilling to let her go. A heavy sigh escaped her, and she settled back in his arms, leaning her head against his chest.

“I was appointed an attorney when they caught The Man. She was young, idealistic, and totally offended by what he’d done to me. And she was trying to make a name for herself. The judge was also appalled by everything, and I won a Civil Suit against him for damages. Since I was a minor, and he’d prostituted me, I couldn’t garner lost wages. Not for something illegal, but I got a nice sum for psychological damage and reparations for medical and therapy bills.” She shrugged against him. “Enough to buy this house, my truck, and start this business, anyway. But it took a decade to finalize and in the meanwhile, I went to my therapy sessions, took my medication, and repressed as much as I could.”

She extricated herself from his grasp and breathed out deeply, as if expelling demons. Les could almost see her shoulders lift with the gesture, as if she felt lighter.

“Can I get you anything?” Yup. He felt like a completely useless sack of shit next to the extraordinary woman next to him.

She nodded, not looking at him. “Yeah, bring the bottle of wine in here. I need more; I’m not done.”

Grateful for something to do, Les stood and rushed to the kitchen for the wine, returning to re-fill her glass. Watching her carefully, he sat back down next to her. What more could she say?

Reaching over to a table next to her, Charlie opened a drawer and pulled out a letter. Silently, she handed it to him. It was postmarked eight months ago.

He read it, and any reality he had known before was ripped from him.

I know you, and I have a job for you. There is a motel owner in Serendipity who has made us aware of happenings there. A resident takes girls there. Girls like you used to be. I know you have gone to great lengths to establish a new identity, and will respect that if you get the girls out. If you go to the police, or refuse to cooperate with us, we will expose you to the public. You need this. The girls need you. Take them to the below address. The Refuge will keep them safe.

His eyes snapped back to Charlie, who sat there, gnawing on that lip.

“You’re The Liberator?” Silently, she nodded. “Who’s been blackmailing you?”

She shrugged, but her eyes dropped. “You have a theory, though. Who do you think it is?” Les’s voice was low, he was trying not to be pissed, but someone had put her in harm’s way. The Liberator had rescued dozens of girls, but she’d put herself in danger in the process. Up until now, Les had thought it was of her own free will, not because she’d been blackmailed into it.

“Adam.”

“Why would Adam do this?” Why would a man that Les had respected and wanted to buy a case of Glenfiddich for just ten seconds ago, want to endanger the woman he’d saved?

“Because I’d gotten stagnant, I think. He probably thought I needed this to proceed with my recovery, or whatever.”

He processed the information, unable to speak for several minutes. Charlie just watched him warily.

“So you were there that last night, when the motel owner got shot? Were you in danger?”

“I wasn’t there when they shot the motel owner. I didn’t know about that until I heard talk about it at the banquet.” She swallowed thickly. “But I was part of the struggle, yes. They’d caught on to me, and set me up.”

“How?” The need to gather her into his arms again persisted, but he needed her to talk, so he stared at her. Hard.

She shrugged under his scrutiny. “I was prepared for it. I know how they worked, remember?”

A chill swept through Les. Imagining his Charlie fighting for her life, while he was obliviously writing notes for a stupid speech left him dumb. He gave into temptation and scooped her into his lap, burying his face in her shoulder.

His Charlie was The Liberator. His Charlie had been sold for sex. As a child. His Charlie. He held her against him while his own tears leaked out of his eyes. His Charlie had saved all those girls in an attempt to save herself.

His Charlie.

In that moment, Les realized he could never be her hero. She was her own hero. She had saved herself, and could never need him for that. He would never be able to erase that kind of pain, and the realization socked him in the gut.

His kissed the top of her head with a forcefulness that surprised him.

“I love you so much, Charlie,” he murmured against her hair.

She snorted against him. “Why? So you can save me?”

He lifted her chin so she could see his eyes. He was desperate that she understand him, believe him. “No. You’ve already done that. I’ve never met anyone like you, Charlie.” He gripped her chin to keep her from burying her face again. “You’re strong. You’re brave. You’re smart. You’re kind. You’re beautiful.”

“I’m ruined.”
Here we go. Time for her to retreat.

He shook his head. “You’re perfect.”

“I’m medicated.”

“So am I.”

She quirked an eyebrow in disbelief. “Ritalin. Adult ADHD.” He responded to the unasked question with a shrug. “Helps with my Chihuahua like behavior.”

A wan smile flitted across her face, but the sadness was back in her eyes. He felt the uncontrollable desire to wipe the sadness away.

So he kissed her.

It was supposed to just be a reassuring kiss, a meeting of two pairs of lips imparting comfort. But her responsiveness, the way she opened to him and clutched his shirt sent waves of euphoria rippling through him. His hands tangled in the silky hair streaming down her back. The way she tasted reminded him of lazy days by the aquifer, sitting in the sunshine without a care in the world. He wanted her to feel that carefree. With him.

He broke away from the kiss, and her mouth followed his backward, suckling his bottom lip in a move that had his cock throbbing.

“Make love to me,” she breathed into his mouth. His hands gripped her hair tighter, unconsciously, as he stammered to find words.

She was too vulnerable, too fragile for sex right now. It would send all the wrong messages—that he just wanted her for sex, that he didn’t cherish her enough to give her the space she needed after her revelation, that he wouldn’t be here for the rest of her life.

While he was trying to come up with the words to tell her no, she was kissing his neck, branding him with her hot little mouth.

“Please…Nobody’s ever done it to me before.” She looked up at him through the lashes of her lowered lids, “You’d be my first.”

All of the words he’d been trying to come up with fled his mind at the look of carnal desire on her flushed face.

He’d make love to her until she couldn’t remember her own damned name.

Charlie was emotionally depleted after the events of the day. She’d told Les things her therapists didn’t even know. She’d been sure he’d run, but he’d kissed her instead.

Charlie didn’t just feel safe with Les. She didn’t just feel cherished. She just
felt.
He made her
feel.
Everything.

When his lips landed on hers, she’d been accepted, for the first time in her life, for everything she’d ever been. His expressions were written all over his face as she’d told her story, but for the first time ever, pity wasn’t there. There was no shame in his gaze. He didn’t feel sorry for her. Only sympathy and compassion.

And love.

Charlie had always dealt with her emotions with sex. It was the only thing she’d really known to do, once she got off all the drugs. But Les made her want more than just sex, and as he carried her up the stairs to her bedroom, butterflies erupted in her belly at what was coming next.

He was taking her request seriously, and Charlie was excited for the new experience she was going to have. She wasn’t sure what to expect, besides what she’d seen in movies, and what she’d already experienced with him.

As he laid her on her bed ever so gently, she saw in his eyes the determination to make this experience one she would remember forever.

She watched him as he surveyed the situation. His eyes roamed across her body, and she could see his plan forming. He seemed so casual, so care-free, but Charlie knew that Les rarely went into things without some sort of game plan. So she waited, her breasts heaving as she gulped air she couldn’t find. His chocolate stare was intense and sucked the oxygen right out of the room.

He put one knee on the bed, leaning over her, and ran the palms of his rough hands down her calves to remove her sandals. Situating himself between her knees, his gentle hands ran up her legs, raising the skirt of her dress up to her thighs, before slowly rubbing them down to her ankles, where he raised first one, then the other, to his lips for a warm, wet, kiss.

Who knew? The heat of his mouth on her tender skin sent goose bumps racing up her legs. His wholly focused gazed followed the path they traveled to a place Charlie couldn’t see under her skirt. Les’s eyes darkened, shining brightly with lust, as they focused on the spot under her skirt where the bumps on each leg met.

His finger tip traced the tattoo on her leg, focusing on the word Les. His name. When he spoke, his voice was a sexy murmur, sending more goose bumps across her flesh.

“A friend of mine once told me my girl was out there. That I would find a woman with my name written all over her.” His lips lowered to her thigh, where the ink was imbedded in her skin. “I didn’t realize she was so literal.” His hot tongue traced the lettering. “Or psychic.”

His palms continued lifting her skirt, until her panties were exposed, and Les’s head dropped to them, sniffing and rubbing his mouth over the soft fabric. Charlie unconsciously arched under him, to increase the pressure, but it didn’t help. It was consuming her, and the heat was rising. The feel of his hands on her body coupled with the heat of his breath as he exhaled was making her crazy. She squirmed.

“Les…”

“Shh… You have to let me do this.” His palms continued on their quest, raising her dress further up her torso, until he cupped her breasts. His mouth followed, but rested near her belly button, breathing into the skin on her belly, while his tongue swirled around the concave before dipping in. The sensation sent more heat spiraling to her toes. Her knees bent, closing around Les’s torso, while he invaded her senses through her belly button.