“Anytime, Cupcake.” She feels good here. Right here in my arms. Her body pressed against mine, chest to chest, and I never want to let her go.
She has to feel it too.
“I have a feeling you mean that,” she says as she pulls away, but doesn’t take her arms from where they are on top of my shoulders.
I don’t know if she knows she’s doing it, but her fingers are playing with the long pieces of my hair that curl at the base of my neck.
“I do mean it.”
She stands on her tiptoes and presses her lips against my cheek. I shut my eyes and relish her lips on me. It’s a peck on the cheek, which means nothing to most, but for me, this is huge. “Thank you so much.”
“You deserve the world, Charlie Cupcake.”
“Why do you call me that?”
“Cupcake? That’s for me to know,” I wink.
She unwraps herself from around me. “What happens to Kenneth?”
“I don’t want you to worry about him again. We will take care of him.”
“Do I want to know what that means?”
“You know what it means.”
“I should be scared but….”
“But?” I urge.
“But it makes me happy. Does that make me a bad person? I want him dead; only then will I be able to breathe again.”
“You start doing that now and you let me worry about him. As I said, you can go anywhere now, and I’ll make sure he isn’t around to follow.”
She chews on her bottom lip, causing it to swell slightly and turn a darker shade of red. I reach for her lips, and she flinches, a habit and instinct to protect herself. I gently tug the flesh from her teeth.
“Don’t do that,” I husk.
“Why?” she stares up at me with those innocent blue eyes.
Innocent because she hasn’t experienced just how good life can really be, even if she has seen the harshness the world offers.
“You aren’t ready for that answer.” I swipe my thumb over her bottom lip, watching it turn different shades of pink from the pressure.
“I think I might surprise you with what I’m ready for.”
“You surprise me every day, Charlie.”
She blushes and her cheeks turn the prettiest shade of pink, like the sun right as it sets and paints the sky in its wonders.
“Tell me,” I switch the subject because if I don’t, I’ll do something stupid like kiss her. “Where do you want to go?”
“Anywhere?”
“Name it, Cupcake.”
“The beach. I’ve always wanted to sink my toes in the sand.” She gets this dreamy look on her face. “I’ve never been.”
Yeah, I’m going to fix that.
“I’ve never seen the ocean.”
I’m going to fix that too.
“I’ve never done…anything that amounts to something,” she says with a frown, disappointment engulfing her.
“I’ll have to disagree with you, Cupcake. You survived. That’s a whole lot of something.”
“You always know the right things to say.” She tries to twist the rings that used to be on her finger out of habit and when she doesn’t feel it, the corners of her lips tilt into a small smile.
“Not always.”
“Whistler!” Mercy’s voice booms from the other room and Charlie jumps and runs behind me.
I hate she’s scared, but damn, I love that she wants me as her shield.
“Whistler.” Mercy charges into the kitchen. “Sorry, Charlie, but club business. I need you to go upstairs. There’s a Kindle on your bed I got for you. It’s got a three-hundred-dollar gift card on it for books and there is the TV but do not come out of your room, got it? Lock the door and Whistler will come to you when it’s over.”
Her nails dig into my back, her body trembling against mine. I reach behind me and automatically take her hand, lacing my fingers with hers. I hope my touch helps steady her because there is nothing to be afraid of.
Not while I’m here.
Not while I’m breathing.
“It’s okay, Cupcake. Run up to the bedroom. I’ll knock three times so you know it’s me, okay?” I spin around and she’s shaking like a leaf.
“Promise you’ll be okay?” she asks, her palms against my chest, no doubt feeling my racing heart.
It isn’t beating for whatever threat is outside.
It’s beating for her.
She’s willingly touching me.
“I swear it.” I kiss her forehead again, controlling the urge to kiss her and guide her out the door. I walk her to the stairs, and she glances over her shoulder at me, unsure whether to leave or not. “Go on,” I urge her, kissing the top of her hand before I let it go. “I’ll see you soon.”
She stares over my shoulder to Mercy and runs up the steps. I watch her until I hear the door shut and the lock click.
“What’s going on Mercy?”
“Two things,” he starts, charging through the front door and dragging a dead body into the entrance.
Fuck.
“Oh shit, I missed the party,” Socks says, taking a bite of peanut butter and jelly as he stares down at the nameless man.
How could someone eat right now?
“So someone sent us a message.” I squat down just as Princess comes through the front door and closes it so no outsiders can see.
Yeah, we definitely need to be more careful since we are right off the road.
I flip the guy over by pushing on his shoulder. I study his face and tilt my head. “He looks familiar,” I say, lost in thought while I try to place him. “Damn, they weren’t forgiving to this poor bastard, were they?” The guy's eyes are cut out and his throat slashed from ear to ear.
Mercy lowers himself to my position and parts the guys chest where a note is nailed—actually fucking nailed—and my stomach drops as I read it out loud:
I’ll kill every single one of her dad’s crew until she’s brought back to me.
I will have her.
Short. Sweet. And to the point.
My favorite kind of love note.
“Shit. I knew I saw this guy. He was the one talking to Charlie the other day when I pulled her aside and asked her if she was being abused. Shit.”
“See the signature?” Mercy points at the bottom of the note.
It’s an upside-down triangle with a goat in the middle, which would be hilarious if it didn’t mean some bad shit was about to go down.
“Holy crap. Please tell me that’s not what I think it is,” I grumble. I’ve seen that insignia before. One other time.
In my sister’s trailer after her boyfriend had kept the cocaine out when I had dropped by for an unexpected visit.
“Scapegoats,” Mercy informs.
“You mean to tell me that, Kenneth Hastings is a fucking drug dealer?”
“No,” Mercy shakes his head and yanks the note from the poor kid’s chest, leaving the nail in the middle. “I think he runs it with his father and Charlie has found herself in the middle of this.”
“Not just her. Taylor too. I saw this at her trailer.”
“Well, isn’t that fucking convenient.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Prez?” I grit, not liking his implications or his tone. “My sister is a victim just as much as Charlie is.”