Six months with Cane and her newest identity, Charlie was still safe, and apparently grateful as she called out Cane’s name while her pleasure peaked and came down hard around him like an invitation to take his happy ending too. Cane was glad to oblige as he barreled into her, joining her in the waves of satisfaction that followed. They were good at this and made a great team — not just at scratching each other’s itch, but staying alive and under the radar.
“Jesus, Charlie,” Cane panted.
“You’re welcome?” Charlie teased, still bracing herself over the weight bench in their home gym.
“Well, you said you wanted a hard workout to release some stress.” Cane slapped her ass as he grabbed a nearby towel and pulled away. “How’d we do?”
Charlie grabbed her clothes from the floor in one swoop, heading for the door. “Not the workout I was thinking, but it’ll do.”
“It’ll do? Seriously, Charlie?” Brows cocked and arms out to his side, Cane was mildly offended.
It was against every rule in the proverbial book to sleep with a client, but what they were doing wasn’t really sleeping together. It was just sex. Cane and Charlie spent every waking moment together — she was never out of his view — so helping each other satisfy a need here and there was inevitable. No strings attached, no emotions involved, just satisfying a primal need they each had. It could have been worse.
Cane gathered his things and headed for the shower in the guest room he occupied. It was his house, but the only way to get Charlie on board with sharing a residence with a stranger — a man — was to sell her on the idea that he would stay in the guest house on site…which happened to be a small private wing of the main residence, not really a separate unit. He hadn’t lied, it was just semantics.
After three years in hiding and zero freedom, Charlie craved independence. So, Cane gave it to her. A living space to herself, a job alongside him where he could have eyes on her at all times, even her own vehicle to use if it meant he was in the vehicle right behind her everywhere she went. It wasn’t total freedom, but he did his best to provide the closest thing to it.
If it were any other client, he wouldn’t have gone to such measures. There was something about this one, though. Charlie survived torture, sexual assault, and the terror of watching others be murdered right in front of her. She was a fighter determined to be anything but a statistic, and he admired that — even if she was a pain in the ass ninety-five percent of the time.
“Drive together today?” Cane asked, catching up with Charlie in the kitchen after showering.
“Nah. Henry Davenport will be checking in today. Biggest whale yet, and his people asked for me specifically to handle his stay. I think I’ll drive myself and get my head straight,” Charlie said, finishing off her bottled water.
“Asked for you?” Red flags and warning bells always went off when clients asked for Charlie. She’d built a reputation and was building her own clientele, so it was to be expected, but never got easier for Cane. “You dig into the guy?” Cane was already several steps ahead of the game and thoroughly vetted the guy days prior. A final report should have been waiting once he arrived in his office.
“Of course. This guy is big. Should bring in a nice chunk of change for the casino.” She buckled her stiletto and grabbed her purse.
“Okay. Just another day then. You sure you don’t want to ride in together?” he asked.
“Why?” She paused, caution in her stare. “Do you know something? Did you find something on Davenport?”
Charlie did a really good job keeping it together, given all she’d been through over the years. By all rights and purposes, it would have made sense if she wasn’t okay or able to keep it together. Hell, it would have made sense if she never wanted to leave the house again, given all she’d endured. Not Charlie, though. She spent a lot of time working on herself, determined not to let her past hinder her future. But, every now and again, something triggered her. In this case, it could have been something as simple as Cane’s tone…or the fact that they’d just had sex.
Intimacy was hard for her. It was purely physical to satiate a need she’d clearly rather not have. It was a switch she couldn’t shut off. Charlie trusted Cane, plain and simple, and he was the only man she’d been with since her attack. But even after all these years, trust only went so far because facing Cane during sex stirred panic. They’d learned that the hard way. The bloody nose Charlie gave Cane lasted only minutes; the black eye only a week. She had felt so bad, she didn’t leave her room for three days, at least while he was up, but he would hear her late at night, stalking to the kitchen for something to eat.
Something about that experience softened Cane where Charlie was concerned. He wasn’t a relationship guy. At all. But his instincts were heightened where she was involved. His need to protect her from everything, including her nightmares, grew daily. So, when she returned to him, wanting to conquer her fear, he helped her. They tried and failed many times until they finally found what worked for her. Charlie enjoyed sex, especially with Cane, but only if she was turned away with her back to him.
It made sense to Cane. While being with him may have brought her pleasure, looking in the eyes of her lover was easily replaced with the eyes of her attacker. Charlie was satisfied with the progress, and it had been their thing ever since. But there were times when Cane wanted to show her how much he desired her, wanted her to see every touch and well-placed kiss he left.
He wanted to witness the heat in her eyes and see if it matched the fire in her moans. Cane wasn’t falling for her — or so he said — he was just done fucking her. He wanted to make love to her instead. He wasn’t ready to admit that, though, and being careful with her was always priority one. Love wasn’t on the table anyway. Cane didn’t have the capacity to love like that, given his line of work. Loving someone put an instant target on their back. He settled for strong like instead, even if it only made sense to him. So, this was them — friends with mind-blowing benefits — until she was ready for more.
“You know. Maybe I will ride with you after all. No sense in wasting the gas.” Charlie grabbed a new water bottle to ward off the unusually warm winter day and headed for the garage. “I can finish preparing for the client while you drive.”
Cane nodded. He knew this was more about fear than practicality. Whatever triggered her paranoia had her on alert, so he’d play chauffer under the guise of frugality. Being considerate, he made it seem like it was no big deal, because it wasn’t, and blew it off. “Yeah, good for the environment and all that.”
“Let’s get going, O’Reilly,” Charlie hollered from the garage as she stepped into his car.
Cane saluted to absolutely no one, and said quietly, “Got it, boss.”
He stood there for a moment and looked around for no real reason other than to stall. Any time they left the house, Cane gave himself a quick pep talk and got his head together. Once they left his impenetrable fortress, the real work began, and instincts needed to be on point. It was easy to keep her safe within his compound, but when duty called, it was time to face the real world, and it was a real son of a bitch — especially when Anson Deveraux was roaming around in it.