Mystic Hearts (30 page)

“You
guys are more family to Henry than Andrew ever was,” Charlene said, her words
tight.

Larry
pulled her into him. “We’ll work this out.”

She
nodded and rested her head against his chest. Damn, he hated to admit how it
felt to have her lean on him, emotionally and physically.

He
scanned the room. The best investigative minds surrounded him. Each in their
own right excelled in one area or another. Paul sat toward the end of the table
quiet and listening to every word. He was an anomaly.

Between
them all, they could resolve this situation quickly. The lights, Smith, and the
Impalers were all linked together somehow.

“Consider
this,” Larry said. “Someone’s trying to make a name, become a big dog. They
want Steele out of the picture, so they call in tips. If we find enough
evidence, we’ll arrest him, opening up the head spot. The Impalers are small
time crooks. They don’t have the loyalty or the hierarchy established yet.”

“Sounds
logical.” Jackson straddled a chair. “Think it’s Smith?”

“I
do.”

Charlene
released another gasp, but remained silent.

“Here
we are,” Marge sang, coming into the room. Her arms were layered with plates.

“Amazes
me how you can carry so much at once without dropping them,” Jackson said,
nodding at his mother’s arm.

“Oh,
hush before every one of these fall.” She smiled.

“Let
me help you, Ma.” Jackson hopped up and reached for a plate she balanced on her
arm.

“No!
Don’t take that one. They would for sure hit the floor. Here, take this.” She
handed him one and he grabbed another. He set them on the table in front of
Steve and Celine, reached for two more, and placed them in front of Larry and
Charlene.

“Hmm,
smells heavenly,” Charlene said, waving her hand above the plate to bring the
steam toward her, breathing in the aroma.

“It
should,” Marge giggled. “It’s your recipe. I’ll be right back with the rest.”

A
moment later, she returned, her arm lined with plates again.

Jackson
grabbed two of the plates and set them in front of Jake and Pamela. “Here,
mommy-to-be.”

“I’m
going to be a grandma,” Marge said, her voice excited. She brought her hands
toward her chest, forgetting she had two plates stacked on her arm.

“Whoa,
ma!” Jackson saved one, but not the other.

“Fiddlesticks.”

Chicken
Parmesan covered her apron and shirt. The plate shattered on the tile floor.

“I’ll
get the mess for you, ma’am.” Quigley knelt and gathered the broken pieces.

“Oh,
phooey,” Marge sighed. “I’ll fix another one.”

“No
need. I ate before coming tonight.” The swinging kitchen doors said Marge
didn’t hear Quigley or she ignored what he said.

Quigley
straightened and tossed the pieces behind the bar in the trashcan. “Where’s the
mop?”

“It’s
in the supply closet at the end of the hall,” Pamela said. “Thanks.”

“It’s
none of my business, but what’s up with you two?” Paul asked between swallows of
water. “One minute, you and Quigley are sending each other glares, the next
he’s puppy-dogging behind you.”

“An
Afghanistan issue. Water under the bridge.” Jackson forked a piece of chicken
and stuffed it in his mouth, ending the conversation.

Charlene
twisted and kissed Larry’s cheek. “I’m glad you didn’t get hurt tonight or in
the well.”

He
wrapped a hand around her back. “I still could use R&R.”

She
giggled. “I can help with that.”

“I’m
counting on it.”

“All
better,” Marge said, returning with two plates. “Quigley, I won’t take no for
an answer. Sit and eat.”

“Yes,
ma’am.” Quigley sat next to Jackson’s mom.

“Larry,
I think you should go to the hospital. You might need a shot.” Evidently, Marge
hadn’t mothered anyone for a while.

Larry
held back a smile. “I’m up-to-date on my shots, ma’am.”

“You
sound like a dog,” Quigley laughed and forked a piece of chicken.

Quigley
disrespecting what Marge said didn’t settle well with Larry and he bristled.

“Q,”
Jackson ground out.

“Maj,
that was too good to pass up. Admit it, it was funny.”

Larry
shook his head, realizing he was being too serious, and chuckled. “He’s right.”

“Why
does everyone call me ma’am? It’s Marge.”

“Yes,
ma’am,” Larry and Quigley said in unison.

Steve
clipped his cell back on his belt. “I’m officially on standby. So much for the
Director giving me some slack.”

Celine’s
face fell. “I’m done,” she said, and disappeared into the kitchen, carrying her
plate.

“Storm’s
a brewing,” Paul said, not making eye contact with anyone.

Steve
groaned.

The
doors busted open. Celine stormed in carrying a tray. Evidently, everyone was
done eating.

Larry
and Charlene ate faster.

“Figures,
you’re leaving,” Celine screeched. “You probably have a second family.”

The
storm hit and rolled right over Steve. His face turned beet red and his hands
fisted. “Why would I?” He scooted his chair back and straightened. “I can’t
take any more nagging than what you give me. I’m out of here. Larry, I’ll check
the cameras in the area after I stop by the police station. Touch
 
base later.”

Celine
slumped into her chair.

“Why
do you give him so much shit?” Paul asked her.

Celine
stared at her hands, her expression switching from pissed to confounded. “I
don’t know.”

“Better
figure out what you want or you might as well say adios.” Paul ate the last
bite of the food on his plate and straightened. “Gotta go.” He kissed the top
of Celine’s head. “Ease off. Steve has a tough job.” He pecked Pamela on the
cheek, ditto Charlene, and then stopped in front of Marge. “As always, your
cooking is out of this world. Thank you.” He lifted her hand and kissed the
back of it. “Night, everyone,” he waved. “Congratulations, Pamela and Jake.”

“Thanks,”
Jake said.

Pamela
smiled.

Charlene
turned toward Larry as he read an incoming text message. “Promise me, we never
behaved that way.”

Maintaining
a relationship took time and energy. The continuous arguing made no sense. For
the life of him, Larry couldn’t understand why Steve dated Celine when she
stayed pissed. Larry twisted, so his knees straddled Charlene’s chair, and he
grabbed her hands. “I promise, but I need you to swear that you won’t get mad
at me when I have to go to work at a moment’s notice.”

Celine
made an odd sounding noise.

Charlene
gazed between his eyes. He could see the wheels working as she considered their
possible dilemma. She didn’t want their relationship to end up like Steve’s and
Celine’s any more than he did. “I swear.”

“I
have something I need to take care of,” Larry said, and kissed Charlene on the
lips. “I won’t be long.”

“Okay.”

The
quicker he took care of this little detail, the faster he could get home to
Charlene. Larry untangled himself and eyed Jake. “You coming?”

Jake
arched a brow. “You bet.”

Chapter Seventeen

Knowing
her mother’s concern about the shooting at The Memory Café and wanting to
cuddle with Henry, Charlene drove to her mother’s house.

“Hey,
sweetie,” Charlene said, walking into the kitchen. Off to the right, the light
from the TV shined on her sleepy-eyed son.

“Mommy!”
He rushed over, eager and excited as if he hadn’t been almost asleep, and
grabbed her hand. “We popped popcorn.”

Charlene
closed her eyes, cherished hearing her son’s excited voice, and shoved back the
emotions that wanted to erupt. This evening had been much harder on her than
she’d realized. And when Jackson insisted he’d follow her home, she dug her
feet in. If the Black Scorpions were in town, they wouldn’t use their man-power
to go after her. She’d done everything they wanted. Her concern stayed with
Pamela. In the end, Jackson and Quigley escorted an uptight Pamela home.

Henry
squeezed her hand, snapping her out of her musings, and dragged her into the
family room.

Doris
rose from the armchair, closed the distance between them, and held Charlene so
tight she didn’t think her mom would ever let go. “I’m so thankful you’re
okay,” Doris whispered, a sob choking her words.

Exchanging
kisses on each other’s cheek, Charlene said, “I love you, too, Mom,” and sat
beside Henry on the couch.

He
grabbed a bowl of popcorn, put it in between them, and started munching. His
eyes were glued to the animated figures flashing on the screen.

Charlene
draped an arm around his shoulder and dug into the popcorn. They watched the
movie, which ended way past Henry’s bedtime, and she glanced down at him
sleeping next to her on the couch. His head rested against the crook of her arm
and he held the stuffed bear Andrew had given him against his chest.

At
the moment, she wished a miracle could bring back the man she’d married, and
get rid of the maniac he’d become. Not because she wanted anything to do with
him, but because Henry deserved to have his father, to know the man he once
was.

A
loud snore, comparable to a chain saw, jarred Charlene to look at her mother.
Her mother’s head rested against the back of the cushioned chair and her mouth
hung open, snoring.

Some things would never change. Thank
goodness.

Charlene
eased away from Henry, scooped him up in her arms, and carried him to the room
her mother designated as his. Spiderman didn’t cover the walls and bedspread
here––Batman did. Last year’s obsession.

She
pulled the cover up to his neck and gave him a kiss. “I love you, sweetie.”

“Love
you, Mommy. See you tomorrow.” Henry rolled over to his side, his even
breathing hardly interrupted.

Charlene
made her way back to the family room and kissed her mother’s head. “Bye, Mom.”

Doris
opened an eye and grinned. “I’ll bring Henry home in the morning. Have fun,
dear.”

****

An
hour later, Charlene sat at her kitchen table, sipped some wine, and gazed down
at the black, silk teddy she wore. The last time she and Larry were together,
she hadn’t gotten a chance to wear the sexy lingerie. She hoped they’d make
good use of it tonight, if he ever showed up.

Celine’s
dating reservations became clear. Seeing an FBI agent was difficult, their
schedule unpredictable. But the way Charlene saw a relationship was simple: if
you loved someone, then you’d do whatever was necessary to keep the
relationship going.

She
smiled. Had she fallen for him? Earlier, she told him she thought she was
falling in love with him. Now, she realize there was no thinking, she had. Ever
since she met him, her body hummed with need. The last few days, the sensation
had deepened, a fact she didn’t know how to manage.

A
motor sounded in her driveway. She rushed to the door, opened it, and ran into
the crisp, cool, night air, not giving any consideration to neighbors seeing
her, or if by chance someone else stopped by.

The
chuckle that greeted her warmed her heart.

“You
are a sight, babe.” Larry moved closer until the motion detector light affixed
to the corner of her house shined on him. A grin brightened his face.

She
ran and jumped into his arms.

He
gripped her butt, held her against him, and planted a kiss on her lips. A low
masculine moan followed, vibrating his chest and tickling her breasts.

“I’m
assuming we’re alone,” he asked, against her lips.

“Yes.”

“I’m
sorry it took me so long. I had to follow up on the camera images. Steve had
hoped one store in particular had the images we needed to confirm the identity
of the drivers.”

“Is
he the one who texted you?”

Larry
nodded. “The quality of the film wasn’t good enough to enhance the pictures.”

“So—”

He
swallowed her next words in a hot, needy kiss, mimicking the act they craved.

Heat
rushed through her body, sending a buzz to her core, a need that demanded
attention.

“Let’s
get inside before someone sees us and gets jealous.”

Giggling,
she rested her head against the hard plains of his chest and thrilled in the
stacked muscles in his biceps and shoulders bunching to hold her against him.

He
crossed the threshold and kicked the door shut with his foot. “Where to?”