Shaking her head, Charlie closed the door behind her and confronted him. “It wasn’t your fault, Matthew.”
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He grunted and she shushed him. “If I had been thinking, I would have realized the backdoor was right behind me… so you see, it was my fault. And I’m sorry.”
“Charlotte, you’re a damn fool to think that. They came into my house, harmed my woman. I found you barely alive in a pool of fuckin’ blood.” His voice came low and dangerous. “I am gonna find that man and I am gonna kill him.”
Not if I find him first.
Charlie caressed his shoulder. “We both know he’s long gone. Men like that don’t come back. He’s running scared somewhere with a limp.” But new men may be sent… that had been a hired group of thugs if she ever saw one. They’d cased the joint, buying just enough liquor to not draw suspicion, and then tried to break in quietly. They’d had a plan. The only question now was, who did the hiring and why?
Pulling his lips into a snarl, Matthew surged from his chair, knowing what he saw clear as day in her eyes. “Whatever you are thinkin’, whatever plots are cooking up in your head… stop it now. You ain’t leavin’ over this, Charlotte.”
“Leaving?” She raised a brow, insulted. “I love you, Matthew Emerson. I’m not leaving you until you tell me to go.”
It was said simply, effortlessly. Charlie turned to slip out, closing the door behind her, a wide-eyed Matthew sitting in stunned silence.
Chapter 8
“Run, Mama.” Charlotte tossed in her sleep, talking nonsense.
Reluctant to wake her, Matthew held his tongue for the past hour she’d carried on, or he had, until he’d heard those words garbled thick with fear.
Gently shaking her shoulder, he watched Charlotte fight the covers, a strangled noise leaving her mouth while flared eyes searched the dark like some monster was there, watching her.
“You all right?” Matthew was at her ear, stroking her spine.
Sitting up, she placed her elbows on bent knees, and wiped dampness from her forehead into her hair. “Bad dream is all.”
“About your mama?”
“My father… my brother…”
Moving behind her, Matthew pulled her to rest against his chest. “Come’ere.”
Grateful for the dark that hid the fading panic on her face, she leaned back, cocooned by the man hushing her and holding her steady.
Charlie didn’t know why she spoke, but all of it just bubbled up like an oozing snakebite. “Ronnie came for money he made her earn… doing things she didn’t want to do. But Mama had bought food. There was no money. So he started to hit her. Charles shoved me under the bed. Our mama screaming… I had never heard anything like it in any beating he’d given her. I was scared.
“My brother tried to stop him, hollering like such a man. But he was so small. Laying there, belly to the floor, I watched his little feet disappear. Then there was a noise… like a stuck pig, and all this blood splashed the ground.” Her voice cracked, “Then Charles just fell, dropped like garbage.”
The image had never left her—not once in all those years. Her brother had landed inches from where she lay, his little lips opening and closing like a dying fish. “Ronnie Pearson had slit his own son’s throat.
“I put a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. Charles reached for me. He reached for me, while I just lay there staring, watching his eyes get glassy. I didn’t even realize until later how hard I held his hand. By then, he was cold, my mama’s screams were done…” Her next words were hardly a whisper, “It was just quiet.”
Charlotte covertly wiped her face with the heel of her hand thinking Matthew didn’t notice. “Come morning, I’m leaving to go visit my mama.”
“I’ll be coming with you.” Matthew didn’t say another word, but his arms squeezed so tight it almost hurt.
Resigned, too twisted up to argue, Charlie sniffed and turned to put her ear to his heart. The steady thump calmed her, as did the warm paw tangled in her hair.
When morning came, she woke still wrapped up in him and safe. Almost the instant she opened her eyes, a low grumble came from under her ear. “How you feelin’?”
“Fine.” She nestled closer and ran a hand up his thigh.
“What you doin’? Doctor said no strenuous activity.”
“Makin’ love doesn’t have to be a strenuous activity.” Her hand brushed his hardening member, grasping it through his drawstring pants to feel him thicken and grow in her fist. “Besides, I’m tired of being coddled. I am not a baby. I’m a grown woman, Matthew.”