“In less than ten minutes that monster ruined my life, left me with a mama who was never right in the head again, who needed constant care—who I had to spoon feed and support. There were no jobs for little girls that would’ve paid enough and I was too young to sell my body. But I looked just like him… just like my brother… and that made it easier. I cut my hair, wore his clothes, and took his job, working with some of the most ungodly men around. I paid attention. I knew where the evil men liked to play, who they knew, where they fucked. I watched them my whole life. And that man you saw me with last winter—Ronnie Pearson, the Slasher himself—the one I sat and watched fry on Old Sparky.” Charlie showed her teeth. “I tracked him for two years once I got wind of where he might be. Hunted him down like a dog, made his life hell all the way to the electric chair. That man, he was my father, Matthew. So yeah, I think I’m pretty goddamn hard!”
The look on his face… If he’d found her unacceptable before, he sure as hell must have thought she was repulsive now. Sneering at his expression caused something foreign and mortifyingly warm to slide down her cheek. Confused, Charlie reached up to wipe it off and stared down in horror to find the clear fluid wasn’t more blood.
She shoved Matthew away with all her strength, scurried off the table, and used her skirt to wipe off every last trace of tears.
Nathaniel and Eli stood at the door, each having heard, their expressions just as disturbed as Matthew’s.
It was the moment of truth; Eli had finally pieced it together, knew who she was. Of all of them, he was the most horrified, blinking at her like it couldn’t be true.
Closing her eyes, Charlie reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose.
“Get outside and keep watch,” Matthew snarled, chasing them off with one warning. “Brindle might be as stupid as he looks.”
Tripping over one another Nathaniel and Eli rushed to obey.
Her short-lived moment of weakness passed. Voice steady, Charlie said, “I need to get back to the boarding house.”
Matthew came up behind her, close enough she could feel the heat of his body. “You ain’t going nowhere till your wound gets tended.”
Jaw tight she argued, “I can do it myself.”
“Sit down, Charlotte.” It was the same tone he used on his bullheaded kin, the one that made it clear she better behave.
Wanting to get it over with, Charlie sat on the nearest table edge and stared at her toes while Matthew gathered what he needed.
When he came back, she reached for the damp cloth in his hand, only to have him fist it and hold on tight when she gave it a yank. Letting go with an irritated snort, she closed her eyes and waited.
The brush against her skin was cool, cautious, Matthew following the path of blood that had trickled down the side of her face, dirtied her neck, washing all the way to where crimson stained the top of her dress. When the mess was cleaned, a fresh corner of the towel passed under her eyes.
It could not be borne. “Stop coddling me. I’m not Eli, for Christ’s sake!”
Matthew agreed. “No, you ain’t. If you was Eli, I would’ve slapped you twenty minutes ago.”
She couldn’t help but snicker. “You ever try to slap me, Mr. Emerson, and I think it’s safe to say it won’t end pretty for either of us.”
For a fraction of a second she thought she saw a tic at the corner of his lips.
Moving his fingers carefully to part her hair to find the source of all that blood, Matthew said, “This needs a stitch.”
Great… “I can do it. There’s a first aid kit in my car.”
“Your hands are shaking.”
Impatient, she grumbled, “Then you do it.”
He fetched her box, watched her thread a curved needle, while she explained sewing skin was no different than sewing a shirt.
Taking the needle, Matthew paused for a moment. “It’s gonna hurt.”
Charlie rolled her eyes, sarcasm thick as she mocked, “Is this where you offer to hold my hand?”
Those pale eyes glanced down to hostile sapphire blue, staring long and hard at her expression before he did what had to be done. Charlie didn’t flinch, but she did close her eyes as he pulled the thread through her skin.
When it was done, she felt his fingers take hers, opening her eyes to see their hands joined on her lap.
Chapter 6
They hadn’t spoken once she’d let go of his hand. Matthew just held up her coat and helped her to his truck. The ride into town was equally silent, Charlie trying her damnedest not to steal glances at the stoic driver.