Tommy and one of Beaumont’s burly underlings strolled into the hall.
Tossing her head, Charlie snapped, “Of course I’m all right.
Scowling something fierce, Matthew took her arm, putting himself between her and the pretty boy gangster. “You knew this man was coming tonight, that Charlotte would be in danger.”
It was not a question.
Coolly, Tommy motioned for his underling to lift the body. “Beaumont told her not to open her door.”
Matthew took a step nearer, one big finger poking Tommy right in the chest. “Now I don’t know how you men do things in Chicago. But endangering a woman where I come from is only done by raw cowards.” His beefy finger pushed harder, forcing Tommy to take a small step back. “And here you are sauntering up like a goddamn hero ‘bout five minutes too late. She could have been hurt. That man there—” Matthew gestured to the crumpled body hanging from the burly goon’s shoulder, “—had plans for her.”
“If he’d made it inside, she would have shot him.” The flashy gangster smirked, even gave Charlie a wink. “Blackbird never misses.”
“Oh?” Matthew mocked, his voice smooth as he tore the man down. “And you’d just let her do your dirty work for you, huh?” Taking Charlotte by the elbow, he ushered her through the door of her room, glaring at the gangster while he demanded, “Get that son of a bitch out of here and tell Beaumont Radcliffe, Matthew Emerson sends his regards.”
Slamming the door behind him, Matthew locked it.
Charlotte stood at the center of the room, her rifle dangling from one hand, staring dumbly.
Stepping towards her, looking ten kinds of pissed off, Matthew took the rifle from her slack fingers and set it aside.
“You ever been hit so hard the world spins, and for a few moments you have no idea what the hell is going on?” Charlie asked. “That’s how I feel right now.”
His voice was angry. “Beaumont’s men shouldn’t have put you in that position.”
“I used to be one of Beaumont’s men, Matthew. They don’t look at me the way you do.” Once she’d said it, her color rose, and she stammered a self-conscious, “I mean…”
“Hush now.” He moved to stand before her, admiring the flush on her cheeks. “I’m gonna stay with you tonight. I’ll sleep in the chair and keep an eye out.”
Utter confusion ruled her features. “Matthew Emerson, I don’t even know where to begin… Where did you find lodgings?”
“Fleet street, Wayside Inn.”
“You lookin’ to get your throat cut?” Charlie smiled and shook her head. “Matthew, that place is in the middle of one of the worst neighborhoods in the city. You better stay here for both our sakes. I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt on some foolhardy mission to look after m
e.”
“You need lookin’ after,” he argued, sitting down in her chair and setting her rifle on his knee.
“Not as much as you do.” Voice and eyes soft, Charlie disagreed. “Looks like someone needs to take care of you for once.”
He leveled her with such a look, the only thing keeping him from throwing her back on the bed was the off chance there might be another dangerous knock on the door.
As if she meant to tempt him beyond his flagging control, Charlie tentatively ran her fingers through his hair. And then she destroyed him. All it took was a simple, grateful kiss to his mouth. And he was a goner.
Swallowing when she pulled back, he muttered, “You best not be doing that, Charlotte.”
“Why?” it was whispered, her sweet breath running across his lips.
Shifting his weight, feeling his pecker once again straining to be free of his britches, Matthew steeled himself because she was worth so much more than a quick tumble. “Dressed like that, smellin’ like you do… You’re making it difficult.”
“Was that a compliment, Mr. Emerson?” It was shyly asked, more pink already creeping into her cheeks.
He swallowed thickly and just said it. “You look more beautiful tonight than any woman has a right to.”
Fingers fiddling with his crooked tie, Charlie grew shy. “Now that was a compliment if I ever did hear one.”
She flitted back toward the waiting refreshments, innocent as she could be when she offered, “You want something sweet?”