Dirty Little Secrets Page 6

  The two of them sneaking down to Malcolm’s kitchen in the middle of the night to raid the refrigerator. Her standing lookout as X-ray broke into Malcolm’s files to check their stats in the competition. Training in the lower level gym on that state-of-the-art Nautilus equipment.

  Starving…cold…huddled together on a rank mattress in an abandoned crack house, the winter before Malcolm had found them and invited their small group of homeless misfits into his home.

  And now, X-ray was back. Standing in front of her. Looking at her as if not a day had gone by since she’d left.

  It was too much.

  Her vision blurred, and she pressed three fingertips to her lips.

  “Aw, dammit, Chuck. Don’t do that.” A sweep of his arm, and Xander had her tucked against his chest, his hand warm and strong on her back. “It’s okay.”

  How was it even possible that, one simple smell and they were back to being best friends? One look, and he could still read her mind with the exact same precision as the day Malcolm had asked her to leave?

  Hell, maybe the shock had made her pop a vessel, and this trip down memory lane was some latent side effect caused by loss of blood flow to her brain.

  Xander’s chin met the top of her head, and she closed her eyes, soaking him in. Her palm rose to his chest, and the stretchy material of his shirt bunched in her fingers as she fisted her hand. “I guess…I don’t know. I’m just completely blown away that you’re here.”

  There was no doubt the two of them had shared some laughs. Back in the day, they’d done whatever was necessary to make the best of a horrible situation. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit a part of her had been waiting for the moment he’d walk back into her life.

  But having him close also triggered a deep rift, a void she’d tried her damndest to fill ever since they’d gone their separate ways. Reopening those wounds didn’t come anywhere close to the items she hoped to check off her bucket list.

  She slipped her arms around his waist and he cinched her in a hug, his breath warming her hair as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

  And yet, if there was one other soul on this planet she’d plunge headfirst into those murky waters for, God knew, that person was him. If he’d come to her looking for help, then all the guy had to do was ask. “Xander, what in the world are you doing here?”

  His palm heated a slow path down to the small of her back. His chest rose against her cheek, and he let loose a deep sigh. “Not outside. There are too many ears around and what I need to tell you is private.”

  Of course. She’d assumed as much. Like it or not, it was time to step into her big girl panties.

  With a parting squeeze, she nodded and turned toward her building. “Okay. Then let’s go inside.”

  * * * *

  Xander withdrew a step as Charlie’s arms fell from around his waist, hands balling into two knuckle-popping fists as she skipped up the steps in those wicked heels toward her door.

  It would take exactly two fingers to count the number of times he’d been this pissed off.

  At Malcolm, on the day the rotten asshole had kicked her out.

  At his confused, sixteen-year-old self for not having the balls to go after her.

  And now, at whoever the hell had been casing her apartment, waiting for the chance to nab her off the street and do God only knew what to her. Drive her off God only knew where.

  Well, they could guess again. He cut a hard glare up and down the sidewalk before leaning down to scoop up a can of mixed vegetables that had rolled to a stop against the bottom step. Tonight marked the first, and last, instance he showed up in the nick of time.

  Shrugging the strap of his duffle back to center, he ascended the stoop behind her, collecting miscellaneous items along the way. Toothpaste, a box of Kleenex, a dented container of cubed melon. While the resident evil seemed to have vanished—at least, for now—he wasn’t about to count himself that lucky twice. The split-second he’d laid eyes on her, those few sweet moments he’d held her in his arms, all the reasons he’d come here had jumped out of his head and circled his ears like a Chinese Fire Drill, and Charlie’s safety had strapped itself in behind the wheel.

  Fuck and fuck. The earliest chance he got, he was hacking straight into the New York DMV database for a search of that SUV’s plate number. Whoever they were, the assholes were about to wade straight into a major sinkhole where Charlie McGovern was concerned. No way he was letting her face-off against them alone.

  Keys jingled, and she tossed a smile over her shoulder, and his heart kicked against his ribs like it had been jolted with six hundred ungrounded volts. Jesus, the picture he’d kept didn’t do her justice.

  If one of her neighbors had shown up ten minutes ago and tried to convince him she was more beautiful now than the girl he’d known as a kid, he would’ve clapped them on the back with a laugh and sent them packing.

  Well, yuck it up, dipshit, because the joke was on him.

  Bring on that smile in real life and the wattage nearly took out his knees.

  She slipped a key into the lock and he jogged the rest of the steps to catch up. Her eyes, though. They hadn’t changed one bit. They were still as arresting. As mesmerizing. One peek inside those two-toned blue-gold irises and something still gripped him deep inside and refused to let go.

  If they weren’t so damn expressive, maybe he would’ve bought into her weak excuse about why she’d gotten choked up. But add in the fear and the way that unmarked vehicle had slowed to a stop, and that same unnamed instinct reared its ugly head inside him like a pissed off game boss in World of Warcraft.

  Nope. There was more going on here than she was willing to admit. Something that couldn’t be brushed off as simple surprise over seeing him. And whether she’d told him the truth and honestly didn’t have the first clue the danger she was in—highly unlikely, considering the Charlie he knew had instincts sharper than the subatomic precision of a neutron laser—or she knew full well she was up shit creek without a paddle didn’t matter.

  Because his plans had just changed.

  She was either flying to Chicago with him or he was planting his ass right here.

  Leaving her alone was no longer an option.

  Following her lead, he stepped inside an entryway that pretty much mirrored the ganged-up demographic of the area. Small white tiles covered the floor, lined with years of dirt, the severe crack running the middle disrupting the diamond pattern like the arc of an electric current. The tan interior needed a fresh coat of paint and a buzzing light bulb swung from an exposed wire overhead.

  He frowned as the same question that had been cycling through his head ever since he’d hit her neighborhood switched to the repeating flash of a neon, animated gif.

  Had she opted for this location out of choice? Or necessity?

  Eyeballing the deadbolt, he jiggled the handle to double-check the lock had hit the mark. Her light laugh echoed in the small space, and he cocked a brow. “Just making sure.”

  “I put a new one in a few months ago.” She waved him up the stairwell, walking sideways. A few damp strands stuck to her cheek, and she snagged them with her finger before shoving her thick blond hair over her shoulder.

  Christ. He licked his dry lips. How many times had he fantasized about fisting those sun-streaked waves so he could bury his face in her neck?

  “Tilly’s apartment got hit and the manager’s a cheapskate, so I went ahead and replaced the lock myself.”

  His foot froze on the bottom riser. Okay, that jackass had just shot to the top of his hit list.

  She tossed her head back with another laugh and his focus fell to the little mole hidden along the underside of her jaw. Right where he remembered. Still every bit as mouth-watering. As distracting. Still in the perfect spot to drive him crazy every time he imagined tracing it with his tongue.

  “You look like you’re about to go green and Hulk out on me.” She descended the st
eps and slipped her hand inside the crook of his elbow, tugging his arm. “Relax, Francis. Locks are my specialty, remember? Besides, he would’ve only put in some shoddy piece of crap that would’ve broken in a week anyway.”

  “That’s a piss-poor excuse.” And what kinda back-assward reasoning was that anyway? Someone had broken in and she fixed the lock? And then continued to rent the same place?

  Ding, ding, ding. Looked like he had a winner.

  Necessity in the first round with a KO.

  A growl trickled up from the pit of his stomach, and she smirked, tugging his arm a second time. “Come on. I’m on the third floor, but I need to make a couple stops first.”

  Fine, but this conversation was light years from over.

  Halfway down the second-floor hallway, she stopped and rapped on the grubby door to apartment 2-B, shifted her canvas bag around in front and dug through the contents. The lock clicked, a chain rattled, and an elderly woman poked her head through the crack.

  Her weathered face lit up in a toothless grin, her floral zip-up robe swaying around her skinny brown shins as she swung the door wide. “It’s my sweet Charlie. You is always right on time.” She shifted her watery brown gaze to Xander and he dipped his chin in hello. “And who’s this now? A new tenant?” Loose skin flapped around her upper arm as she smoothed her hand over the frizzy, Gumby smash of her hair.

  “No, he’s friend of mine, stopping by for a visit. X-Ray, this is Tilly. Tilly, meet X-ray.” Head down, Charlie continued digging. She shook the bag to rearrange the contents and then blew her bangs out of her eyes with a puff of air. “I could’ve sworn I got you those veggies, but I ran into some trouble downstairs. Darn it, I bet I lost them.”

  Oh, shit. “No, I got ʼem. Here you go.” He offered the mixed vegetables to the old woman and she batted her lashes, pressing the can against her chest.

  “Ain’t you the most thoughtful young man?” She arched a drawn-on eyebrow at Charlie. “He don’t look like no trouble to me, Sug. At least, not the bad kind.”

  Charlie sputtered, untangling a bottle of blue Gatorade from her bag before offering it toward the door. “Looks can be deceiving, Tilly. I keep telling you that. He may be the best piece of eye candy we’ve seen around here in like, well, ever. But I can assure you, he’s also the most dangerous.”

  Really? His brow twitched. Ka-ching.

  “I want you to promise me you’ll drink that whole bottle.” Tossing her hair aside, Charlie resettled the straps on her shoulder. “You don’t get enough liquids, and the last thing we need is you getting dizzy and taking a tumble down the stairs.”

  “All right, Sugar. I will.” Tilly fluttered her fingers at him as Charlie pivoted from the apartment and strode for the next door down.

  Another rap, and Xander frowned, studying her out of the corner of his eye. What was she doing? Volunteering as the Red Cross for the whole damn building?

  Yes, the Charlie he knew had always gravitated toward being a natural caregiver. Hell, without her, chances were less than zilch their group would’ve made it off the streets alive. That winter before they’d hooked up with Malcolm, she was the one who always made sure everyone stayed fed, accounted for. She’d nursed their injuries and provided a shoulder to cry on whenever the desperation became too much and someone broke.

  But there was a genuine threat hanging outside her door. One that took priority over whether or not Tilly got a bottle of Gatorade and a can of mixed carrots and peas.

  The hinges swung open, and Xander’s heart vaulted a strange flip as a young man stepped into the hall.

  It was a toss-up which was more crooked, his hair or his clothes. One of his socks was missing and a set of thick, filthy glasses sat cock-eyed on his nose.

  But the joy on his face as he snuck a peek at Charlie and then rolled his head back to stare at the ceiling told the real story.

  Asperger’s. Or maybe some form of autism.

  Swiping his hand down the stubble on his face, Xander shifted his weight onto one hip. Of course, she would watch out for a kid in his condition. Of course, she would. The thing that frayed his wiring was the way she would opt to do so at this particular moment.

  “Hey, Milo.” She tugged a six pack of chocolate pudding from her bag, fished around in her pockets and pulled out a plastic, shrink-wrapped spoon. “Did you win Jeopardy today?”

  Okay, wait. Just a damn second. Nostrils flared, Xander crossed his arms against the urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her goofy, stubborn head. Then back her against the nearest wall and kiss the living shit out of her until whatever objections she offered would be a waste of air.

  The woman’s uplink was headed straight toward a multi-level crash and she’d gone out to make sure her neighbor got pudding?

  Yeah, that wasn’t gonna fly.

  Milo flapped his hands but didn’t make eye contact, and she set the carton near his feet before balancing the spoon on top. “Don’t eat it all at once, okay? Only one each night before bed.”

  He crooned a noise that came off as sonic bliss, gathered the items and slammed the door.

  Charlie slumped, tipped her head and slid a sidelong glance toward Xander. “He’s non-verbal, but usually the sweetest thing ever. Sometimes he gives me a hug, but you probably threw him off track.” Her lips twisted in a dry smirk, and she flicked her hand in his general direction. “God knows, that testosterone overload you got going has had the same effect on me.”

  Nice. He pivoted to keep her in sight as she left the apartment and started up the stairs to the next floor. “Milo’s dad works second shift and can’t afford in-home care, so I like to check on him every night.”

  Fair enough. But who, exactly, was watching out for her? “He’s got no one else?”

  “His mom disappeared after he was diagnosed.” Her eyelids lowered in a calculating squint. “She ever shows her face around here again and my boot will have to be surgically removed from her ass.”

  Check. And easy enough to rectify. Xander stole a glance over his shoulder to lock in Milo’s apartment number. Coupled with the building’s address, that was all the information he’d need.

  A sigh hefted his shoulders as Charlie stopped at a third door. Jesus, at this pace, it’d be midnight before he got her safely locked behind closed doors.

  Sure, she was doing the right thing. A kind and compassionate thing. But based on how the other tenants treated her, this babysitting gig had been a part of her routine for a long time.

  He checked up and down the empty hallway as she knocked and then waited. And if she wanted to keep watching out for everyone, shouldn’t her first priority be to watch out for herself?

  She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. So where did he start? How was he supposed to string together words that would explain his teeth-gnashing aggravation over what she was doing, while still conveying the blind respect that drilled him between the brows every time another hard-luck case opened a door?

  “Last one, I promise.” She scanned his face and then squeezed one eye closed in an apologetic grimace. Oh hell, no. The last thing he wanted was her confusing his frustration with anger. Ten minutes in, and he had no doubts the full brunt of whatever trouble was breathing down her neck was riding around inside that black SUV. “I know I’ve kept you waiting. This one’s important, though. If you wanna go ahead, I can let you in. My door’s right over—”

  “No, no, I’m happy to hang until you’re ready.” Important, huh? Good to know. Maybe something that made sense waited behind door number three.

  The apartment swung open to reveal a teenage girl he would’ve guessed around fifteen, long, dark hair parted in the middle, smudges every bit as dark beneath her huge doe eyes.

  She smiled at Charlie…right up until the waterworks sprung a leak and huge alligator tears trekked down her cheeks.

  Shit, now what?

  “Oh Mina, don’t cry, sweetie. It’s okay.” Ch
arlie stepped forward and eased the girl into a hug, patting and rubbing her back. “Is your mom home?”

  “No, she’s still at the hospital.” Mina peeked at him over Charlie’s shoulder and Xander offered a sympathetic smile.

  Too bad the once-over she gave him held suspicion, riddled with dislike, and as a result, he resisted the urge to check someone hadn’t written the word asshole across the front of his thermal shirt.

  Huh. Either he came off like a threat or the kid had an aversion to the entire male species as a whole.

  She withdrew from Charlie and crossed her arms. “He hasn’t been doing so hot. Mom doesn’t say anything, but I think she’s afraid to leave in case he…” She lowered her gaze, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “God. Sorry. It’s been a long couple of days.”

  Damn. Xander nudged Charlie with his elbow and held out the Kleenex he’d been carrying since the street. That sentence did not need a finish for him to know where it’d been headed.

  “Oh, right. Thank you.” She snatched the box and handed it to Mina. “Okay, here’s the deal. I’m heading to the hospital as soon as I can.”

  What? He snapped his chin over. No, goddamn it. This was exact same type of dangerous, self-sacrificing bullshit that had him jacked up ever since that black SUV had rolled to a stop outside her building.

  “Give me a couple hours and, I promise, I’ll do everything I can.” Yanking a rolled, white takeout bag from her pocket, she stepped forward and clasped Mina’s shoulder. “I’ll fix this, sweetie. I swear, I will. Just try not to panic.”

  “Okay.” Mina nodded. “Thank you, Charlie. I don’t what we’d do without you.”

  “Don’t worry because you’re never gonna have to find out.”

  Wonderful. Xander tipped his head back, cheeks expanding as he exhaled toward the ceiling. Not that it mattered. Charlie could promise the whole damn world and it wouldn’t change a thing.