Charity's Warrior

• Title Page
  
• PROLOGUE
  
• CHAPTER VI
  
• CHAPTER VII
  
• CHAPTER VIII
  
• CHAPTER IX
  
• CHAPTER X
  
• EPILOGUE
  
• PROLOGUE
  

Charity’s Warrior

By Maya James

Smashwords Edition

Copyright
© 2013 Maya James

All rights reserved

Charity’s Warrior is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Acknowledgements

A special thank you for the ladies that beta read Charity’s Warrior and really helped me with my almost endless typos, mistakes, and autocorrects (I know, I know, stop writing on my phone…it’s an evil necessity). You ladies made it a better novel, and your feedback and comments have given me so much encouragement.

Thank you Warriors! You are the best!

Becky Paprota-Martindell

Natalie Rusomanno

Lynn Chambers

Another special thank you to Robin Harper at Wicked by Design for the cover work.

www.facebook.com/authormayajames

https://twitter.com/AuthorMayaJames

T
he Manhattan Grill and Bar is one of my favorite places to go when I just don't want to be home, which is most every night since I’m not thrilled being alone. I come here for me. I don't need anything from anyone. I certainly don't want anything from anyone. Well,
yeah
, service from the staff, but no one else.

Although it's not why I come, I
have
met a lot of different women here. That's never been a problem for me—meeting women. I come in here to mind my own business, and somehow I’m not alone when I leave. It doesn’t seem to take much effort. Picking up a woman in a bar is a meaningless act, and meaningless is all I have time for.

Don't be insulted—it's a two-way condescension, or at best, perversion. Face it, when you see a guy like me, your first thought isn't, "Oh, I hope he's wonderful
outside
of the bedroom." Usually, it’s something closer to me slamming your back against a wall while one hand grips your hair and pushes your face harder against my hot mouth, while the other rips the wet panties off your hips. I get it, and I'm fine with it. If I wasn't, I'd be a victim, and I’m certainly not that. I’m just as happy leaving the bar with these women as they are when I’m finished with them a couple hours later.

I'm never disrespectful! Never misleading! A woman likes to be treated like a woman, and that's exactly what I do—I make happy,
satisfied
women.

It's the relationship part that doesn't suit me well. Never really had one and that is by design, not divine intervention design, but my own personal—hell F'n no—design. I've seen love absolutely destroy people that I cared for. It broke them down to nothing, and seeing that devastation, I've sworn it off. Love is something that will not happen to me, I won’t let it, and it's been easier to avoid than you would probably think—which made me question if it even existed.

This is the reason why what just happened to me defies my explanation.

My guard was up, it's always up. Maybe I'd grown too confident in my theory that love is not real, and my guard wasn’t up as far as I thought. Or maybe there is just no way to be ready, and I’ve been kidding myself all these years. Whatever it is, my life is threatening to change.

She's beautiful, perfectly stunning, I'll give her that. Her blonde hair compliments a beautiful face so attractive it's hard to keep from staring at it. And thank God, she has curves—there's too many sticks walking around pretending to be sexy. The wind blew her in looking tired and in need of a strong drink. Her day has been rough. She wears it on her as obvious as her clothes, unafraid to show her emotions. She moves through the room without noticing me. There is not a hint of
city-tainting
on her yet. As she passes my table, she steals my breath.

Perfection!

Suddenly, my eyes cannot open wide enough. There is not enough air in the room. My head swims, and I think I might fall off my chair. My stare keeps going back to her, and when it does my heart races.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I'm watching her place her order with Tricia, the waitress, as if it's something majestic to witness. At once, I feel lust and longing, the culmination of one thing and the beginning of something else, and it's as if I had no choice in the matter. Nothing I've done in my entire life up until now would have changed the course of things. I was bound to be right here, right now.

Only a fool can lie to themselves. I spin a lot of bullshit for my profession, but I won't be able to convince myself that I don't know what this is. I’ve felt lust before. I’ve had women catch my eye and fill me with desire. This was not that!

Time stopped.

My heart stopped.

My life stopped.

I just fell in love!

FUCK!

Love is a poison, and I don't like being part of some master plan that isn't my own. Okay, so love and destiny are real, and the only true reason I've successfully avoided love all this time was because my destiny hadn't arrived until now. I had it wrong. I'd spent my years avoiding love when I see now that I should have been trying to change my destiny.

All I have to do now is not meet her!

Maybe that was not going to be so easy. I feel more compelled to talk to her, the more I try not to. My heart aches at my decision. She has awakened a part of me, and now it's like I'm trying to lop it off with a meat cleaver.

I didn't think if it ever happened, it would be this quick or this strong. I’m overwhelmed.

When Tricia brings her drink to her, she smiles brightly in spite of her exhaustion. It's intoxicating. It pulls in all the light from the room and makes her glow.

Trisha takes her order while I watch and wish I was close enough to hear her voice. I'm captivated by every nuance of her, the way she moves, every expression.

My eyes are on her the entire night. I watch her eat her food when it comes. Her lips and mouth entice me. The curve of her thigh makes me boil. I would watch her forever if I could.

But I know I shouldn't even be watching her now.

It will all be over soon. She will finish her meal, and eventually her drink. Then she will leave, blowing out the same way she came in.

My heart will hurt, but it won't be nearly as bad as it could be. Imagine the pain if I met her, knew her, and then let her walk out the door. People leave, and when you love them, sometimes there is no recovery. Better this way, better to lose her before I have her.

"She is pretty," Trisha says, startling me. "Are you going to put her on the list of conquests?"

She's always busting my balls—it's our thing. I don't think there's any reason to pretend I don't know what she's talking about. Clearly, she has caught me staring.

"No. She scares me a little," I say through a smile to hide how serious I am.

Trisha points at my glass. "Another?"

I nod a yes and find my eyes back on this mysterious woman. "What's she like?" I ask while Tricia grabs my empty class off the table.

"Gorgeous as hell, like you," she teases. "But she may be way too sweet for you."

"Oh yeah?" I laugh.

"C’mon—we both know how you work."

She was right. We both laughed, and she went to get my drink.

That was all the more reason to stay away from her. Not only would she break
my
heart, but I would probably end up breaking hers, and that I don't think I could live with. I don't think I could stand to see an ounce of pain in her eyes.

Trisha brought my drink and went to clear her table.
That smile again!
I need this to be over soon.

As if on cue, she stands up. My heart gallops, both grateful and heartbroken. My hands fist the corners of the table to keep myself down and let her walk out. It may be the only way I have the strength to let her go.

Only, she wasn't leaving yet. She turned to the hall heading for the restrooms.
Damn it!
It still shouldn’t be much longer.

Beside me, the front door opens, and a man in a hoodie steps in. I see him from the corner of my eye as I watch my missed destiny dip into the hallway. He’s moving unusually fast, almost running, actually. He passes me in a breeze, ignoring the bar, and in just a few large strides he's in the hallway blocking my view.

Something is wrong. I'm up out of my chair before I know what I'm doing.

His arms go around her head, around her neck, and he's dragging her deeper into the hall.

I'm going to fucking kill him!

It's not an expression! I know I don't know her, but that changes nothing. My protective instincts explode. Doing nothing is not an option, and I'm angrier than I've ever been.

Furious!

A few other people see what's happening, but they are slow to react. I'm already running at full charge. My hands ache to rip him into pieces.

He has no right—she's mine!
SHE'S MINE!

He puts her in front of him, using her as a shield as he strangles and drags her. Her eyes have already begun to roll up into her head. I don't really think. I hit them at full speed.

She tumbles from his arms and lands on the floor—hard! He reels back, and catches his balance, and then he is running through the back door.

It's not right that he gets away. Trisha and the cook are in the hall now, so I decide they can take care of the girl while I go kill this bastard.

As quick as I can, I jump over her and burst through the back door after him.