Charity's Warrior (51 page)

"I see the doubt in your eyes, saw it earlier, and I don't want you to have doubt, Charity. I know you pretty well. I know you're a fighter. You do better knowing what you're up against, rather than having everyone pussy foot around you. I wouldn't do this if it wasn't real, if what you have with Justin was anything less than destiny and genuine love."

"Because we'd fail," I said, understanding.

"Exactly! I was fine giving up my love life for Justin, for my friend, but seeing him, watching him love you so damn much...I want that, Charity. He was the furthest a human could be from love, and to see him now, it creates possibilities. Maybe I can have that too."

This morning was turning into an emotional rollercoaster.

"I'm so tired of having fuck buddies, Charity. I want to go home to somebody that gives a shit about me."

I don't tell her, but the emotions have built a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. I think Lena is spent now. She's silent, letting the masseuse do her work.

"I feel overwhelmed," I tell her. "I think you get why. You started this thing with him, grew into it. For me, a few months ago I didn't believe these things happened anywhere but on TV and in the movies. Now it's real and somehow I'm involved. This is
not
what I had planned when I dreamed of coming to the city."

"I understand," Lena says cautiously.

"But I'm no quitter. I don't like to run from anything. And, honestly, I don't think I could ever quit Justin," I tell her. "I feel different with him, and I know I don't want to be without him."

"I'm glad," Lena says.

We don't say much else for the rest of the massage, letting the girls do their jobs, letting ourselves relax. When they finish, they leave us so we can gather ourselves back into our robes and slippers.

The host is waiting for us when we come out into the hall. "Ready for your body wraps?" she asks.

"Absolutely," Lena breaths.

I thought she would look better now, more at ease than before, but that's not the case. That strange, uneasy expression has now settled on her almost permanently as we are led upstairs where two more women begin the wraps.

"I know you're not done yet," I tell Lena.

She looks at me at first as if to pretend she doesn't know I mean, but as I hold her gaze, she concedes. Her eyes slowly fall off my face.

"Are you going to tell me what it is? You've been thinking about it all day," I add.

"I haven't figured out if I should, or how if I'm going to," she says. "If I'm going to, I probably should get on with it. I won't always have the chance like this, with Justin stuck on a plane."

Both girls doing the wraps are stunningly beautiful, so much so that I am feeling self-conscious. Justin would tell me they are too skinny—sticks, he calls them. One of them is Indian, though when she said hello a bit ago, there was no hint of an ascent. The girl focusing on me looks Russian, and did have the accent to prove it. They completely ignore us now, as they are trained to do.

"There's no way you're not going to tell me now. My interest and concern is flared, and if you don't tell me, it's going to quickly become paranoia. If you can't find a way to say it, then just blurt it out, get it done," I tell her.

"This one is not that simple," Lena explains. "It's not about you, but it's extremely dangerous, for me, and for you once I tell you."

When I hear her voice shaking, her, the queen of scary-tough bitches, my pulse becomes a thump in my ears.

"It's something I've carried for a long time, unsure of how, when, or if I should take care of it. I don't want to lose my friend, but it could make him better, whole," she says.

I know she means Justin, but she hadn't really gotten to it yet.

"Now that he has you, you need to know, you need to decide. I need you to take the burden from me. I've done and risked enough, and now it's not right if it comes from me," she continues.

"Christ, Lena, well you fuckin' get to it already?"

She suddenly hitches her breath and a tear falls from her eye. My stomach swirls. It's big, bigger than I expect.

"I'm so sorry to put this on you," she cries. "You might be the only one that can get this done for him, but it might cost you."

"Cost me what?" I beg.

"The love of your life. It could cost you Justin."

"I don't understand," I tell her.

"You can decide to do nothing about this, I will respect your decision and it will die with me. The risk might be more than you want to take. If he finds out, he will be done with you—and me if he knows I started this."

I can see my chest pumping from my heart. "If it's that bad, why would I do whatever it is? Why wouldn't it be better to forget about it?"

"Because it's about his life, and everything he knows. You know that to be with you, he had to come to see that he was wrong about his father's suicide?"

I nod.

"He had to remember and see that his father was not who he thought he was," she said. "He found out something about his father that made Justin understand and know him better. It was huge, Justin's entire life was based on a belief, and finding the truth changed him completely."

Lena pauses, staring at me as the girls finish the wraps. She searches my soul with her eyes, because the next thing out of her mouth couldn't be taken back.

"Nicolette Sumpter," she whispers.

What the hell it's that?

"Who is she?" I ask.

"Justin's mother. And everything he knows about her might just be wrong."

I
can't believe how wonderfully tired I am today. Hey, if a girl's going to be tired, it should be because her man had her up all night.

My sensitive parts are still pleasantly sore, reminding me how they got that way, as if I could forget. There's even a pink line still circling around each wrist, and I'm sure my ankles, from the silk ribbons that had fastened me to the bed. A familiar throb went off between my legs when I remember what he did to me. I smile right in the middle of my walk, not caring who is around me.

The air is warm, not as much as earlier when the sun was still up, but comfortable for a late September evening. The nights are cooling quickly. A few more weeks and fall will be in mid-swing. I love the fall, but I'm always sad at the passing of summer. I like being out in the air on my walks, feeling the sun on my skin.

Sweat is beading around the bottom of my neck and dripping down my heaving chest, making my shirt stick to me. It might be one of the last times this year for my shorts, so I'm enjoying it, sweat and all.

I'm usually done by this time of the night, but I had a late start. The park looks like a completely different place with all the black corners and heavy shadows. I know where I am, but it even feels foreign and strange.

Maybe I should be paying more attention, but I'm so happy right now. Everything is falling into place, and I'm so in love that I don't have words for it. It doesn't happen for everyone, to have both love and passion. When you find it, when you have it and can depend on it, it has to be cherished.

An older couple appears in the path coming toward me. Their hands are woven together and they're smiling. He leans to her and whispers something in her ear that makes her laugh hard, and I hope that is me in the future. I imagine his words were lustful. That's the way it should always be, without care for age. What could bring them into the park at this time? Hopefully it was passion.

My stomping legs bring me past them quickly. I consider turning around now. Ahead, there is a particularly dark area, dark even in the day, buried in the undergrowth and boulders, and I don't see anyone else around now. It was probably not safe, not a good idea to go there.

I'll go just a bit further.

Last night, as soon as we got home from a dinner with friends, he pushed me up against a wall and pressed his mouth to mine, filling it with his tongue. I breathed him in, his scent igniting the heat between my legs. His hands slid down my body, pulling the bottom of my shirt free from my pants so that he could feel the skin of my waist.

My urges erupted, hips rocking against him uncontrollably. I hooked my left leg around the back of his and pulled him closer. I wanted more. His hand forced itself under my pants into the familiar hot folds between my legs, testing my wetness. Unapologetically, his fingers rammed into me, first one, and then another and a third. My legs were already shaking as my juices ran down his hand.

He pulled his lips partially away from mine. "I love you," he growled.

"I love—"

He cut my words off with his tongue. The taste of his mouth fueled me. I had both hands holding onto the hair on the back of his head, holding his face close.

"Get in the room," he demanded. "I want to make love to you. I've waited all night, and I won't wait a moment longer."

In the room, he wouldn't let me do a thing, not even undress myself. He removed my shoes and clothes and had me lay down on our bed. I don't have a clue where he got the silk ribbons, but he had them ready. It was a mix of hot and tender. He took care tying each limb, so much so that I had no idea how successfully he'd done it until my flailing orgasm a bit later.

He took his time kissing my legs. There is a short stubble starting on his chin that is teasing its way up my thighs. I can't wait for it to crush into my secret wetness with his hands pulling my thighs open for him. I fight the urge to grind his face. His tongue dips inside my heat, sampling my taste.

I am in a bad spot before I realize it. My mind had drifted as I thought about last night, and now I was into the dark area of my walk that I was going to avoid. The hair stood up on my neck, but I can easily turn around before going too deep.

The clap off my sneakers on the ground slows and stops while I turn. It should have been silent in this moment, but it isn't. I hear shuffling feet and a man's voice trying to be quiet, whispering. There are several shadowy figures in the path back the way I had just come.

Going back is not an option. I turn around yet again, and pick up my pace. Now I am alert and listening. They've sped up as well, so I move even faster.

I hear their laughter not too far behind me. They're not even trying to be careful now. They have me where they want me.

Right now, I feel like a rabbit that's crawled under a box in the instant before the stick is pulled and the trap is complete. I release. The only thing faster than my feet is my heart.

Yet they gain.

I hear screaming now, and I'm vaguely aware that it's me. I sound like a pig, a baby pig being chased by the farmer's brat kid with a stick.

They're still laughing.

Bastards!

Fucking bastards!

This can't happen now. Things are so good. Not me, anyway. Not me!

"Slow down, Bitch!" one barks.

"Yeah, you ain't going nowhere," another agreed.

They're just kids. Their voices are so young, but they're full of evil.

I keep moving. There’s nothing else I can do now but try to outrun them. They just keep gaining on me.

I don't stop.

I don't quit.

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See the next page to read the opening excerpt from Charity’s Secrets, the second novel in the Charity series by Maya James.

Charity’s Secrets

By Maya James

PROLOGUE

"The way I see it, you have two choices. You can live with it, or you can live without it." John looks at me, and I can already see the sarcastic smile in his eyes. "And I don't believe for a second that you can really live without her, now that you found her."