Authors: Cait Jarrod
He
pecked her lips, the tip of her nose, and eased back. “Do you have a minute to
talk?”
She
scraped her teeth over her lower lip. She wanted to give him a whole lot more
than a minute.
“There’s
a detail about my past you should know.”
Her
mind churned on what possibly turned his features so serious. Had he been
married? Did he serve time in jail? “You’re leading a double life?”
Instinctively, the question spilled from her mouth.
“No.”
He shifted to sit on the coffee table, his legs straddling her knees, and
linked their hands together. “Ah,” he sighed. “Not in a million years did I
ever consider divulging what I’m about to say with another person.” He spoke in
a low tone, keeping his gaze on hers.
Warmth
spread through her veins, and in unison worry crept in, dampening her surreal
moment. She slid her hand from his grasp and stroked a finger down the side of
his smooth face. Last night, the euphoria she experienced with him shocked her,
leaving her unsure whether she should stop herself from feeling what came
naturally. It made her doubt the need for rules she created to protect her
heart.
Had
he had a similar type of experience, one that had him acting outside the norm
by confessing secrets?
She
wanted to hear what he had to say, yet by him doing so, the stepping over the
line of non-committal friends toward a relationship was becoming a habit. A
pattern they needed to beware of.
His
impossibly handsome face studied her.
“Your
hands are distracting.” He moved her hand from his face and kissed the back of
it.
She
arched a brow and smiled. “I like getting to you.”
He
chuckled. “You get to me more than you know; that’s why I have to say this.”
“I’m
listening.”
He
slid her hair off her face and knew he eyed the bruise from where she hit the
wall yesterday during the fight with Andrew. “I can’t stand violence.”
The
meaning of his words and the kindness in his gaze weakened her self-imposed
rules more. “Odd considering you’re in the FBI.”
“It’s
the reason why I’m with the Bureau. I’m defensive when warranted.”
“So,
you’re saying you don’t hit, yell, or manipulate to acquire what you want?”
Yesterday, she promised herself not to let her relationship with Andrew
interfere with her future, but she had a hard time not questioning Larry.
“Charlene,
we’re a pair.”
The
slow drawl of his voice and the tenderness in his tone tugged at her heart.
“You’re
scared to let me in because of how your husband—”
“Ex,”
she said.
“—treated
you. For me, I have difficulty letting someone know me because of how I was
raised.”
“Raised?”
“My
father didn’t treat me or my mother well.”
What
had his father done to make a grown man cautious, especially one who was
trained to fight and protect? Horrible thoughts crossed into her mind: had he
touched him inappropriately…? She shook her head and stopped her wayward
thoughts.
“My
father,” he swallowed, “was mean. Not just when he had a few drinks. My mom and
I were punching bags.”
Charlene
gasped––a hand flew to her mouth and the other her chest. “Oh, no.”
“As
a child I didn’t have the ability to fight him much. When I became a teen, I
fought more, but when I did he retaliated on my mother. Often she told me she
didn’t want or need my help. When she did, I’d blow off my anger by running the
streets of the neighborhood. Clearly, I was in a no-win situation.”
Charlene
thought back to her situation and how hers wasn’t that much different, except
she sheltered Henry from Andrew’s emotional cruelty. A mother not protecting
her child left her feeling sick.
“I
joined the FBI and went through training. The first day I visited my parents
afterwards, my dad came at me. He wanted to show me who was boss. He as much as
said so.”
Larry’s
face turned beet red as if he relived the experience. She wanted to touch him,
but knew he needed to finish telling the story without interruption.
“I
beat the living shit out of him. I’d hoped what happened taught him a lesson
and he’d leave my mom alone.” Larry stared at the spot of floor between his
legs. “I cracked his ribs, gave him a swollen eye, and a fat lip. My behavior
was not becoming of an FBI agent. I could have lost my job.” When his eyes met
hers, anger raged behind them. “A few months later, my mom called, crying my
father attacked her. I rushed to the house. When I arrived, I learned he hadn’t
laid a hand on her.” Larry shook his head. “She had lied.”
What
Larry said was unheard of. Why would his mother play such an awful trick on her
son? “What?” Her voice quaked. She didn’t want to show any emotions, knowing
it’d be harder for him, yet couldn’t stop them from encroaching in her voice.
“Why?”
“Maybe
he wanted to see what I’d do. In his sick mind, he probably thought he did me a
favor. He enjoyed testing my control, my integrity. No matter what I did, he
said I fell short of behaving like a real man.”
“A
favor?” With her forefinger and thumb, she pinched her lips together. “I’m
sorry,” she mumbled. “I’ll stay like this.”
His
smile lightened the tension in his expression. “Don’t worry about it.” Larry
removed her hand and held it. “That night, I warned him. I told him in no
uncertain terms that the next time he hit her, one of us would end up in the
hospital, in jail, or the morgue.”
“The
next time? You didn’t throw his ass in jail then?” She grimaced. “Darn it, I interrupted
again.” She resumed holding her lips.
Given
that he didn’t remove her hands this time, the next part of this conversation was
probably hard for him to say.
“No
one knows what really happened except for Jake. The Director knows only what he
needed to know to keep me out of trouble, at his request, not mine.”
She
lowered her hand and held his.
“My
mom phoned. This time, the call came from the house I purchased just after I
graduated from the academy. For a brief moment, I thought she’d left him. Her
voice was angry and firm, not shaken or scared like the other times. When I
arrived, I spotted three cars. My mom’s…dad’s…and my girlfriend’s.”
An
eerie feeling went through Charlene.
“I
came into my home…heard odd noises. Found my mother withering in the corner in
a chair in the living room. Her clothes had been torn, face black and blue. The
sound grew louder. I pulled my gun from the holster and edged my way toward my
bedroom.”
Charlene
closed her lids against the pain in his eyes and voice. When she opened them,
moisture formed in them. “And,” she said gently when he made circles on her
hand with his thumb.
A
muscle ticked in his jaw. He sucked in a deep breath, released it. “And…I found
my father banging my willing girlfriend in my bed.”
Charlene
gasped, froze. She didn’t know what to say, how to react. How did someone move
past such a betrayal?
“Dad
was an evil man.” Larry made a scoffing sound. “When he noticed me, he
sneered.”
At
a loss for words, she managed, “I’m so sorry.”
“My
father nodded toward me and got off. My so-called girlfriend screamed his name.
The sick fucks!”
Outraged
for what Larry suffered, her eyebrows slashed downward and her mouth fell open.
“Oh my god…?”
“I
must have been in shock, since I don’t remember him putting jeans on, but he
had before he lunged at me. I had the sense to holster my gun and fight him,
but then the situation grew worse. My supposed girlfriend came after me. My mother
went after my father. I grabbed the girl, handcuffed her to the staircase
banister in the hall. Hell, I don’t even want to say her name.”
Charlene
knelt on the floor in front of Larry and rested her hands on his knees. “You
don’t have to.”
“When
I returned to the family room, my father was clutching my mom’s throat. He and
his brother have this sick game where they try to make a person submissive by
pretending they’re choking them. They apply pressure, but not enough to make
the person pass out. This time, his grip was tight. I yelled, ordered him to
release her. He wouldn’t, so I pulled my gun.”
Her
mouth opened and closed. She couldn’t think of anything to console him.
Larry
waved his hand. “The end—I shot and killed my dad.”
Charlene
cupped a cheek and kissed him. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Nothing
can be said to alleviate the burden. It is what it is.”
“You’re
such a strong man.” She kissed his eye, then the other one. “I’ve dealt with
crap…I can’t imagine what you went through.”
“I
have battle scars, but I’m okay.”
Charlene
gave into the nurturing and compassionate emotion that tightened her chest. She
wanted to help him like she did when Henry needed someone to understand what he
went through. She slid her arms around his neck, pressed her breasts into his
chest, and held him.
He
squeezed her so tight and for so long, she started to think they’d stay that
way for the rest of the day.
The
first brush of his lips against the curve of her neck sent an electrifying
current throughout her system.
A
powerful force within her demanded him closer. She eased back to gain access to
his mouth.
Larry
kissed her hard…the glide of his tongue, against her lips, demanded her to
open. She did. Remorse, sadness, happiness from their pasts, the present, went
into the mating of their mouths until the lack of oxygen forced them apart.
“Wow,”
he said, his intense gaze flicking between her eyes and mouth.
A
crushing need to have him, to be a part of him, slammed into her chest,
embedding Larry in her soul. She let out a long breath to relieve the tightness
threatening to shut off her air supply. “I shouldn’t have interrupted you,” she
said, in an attempt to reduce the passion throwing her heart against her
ribcage.
His
eyebrows arched, his hands gripping the curves of her waist. “Oh yeah, you
should have.”
She
laughed and kissed him again before scooting backwards onto the couch. “I feel
like you have more to say.”
“You’re
perceptive.”
“Go
figure.”
“Unlike
what you have with your mother, I don’t have much of a relationship with mine,”
Larry said. “The only times I hear from her is when her new husband is beating
her. She holds me accountable for my dad’s death, her true love.”
When
she thought Larry’s story couldn’t possibly continue in a more tragic way, it
had, dumbfounding her. “Your mother’s second husband is beating her, too? She
blames you?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded. “Here’s where you’ll want to run. My mom married my uncle.”
Charlene
slumped against the leather couch. She thought she’d heard everything. The crap
Andrew put her through didn’t compare to what he survived. “Your father’s
brother?” The question was rhetorical, but with the craziness he voiced, she
had to hear him say it.
“Yes.”
“After
dealing with one husband who beat her, how could she marry a man who does the
same?”
“It’s
a vicious cycle.”
The
front door clicked shut. They remained quiet, watching a squirrel using a
nearby tree as his playground.
Charlene
replayed what Larry had said: the beatings, the gun, his girlfriend, and his
mother’s pattern for getting involved with abusive men. A nagging thought hit
her then it settled into a full-blown concern. “Are you worrying that your
uncle…stepfather, will make a move on me?”
He
shook his head, his mouth in a firm line. “No. I’m not.”
She
didn’t want him to feel worse than he already did, but questions flew through
her mind. “Did your mom follow your dad…to the house that day?”
Larry
leaned an elbow on his knee and rubbed his forehead. “Evidently, my dad had a
fling with Chelsea.” He groaned. “I didn’t mean to say her name. Doesn’t
matter,” he said with another wave of his hand. “Mom overheard their
conversation on the phone and followed him. When mom walked into my house, he
hit her and forced her to stay in the corner until he finished.”
“Gross!”
The word came out a yell rather than a comment.
“The
whole situation is twisted. See, this is why you need to run for the hills.”
She
eyed him and saw a genuine, caring man. One that would protect when necessary,
not control her like she first suspected. Her battle scarred conscience wanted
this, him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
As
if the sun appeared for the first time in days, relief washed over Larry’s
features then flicked to seriousness. “So,” he said, moving to sit beside her
on the couch. “Want to tell me why you didn’t come to me?”
Honesty,
Jake had told her. She wanted to confide in Larry, yet dealing with Andrew on
her terms was necessary for her to attain closure that she desperately needed.
If she shared with him, he would no doubt want to help and offer advice. She
expected no less from a man of his character. “Pamela insisted I talk to Jake
about Andrew.”