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“Come on in, then.” She takes a step back, opening the door wider, and I walk in. “You know, I’m glad I came to check whose car just parked in front of the bar.”
“Yeah, me too. I was about to go back home when you opened the door. Ezra has gone to work.”
“I get you. What’s your plan now that you’ve moved here?” Autumn asks, leading me to a booth in the corner where a few documents are scattered around a laptop.
“Continue the work I did in Burlington, but remotely,” I say and shrug.
We chat for a little while, then I turn on my laptop and we both get lost in our work.
Around two PM,Andrea comes down to the bar, looking pleasantly surprised to see me. She asks about her niblings then insists on ordering a meal for us from a great spot down the road, since she can’t cook. We joke around over lunch, breakfast for Andrea. I like them. Autumn and Andrea. And I have a feeling we’re going to be fast friends. I can’t wait for Ella to meet them.
Autumn leaves at five PM, but I stick around, not sure when Ezra will get home. I don’t really want to be all alone there. When he gets home and doesn’t see me, he’ll text or call. But around seven, when I still haven’t heard from him, I leave regardless because I’m not sure about navigating the town alone in the dark.
“You can come back anytime you want,” Andrea tells me with a grin. “I’ll text you the code to unlock the door, in case Autumn isn’t here yet when you get here.”
I thank her and leave. I’m not surprised when I get home that Ezra isn’t there, but I’m starting to get worried. That text message from earlier continues to replay in my head. I eat dinner alone and walk around the house morosely.
When eleven slowly rolls around and he still isn’t back, I’m sick with worry. I’ve tried his number several times, but it doesn’t even ring before going straight to voicemail. Like his battery died, or he deliberately turned his phone off. I bite my lip as I stare at Alex’s number on my phone. Would Ezra be mad ifI called his brother? Just as I decide that fuck it, I’m calling the man, the truck Ezra drove off in this morning slowly pulls up in front of the house. I run out of the bedroom without thinking, jogging down the stairs.
I get to the living room just as he enters through the front door. I skid to a stop, my jaw dropping as I take him in.
Sometime during the day, he must have changed out of his suit because he’s wearing cargo pants and a cream shirt, but what gets me so surprised is the red splatter on his collar and the bundle of clothes in his hands. I see a peak of a white shirt in the bundle, and the white is stained a deep crimson.
CHAPTER 36
EZRA
Iblink at Charlie, a little disoriented from the painkiller that asshole Killian pumped into my veins against my will, and the sight of Charlotte in nothing but my shirt. “Charlie, why are you still up?”
“What is this?”
Before I can fully comprehend her question, she’s in front of me and grabs the bundle of clothes from my hands. Fuck. I was secretly going to toss it in the laundry. It didn’t even occur to me that she would still be awake. She’s an early sleeper when I’m not distracting her with sex, and even then, she usually passes out immediately after.
She shakes the bundle so the clothes spill onto the floor between us and then bends down to snatch the white shirt I had worn under my suit. The shirt that is now stained with blood.
“What is this?” Her voice is inflected with horror. “Is that b-blood?”
“Charlie,” I start, not knowing what exactly I want to say. I’ve fucked up. Damn it, I should have just tossed the clothes into the river, but I didn’t want to risk it washing to shore and having it traced back to me.
“What happened? Are you okay?” She steps over the clothes, nearly tumbling over in her haste to reach me. Her hands go to my face, and she turns it this way and that. When she sees there’s no serious injuries, her gaze immediately homes in on my throat. She tugs the collar down like she’s expecting to see a gaping wound on my neck.
I grab her hands, “Charlie, Charlie, look at me. Look at me!” I give her a gentle shake, which seems to snap her out of her frantic assessment. She blinks those ocean blue-brown eyes at me. They’re glassy with tears.
“I’m fine,bébé. I promise. I’m fine.”
She blinks at me again. Just when I think I’m getting through to her, she drags her hands forcefully from mine. I have to clench my jaw until there’s a distinct pop, so I don’t flinch or wince. But she notices my discomfort anyway, and her eyes widen.
“You are hurt. Don’t lie to me, Ezra.”
“That blood.” I point to the shirt on the floor. “Isn’t mine.”
It was supposed to be a simple operation with our Russian plug. He’d provide the requested firearms he had smuggled into the country. In return he gets immunity, a green card that Massimo’s guy had forged, which can pass for the original under light scrutiny, and some cash. But the fucker double-crossed us, bringing in the fucking FBI with him. They must have gotten to him first and promised witness protection or some shit. Those fuckers have been after the Moratti family since last year.
“You’re hurt,” she repeats, her eyes unerringly dropping to my right arm.Ah fuck.I take a step back, my heart hammering in my chest. She can’t find out. She can’t.
She walks toward me and commands, “Take off your shirt.”
“Charlie….”
