Authors: Cait Jarrod
Charlene
rested back in her chair. Larry said the exact same words,
give me time
. She planned to, but hearing a wife of a former agent
drill the same thought home added that much more verity to his comment.
“Thanks, Pamela.”
“Anytime.”
Charlene
looked between her friends. The bond they’d formed over the last few months
amazed her. They welcomed her and Henry so easily that emotion filled her heart
and stung her eyes. “Love you, girls.”
Chairs
screeched and arms surrounded her.
“We
love you, too,” Celine and Pamela said, smashing her as if she was in the
middle of a sandwich.
If
they didn’t back away, she’d be a puddle of water. She patted their arms and
they settled back in their seats, drying their eyes with their fingers.
Charlene
grabbed a tissue from her purse and blew her nose. She needed a safe subject to
talk about and asked, “Where’s Sue?” By this time of day, Sue worked the floor,
joking and laughing with the customers as she took the orders.
“She’s
sick,” Pamela said.
“Is
that why there’s a new bartender?”
“Jackson,”
Celine breathed, her dreamlike expression fixed on him behind the bar.
Pamela
clicked her fingers together in front of Celine’s face. “You’re dating my best
friend. You can’t have eyes for my stepbrother.”
“Correction.”
Celine lifted a finger. “Before your stepbrother was family, I had eyes for
him. Besides, Steve and I are on a break.”
Pamela
slumped back in her chair. “There isn’t gonna be a happy-ever-after with Steve
and you, is there?”
Celine
pressed her lips together and put food from each dish onto a small plate. “I
hate to say. Besides, we’re not talking about me. Charlene’s in the spotlight.”
Celine stuffed a forkful of food into her mouth.
“Why
is that?” Paul asked, his dimples deep on each cheek, as he stepped over the
single linked chain separating the sidewalk from the patio.
“Where
have you been?” Pamela stood and smacked his chest before giving her brother-in-law
a hug.
Celine
hugged him next.
He
blinked his green eyes at Charlene, and spread his arms. “Come here.”
She
fell into his brotherly embrace. “Good to see you.”
“You,
too.” He gave her a tight squeeze and sat next to her. “I hope you’re not upset
with me about Halloween.”
“Why would I be upset? You needed someone to
watch the place, so I did.”
His
groan and slight nod plunged what Larry had said into her mind.
I think we’re victims of a matchmaking
scheme
. She’d have to thank Paul later. For now, she winked.
His
dimples grew deeper and his eyes brightened. “Time for a toast.” He topped off
Celine and Charlene’s drinks and filled a glass for himself and eyed Pamela
holding a water glass. “To the future.”
They
clicked their glasses and sipped.
All
eyes turned on Pamela. For a long moment, no one said a word. Charlene knew
what was on everyone’s mind, the same thing that nagged at her since she saw
the water glass sitting in front of Pamela. Either she was pregnant, or they
were trying.
“How’d
the competition go?” Pamela asked Paul, breaking the silence. “You’ve been in
so many I can’t remember which one you were just in.”
He
chuckled. “I can’t either.”
“Do
you ever see the girl you used to love to race against?” Celine asked.
Paul’s
eyes widened before shaking his head.
“Niki,”
Pamela interjected. “That’s been years ago. Whatever happened to her?”
“Subject
change,” Paul said, his voice suddenly withdrawn and expression impassive.
She, Celine, and Pamela exchanged
glances with one another before focusing back on Paul staring at his empty
glass.
Another subject she wouldn’t inquire
about. When he was ready to talk, he would.
“There
they are,” Jake said, stepping over the fence. A familiar guy with long hair
pulled into a ponytail and piercing brown eyes trailed him.
“Hey,
everyone, this is Quigley Collins. You know my wife, Pamela.” Jake pointed to
each of them as he spoke. “And you met Charlene earlier today.” He patted Paul
on the back. “My brother, Paul England…and this is Celine Marx.”
“Nice
to meet everyone.”
“Quigley
joined the Old Town Detective Agency a few days ago.” Jake kissed Pamela’s
cheek and positioned a chair between her and Charlene.
Quigley
sat on Charlene’s other side, nudging Paul toward Celine.
“How
are you feeling?” Jake asked his wife.
Pamela
sent him the cold glare she’d given Charlene earlier and she could have sworn
Pamela hushed him under her breath. “I’m good.”
“Tell
them,” Jake urged.
“But
not everyone’s here.”
The
extra glasses on the table made sense now, but who was Pamela expecting?
Jake
waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter. Go for it.”
She
smiled and her face lit up like the morning star. “Jake and I have an
announcement.”
Charlene’s
eyes widened, excitement rushing through her that her friend would confide why
she was drinking water.
“I’m
pregnant,” Pamela’s words escaped on a shrill squeak.
Celine
screeched, jumped up, and hugged Pamela. As soon as Celine walked away,
Charlene hugged her. Paul was next.
“I
see you told everyone,” Steve said, joining them.
Larry
followed, his gaze landing on Charlene. A small, knowing smile creased the
corners of his mouth. Like earlier, he wore dress khakis. Instead of a
button-down shirt, he donned a polo. The combination of the deep, rich burgundy
color making his eyes pop and the cotton fabric pulling at the seams across his
broad shoulders sent Charlene’s heart into sudden palpitations. Her mouth
watered to have his eyes on her, naked, and her hand itched to touch every
muscle concealed from view.
Her
expression must have given away her thoughts, for he tilted his head. The
tender, sweet way he gazed at her with longing, appreciation, caring, hitched
up her libido and sent a surge of want through her veins that pooled in her
nether regions.
Not
long ago, she debated if Larry looked at other women the way he had her that
day he saved her and Henry on the mountain. Knowing Larry the way she did now,
she knew he wasn’t the type of guy to have wanderlust on his mind.
After
the greetings to the new arrivals died down, Charlene was barely able to retain
her giddiness toward Larry. “Hi.”
“Hey,
there.” Larry pulled up a chair.
Wishing
they could be somewhere private, she settled for scooting her chair over to
make room for him between her and Quigley.
“Steve
knew before me?” Celine’s agitation broke through Charlene’s sexual fog.
Paul
chuckled. “Hell, he knew before me and I’m the uncle.”
“Who’s
never home,” Jake said.
“Touché.”
Paul accepted another pitcher of margaritas from a waitress Charlene didn’t
recognize.
“He’s
my best friend,” Pamela said as soon as the young girl left, then smiled at
Jake, “After you, of course.”
He
winked.
“Ever
heard of girl code?” Celine pressed her lips together, but a smile tugged at
the corners of her mouth. “I can’t be mad. I’m too happy for you.”
“We’re
all uncles and aunts,” Steve said. “Again.” He grinned at Charlene. “Henry’s
the first nephew.”
Her
heart warmed that they included Henry into the mix.
“When’s
the due date?” Paul asked, filling the glasses for the newcomers.
“July
tenth.” Jake grinned and rubbed Pamela’s stomach.
“Here
ya go,” Jackson said, stepping onto the patio. His dark eyes perused the group
as he grasped the handles of two margaritas pitchers in one hand, and two
pitchers of beer in the other. “I figured the guys might want a cold one.” He
sat them in the center of the rectangle table.
The
position bunched his biceps and they were some tremendous muscles. Charlene
glanced over at Celine, sitting at the opposite end of the table, to see her
take on Jackson. She all but drooled. Charlene flicked her gaze to Steve.
He
eyed Celine and stuck out his hand to Jackson. “Hey, Jacks, are you home long?”
Steve asked in a cool, controlled tone, as if he hadn’t noticed his girlfriend
in awe over another man. Pamela was right. There wouldn’t be a happily ever
after for Steve and Celine. For some odd reason, the thought saddened her.
Larry
rested his hand on Charlene’s thigh and squeezed.
She
smiled, covered his hand with hers. Curiosity over how the conversation would
play out had her returning her attention to the end of the table.
“No,
I’m heading out in a few days,” Jackson was saying.
Jake
pointed. “Jacks, this is Quig—”
“We’ve
met,” Jackson interrupted, his words curt, and his scowl clipped. “Later.”
All
eyes focused on Quigley as Jackson disappeared inside the cafe.
Quigley
shrugged. “The guy’s an ass.”
Jake’s
eyebrow arched and he leveled an eye on Quigley. “You do know this is Pamela’s
café?”
Quigley
lifted his hand, palm forward. “I meant no disrespect. Jackson and I have a
history. Enough said.”
Sitting
between Larry and Jake, her thighs touching one of theirs, she physically felt
Larry and Jake’s tension. What shocked her was the tension radiating through
the air from the other end of the table. Paul and Steve bristled and glared at
the younger guy.
Charlene
didn’t know what was happening, and given the shocked faces on Celine and Pamela,
they didn’t either.
Jackson
reappeared, stopped between the dining room and patio, arms crossed, shoulders
squared. A Marine to the core, his presence gave her a chill. “Collins, a
word.” His tone didn’t give any room for discussion.
Quigley
rose without question, followed Jackson to the sidewalk, and stepped out of
sight around the corner.
“Bad
juju,” Steve said. “Probably unresolved shit from the war.”
Larry
cleared his throat. “Jackson was the pilot when Quigley had the drop that went
bad.”
“Oh,
no,” Pamela gasped. “How do you know?”
“I
saw the brief right after it happened,” Larry said. “No one’s fault.”
“That’s
terrible.” Celine placed a hand covered her mouth.
Before
Charlene could digest what was said, tires squealed on the street, just in
front of the outdoor patio, followed by a loud pop.
Her
heart slammed into her chest and lodged in her throat. Her breathing quickened.
Sweat pebbled on her forehead as awareness struck.
Someone shot at
them.
Mouth
wide and frozen in place, Charlene scanned the sidewalks and street.
Pedestrians raced away. A few cars parked on the other side of the street. The
road itself was empty. Why would someone shoot at them?
“What
the hell!” Jake yelled, jerking her attention to her friends.
“Is
everyone okay?” Charlene asked, seeking out the faces of the BOFs.
No
one answered. All eyes stared, wide eyed, in the direction of approaching
vehicles, and everything went into slow motion as if each act was
freeze-framed. Two motorcycles passed, the drivers wearing brown leather
jackets. The shadows the streetlights caused prevented Charlene from seeing
what was stitched on their backs.
“No!”
Pamela’s raised voice sounded like she was petrified, her body vibrating from
jerking her head back and forth.
A
fury of activity simultaneously unleashed.
“Son
of a bitch!” Steve yelled, taking off, his gun in his hand. Paul ran after him.
“Go
to the left, I’ll cover the next street,” Jackson instructed Quigley.
“On
it, Major,” Quigley responded, jogging after Jackson.
“Everyone
in the back,” Larry ordered, his voice calm and controlled.
Heart
booming in her ears, Charlene bolted out of her chair and followed Pamela and
Celine inside.
Another
shot reverberated through the air. Tires squealed.
Nausea
landed in the pit of Charlene’s stomach as the long tentacles of fear played
down her spine. She glanced over her shoulder.
The
dark colored car that parked across the street sped away.
“Man
down!” Jake’s voice boomed, dragging Charlene’s gaze to him kneeling at the
spot they just vacated.
Larry
stretched out on the floor, eyes closed. Fear mixed with adrenaline shot
through Charlene’s veins. “L-a-r-r-y!” Ignoring people telling her stay inside
The Memory Café, she rushed over to him lying on the patio floor. “Sweetheart,
wake up!”