Charlie doesn't think I'm crazy. I'm actually surprised he didn't question me further about the wolf. Maybe he knows something I don't, and there's a new trend of using K9 units for surveillance and/or hit squads. What the hell else could it be?
By the time we reach the park where we're to meet Otis, my stomach has settled. I may not know what the hell happened back at the hotel, but one thing is clear-I feel perfectly safe with Charlie. Even when he whips the motorcycle through the tiniest possible spaces between traffic-stuck cars. Any other guy, I'd be screaming to get down, but with Charlie, I tuck my arms tighter around him, close my eyes and relax into the ride.
As the roar of the bike fills my ears, I tilt my face into the rushing wind. Charlie's hard abs flex against my forearms as he wheels and swerves the bike like a stunt devil. When we stop, my heart is pounding, and I feel a little weak, but not with fear. Charlie puts his legs down, steadying the bike for me to hop off, and I linger, bowing my head to catch a little of his man-and-leather scent.
Across the small park, Otis sits on a bench, eating peanuts. Reluctantly, I slide my arms from around Charlie's middle. He catches my hand and squeezes it, keeping it even as we stroll from the motorcycle. I'm still barefoot, but the grass feels nice.
"Nice bike," Otis drawls as we approach.
"Thanks, man." Charlie hooks his arm around my shoulders. "A friend let me borrow it-I promised to give it right back. You ever ride one?"
"Missus won't let me. Got a boring beige sedan." Otis hooks a thumb over his shoulder at the car parked under a row of maples, then holds up the brown bag. "Peanut?"
"Don't mind if I do." Charlie takes the bag. There's a slight clink inside. He offers it to me, and I slip my hand in, feeling the car keys inside there along with the peanuts. I grab the keys and nod to Charlie, who pulls the bag away, slipping the motorcycle key inside before handing the bag back to Otis. At least, I think he slips in the motorcycle key. I don't actually see anything even though I'm watching for it. We crack peanuts and eat them for a few seconds before Otis stands.
"Keep the rest." Otis dusts off his hands. No sign of the key although I'm sure he has it. These spy guys are better than street magicians. "I have to get home before the missus gets antsy. Wish I could be off to my fishin' shack. I always keep an overnight bag and map in the car, just in case I need to get away." He grins and ambles off.
"He'll do a few loops, watching to see if we've been followed," Charlie tells me.
"We'll take his car, right? And it'll have an overnight bag and map to his fishing shack?"
"Yep." With his hand on my elbow, Charlie steers me up the sidewalk toward the 'boring beige sedan' Otis pointed out. "We'll stop to get some clothes."
DUSK SETTLES by the time the car rolls down a long, dusty dirt road. The wheel hits a pothole, and I blink awake.
"Almost home," Charlie murmurs, and I flash him a little grin. I'm wearing a "Virginia is for Lovers" shirt, courtesy of a tourist shop. I wriggle my toes in my new, sparkly flip-flops. Out of D. C. traffic, on a nice back road near the Maryland coastline, I feel like I'm on vacation.
"If it wasn't for all the shooting and dead people, this spy stuff would be kinda fun," I tell him.
He nods, the corners of his mouth turning up. I sense he's been worried about my state of mind after the near-kidnapping, but once the adrenaline left my body, I dozed all the way from D. C. The little nap did me wonders.
It's crazy how much I trust Charlie. I couldn't have slept so easily next to anyone else in the world. I feel a little guilty, having the weight of my problems rest on his super spy shoulders, but he'll take care of them-I know it to my bones.
The car lights hit a small structure made of grey boards, leaning a little to the side.
"This is it," he announces after checking the map.
When I get out, I smell the salty, somewhat swampy scent of water. We're not quite on the ocean, just an inlet.
Otis gave us more than just a map to his place. Charlie pulls out burner phones, two laptops, and four guns. We have been resupplied.
"I need to check in with my sister. And call Flack," I realize. "He's probably wondering why I was a no-show."
"Set up another meeting for tomorrow," Charlie instructs. "We need to find out what he knows about American Trade Assets."
CHARLIE
I PICKED up steaks at the grocery on the way in, and light the grill. I bought four, but I swear, I could eat ten. Annabel's going to be on to me when she sees me wolfing-heh-these down.
Hell, I can't believe she hasn't put two and two together already. I guess werewolf is just so far out of people's minds as a real possibility, they refuse to see what is.
I'm speaking from experience, of course.
I was so sure my father and Nash had been the subject of some government gene modification or enhancement project. I just never put the wolf thing together. Not even with the memory of my father's death.
Not until I saw it with my own eyes.
I throw the steaks on the grill, along with corn on the cob still in the husk. Annabel comes out and hands me a beer.
"I didn't get Flack. Just left a message. Sarah and Grady are fine, just restless."
I clink the mouth of my beer bottle to hers. "Cheers."
She smiles, her expression soft and full of gratitude. "Charlie? Why are you doing this for me?"