Mystic Hearts (14 page)

Arriving
home, she parked in the driveway beside her mother’s gold Hyundai and grabbed
her bag.

She
unlocked the door and waited for the usual onslaught of questions and hugs from
her son and mother.

Like
earlier, they didn’t rush to her. This time, the silence raised goosebumps on
her arms. The same type she experienced when she first met the treacherous
Jameson at her restaurant in Colonial Beach. Back then, by ignoring instinct, she’d
put her son’s life and hers in danger. Now the same unnerving awareness returned,
smacking her between the shoulder blades and putting her on guard.

Gently,
so as not to make a sound, she dropped her purchase and purse on the foyer table
and snatched her weapon of choice from the umbrella stand. Gripping it the way
she had as a teen hitting a homerun, she peeked into the living room.

Empty.

She
tiptoed down the hall toward the kitchen.

A
voice she’d hoped never to hear again burned her ears. A knot of anger swelled
in her chest. She dug deep to steady her nerves and approached the threshold.

Mousey
brown hair peeked from beneath a red cap with a darker red brim. An ‘I’
embroidered on the front with a halo. Dark eyes studied her. Sitting next to
Henry, her ex- dipped a cookie she and her son had baked, in a glass of milk,
as if he belonged there. Her mother sat at the end of the table, her eyes stern.

Doris
sat, stiff-backed. The anxiousness in her gaze spoke volumes to how nervous she
was. Henry dipped two cookies at once into the milk, leaned over the plate, and
ate without looking at anyone. Liquid dripped down his chin.

Tears
stung Charlene’s eyes. Henry hated having food on his face. She often thought
he was obsessive with neatness. Only reason for him to ignore it, he was
scared.

The
atrocious, selfish behavior of her ex scorched her insides. He’d left them
fighting for their livelihood, ultimately their lives,
and now he thinks he can just show up?

Never
again would he hurt her family.

She
raised the bat, ready to knock Andrew across the head. Her son’s watery,
questioning gaze landed on the bat and chipped at a piece of her soul.

He’s Henry’s
father.

For
that reason alone, she lowered her arm. “Came for a little visit, did ya?” The
heat of her anger covered her face and body. The pulse in her neck ticked. Her
eye twitched. The son of a bitch dared to come into her home with the illusion
a visit was okay. She tapped the bat against her palm and waited for what lame
brain excuse he had. This time, she wouldn’t recoil or cower.

“Honey.
Is that any way to act toward the father of your son?”

Henry
squirmed and shifted closer to his grandmother, his eyes sad. Her happy little
boy, who’d made a hundred percent recovery after the abduction, looked more
scared of his father than he had that awful day. What had Andrew said before
she’d arrived? “Did you threaten him?”

“Char,
come on. I wouldn’t dare.” Andrew covered Henry’s hand with his. “We’re having
a great time, aren’t we, kiddo?”

Henry’s
gaze didn’t waver. He didn’t move.

Her
mother clasped Henry’s waist and pulled him closer.

Charlene
knew Andrew’s ploy. In one simple move, he conveyed he had controlled what
would happen to Henry if she didn’t heed. “Answer my question,” she said,
taking Andrew’s focus off her trembling son.

Andrew
stood so quickly the chair fell backwards, spilling milk over the brim of the
glass and making Doris and Henry flinch, but not her. She stepped a foot away
from the side of the table, hit the bat against her hand, and met his glare.

“You
won’t use that on me,” Andrew stormed. “If you try, I’ll beat the shit out of
you with it.” Spit sprinkled her face.

With
all the indignant, hateful acts Andrew had committed in the past, he’d never
threatened or hit her. The menacing look in his expression said this time was
different. She caught her mother’s eyes then slid her gaze to the door, trying
to tell them to leave without Andrew realizing. If Doris and Henry walked
quietly, they could get out the back door before Andrew noticed. “What do you
want?” she asked, to lure Andrew’s attention away from them.

He
stepped around the table and raised his hand as if to touch her face. She
tipped her head backwards, out of his reach. With her glare fixed on him, she
raised the bat behind her, ready to hit Andrew like a softball. He used his son
as a bargaining chip…a pawn. No dad behaves that way. He was fair game.

Doris
slipped the keys from the table, grasped Henry’s hand, and moved toward the
door. It creaked when it opened. Andrew twisted to look.

“What’s
it gonna be?” she asked before he noticed they’d left. “Want to challenge me?”

Please say yes.

Freeing
her body and mind from the pent-up anger with the bat hitting a part of
Andrew’s body would be criminal and disgusting, yet therapeutic.

He
squared his shoulders and faced her. “You were never a challenge. You came
easily when we were together.”

The
‘I’m master of the universe’ grin he plastered on his face was disgusting. He
thought she’d loved their intimate time together. In the beginning, when she
conceived Henry, she had. After that, he changed. She pretended to enjoy their
time in hopes to halt his verbal abuse.

She
laughed. “You’re so gullible. Didn’t you ever wonder how I got off so quick?
Think about it. It wasn’t because I was so enamored of you. I wanted to
eradicate your presence as quickly as I could. How better than to fake an
orgasm, so you’d follow suit and get the hell off me.” His glare turned dark.
He was close to the boiling point. She pushed a little more. “I played you.
You’re not the charismatic lover you thought.” She fought with fire and didn’t
care. Let him bring it on.

“Bullshit.
You’re not that good of an actress. You’re not good at anything.”

“By
your own admission, I am…I was.”

He
lifted his head and looked down his nose at her.

She
pushed his buttons and expected him to come after her. Instead, he regarded her
as if deciphering what she said.

“I’ll
prove how good we are together.”

No!

The
etched lines in his face turned soft, a glint of desire passing over his gaze.

One
too many times, she laid with him, not wanting to ever again. Her shaky legs
moved backwards. She hated that she showed a sign of weakness and reached
behind her to touch the counter to steady her nerves.

The
curve of his lips repulsed her.

A
step closer, and the scent of his aftershave drifted. The manly scent that once
excited her now made her nauseated. “Chicken?” he asked, his voice low and
seductive.

The
iron-clad resolve she developed after he left shot forward. Adrenaline gave her
the courage and strength she needed. “Take another step and I’ll swing.”

“Really?
Bet ya won’t.” He moved.

She
swung.

He
caught the bat. The expression on his face grew fierce. She raised her knee,
ready to knock his package into next week.

He
shifted, snatched the bat, and shoved her to the wall. Cold metal pressed
against her windpipe. She grasped the bat to push it off her throat. He held
firm.

Her
heart boomed, tripping in her chest and flooding her eardrums. The air in her
lungs swooshed. Her vision blurred.

“Stop,”
she wheezed.

“Here’s
the deal,” he hissed and eased the pressure off her neck a tad. “I want the
money from the award. You give it to me or never see Henry again.”

“Money,”
she puffed. “You threaten your son’s welfare over money?”

The
pressure returned. She sputtered.

“Don’t
be a fool, Charlene.”

The
only option she had was to agree in hopes he’d remove the weight. She nodded.

“That’s
my girl.” He backed up a step and held the bat at his side like a club. “See,
kiddo, your mother isn’t unreasonable like you thought.”

Charlene
waited for him to realize Henry and Doris had escaped.

“You
don’t want to live with a weak parent, do you? You could have a better life
with me,” Andrew said. “I would protect you. Not let someone take you from my
home.”

When
gang members had abducted her son, they’d also beaten her mother. All this
time, Charlene thought Andrew hadn’t known the kidnapping details. The monetary
award was a detail easy to find out. The case had been publicized in the local
newspapers.

Andrew
was scum. She’d never realized to what extent until this moment. His son had
been in danger, yet he hadn’t come to see him…until now, when he wanted their
money. What kind of sick person was he?

Andrew
peered over his shoulder toward the kitchen table. His jaw went slack along
with his grip on the bat.

Bingo!

She
snatched it, backed toward the counter, glimpsed at the driveway through the
window above the sink. The car was gone.

They’re safe.

“You
bitch! You’ll regret this,” Andrew snapped.

The
venomous tone, at one time, would have had her withering. But not anymore.
“Pig!”

He
charged toward her, eyes wild, nostrils flaring.

She
swung, faking high and going low. The bat connected with his stomach.

“Fuck,”
he puffed and clutched his gut. “You’ll pay.” He straightened and snatched the
butcher knife from the block on the counter.

Crap!

The
shiny blade glistened above his head.

It
was her or him. She dug deep, seizing strength from all the wrongs Andrew had
inflicted on her family, fortifying her with the power for what she needed to
do. She raised the bat behind her head and went for the homerun...for her...her
mother...and most importantly, her son. She struck his arm. Bones cracked. The
knife flew out of his hand. He stumbled backwards, holding his wrist, and fell backwards
into the wall. She raised it again, aiming for his head.

The bastard’s
Henry’s father,
her
conscience screamed
.

At
the last second, she pulled back and clobbered him square in the ribs.

Yelping,
he collapsed on the floor. “You bitch!”

She
lowered her hand, clasping the handle, ready to swing. “Not another word. Get
the hell out of my house!”

“I’ll
be back!”

She
raised the bat. “You asked for it.”

“No!”
He held up his good hand and sidestepped.

Jerking
back, she readied for him to come after her.

He
didn’t. He hobbled toward the foyer. A second later, the door slammed against
the jamb.

Charlene
slumped against the counter and sucked in deliberate breaths, slowing her
pulse. Her world spun and exhaustion plagued her muscles.

A
loud crash sounded. She gripped the edge of the counter and rose to peek out
the window. Andrew swung a bat at the hood of Jake’s car and left a dent in the
fender.

“No…no…no,”
she chanted, racing out the door.

Andrew
jumped into his car in the neighbor’s driveway and left, tires squealing. She
looked at Jake’s prize Chevelle, his baby, and wanted to throw up. The hood and
fender, dented. The windshield and grill was cracked. The rearview mirrors hung
by wires. She didn’t know much about cars, let alone the year of this one, but
knew it was a classic. Finding parts to repair the antique car would be a
hardship. Seeing the damage would tear Jake up. Hollowness invaded her. Once
again, she brought grief to the BOFs.

Sirens
sounded in the distance. A moment later, blue lights streamed across the
landscape. Her mom had called the police––not the local police, the
FBI––namely, Larry.

He
hopped out, didn’t pay much attention to the damaged car, and rushed toward
her. His hands roamed over her head and shoulders. “Are you hurt?”

Physically
she wasn’t, but inside she was as beaten as the car. “No.”

“Ah,
babe.” He exhaled, slid his arms around her, and held her like a precious gem.
She relaxed into him, absorbed his comfort and warmth, and fisted his shirt.
The edginess she possessed in Andrew’s presence diminished. Tears stung her
eyes.

“You’re
safe,” he whispered with the same tenderness in his voice she’d heard when he
helped her and Henry after the kidnapping. For a brief moment, Charlene
wondered if he used the same voice whenever he consoled victims, but then, he
tightened his embrace. His breath releasing on a ragged sound showed he cared…for
her.

She
flattened her palm against his hard chest, wished she could touch his skin, and
settled for searching his eyes. The sweet man gazed back. Unlike earlier, he
didn’t shield his emotions. They were written all over his face. So much so,
she pressed her lips to his and kissed him. Their mouths mated, revealing what
they wanted to do in a more intimate setting. The tug in her groin scooted her
hips into his. She wanted to climb his body, feel him filling her.