Sensing her need for him was more than physical, Matthew gave her what she wanted, took his time as he made slow love to his golden girl. He pressed kisses to her healing neck, stroked and petted, cautious of her damaged arm. When he slipped into the tight, perfect heat of her, he was unhurried and just as pleased as she was to be joined after so long.
Riding the crest of her pleasure, she held him close. Matthew’s hands clutched her body and threaded into golden hair, grasping to the one thing that had been right so far in his life. Lips at her ear he grunted what he should have said in the office the morning before. “I love you, golden girl.”
Charlie drove like a mad woman. They had argued when she demanded to take the wheel, swore like the devil, and threatened that if he didn’t hand over the keys and let her do what she needed to do, she’d leave him behind. “I ain’t letting you drive until I am certain no one is following us. And you have no idea where the hell we are going, so shut up and get in the goddamn car.”
Screaming at him could not be good for her throat.
Eyes full of fire, Matthew climbed onto the passenger seat and watched her start the ignition. That was five hours prior, and the way she’d been driving, Matthew had no fucking clue where they were.
Pulling off the side of the road, Charlie cut the engine. Wordlessly, she climbed into the back and began to take off her dress. When she pulled off her brassiere and began wrapping tight panels of cloth around her chest, Matthew glared… but said nothing.
Once her bosom was bound down flat, men’s clothing followed. Matthew watched, starting to understand Beaumont’s words from their little sit-down weeks ago—grasping what compelled her to be so cautions and look so dangerous.
He wished he’d been the one to kill Ronnie… that he’d walked right up to him when the monster sat in his roadhouse and broken his neck.
The broad cut shoulder of her jacket hid thin arms, Charlie gooping men’s pomade through her hair, combing it back until it was pin straight and darkened almost brown by the product. With an old hat shading her eyes, her head and posture shifted to masculine. Charlie finally looked at him; she was not smiling, but she winked. In less than five minutes, Charlotte had become a carbon copy of the man he’d seen pushing a blue Ford on his roads last winter.
The engine revved, and they made their way to a backwater train station in a town Matthew had never heard of. Tickets were purchased, the pair of them crawling across the map in a zigzag until their final train stopped in Massachusetts. They took their luggage, Charlie demanding to carry her own, and ambled into the city of Belmont. A short walk into the quaint suburb led to Belmont Garage and the cramped apartment above it.
“Uhh.” She looked around the shoddy room and sucked her lip. “Not really much here, but feel free to rest and wash up if you like.” She started poking through the cupboard. “I take all my meals at the diner when in town, but there might be some cans of something if you’re hungry.”
In Matthew’s view, the room was appalling and not good enough for her. “You rent this place?”
“Not exactly,” she muttered. “I own Belmont Garage. Well, ever since I got Mama into the asylum here, I bought up several buildings in town. All the rent money goes into a trust that pays for her room and board.” Charlie cleared her throat and looked him dead in the eye, “And make sure you call me Charles Pearson. That was my brother’s name and the identity I assumed after he died.”
Matthew stepped forward and took that damn hat off her head. “Pearson your real name?”
“No.” She swallowed and gave a bitter curtsy. “Ronnie only claimed the boy. I’m Charlotte Elliot, bastard daughter of a whore and a psychopath. Nice to meet you.”
Matthew took her by the shoulder and scolded, “Ain’t no shame in who your parents were.”
Her face distorted; she didn’t believe him. “You can’t possibly mean that, Matthew.”
He gave her his customary grunt, nodding, so close the brim of his hat brushed her forehead. “Course I do.”
“Not many would agree.” Charlie couldn’t take another second of those pale eyes, shifting her gaze to the corner. “I should go see her now. Feel free to get comfortable while I’m gone.”
“I’m coming to meet your mother.” Matthew tapped her hat back on her head and just like that, walked towards the door, scowling all the way.
The nurse beside him was a friendly, stout woman with a soft face. Together they watched, listening closely as Charles Pearson visited with a woman who looked so ragged and aged it was almost impossible to imagine her as Charlotte’s mother.
“Seems Miss Evangeline is having a real fine day today.” The nurse smiled, nodding at the picture before her.
Matthew had no idea what a fine day or a bad day could mean. All Matthew knew was what he saw once he got his first glimpse of the woman, sitting and staring off into space. He could hardly believe the damage to her face. There were so many scars, the worst a slash from the top of her forehead, over where she once had an eye, down her cheek and lips, to end past her chin. That was only the beginning of the mutilation.
Charlie pulled out a comb and began to talk, brushing the scant white hair left clinging to her mother’s skull, making her pretty before she took a seat to hold her hand.
“You are looking real nice today, Mama. Brought you a present.” Charlie reached down for the box she had stopped for in
town and began to open in. “It’s a new shawl, the color is the height of fashion. And look here,” Charlie held up a magazine with a smile, “a brand new copy of the latest New Yorker. It’s full of fine photos and I can read it to you while I am here. Nurse Gertrude can read some more to you later, should that fit your fancy.”
And that’s what she did for an hour. Charlie read the whole damn magazine aloud, cover to cover while showing the pictures to the half-blind woman until, at last, a rheumy blue eye twitched and focused on the glossy paper.
“Hello there, Mama.”
“Charles,” the woman’s voice was sandpaper, ruined lips lisping the name. “Who’s that man with his hat off over yonder?”
Amazed her mother had even noticed Matthew, Charlie looked over her shoulder and stammered, “That’s…” The nurse at his side pushed him forward, Matthew coming to stand by Charlie, his hat at his heart.