Charity's Secrets (29 page)

As he
was about to give up, a car drove up the crossroad following in their
direction. Maybe it's nothing, but Justin isn't taking chances, not with
Charity's safety. He turns his key and carefully follows behind. Some of the
roads are still empty this early in the morning, so he drops back as far as he can,
using the GPS to track, instead of his eyes. It makes his nerves hum and his
knuckles turn white from his angry grip on the steering wheel, but it's the
only way to do it.

He
closes in and finds Melissa's car empty on the street with no idea which
storefront they've gone into. The other car, a silver Honda Legacy with rental
tags, is parked here as well.

And
it's empty!

It
laughs at him the moment he sees it, taunting him for being too late, for being
useless. Justin's chest bounces from the pressure of his beating heart. There's
almost nothing for him to do, no way to know where they are, if her stalker is
hurting her or waiting for Justin to show up.

He
takes a deep breath to stop the panic. If he's going to help them, his head has
to be clear. Suddenly he's sure they are fine, that this one stalker would not
have been able to handle the two women alone, and definitely not in town. He's
doing what he does—he's stalking. Every time Melissa has seen this man, he's
been watching them from a distance, usually outside wherever they are.

There's
no one outside at the moment; the street has a quiet hush about it, like a
one-street town in an old western before the gunfight breaks out.

There's
a bagel shop near Melissa's car and it's suddenly obvious where the girls are.
He's not as late as he had feared. Directly across from the bagel shop there is
a Laundromat with an all glass front, and that's where Justin would watch from
if it were him.

He gets
out of his car, stretching his stiff and frozen legs, and hikes his collar up
around his neck and face as high as it will go. It's more to hide himself than
to keep warm. If he's going in, he'll have to pass in front of several windows
before reaching the door. Fast and sure, that's the only plan. Hopefully it's
done before the girls come back out.

Fuck
it!

He's
off and moving.

In the
very first window, Justin sees the stalker's face. He's leaning against the
glass with both hands, not even hiding himself.

A
damn moron!

That
only makes him angrier.

Justin
keeps moving, hoping to reach the door before the stalker bothers to notice
him. His blood is pumping now, fueled by the certainty that this guy is after
Charity.

That
fucker! That dirty fucker! She's mine!

Justin
is seething by the time the door handle presses into his fleshy palm. The door
swings open easily.

Only
now does the stalker pay any attention to him, startled by his forceful charge into
the laundry. There's no one else in here this early, and that's just better
than perfect.

Justin's
gun is out before the door shuts behind him. It's aimed at the stalkers
forehead, which has turned into a patch of dense wrinkles as his eyes widen in
absolute terror. He stumbles backward against the wall at the edge of the last
window.

"Why
are you watching her? Who the fuck sent you?" Justin demands, still
marching forward. His voice explodes in the bare space.

"Who
the hell are you?" the stalker squeals as he reacts.

His
saucer-sized eyes are transfixed on the gun. He doesn't see the shift in
Justin's body; the twist in his weight, the powerful effort, and the huge, rock
hard fist flying at his chin.

There
are two intense
thuds
, the first was surely a bullet exploding through
his face. The second is his head breaking through the plaster wall behind him.
His head is filled with searing, white noise that instantly controls all sight
and sound.

The
laundry melts into the whiteness.

Justin
grabs him by the collar as his limp body drops to his knees. He pushes him back
against the wall and tries to shake him conscious.

They're
not done—not hardly!

Justin
sees the life seeping back into his loose eyes, and he presses his gun deep
into the flesh under his chin, right where he'd punched him and the pain helps
wake him up.

Charity's
stalker slowly realizes he's not dead, not yet, and that might not be a good
thing. The room is still churning in dizzy swirls that make him want to throw
up, and this guy that has him looks crazy enough to make him choke to death on
his vomit.

Justin
draws his face close until their breath is mixing between them. He pushes the
barrel of the gun deeper, crushing in his flesh. "I'm not going to play
with you. She's mine, so tell me who the hell sent you!" His voice is an
evil hiss.

Justin's
finger begins to squeeze on the trigger. He can feel it moving.

"No
one sent me," the stalker slurs. "Who are you?"

This
fucking idiot thinks he can lie his way out of this!

Justin's
trigger finger pulls tighter, reveling in the easy slide of metal underneath
it. He didn't have the patience for games.

"I
warned you, asshole!"

There
is a scream outside the window, high pitched and familiar.

"Justin—don't!"

It's
Charity. Behind her Melissa has both hands on the sides of her face in utter
fear.

His
finger tightens.

"Jesus
Christ, Justin! Don't kill him—
HE'S YOUR BROTHER!
"

"
I
don't know who the hell you are, but
I don't have a brother!" Garrett growls while rubbing his bruised jaw and
switching his untrusting stare between the three of us.

I'm the
only one that looks somewhat comfortable because I'm the only one that has a
clue what is happening.

We had
moved to the back of the laundromat, away from the windows as it suddenly
begins to snow outside. Confused, Justin refuses to put his gun away until he
has some clarity. Garrett's denial is not helping himself, but it's not his
fault.

"Neither
do I—that I know of," Justin replies. His eyes look to me for truth and I
begin to cry. I still have his trust, even after what I've done.

"It's
true," I whisper. "He's part of this, of what she told me."

Justin
lowers his gun, but he doesn't put it away. "Why where you following
her?" he demands.

Garrett's
head must still be ringing. He holds the back of his head while he works his
jaw. "I just wanted to know who the hell she is and what the hell is going
on with my mother. I wanted no know if she knows who my father is,"
Garrett answers.

"Who
is your mother?" Justin demands.

Garrett
meets his gaze, "Nicolette Sumpter."

Justin
looks like Garrett has punched him in the chest. He leans back against a dryer
for support, his eyes pleading with me for some normalcy, something familiar.

I step
over to him carefully and put my hand on his chest. My joy at being able to
touch him once again is overwhelming. "Put the gun away, babe. He's not
going to hurt any of us."

Justin
does exactly as I ask and puts his gun away. We all see Garrett relax, even
Melissa as she stands guard close to the front door.

"She
never told him the truth either, Justin. She never told anyone what
happened." I lean in close to him, pressing my body against him
desperately, and embrace him lightly. I feel his hands finally come around me.
"He doesn't know a thing either."

"Does
anyone wanna give me a clue? What the fuck is going on?" Garrett shouts.

"He
is
your older half-brother," I tell him, letting go of Justin.
"Your mother and his father were married before you were born. She left
when he was young, and I went looking to find out why."

Garrett
is shocked. "That's why I was following you," he says softly, slowly
accepting what I've told him. "I've been looking for the truth for a long
time. She would never tell me who my father was. When I was young, it didn't
matter. I had her and that was all I needed. But as I got older, I wanted to
know." He drops his head and shoulders in mental exhaustion. "There
was never a man around when I grew up, and she kept her secrets locked up. I
wanted to know who there was before me, who she had loved. There was something,
someone. I always suspected it. She carried it in her eyes."

I nod
that we understand.

He
continues, "When she wouldn't talk to me, I took it upon myself to find
out. I began watching everything, her finances, phone calls, everything. It
didn't get me a thing—until you began poking around into her life."

That
was my mistake. I was hiding my tracks from Justin only, so afraid of him
finding out that I didn't protect myself the way I should have from anyone
else.

"She
had her reasons, believe me. She had reasons for everything she did to both of
you," I say sadly, recalling their mother crying as she clutched a picture
of Garrett. "And she's ready to tell you both the truth." As I
remember what happened, what she confessed to me, I begin to sob. My chest
hitches, making it hard to talk. "You b-both need to prepare yourselves
for this—it's n-not good."

"What
happened?" Justin asks, an icy fear settling into his tone. Garrett waits
for my answer with desperate eyes. They will not like my answer.

"I
know h-how badly you both want to know the secrets of your own past, and with
the answer so close in front of you this is t-torture, but I won't be the one
to tell you what happened." I see the fiery anger in both of them. How
much they are actually alike is just starting to hit me.

"Are
you fucking kidding me?" Garrett shouts.

Justin
stands defensively toward him. Angry or not, he won't let anyone talk to me
like that. "She has her reasons," he says in his JP voice, making
Garrett instantly submit and it calms me as well.

"This
is her story to tell, not mine," I say as compassionately as I am capable
of. "You have spent your life hating her," I say to Justin. I look at
Garrett. "You spent yours loving her. You're both about to have your lives
changed forever by this remarkable woman and
her
truth."

My
tears grow heavier.

"I
would not be able to get through telling you, and you both have to hear this
from her, see her as she tells it. You're going to hurt. You're going to have
questions. I can't do any of that for you."

My sobs
increase again to the point where I can no longer talk, and Justin throws his
arms around me. He tries to hide it, but I see the tears in his eyes.
"We've managed to survive this long; another day or so of waiting won't
kill us," he says, supporting me.

Garrett
agrees. This is already more than he'd ever hoped to find out about his mother
and his family. Maybe taking a little breath right now isn't such a bad idea,
especially since he just came a millimeter or two away from having his head
blown off by his own brother.

"I'm
going to call her, let her know what's coming," I tell them.

"Let
me know what time she'll be ready, and I'll have Shain fly us down,"
Justin offers.

Melissa
sees the odd look cross Garrett's face from across the room, and she
understands it easily. She's use to looking at things from the same outside
point of view. "Yes, he has his own plane." She looks at me. "You’re
going to have to explain some things to him, Charity. He has no clue what he
just stepped into. I don't think I know everything either," she says.

WHEN EVERYONE LEFT THE
laundromat, I went with Justin, sending Melissa back to
my parents with the bagels we got for everyone and word about Justin. I think
we're okay, but, for the sake of my heart, I have to be sure.

Right
now, neither of us is speaking. The only sound are the tires crunching the thin
layer of icy snow that's been falling, and Lady GaGa belting about a "Bad
Romance" and I'm hoping that's not a sign.

I don't
even know if he knows where he's driving to. He hasn't asked for directions,
and we're heading out toward the farms and the high school.

He
knows I'm staring at him, afraid to speak, but he's not helping me, not letting
me off the hook. I feel so fucking awkward, and I hate it!

Just
talk to me!

This disconnect
between us is getting wider with each mile. I can't be near him if we're not
together—it's much too hard.

My
pulse races. My heart is feeling as empty as the road we are on.

It's
torture!