Page 6 of Stolen Salvation

Her gaze stuttered as it swept over the man she’d come to find. His hair was lighter than she remembered it, probably from the time he’d spent in the Australian sunshine with his friend. The usual dark blond was ashier in colour now, but still spiked and messy in a way that made her think of running her fingers through it as he pounded into her body.

He was tall, around six feet even, his lean strength quiet and subtle, like a panther coiled and ready for a fight, but not actively looking for trouble. A smile tipped her lips as she thought of all the people who’d underestimated him because of his friendly demeanour, and the hours she’d spent running her hands over that muscular frame, her fingers and mouth not able to get enough of his sinfully sexy body. A painful vision of him letting another woman touch him filled her and she swallowed the nausea that thought evoked. She deserved it for letting him go, for walking away when she should’ve held tight.

A new scar on his cheekbone made her belly ache, pain heavy in her chest with regret as he smiled at the friend who sat next to him. His brown eyes lit up at whatever had been said between them.

Charlie took a seat at the bar and ordered a drink from the bartender who watched her warily. He was former SAS, and she knew he knew about Shadow, the team Noah now worked for. Sipping her sparkling water, she saw the second Noah sensed her eyes on him. His watchful gaze swept across the room and landed on her with dislike that quickly turned to open hostility on his face.

She’d known when she’d done what she had two years ago that he’d never forgive her. Having no choice was a weak excuse in his eyes. Seeing the hatred he felt towards her and hearing the way he called her she-devil hurt more than it should. Looking back on the night she’d thrown her life away, Charlie always wished she could go back and make different choices.

Noah had every right to hate her, and she had no right to do what she was about to do, and that was to ask for his help.

She kept eye contact as he drained his beer and spoke to his male friend, one she hadn’t met at the scene of Princess Lucía’s home a few months ago. Perhaps he was the tech genius they all spoke of as if he was a genuine god.

His controlled gaze pinned her to her seat and even as Charlie felt the negativity radiating from him, she couldn’t stop the rush of love she still felt for him. He came to stand beside her, his familiar aftershave making her tummy drop like lead as memories washed over her. It was a scent she’d picked out for him, one that turned her body to molten lava.

Closing her eyes, she chased the past away and concentrated on the man in front of her.

Noah had trained his whole career to blend in and be the grey man, to her though, he stood out, catching her attention with his sexy smirk and the way he had of speaking to someone as if nobody else existed in that moment. Focused and intent, as if what a person said mattered more than anything in the world to him.

“What do you want, Charlie?”

No hello or common courtesy. He didn’t want her there and he was making that abundantly clear. His accent had less of the northern roundness to it, and she missed it. So many people underestimated him because of that friendly tone, and many had lived to regret it. The others had died.

“What, no friendly ‘how are you, what you been up to’?” She couldn’t help herself, the hurt piercing her from his curt greeting.

He leaned an arm on the bar and cocked his head toward her. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, right?”

Charlie bristled, her usual careful friendly demeanour bruised, and she had nobody to blame but herself. “I know it didn’t work out with us, Noah, but there’s no need to be rude.”

His eyebrows rose. “Didn’t work out? You fucking shot me and left me for dead. That’s hardly an amicable breakup.”

Charlie dropped her head, shame washing over her and yet she’d done what she had to save him. She’d never tell him that because he’d never believe her. Glancing up, she saw his friend openly staring now, Noah’s dislike reflected on his face too. They all hated her but she had to push through and do what she’d come to do. “I know and I’m sorry, I truly am.”

Noah held up his hand, his handsome face so familiar and yet he wasn’t the man she’d fallen in love with. She’d changed him, taken away the crinkle in the corners of his eyes when he looked at her as if he was constantly on the cusp of smiling when she was around. Now a frown shared space with distrust.

“Save it. I don’t want to hear it. Just tell me what you want. Because we both know this isn’t a social call.”

If only he knew how many times she’d wanted to reach out to him for that very reason, to just talk to him, to ask him how he was and beg him to forgive her. It was a cliché, but Noah had been her best friend as well as her husband. When they’d split it hadn’t just been the sex she missed but also her best friend.

Charlie shook her head. “No, it isn’t. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

Noah sighed as if bored with this already and she fought the urge to turn tail and run from the anguish flooding her.

“In here.”

Noah motioned toward a back room, his head lifting toward the bar manager who acknowledged the silent request with a nod. Her arm brushed his chest in the tight space and sparks of desire shot through her blood. In the small space, his scent felt heady, like a drug and her mind went to all the times she’d found that scent on their sheets and heat bloomed inside her. She would never admit it, but she had a bottle of his cologne and would spritz her pillow with it when she was feeling exceptionally lonely.

Noah stepped back as if burned, quickly putting distance between them like she was a leper and he might catch something. Charlie ducked her head so he wouldn’t see the hurt on her face at his action. The small back room held an old wooden desk with chips along the edge, a metal filing cabinet, and a kitchen chair being used as a desk chair. The magnolia walls were yellowed from years of use. It was serviceable and private, just what she’d asked for. Steeling her spine she thought of what she had to do and why she’d come. This wasn’t about her; this was about Andrea.

“Out with it.”

His impatience and obvious dislike made her temper snap. “Bloody hell, Noah, when did you get so impatient?”

“When my wife shot me.”

His glare made something break inside her and she moved to push past him. “Forget it.”

His hand on her biceps stilled her as he dropped his head. “Charlie, wait.”