Chapter 52

I heard the pounding in my sleep, and for a moment I squinted at the wall, my view obstructed by my comforter. But then it came again, and I sat up. My phone pinged at almost the exact same time.

It was Charles.

I'm outside your door.

"What?" I said to the phone, now fully awake. I'd had five missed texts and two missed calls from him.

I'm coming! I texted and there were no more knocks as I floundered out of bed, stepping into my slippers and pulling on my robe, the deciding it was too frumpy and pulling on a cardigan over my camisole.

I scowled at my reflection, hastily brushing down my hair and scraping away some crust around my inner eye.

Deep breath.

I opened the door. Charles looked up from his phone, looking grave. My stomach dropped.

"What's wrong?"

I stood aside for him to come in, his scent mixed with stress pheromones. Something was amiss.

He didn't stop walking until he got across my small living room. He looked out the sliding glass door onto the small porch, then came back, as if he wanted to pace and my apartment wasn't nearly big enough.

"Charles?"

He stopped and wiped a hand over his face.

"Nicolas Middleman's dead."

"What?" I reached a hand out and grasped the edge of the counter. Despite knowing exactly what he said, it wasn't penetrating my brain.

"The political reporter? He'd dead?"

"Yes."

Charles was looking at me, concern in his eyes. He pulled out a stool and gestured for me to sit.

"I'm okay," I said.

But it's wasn't true. Something was happening to my legs. I accepted to stool and sat. "How?"

Charles looked around my apartment sharply, as if trying to spot the someone.

"Hey," I said, reaching a hand out to him. He focused on it and appeared to come back from wherever he was.

"Sorry, Elena. I was just thinking. Everything is okay with you, really?"

"Yes," I said, getting more worried. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"No," he said quickly and came closer. He suddenly slumped against the counter, sighing. "My mind is just leaping ahead to the next thing I need to do. This is not good."

I nodded my head. "What happened? Was it an accident?"

Charles looked at me, his face grave. "Remember how I said he hadn't turned up for work?"

"Yes."

"His buddy went around to check, but he didn't answer the door. They could hear his phone ringing inside so they called the police."

I grimaced. "Dead?"

Charles nodded. "At least a day, maybe more."

I looked at him, wanting to know, but at the same time not wanting to know. "Was he... was it... natural causes?"

"Preliminary findings? They're saying heart attack."

"You don't buy it?"

"Not for a moment. Remember the photo I showed you?"

I squinted, remembering back. He had been moderately young. He had appeared fit. "Did he have a weak heart? He looked pretty healthy."

"He was," Charles said. "I would see him at the office gym all the time. He was training for a marathon."

I nodded at Charles. "How will we know?"

"The pathologist said it will be a few days. They aren't rushing the tests, and depending on what his family wants, we may never know."

I winced. His family.

"Was he married then? Kids?"

"Thankfully, no. I meant his parents and ex-wife."

"Still, that's pretty awful."

"Yes."

His fingers drummed on my counter. We stood in silence for a moment, him glowering at me, me looking at him and feeling the worry on my face.

"It seems like coffee is the last thing you need," I said, glancing at his fiddling fingers. "But I think I'm going to make some if you'd like a cup?"

He nodded and sighed. "Actually, that'd be great. I think it may help me to have something warm to sip on for a moment."

I moved to go around him to get to the coffee maker, and as I passed him he grabbed my arm, spinning me around. I was suddenly enveloped in a fierce, firm hug. It was so strong that it actually hurt.

I exhaled sharply as he squeezed. "Charles, ouch!" I said, struggling a little.

"I'm sorry." He let me go suddenly and I stumbled backwards.

"Wait," I said, stepping back toward him. That wasn't what I'd wanted either.

I reached out shy hands and put one on either side of his torso. His skin was warm and his body hard. It made me shiver with need despite the grim morning. It made me bold.

I stepped closer, letting my hands slide around his back. He leaned back to look at me, his eyes looking at me like he was in pain.

"There's something you aren't telling me," I said, my throat tightening in fear. "What is it? I can see it in your eyes?"

He smiled slightly. "I'm sorry. I'm scaring you. I promise it's nothing."

"Then why are you so jumpy?"

"I got the call about an hour ago," he said, sitting down on another of my stools so that his face was closer to my level, dislodging my hands. He took both of them in one of his and pulled me closer.

"No one, not his neighbors, his friends, no one thinks a heart attack is possible. So we're looking into other scenarios and because I'm me, my mind goes to all possibilities."

I nodded trying to be patient, trying to allow him to talk it out.

"And I thought how he'd been covering the city, just like you. Only he'd been doing it for a while. What if he also found things out? Found out things you're just getting into?"

My eyes widened. "You think he was killed to stop him from exposing something?"

Charles nodded. "I have no grounds for that idea, but it's a possibility. And because that's a possibility..."

He looked away, taking a deep breath. "... I was worried that you were next on the hit list."

We stood in silence for a moment, him holding my hands, looking down at them, his thick lashes against his cheek.

"The entire time I was heading over I told myself that you weren't answering only because you were asleep, that that was the only reason. And after I knocked and there was nothing I started to get, well, agitated."

"Oh," I said, my throat constricting dangerously.

He had been worried about me. He had cared.

"It was all I could do to not break down the door, and yet I thought that if I did and found you...."

"Charles," I said, stepping closer, raising my hands. He didn't let go, so I pulled his hands to my lips, pressing them against his warm, strong fingers.

Now I understood why he'd been so agitated when he'd first walked in. He had been worked up, not knowing what he would find. To find nothing must have been just as difficult to recover from when he'd been primed for a crises.

He looked up at me and smiled a crooked, cheeky smile. "Turns out you just sleep like a goddam rock."

I laughed, but my feelings emboldened me and I stepped into him, putting my arms around him. He buried his nose in my hair and my neck and took a deep breath.

I felt his body relax under my arms.

"I don't know what to do with you, Elena," he said, looking back up at me. My hair stuck to his stubble and I grinned, pulling it off his jawline. "You're going to make me crazy, you know that?"

"I'm sorry." I smiled, wrapping my arms around him tighter. I thought I should change the subject before he started making me wear a tracking device.

"What do we do about Mr. Middleman?"