Author's Note:
Ever sit down to write, get a thousand words into a story, realize that you have gone off on a tangent and that the middle of your story should actually be the beginning of your story and that part you thought was the beginning might actually be the end (or possibly a different story altogether)? That's what happened here. I think there will be 2 more chapters to this. Maybe 3. Possibly even 4. It just keeps growing. I didn't actually mean to write a rescue!Monroe story. Charlie and Monroe and Duncan are probably OOC. Duncan just kind of took on a personality of her own; I don't know what happened (she decided she liked Charlie because she thought she had guts for pointing a gun in her face, I guess). This will wind up being Charloe 'shippy. So, now you know if this sucks for whatever reason, you were fairly warned.
Rated M. There's bad language. References to sex. I don't think it will wind up being explicit. If it is, I'll move it to AO3.
Sorry about the talkiness. There will be more action in chapter 2. Or maybe 3. They're still in the planning stage in chapter 2. Most of this is already written, I'm just working on polishing it now.
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership over these characters (except the one I made up). I'm just bending them to my will. I'll return them in good condition. Please don't sue.
Charlie had begun to worry when Monroe and Connor hadn't shown up an hour after she'd made it to their rendezvous point. Monroe had taken the precaution of telling her if he and Connor didn't make it back by dawn to take the wagon back to Willoughby.
Charlie, of course, thought that was a stupid idea. When the horizon began to shift from black to dark gray, she began to hike back to town, staying hidden as best as she could. Fortunately, Duncan's trailer was near the outskirts of the tent settlement. There was only one guard on the door, whom Charlie quickly dispatched with a sharp blow to the head from the butt of her pistol. The door wasn't locked, so she let herself in. That there were moans coming from the direction of the bedroom did not deter her in the least, though she swore if she caught Monroe in there, she would kill him. For making her worry. And that's all.
The man Duncan was fucking was neither Monroe nor Connor, to Charlie's relief. Unfortunately, the amorous couple had not noticed her presence and Duncan continued riding her lover, to Charlie's embarrassment. She turned her back and leaned against the open door frame, clearing her throat loudly as she rapped loudly on the wall.
"Give us a few minutes, kid, unless you want to join us?" Duncan said, turning back toward Charlie with a flirtatious smirk as Charlie glanced her way. Charlie snapped her head back to the front.
"No thanks, I'm just looking for Monroe," she said, exasperated. She wasn't sure if Duncan was serious or not. She kind of hoped not.
The moans behind her grew louder. Charlie suspected it was because they got off on the thought of her either watching or listening, so she walked back to the tiny kitchen to wait, thankful when the moans trailed off a few minutes later. Not long after, Duncan came wandering through, tying a knot in a black silk robe that barely covered her thighs. She reached into one of the cabinets for a tumbler and pulled a bottle of liquor from another.
"I'm impressed, kid. I kinda figured you were long gone by now, after what happened," Duncan drawled as she poured the amber liquid into the glass. Instead of downing the drink herself, she offered it to Charlie. Charlie ignored it.
"Where's Monroe?" she demanded in her best no-nonsense voice.
"You mean you don't know?" Duncan asked, sounding surprised, and took a swallow from the glass. Charlie just shook her head.
"No. He and Connor never showed up last night after the fight. Have you seen them?" Charlie asked, hoping her worry didn't show. Duncan shot her a mirthless smile.
"Honey, I hate to tell you this, but Gould caught them trying to leave town with his diamonds. He hauled them to his lockup, next to the casino."
"Great. Thanks," Charlie retorted as she went for the door. "I'll just be on my way."
Duncan stepped in front of her.
"Hold up, kid. You can't go there. Gould and his boys know you were involved. They catch you nosing around, and they'll just lock you up, too. And believe me, you do not want that to happen. Pretty little thing like you, Gould is likely to auction you off to the highest bidder."
Charlie blanched, reminded of the men who had intended to gang-rape her. Monroe had saved her life that night, and several times, since. She didn't really feel she owed him, not after everything else he'd done. But she…they…needed him.
"How long will he keep them locked up?" Charlie asked, wondering if she had time to go for help.
"Just til tonight," Duncan said casually, and for a moment Charlie was relieved, but she knew it couldn't be that easy. Monroe said himself if it weren't for bad luck, he wouldn't have any luck at all.
"What happens tonight?" she asked, dreading the answer.
"Tonight the notorious General Sebastian Monroe is appearing in a cage match," Duncan said. "Gould is charging an gram of diamonds to watch. Two grams is the minimum wager. The fight is to the death."
Charlie's heart thudded painfully in her chest, while her stomach clenched into a tight knot.. She already knew the answer to her next question, but she had to ask it anyway.
"Who is he fighting?" she said in a small voice.
"Who else? His son."
Charlie's knees failed her and she sank down to sit on one of the shabby chairs at Duncan's tiny kitchen table. When she felt Duncan pushing her head down toward her knees, she realized she had started to see dark spots in front of her eyes. She inhaled deeply several times while Duncan busied herself hunting for another tumbler in the kitchen, into which she poured a finger of the amber colored liquor. She then poured three more fingers into her own glass and took the seat across from Charlie. Once Charlie sat up, Duncan pushed the glass toward her.
"Drink it, kid. It helps."
Charlie obeyed without question, tossing the drink back in one swallow. When she made a face afterwards, Duncan laughed.
"Better?" she asked. Charlie nodded.
"How did you know Connor is his son?" she asked hoarsely.
Instead of answering right away, Duncan took the time to finish her drink, gazing at Charlie through narrowed eyes as if measuring her somehow.
"You know, he told me about you, when he was here before," she said finally.
Charlie raised an eyebrow in disbelief. She couldn't imagine Sebastian Monroe discussing her with anyone, and the thought that he had done so, with this woman, pissed her off. Duncan was watching the play of emotions on her face with satisfaction. When Charlie did not reply, she continued.
"He talks when he gets drunk enough. Especially in his sleep. He'll even answer questions."
Charlie took a moment to absorb this information. On the one hand, it might be useful someday. On the other…Monroe had talked about her. In his sleep. She didn't want to contemplate why, or what he might have said. She also did not want to think about Monroe sleeping with Duncan. Her hands ached, and she realized she was gripping the edge of the table so hard that her knuckles had turned white.
"He didn't know Connor when he was here before," she said finally.
"No," Duncan agreed, "but he did tell me he had a son out there somewhere. It would take a fool not to see that boy is the spitting image of him. And honey, make no mistake, I am no fool."
Of that, Charlie was certain.
"Monroe let Connor whip him in front of a crowd in Mexico," she said quietly. "There's no way he'll fight him."
"If he doesn't, Gould has promised he'll hang them both instead," Duncan replied. There was a forlorn note to her voice, and Charlie realized that the other woman cared about Sebastian Monroe, and that she had reached the same conclusion Charlie had.
"Then Monroe will just let Connor kill him." Charlie's voice had dropped to just above a whisper.
Duncan nodded silently, then offered the liquor bottle to Charlie, but Charlie shook her head. She could already feel a warming sensation spreading throughout her body to her fingers and toes, and Duncan was right. It helped. She no longer felt a paralyzing fear at the thought that Sebastian Monroe intended to let his son kill him.
Now, she was just angry.
"Will you help me?" Charlie asked.
Rather than answering, Duncan studied Charlie carefully for a long moment. Charlie held her gaze, but instead of the challenge they had held the night before, the other woman's eyes held wisdom and something else that Charlie was afraid might be pity. At last, Duncan nodded.
"I'll help. But first, you need to get some sleep, kid."
Duncan walked back to the bedroom and spoke quietly to her bedmate. A few minutes later a young man clad only in jeans that weren't zipped strolled half-asleep through the living room, smiled drowsily at Charlie, and let himself out the front door. Duncan appeared a few minutes later, dressed in the same leathers she'd been wearing the night before. She sat down on the sofa to lace her boots.
"This old thing is a lot more comfortable than it looks," she said, patting one of the cushions. "Make yourself at home. I'll be back in a couple of hours."
"Where are you going?" Charlie asked nervously.
"I have a favor to call in and some other arrangements to make."
Panicked, Charlie glanced at the door, ready to bolt. Duncan seemed to mean well, but she didn't trust just anybody anymore. She wouldn't put it past the woman to rat her out to Gould. Duncan shook her head.
"Charlie, he'll never tell you this, but Bass needs you. Get some sleep, or you're no good to me. We'll talk later." She disappeared through the door and locked it behind her.
Dazed from lack of sleep and overwhelmed with the events of the past twenty-four hours, not to mention Duncan's parting comment, Charlie stumbled over to the couch and promptly collapsed into an exhausted sleep plagued with dreams of death.
