Chapter 9

Charlie appeared over Don's shoulder, breathless. "Am I late?"

Don looked up, took another drink. "No. Sit down, The tournament doesn't start for twenty minutes, and I already lost all I'm going to in the slot machines. Decided to grab the table when I saw it open up."

Charlie pulled out the other chair, sat. He looked at the mug Don replaced on the table. "Is that coffee?

"Yeah…why?"

"What's in it?"

Don looked at his brother quizzically. "Nothing. You know I take my coffee black."

Charlie looked at the clock over the bar. "It's almost 3 in the afternoon. You're on a cruise. I just didn't expect to find you sitting in a bar…drinking coffee."

Don had developed a headache right after his conversation with Agent Wilkinson, and his voice showed a certain annoyance. "I'm about to play some serious poker, Charlie. I need to keep my wits about me." Don took another sip, replaced the mug. "And I didn't expect you to really use any of those red dots, either."

Charlie looked at him. "What's wrong?"

Damn. He was not going to enjoy this. He had promised to help Charlie, and now he knew that the poor guy was about to get hit dead center between the eyes, and Don couldn't do anything about it. "Nothing. Just a headache."

Charlie looked chagrined. "I'm sorry. Did you come back to the cabin, for aspirin, or a nap or something? I'm sorry."

Hmmm. Not rabbits? "No, Charlie, it's okay. I didn't go back. But I think I did fall asleep on a deck chair. Probably got too much sun."

"Do you want to go back for something now? There's time, before the tournament."

Damn. Damn. Stop being so…Charlie.

"It's not that bad, Charlie, really. I'm sure the caffeine will take care of it."

"Okay." Charlie smiled tentatively. "Don. I wanted to thank you."

He frowned. "For what?"

"You know, everything. This vacation. Letting me talk. Sitting on the balcony with me all night."

Damn. Damn. Damn. "I'm just sorry I wasn't more…helpful…before."

Charlie raised a hand, approached his hair, but then dropped it again. "That wasn't your fault. I never said I needed help."

"But you will, from now on, right?" Don heard the plea in his own voice and hoped Charlie didn't, but could tell from the confusion on his face that he did.

Charlie tried to reassure him. "I've been thinking…I might go back to that doctor. Actually say something, this time."

"What?"

"Before, when I kept the appointment just to get you and Dad off my back…I didn't really talk to him." Charlie tried to smile again. "Ever try to sit and stare at someone for 55 minutes?"

Don shook his head. "You didn't say anything?"

"Well…I said, 'I don't want to talk about this.' And then I didn't."

Don grimaced. "Charlie…"

His brother interrupted him. "That's what I'm trying to say. Now that I've said it all, once, I think I can do it again. Maybe. And that's because of you — and Amy."

Don looked away, pretended to be watching the people. They were silent for a while.

Charlie drummed his fingers on the table. "You don't like her, do you?"

Don looked back at him quickly. "I didn't say that."

"Maybe not with words. But you've had this weird 'FBI' aura all around you ever since you met her."

Damn.

"Charlie, it's…it's a 'Big Brother' aura. You just met her yesterday. You can't really know her. You were still working through feelings for Amita two days ago. I just don't want you to get hurt."

Charlie stared. "I know, it all sounds crazy. Definitely an anomaly." His eyes darkened with feeling. "But I thought you could see…she wouldn't hurt me. She's the reason I don't hurt as much, anymore. And it's not just…" Charlie looked around, lowered his voice. "It's not just red dots. She is truly the most incredible woman I have ever met, she's so intuitive, so wise…." Charlie dropped his gaze to the table. "I do love Amita. I wish things could have worked, for us. On the surface, she and I have a lot more in common than Amy and I. But I've known Amita four years, and we have never connected on the same level that Amy and I did within three hours of meeting."

Damn. Damn.

None of this was Amy's fault. She helped put away some of the bad guys. They'd killed her partner, injured her. She had suffered at least as much as Charlie, and she had found a way to keep the irrepressible joy Don had tried not to see, at breakfast. In truth, he did like her. In truth, he would love to see Charlie with her, long-term. In truth, he could already see how much she was healing Charlie…and how much it would hurt him, when she disappeared, and he had to convince himself he hadn't really known her at all, she had just been using him for a shipboard fling.

Charlie was waiting for him to respond. He drained his coffee, made to get up from the table. "They're seating players," he said. "Let's go." As they both stood, he couldn't help himself, he gripped Charlie's arm, so hard that it pulled him a little off balance.

Charlie steadied himself on the table, turned apprehensive eyes to him. "What?"

Don let go of his arm. "Just be careful, Charlie." Don walked toward the casino, angry, and knew that Charlie was following him looking confused.

Damn. Damn. Damn.