Author's Note: Hi. No, I'm not dead. Wow. I so did not intend for this much time to pass before I updated this story. I guess my discontent with the cancellation of Revolution got the better of me. I am going to attempt to finish this story. I have a plot mostly outlined, it's just a matter of filling it in. Remember this is a fulfillment of a request so there are boundaries I'm working within. Anyway, here's chapter 3. Forgive me for any mistakes; this is totally unbetaed, and it's been so long that I'm having to pick up the threads again so I may make a misstep here or there. Plus I haven't watched Revolution since it was cancelled. I need to remedy that. Hope you enjoy the chapter. Most of the next one is already written along with the first part of the chapter after that so hopefully it won't be so long before I update, though I won't make any promises about when I will. Sometimes I just have to write on whichever WIP the muse feels like inspiring.
As usual, Charlie and Bass do not belong to me. I just like smooshing them together and saying, "Now kiss!" No animals have been harmed nor has any profit been made in the writing of this story. And if you see any glaring errors please pm me so I can fix it. Also, reviews are love. Love me?
They settled into a routine for the next few weeks. Rosa cooked breakfast for the staff in the mornings; they ate in the kitchen, and Charlie began to get to know some of the other people that worked and lived in the hotel. After breakfast, Charlie worked cleaning rooms or laundering linens until late afternoon. The first day she finished by four, returned to their room and slept until Bass woke her for supper at eight. She followed this schedule for her first week. At the beginning of the next week, however, Rosa took one look at her during the lunch break and insisted she take a siesta before finishing the rest of her work. Charlie returned to their room, where Bass was doing his best to read a week-old spanish newspaper he'd acquired from the general store. When she collapsed on the bed, he raised an eyebrow at her.
"Laying the pregnancy act on a little thick, aren't you?" he said. "You're a better actress than I thought."
"Shut up, James. You're the one who said we had to sell the story. Besides, a lot of people take naps here after lunch. Just wake me up before you go down to work your shift in the bar, please."
She was snoring within five minutes of her head hitting the pillow, which Bass thought was a little strange, but he chalked it up to the ordeal she'd survived the past month. When he woke her at three, she was refreshed and ready to finish her work. He decided maybe there was something to the siesta thing and didn't prod her about it anymore.
More than a week later, Charlie finished her own work early one afternoon and gave Bass a hand in the bar before opening by taking inventory.
"You're low on tequila and rum," she informed him when she was finished. "Want me to bring some up from the basement?"
"No, I'll get it in a few minutes. Did you happen to ask Rosa where they buy their stock?"
Charlie nodded. "There's a caravan that visits once a month. Sounds like you can get just about anything you want. Booze, drugs, women. There's even prize fighting," she added.
Bass paused in the middle of polishing a glass. Drugs meant cartel. "Did she happen to say who runs this caravan?" he asked.
"The Santos brothers," she replied. "Why?"
"Connor worked for the Núñez cartel. Señor Núñez wasn't exactly happy with us when we left."
"Not surprising," Charlie said with a shrug. "Is there anyone on this continent you haven't pissed off?"
Bass gave a bitter laugh. "Probably not. We can always go back to Texas. You know what they say. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em."
"No, thank you," Charlie said, disgust evident in her voice. "I'd rather we just take our chances here."
Customers began arriving as soon as the bar opened. Bass soon found himself swamped with orders, and they were short a server. One of the regular girls was sick with a stomach bug. When Charlie offered to fill in, Bass accepted gladly. He began to regret the decision as the evening wore on, however, as he watched Charlie fend off pinches and wandering hands. She was polite but firm, and quickly got the hang of carrying a tray with one hand, leaving her other free to "discourage" customers who wanted to get a little too friendly with the new girl. When one of them pulled her into his lap, however, Bass decided they'd both had enough and waved Rosa over from the hotel lobby to man the bar for him. Hand on the butt of his pistol, he walked around to where Charlie was attempting to free herself from the clutches of the customer who was begging for a lesson in manners.
"Hey, asshole, you want to take your hands off my wife?" he said to the guy, who was too busy admiring the snug fit of Charlie's tank top across her breasts to pay attention to anything Bass was saying. The man's companion looked up and said with a smile that was more challenging than friendly, "No hablo ingles."
The first man had both arms wrapped around Charlie's waist. When one of his hands began traveling up her ribs toward her breast, Charlie's eyes flashed dangerously. She grabbed the guy's thumb and simultaneously twisted as she pulled up and back, dislocating it. He roared in pain, loosening his hold. Immediately Charlie jumped up and yanked his arm behind the back of the chair, effectively pinning him in place. At the same time, she drew her pistol and held it to his temple, then leaned close and spoke in his ear.
"Didn't your mama ever teach you it's not polite to touch a lady without her permission?" she said, squeezing the thumb she had dislocated until the man gave another agonized curse. When his companion moved to get out of his chair, Bass clamped a firm hand on his shoulder, his own pistol drawn and aimed under his ear before the man could blink.
"You just stay where you are, amigo." The guy eased back down, raising his hands in submission. Bass flicked his eyes over towards Charlie. "You okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine. He didn't hurt me. And I think I made my point. Right?" she said to the customer, squeezing again. Sweat had popped up on the man's forehead, and he nodded vigorously. But as he glanced around at the rest of the patrons in the bar, most of whom were watching the scene in amusement he flushed with anger. Bass doubted the guy would appreciate being made the object of scorn because a slip of a girl had gotten the upper hand with him.
"Maybe he did, maybe he didn't," he said to Charlie as he holstered his weapon, nodding at hers to indicate she should do the same. When she did, he flashed her a wicked grin and continued, "Maybe we should drive the point home, just in case. Be a good girl and play along."
Before she could ask what he meant, he released his hold on the customer's shoulder and stepped close enough to Charlie to grab her waist instead, and yanking her to him so suddenly that she let go of her admirer's thumb and clutched at Monroe's shoulder to steady herself.
"Bass, what the fu-" she started, but he didn't give her a chance to finish. Instead he wrapped his hand behind her neck and pulled her forward to plant a firm, possessive kiss on her mouth, to the accompaniment of catcalls and cheers from the other patrons in the bar. At the first touch of his lips, Charlie stiffened in his arms, but to his surprise, instead of decking him, she relaxed, and pressed her body into his until they were plastered together from lips to hips. Bass's fingers tightened, digging into the skin at her waist and at the nape of her neck, at the same time staking his claim and preventing his hands from wandering over her body in front of their audience. Charlie squeaked from either pain or pleasure. He kind of hoped it was both. Her mouth opened, and with the delicate flick of her tongue against his, the noise of the bar patrons became a dull roar in the background. Bass forgot his original intention of claiming Charlie as his wife in public to protect her. His only coherent thought was mine.
Vaguely he heard a shrill whistle but it wasn't until Charlie nipped sharply at his bottom lip that he broke the kiss and saw that Rosa stood on one of the chairs at a table near the bar with her fingers curved together at her lips. She whistled again and the patrons in the bar fell silent.
Charlie separated herself from enough that they were no longer pressed intimately together, but still close, her hands resting lightly on his chest while his were still clasped firmly at her waist and neck in a blatant statement of ownership. Her face had flushed pink, but there was a mischievous gleam in her eyes and she had one eyebrow raised, as if she guessed what his next move would be. He hoped that meant she would forgive him for the cave-man act.
Bass looked over at the men at the table and drawled in badly accented Spanish, "Mi esposa. Comprende?" He deliberately allowed one hand to fall away from Charlie and land on the butt of his pistol.
The man who had been about to fondle Charlie raised his hands in a supplicating gesture. "Si. No queremos problemas."
Bass understood enough Spanish to know the man had said they didn't want trouble. He nodded, then picked up Charlie's empty tray and pulled her along with him, escorting her back to the bar where Rosa was now waiting with her arms folded, eyeing them with a faintly amused smile. Bass flung the tray onto the bar and busied himself pouring shots for Emma, the other waitress on shift. She exchanged glances with Rosa, then gave Charlie a big smile and a wink before she carried her tray to one of the tables in the back.
Instead of returning to the lobby, Rosa had taken a seat at the bar. She patted the chair next to her and nodded at Charlie to have a seat. "Take a break, honey."
Charlie did so, stretching forward to work the kinks out of her back with a low groan. Bass took a few swipes at the circles of condensation on the bar with a cloth as he watched the customers resume their conversations. The man with the dislocated thumb and his friend each sent wary a wary glance in his direction as they returned to their drinks. Bass gave them an insincere smile and reached over to rub one of Charlie's shoulders. She gave a contented sigh and closed her eyes, oblivious to her surroundings for the moment.
"So am I fired?" Bass asked Rosa.
"Of course not." She glanced at Charlie and, seeing no harm done, added, "I'd have fired you if you hadn't stepped in when you did. It can get rough in here sometimes. They needed to know you have a handle on it." To Charlie she said, "Maybe you should call it a night, chica. You look tired."
"I'll go in a while. If I leave now, they'll think they scared me off," Charlie said.
Rosa nodded in approval. "I'll leave you to it, then." She glanced over at the table with the two men. "Give them a drink on the house to keep them happy. They're cartel," she said, giving Bass a meaningful look. When he nodded, she continued. "Tell them I said they're welcome to stay as long as they behave themselves. Buenas noches."
Charlie straightened in her chair and rolled the shoulder Bass had been massaging. There had been a knot forming in it from carrying the drink tray around one-handed. He'd managed to loosen it enough so it no longer pinched.
"Better?" he asked. She just nodded and slipped off of the chair, reaching for her tray. Bass placed his hand on the tray to stop her. "Don't go back to that table tonight. I'll take care of it."
Fortunately the men didn't cause any further problems for Bass or for Charlie. They accepted the drinks with a nod and before long were laughing with a couple of other customers who joined them. Bass hoped that was the end of it. He kept an eye on them just the same as he continued pouring drinks, filling Charlie's and Emma's trays as quickly as he could while managing the customers sitting in the bar. When business finally began to taper off, he pulled Charlie aside.
"Why don't you take off now; I think we can handle it from here," he said. She was still managing fine, better than she had earlier, in fact, as she no longer had to fend off groping customers. Bass's warning had been taken seriously and apparently word had spread even to newcomers. But the customary spring in her step was gone and she was once again rolling her shoulder.
"You won't get any complaints from me," she replied as she removed her apron and tossed it into the basin under the bar. She then handed a stack of tickets to Bass along with the bag in which she kept the silver coins and occasional diamond the customers offered for payment. Bass put it into the old-fashioned cash register. Then, before Charlie could leave, he crooked his finger at her.
"Come here," he said. Warily, Charlie walked around the bar until she was a few steps from him.
"What?" she said.
He didn't reply. Instead he reached up to grasp her shoulders and turned her around so that her back was facing him. When he pressed at the muscle at the top of her shoulder she flinched. He steadied her with a hand on the opposite shoulder and worked at the knot until he felt it give way beneath his fingers. He did the same on the right side, but it wasn't as tense as her left was. He brushed his thumbs lightly across her skin before allowing his hands to fall, noting that she shivered as he did. He stepped back and began counting the take from her tickets.
After a moment, Charlie turned to face him. "Thanks," she said quietly. "I was afraid I'd be tossing and turning all night."
"You want a shot of something before you go?" he asked. "It might help you sleep."
Charlie longingly eyed the shot glass he held out to her, but surprised him by saying, "Pass."
"Suit yourself," he said. "Goodnight." She started to walk away, but he just couldn't let her go without teasing her a little bit. In his best Texas drawl, he called, "Honey, don't I get a kiss goodnight?"
He figured she would ignore him the way she usually ignored his innuendoes. She probably would have if one of the customers hadn't called, "I'll kiss you goodnight if she doesn't!"
The voice had come from the opposite end of the bar. Bass scanned over the chairs until his eyes landed on a pretty woman with a long dark hair and amber colored eyes. She gave him a flirtatious smile and raised her glass as her friends looked on from their table nearby, giggling. He returned the smile with a grin of his own, then glanced back at Charlie.
She had turned and was glaring at both of them. Bass expected her to simply flip him off and leave. Instead, hands on her hips, she sauntered over to stand in front of him, and stood there, head cocked to one side as if considering the matter. Just when he was wondering if he should prepare to duck, for the second time that night she surprised him. She raised herself on tiptoe and pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to his lips. He had to hand it to her, she never backed down from a challenge. Just when he was tempted to drag her hips against his and make more of the kiss than she intended, she broke away and stepped back, looking confused. He suspected she had surprised herself as well.
To break the tension, he glanced at the woman with the braid. "Sorry sweetheart, looks like I'm spoken for."
The woman just shrugged, still smiling, and went back to her friends at the table.
When he turned back to Charlie, she hadn't moved.
"Buenas noches, querida," he said with a smart-ass grin, because it was something a new husband might say to his wife. At least, that's what he'd tell her if she asked. But she didn't. She backed away a few more steps, still watching him, then turned and left without a word.
Even though the bar closed at ten during the week, it took him more than an hour to finish cleaning, count the till, and begin setting up for the next evening. If he was honest with himself, he was avoiding returning to their room until he knew Charlie would be asleep. He hadn't been able to get either of her kisses out of his mind since she'd left. He wasn't sure what he would do if she was lying awake waiting for him.
Fortunately, when he finally crept in the door, she was curled up under the blanket, snoring lightly. As had become his custom, he kicked his boots off and stretched himself out beside her on top of the bedspread, leaving plenty of space between them. That lasted until she whimpered in her sleep. Giving up, he rolled onto his side and dragged her across the bed, closing the gap between them until she was snugged up against him, spoon-fashion. They usually wound up in that position most nights, anyway, thought he was never sure when or how it happened.
Nights like this one convinced him something had to give; the situation was unfair to both of them. She shouldn't have to submit to unwanted physical affection just to perpetuate an ill-conceived cover story. Wanting her and not being able to have her was playing hell with his mind and his body, and one day he was going to take his teasing too far and wind up with her pointing a pistol in his face. He must have been insane to tell Javier she was his wife. He should have said she was his daughter.
Of course, then people would wonder why he watched his "daughter" with lust in his eyes, which would have been worse. Once Charlie's whimpers had subsided, he finally drifted off to sleep, praying to whomever might be listening for a way out.
Charlie woke up the next morning with a gasp, her fingers clenching her pillow as her body spasmed several times in reaction to the latest in a series of increasingly erotic dreams. She was unsurprised to find herself spooned against Bass; she woke up most mornings that way and assumed they just gravitated toward each other in their sleep, each seeking comfort from the nightmares that haunted them.
But this time Bass's hand cupped one of her breasts, his thumb lightly stroking her nipple, which had tightened under the caress. As quietly as she could, she rolled away and off the bed where she curled up into a ball between the bedframe and the wall, still trembling from the aftermath of the dream. When she was capable of standing, she left, closing the door with only the faintest of clicks so as not to wake him. She walked to the stairs and seated herself on the top step, burying her face in her hands.
She could still taste the whiskey on his tongue as his mouth devoured hers hungrily in the dream, still feel him inside of her, her body coming around him. God help her but at that moment she wanted more than anything to go back, crawl into the bed, unzip his jeans and wake him up with her mouth on his cock, then beg him to do every delicious, carnal thing she'd ever dreamed of doing with him.
She could handle wanting him. She could trust him with her body; she had every day for the better part of a year now. If she thought that would be the end of it, she'd fuck him and be done with it. But it was her heart she didn't trust him with, and she was afraid she couldn't keep her emotions out of the equation where he was concerned, not after everything that had happened.
She wasn't sure he could, either. There were days, especially since New Vegas, when she thought he hated her as much as she hated him; days where they didn't engage in conversation at all other than what was absolutely necessary. There were also days where they were amiable, exchanging jokes and banter as comfortably as if they were good friends. And then there were days when she would be reeling from the aftermath of an intense battle, wondering how he managed to swoop in and save her at the last minute almost every damn time, and wondering just what the hell that look he gave her was supposed to mean. The please stop trying to fucking get yourself killed, Charlotte, because you are going to be the death of me look. The look that made her feel as if he were a hair's breadth from dragging her to the nearest secluded spot and screwing her brains out just to make sure she was still alive, and god damn her if she didn't want him to do just that when he looked at her that way.
Once she had calmed and felt she could face people without blushing, she rose to go down to breakfast. The smell of frying meat that wafted toward her from the kitchen made her stomach roll with nausea, as it had for the past several days. She was afraid she was coming down with Maria's stomach bug.
She refused to consider the other possibility.
She turned and climbed the stairs to return to their room, only to find Bass awake and dressed. Her face warmed as she recalled the dream that woke her.
"Something wrong?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.
"I don't feel so hot," she said. Before she could react, he pressed the back of his hand against her forehead. She jerked back from his touch, surprised when a flicker of hurt flashed across his face before he masked it with indifference.
"You look a little flushed, but you don't seem to be running a fever," he said. "Want me to bring you something from the kitchen?"
Charlie shook her head, swallowing her nausea enough to say, "No thanks. I'll be alright."
He left, but he was back in less than ten minutes carrying a cup of steaming liquid. Charlie had curled up on the sofa under the window to enjoy the faint breeze that drifted in, still cool and slightly damp from the previous night.
"Rosa asked me to bring this up to you," he said. "Mint tea, nature's cure for nausea."
"Thanks," Charlie said as she accepted the cup and inhaled the vapor that wafted out of it. The scent of the mint was sharp and cleansing, chasing away the odor of cooked pork that lingered in her nostrils. She sipped it gratefully as the nausea began to subside. Bass took a seat in one of the chairs to wait while she finished.
"We're going to have to think of something to say when she figures out you're not really pregnant," he mused aloud, drumming his fingers nervously on the wooden table that served as their eating area. "I don't like it, but I guess we could say you miscarried."
Judging by his frown and the fact that his gaze was glued to the table, Charlie guessed he wasn't any more comfortable with the topic than she was, though she suspected it was for an entirely different reason.
"Can we talk about this later?" she asked. "I'm starting to feel a little better; I should get to work."
"Charlie, Rosa said you could take the day off. Maria can fill in for you; after all, you filled in for her last night."
"No, really. I feel fine now." She polished off the last of her tea in one gulp and smiled. "All better."
"God, you're stubborn," was all he said.
They walked back down to the kitchen together, but as they drew closer, the smell of cooking pork overwhelmed Charlie, and the nausea she'd felt earlier began to return. She halted in her tracks before they reached the swinging doors to the kitchen.
"I can't go in there right now," she said, and held the teacup out to Bass. "I just can't stand that smell. Would you take that back for me, please? And if Zoe is in there, tell her I'm starting on the fourth floor today; she can start on the second instead."
Something niggled at the back of his brain, but he took the cup from Charlie without comment. She had almost reached the end of the hall when he called out to stop her.
"Charlie!"
She froze for a moment before turning back to look at him, and the look on her face floored him. Her eyes were wide, and the cheeks that had seemed so flushed before had drained so that she now appeared pale instead, almost frightened. He couldn't remember the last time he saw Charlie Matheson frightened of anything, much less him. He took a few steps in her direction so he didn't have to shout.
"What's really wrong?" he asked. "Have those guys from last night been bothering you this morning? I can take care of them permanently if I need to."
"No, Bass, nothing's wrong," she insisted, folding her arms across her stomach like she was hugging herself. "I'm fine."
He wasn't sure who she was trying to convince more, him or herself, but he decided to let the matter slide for now.
"Rosa says the caravan will be here today. The bar and the restaurant will be closed tonight; I guess the whole town turns out for this thing," he said.
"I know, she told me, too," Charlie said.
"I thought once you were finished with work we could go take a look. I have to restock the bar, and I want to find out a little more about the Santos cartel."
She nodded in agreement. "Ok."
The look of fear on her face had faded, leaving only a faint wariness behind.
"Are you sure you're okay to work?" Bass asked. " If I were you, I'd take the day off."
"No, I'm okay," Charlie insisted. "I'd rather stay busy. I think too much when I don't have anything to do. I'll see you later." She walked up the stairs, giving him a little wave without turning back as if to assure him she was really okay.
He understood what she meant. Sitting around doing nothing drove him crazy, too. Thoughts of everything he'd lost ate at him. Sometimes he believed one of the reasons Charlie despised him (other than being responsible for the deaths of her entire family) was that they were a lot alike. He was already getting a little antsy just from being stuck in the tiny town. He had considered asking Charlie if she was ready to pick up and move on, head further south. They weren't far from the Texas border. They'd dealt the Patriots a blow in Austin, but he had no doubt they were regrouping; they had infiltrated much further and faster than he and Miles had realized until it was too late. The farther from the border they were, the safer Charlie was.
On the other hand; he wanted to be able to see the bastards coming, and with Charlie unwell they were better off waiting to travel. Besides, he could tell she liked it there. Rosa had practically adopted the girl. Ultimately, the decision would probably come down to just how dangerous the Santos cartel turned out to be.
