Witches of Three: Charlene by Temple Hogan Page B

to push the lock button, when a sound like a car backfiring came to her. At first, she didn’t understand what had happened until her window exploded.
    Dumbly, she stared at the broken glass then it dawned on her. If she hadn’t bent back into the car to hit the lock, the bullet would have hit her in the chest. She ducked down, using the door as a shield and drew her weapon. Edging up, she looked around the parking lot and saw nothing suspicious although the squeal of rubber could be heard. Someone had left the parking lot in a hurry. She considered jumping back in her car and giving chase then decided against it. She didn’t want to do anything stupid without backup. Instead, she called the police and waited for them to arrive.
    “Where were you?” Nick asked hours later when she arrived home.
    She told him about the attempt on her life. His lips thinned with anger.
    “Someone wants you dead,” he said. “And it’s not the suspect who shot Geronimo.”
    “How do you know?” she asked. She would have put money on it being Kermit Nolan.
    “I went down to Lambert Street and kept him under surveillance all afternoon.”
    “Who else would want to kill me?” she said. “He’s the only logical one. He knows I can identify him as the one who shot Geronimo.”
    “It wasn’t him.” He looked at her contemplatively.
    “Maybe one of his gang members is trying to do the job for him?”
    “Maybe,” Nick conceded. “How did your guy know you were going to the hospital? Did you tell anyone?”
    “Only Ray. Obviously, the killer was following me.”
    “You’ll have to take extra precautions,” Nick said. “You don’t go anywhere without me.”
    Charlie thought about protesting but finally nodded in acquiescence. Nick swept her into his arms.
    “I’m glad you’re not going to argue with me, woman,” he said with mock machismo. “I want my woman to do what I say.”
    She laughed. “You’d better wait about that until I tell you something,” she hedged.
    “This sounds serious.” He kissed her deeply, weaving around in a mock dance, his arms enveloping her, angling them toward the bedroom.
    “Wait, Nick, please,” she said, trying to resist the delicious chills that chased down her spine with each caress, every kiss.
    “Can’t it wait?” he asked. His hands spread wide, kneading her breasts. She felt her breath tighten in her chest.
    “I can’t talk to you when you’re doing that,” she protested because now he was nibbling her earlobe.
    “Good, let’s not talk,” he said, chuckling.
    “But this is important, Nick,” she said faintly. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it, but I always get distracted.”
    “Then it can’t be that important, so let me distract you and we’ll talk later.” He swept her up in his arms and carried her to their bedroom.
    Making love with Nick was like breathing air. She had to do it. She had to give herself over to the rousing passion he evoked and seek her own pleasures in him while giving of herself. He sucked on her nipples until she thought she might peak on that alone. Then he licked her clitoris until she shuddered and gave in to a shattering culmination. Before she could even get her breath back, he had on her back and was plunging into her. When she felt a climax coming over her, he shifted positions with her on top, and she became lost in the new sensations. When they reached their pinnacle together, she cried out and he held her tight and shouted hoarsely. They laughed in mutual delight and rested, her head on his shoulder, their legs entwined. She loved the feel of being so enmeshed with him they were one. She dozed for a little while, and when she woke, she poked him to wake him up.
    “I have to talk to you,” she said.
    “Not now, woman,” he grumbled. “You wore me out.”
    “I have to tell you something about myself that you need to know. I should have told you before we got involved.”
    “Whatever it is doesn’t matter,” he