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“Go ahead and do what you need to do in here, and I’ll open the wine.” Hawk stood and kissed the top of Charlotte’s head. “Would you prefer red or white?”

“Either one works for me.” A glass of wine would go a long way toward helping her relax.

“You got it. Take your time.” He tucked her hair over her ear, turned, and headed toward the door.

Hawk sure did seem to like touching her—and she was totally okay with that.

She watched him walk away, enjoying the view of his tight butt and broad shoulders, still wondering how in the world she got so lucky.

Charlotte pushed up off the bed and quickly unzipped her suitcase. She took everything out and laid it on the bed to organize before putting it away. She thought back to the conversation she had with her mom in the bathroom at the diner.

“Hawk seems like a nice man.” Her mom had leaned close to the mirror to freshen her lipstick.

“He really is, and … this is going to sound silly, but … do you believe in soul mates?” Charlotte hadn’t intended to ask her that, it just sort blurted out of her.

Her mom’s hand stopped when she was midway across her top lip, and she looked at her daughter’s reflection in the mirror.

“Do I believe in soul mates?” She considered it. “Yeah, I do. I believe there is a special person out there for each of us. We just have to find them. Is that how you feel about Hawk?”

“I think so. I don’t know. All I do know is, when I’m with him, he makes me feel special and I find myself wanting things I never thought I could have,” Charlotte said.

“And that scares you.” Her mom knew her too well. She finished with her lipstick, snapped on the cap, and dropped it into her purse. “Caring about someone, loving someone can be scary. But when those feelings are mutual, it is magical and totally worth the risk. So, whatever insecurities or fear you may have that are tripping you up, you need to let them go. Don’t get in the way of your own happiness.”

“The thing is … Hawk and I were chatting in the car, and he asked about my father. I told him I don’t know who my father is, which, of course, aroused his curiosity.”

“Ah. Now I see what you’re worried about.” Her mom hung the strap of her little purse on her shoulder and turned to face her. “Look, honey, if you care about Hawk as much as I think you do—and if the way he looks at you is any indication, he certainly seems to care a great deal about you, too—then you absolutely must be open and honest with him. And since my story is your story, too, he needs to know everything. Because secrets are like a disease. If kept hidden, they will eat away at you and destroy everything you care about.”

“Are you sure, Mom?” Charlotte asked.

“Of course, I’m sure. Besides, Hawk seems like the kind of man who is solid and strong enough to handle most anything you throw at him.” She pulled her into a hug. “Sweetie, what happened to me was terrible, indefensible, but it gave me you. For that, I’m eternally grateful.” After a last gentle squeeze, she stepped back and focused on her shoes. “So, are you jealous of my new shoes or what?”

And just like that, her mother had changed the subject, lightened the mood, and dispelled Charlotte’s concerns.

She grinned at the memory, grabbed some hangers, and hung up her shirts and extra pair of jeans. She slid out the top drawer and started stacking the few items of clothing inside. She pushed the drawer shut and noticed a four-by-six framed photo sitting on top of the dresser.

It looked like Hawk when he was maybe elementary-school age. He was standing next to a younger boy with longer hair and similar features she guessed might be his brother. They were on the bank of a river, and the youngest boy was holding a fishing pole in one hand. A very large, freshly caught fish hung from his fingers in the other. Hawk had his arm loosely draped over the boy’s shoulders, and both of them had huge, toothy smiles.

The childlike joy they shared over catching a fish had her wanting to hear more about Daniel and the rest of Hawk’s family.

Charlotte shut the suitcase and set it in the corner, then grabbed her toiletry bag and dashed into the bathroom. She flipped a bunch of switches on the wall next to the door, and a set of lights flashed on over both sinks and one over the shower. Another one shone down, spotlighting a freestanding, oval-shaped tub set in front of a floor-to-ceiling window that looked out to the woods behind the house.

“Holy moly.” Her mouth gaped open, and her free hand dropped to her side as she took in the amazing space.

Next to the tub was a walk-in shower big enough for two people, with a single pane of glass separating it from the rest of the room. The shower walls were covered with the same blue-gray slate as the ones used on the floor. Smooth river rocks in a range of colors that complemented the slate tiles made up the shower floor. The rest of the walls were covered in a textured, sage-green wallpaper. The design of the space was calming and made her feel like she was being enveloped by nature.

She thought of what Hawk said about the importance of being grounded in the things that matter. One of those being the land.

She looked down and wiggled her toes inside her socks, then glanced over her shoulder at the bank of switches next to the door and noticed one of them controlled the temperature of the floors.

“No wonder my feet are nice and toasty.” Charlotte stepped across the room and set her things out on the granite countertop. She put her shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and razor on the built-in shelf in the shower.

She loved her bathroom at home, but it was small compared with Hawk’s guest bath.

Charlotte twisted the handle on the faucet, cupped her hands beneath the flow, and splashed warm water on her face. She shut the water off, reached over and pulled the fluffy hand towel from the bar and dabbed her face dry.

She checked her reflection in the mirror and groaned.

The circles beneath her eyes had become more pronounced, and her jeans hung loosely on her hips. Never in her life had Charlotte had to worry about being too thin—until now.

Wanting to be with Hawk, she hung the towel on the bar, flipped off all the switches, and headed toward the kitchen.

She heard the distinctive sound of a cork popping and made her way across the great room. Her steps slowed, and she enjoyed the view of him moving about his kitchen. His muscles bunched and flexed beneath his shirt as he reached up to open a cabinet. He was tall—a few inches over six feet—and she would be willing to bet his perfectly honed physique had not been achieved solely by going to a gym. Yet, despite his size, he moved in near-silence with an incredible fluidity, and his weight always seemed to be perfectly balanced.

Watching him move was like watching art in motion.

He grabbed a couple of stemless wineglasses, closed the cabinet, turned and caught her staring at him.

“All settled in?” He smiled and set the glasses on the peninsula.

“I am.” She moved over to join him. “That bathroom is incredible. It’s like being at a spa.”

“That was the idea.” He reached for the open bottle of wine and read the label. “I decided on Darby Red Mountain cabernet. Beck gave it to me when I accepted the job with OSI.” He filled one wineglass halfway, set the bottle down, and filled the other glass with water from the fridge door. He held her glass out to her. “Here ya go.”

“Thank you.” She accepted the glass. “You’re not joining me?”

“Normally, I would, but—”

“You have to be alert in case something happens.” Charlotte tried not to dwell too deeply on how many bad things could happen.

“Something like that, yeah.” He held her elbow and guided her across the room. “Why don’t we sit down?”

Charlotte settled in at the end of the sofa, crossed her legs on the cushion, and swirled the wine gently around in the glass. She lifted it to her nose and drew in a deep breath. Her mouth watered at the aromas of cherry, currant, cedar, and a few other things she couldn’t identify.

“I know this may seem like a strange time for this, but I’d like to make a toast.” He sat next to her, and they both raised their glasses. “I want to toast you, Charlotte, and the bravery you exhibited by coming forward.”

“Bravery?” She lowered her glass and shook her head. Not hardly. “I think you’re forgetting that my original plan was to run away and hide.”

“And you’re forgetting that when you discovered that list, you didn’t just ignore it and pretend like you never saw it. You cared enough to risk your own personal safety by going back to that office to dig up more information. Something I’d prefer you not do ever again, by the way.” He set his water on a coaster on the large coffee table, shifted to face her with one leg bent on the couch, and cupped his hand over her knee. “And then you gathered everything you found and brought it to Dulce, knowing she could help.” He smoothed his hand up and down her thigh. “In my book, that makes you a brave, honorable, caring person.” He grabbed his glass again and held it up. “So, my toast stands.”

She’d been living moment to moment, caught up in what she was doing. Having him spell it out that way made her realize what she’d done actually had taken courage.

“Thank you.” She clinked her glass with his, took a sip of the wine.

He lifted his water to his lips for a long swallow.

The silky flavors of the garnet wine glided over her tongue and warmed a path to her belly.

“Oh, wow. That’s really good.” Charlotte wasn’t a wine connoisseur by any means, but she’d heard how amazing the grapes from the Red Mountain region of eastern Washington were and what incredible wines they created.

“I’m glad you like it.” He set his glass on a coaster. “I’ve been waiting for just the right time to open it, and being here with you seemed perfect.”

Finally. Hawk had an amazing gift for making her feel special.

“Hawk, I’d like to explain my cryptic comment in the car—the one about not knowing who my dad is.” She took a big, bracing gulp from her glass and set it on the table next to his.

“Charlotte, you know I would love to know everything about you, but if you’d rather not—”

“No, no, I want to tell. I need to tell you. It’s just that … well, it’s a pretty dark story, and the one time I shared it with someone, it didn’t go well.” In hindsight, the guy she’d told had been much too immature and self-absorbed to handle such a heavy topic. “But I trust you completely.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” His thumb brushed over her thigh, making it very difficult to concentrate. “When my mom was thirteen, her stepfather, Franklin Stewart, began trafficking her to his buddies at their exclusive country club.”

There—she blew out a long breath—she’d broken the ice.

“Jesus. Charlotte.” Hawk took her hand and cradled it between his own warmer hands.

“About a year after it first started, a concerned guidance counselor called my grandmother, Evelyn Stewart.” Formerly Cavanaugh. “Apparently, a couple of my mom’s teachers noticed a dramatic change in her personality and were worried about her enough to report it. They said she went from being a bubbly, outgoing girl with a ton of friends to quiet and withdrawn, and her grades had also begun to suffer. Evelyn acted all concerned and worried, told the counselor she’d talk with my mom, and thanked her for calling.” What a phony she was.

“Evelyn spoke to my mom all right—she scolded her and told her how embarrassed she was that the school called her. Wanting her to understand, my mom finally mustered up enough courage to tell Evelyn what her stepdad and his cronies had been doing to her. Now that she knew the truth, surely, she would do whatever was necessary to protect her daughter. Right?” Her eyes lifted to his. “That is not at all what happened.”

“Let me guess. She didn’t believe her.” Hawk’s voice was edged with anger.

She gave him a surprised look. “How did you know that?”

“Experience,” he said. “Denial is easier than believing something so horrible could be happening right under your nose. It can turn should-be protectors into willful enablers.”

Charlotte had been right about Hawk having an acute understanding of this sad topic.

“That is exactly what happened. She accused my mom of lying and said she was doing it for the attention. Said it was because my mom never liked Franklin and thought accusing him of something so awful would be a good way to get rid of him.” What she did after that was worse than not believing her daughter. “As if that wasn’t bad enough, Evelyn forced my mom to stand in front of Franklin and repeat her accusations against him.”

She sniffled and swallowed against the achy lump of rage lodged in her throat.

“Then that horrible, wretched woman forced my mom to apologize to the man who was victimizing her.” Tears burned Charlotte’s eyes when she envisioned her mother, a young, tormented child being forced to essentially bend the knee to her abuser.

“Son of a bitch.” Hawk scrubbed his hand down his face.

“Instead of ending up in jail, Franklin turned up the dial on the abuse, and it continued until right after her sixteenth birthday. That’s when my mom found out she was pregnant—with me. By that time, she’d been trafficked to at least ten men that she knew of, but there could’ve been more. Thanks to the drugs Franklin was giving her, her memory of the details has always been a bit hazy.” There were still entire chunks of her mom’s past that were completely blank, just a void in time with no memories.

“Mom was terrified because she knew they would make her get rid of it. But she desperately wanted to keep her baby. She wanted … needed someone she could love who would love her back.” Donna told her daughter many times that she literally saved her life. “Mom knew she had to get away from them, so one night, she shoved a bunch of stuff in a backpack, snuck out of the house, and ran to the bus station. She had just enough money for a one-way ticket from where she lived just outside of Chicago to Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia, where her aunt and uncle lived.”

“They’re the ones you mentioned earlier, the ones who left you and your mom their house?” Hawk asked.

“Yeah.” She nodded. “You can imagine how shocked they were when they opened the door and saw their niece standing there. The rain was coming down in buckets. She was cold, soaked to the bone, and looked like she hadn’t slept in years. Their first reaction was to call Evelyn, but she begged them not to.” Thank goodness they’d respected her wishes. “They gave her some dry clothes, fed her a warm breakfast, and once her belly was nice and full, she told them everything. How she’d been sex-trafficked by Franklin, how long it had been going on, and how her mother hadn’t believed her when she told her. She said she didn’t start crying until she told them she was pregnant and planned to keep the baby.”

“Sounds like your mom was pretty damn brave.” He stroked his hand up and down Charlotte’s arm. “Like mother, like daughter.”

“At first, Uncle Jerry and Aunt Marjorie couldn’t understand how no one noticed what was happening to her or why mom never told anyone.” No one dared come forward. The men involved were powerful, wealthy, and very good at protecting themselves. Just like the men on that wretched list Charlotte found. “Franklin had manipulated my mom and brainwashed her into thinking no one would believe her. That asshole told her that, if she talked to anyone about what was happening, he would make sure she was hauled off to a facility for troubled teens. He had the money and connections to make that happen. And since her own mother didn’t believe her, why would anyone else?”

“What did your aunt and uncle do?” Hawk asked.

“Their initial shock morphed to outrage, disgust, and an urgent need to protect their niece. The thing my mom appreciated most was that they believed her. They said she was staying with them and waited until she felt safe enough to share her story with the police.”

Charlotte had always loved and respected her great aunt and uncle, but finding out the catalyst for why they’d taken her mother in and how they’d shielded her had magnified those feelings.

“Two days after arriving at their house, Mom proved to everyone how strong she was by going into the police department to meet with a detective.” Jerry and Marjorie had walked into the police department on either side of her, surrounding her with love. “He’d listened quietly as she told him everything she could remember. The detective took pictures of the fading bruises around her wrists and ankles and asked that Jerry and Marjorie take Mom to the ER to get a rape kit done, a blood test, and a pregnancy test.” They’d also tested for STDs, and thank goodness, she was clean.

The angry energy in Hawk’s body was apparent in the tightness of his shoulders and the way he clenched his fist.

“They eventually determined that Stewart would crush up Rohypnol pills in a soda or glass of juice and make her drink it.” Sometimes called the date-rape pill, Rohypnol reduces inhibitions, impairs judgment, and, in the right dosage, can physically and psychologically incapacitate victims targeted for sexual abuse.

Like her mother.

Hawk shook his head in disgust. “We’ve encountered a lot of victims that had the same thing done to them.”

“Most times, she was completely out and didn’t know what had happened until it was over. She would wake up on a bed, sore between her legs, her shoulders in pain from being tied to the headboard. On multiple occasions, she’d awakened and realized someone was on top of her but, smartly, pretended to be out cold.” Charlotte couldn’t imagine the fear and helplessness her mom must’ve felt. “Mom heard men’s voices, including her stepdad’s, and even managed to catch a few names. At her first opportunity, she would write the names in a little notebook that she kept hidden in the liner of her backpack. She handed it over to the detective when he interviewed her.”

“Those bastards were tying her up?” The growl in Hawk’s voice was borderline scary.

Charlotte nodded and squeezed her eyes tight against the onslaught of terrifying visions of her mother bound like an animal, crying out for help but having no one answer.

“Hey, hey.” Hawk scooped her up and set her in his lap.

Charlotte hadn’t even realized she was crying until he wiped a tear from her cheek with the pad of this thumb.

"It's okay, Sweets. Let it out." He gently wrapped his arms around her, held her close, making her feel safe and cared for. “I’ve got you.”

She buried her face against his neck and her entire body shook as she wept for the young girl whose childhood innocence was ripped away from her by a group of evil men. The young girl who somehow managed to rise above it all to become an amazing woman and mother.