Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Charlotte Mitchell

I t feels so wrong being in this store, surrounded by lace in all colors and string that couldn’t possibly be comfortable in certain places. But here I am, browsing the clearance section for lingerie that I can barely afford, just before sunset.

I texted Nix a few times today to ask what I needed to complete my job, and this is the first store he told me to hit up. I hadn’t known what I was getting myself into until I walked in. And now? Now I don’t even know what I’m doing.

Am I regretting this undercover job? No. But am I embarrassed that I’m getting some stares? Yes. I’m not exactly dressed in expensive clothes for such an expensive store.

There aren't many outfits that will match my size. However, there are a few, and as I browse them, I wonder which one Nix would like most. It shouldn’t be up to him. It should be up to those who watch me, but I can’t help but want to dress for him and him only. After all, it was fantasizing about him that got me the job in the first place. That’s what I’m telling myself anyway because fantasizing about him for other reasons besides the need to complete the job is out of the question.

What I should be fantasizing about is cuffing him and nothing more. Not wondering if his skin tastes as good as it smells. Not the desire to count how many abs he has to have. Not questioning what the muscles in his arms would do if I bit my nails into them in a moment of pure bliss.

Clearing my throat to dispel the imagery I now have, I hold up a black baby doll piece and twist my lips to the side. Will I always be masturbating on camera, or will someone end up joining me? Do I get a say? There’s a good chance I don’t, but if a strange man does end up joining me, I can get close to him and see what he knows about the inner operations.

I try not to let that get to me – having sex with a stranger – because I’m such a fresh widow that, if I think too long about it, I’ll be disgusted with myself. But I have to keep reminding myself that I’m doing this to save women, that I’m doing this because it’s the only way in.

I can’t let anything change me and who I want to be while I’m doing this. Still, it’s funny how far someone will fall, how low someone will drop, just in the name of doing the right thing. In the name of saving someone, of maybe saving yourself too if you’re lucky.

In a roundabout way, I had to remind Miles of that too when I called him after Nix sent the money. He knew then and there that I had done something for the camera and again tried to pull me from the job. I ended up hanging up on him and shutting off the phone entirely. I’m firm on this. The job will get done at any cost, and the next person will get saved, and I’ll be the one to do it. For them, for the city, for me.

With a quick nod to myself, I check the price tag of the baby doll lingerie, and satisfied with that price, I hook the hanger on my wrist. It’s a keeper, and I have no doubt that I’ll look decent in it.

Knowing that the rest isn’t what I’m looking for, I nibble my lip and peek at the wall behind me that has the full-price clothing for bigger women hanging on it. I know if I peek at the price of those, my wallet will cry, but I need more than just one outfit.

Fuck.

With a deep inhale, I head to them and run my fingers over the soft lace. My finger touches the price tag of one I’d look fantastic in, and I pause before I turn the tag over and squint at how much it’d cost me. I nearly choke at the number. I’d have to eat ramen for a week to afford this one.

Nix’s money is looking mighty fine right now. It’d pay for this and ten more just like it, and I’d still be able to eat at the fancy restaurants Nathan and I used to go to all week.

I told Miles I wouldn’t use it though. Like I knew already, it’s evidence. That doesn’t mean it’s not tempting.

I grab the lingerie off the hook and hold it up to show myself more of the details. Should I do it? Oh god, I’m going to do it. It’s soft and shiny black, and now that it’s in my hand, there’s no way I could pass it up.

Gritting my teeth, I hook it on my wrist and head to the cashier.

She gives me a slight smile as I set the items on the counter and pull my card from my small purse, trying like hell not to think about what I’m going to do here; spending almost my entire grocery budget isn’t the best idea I’ve ever had. It’s a necessary one though. I’ll be regretting all my life choices as I eat noodles tonight. And tomorrow night and the night after.

“Did you find everything to your liking?” she asks, bagging my items. I give her a quick, unsure nod, and she tells me the total. I swallow thickly and pray like hell that money is actually in my bank account as I insert my card into the reader.

How embarrassing would it be that I’m dressed the way I am and my card would be declined?

I wait the agonizing couple of seconds until the cashier smiles at her screen. “You’re all set.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, and she passes me my black gift bag.

I have every intention of getting the hell out of this store that just bit my budget’s ass and quickly whirl, but as soon as I do, I bump into someone. A man, if the chest my cheek just smashed into tells me anything.

“Sorry,” I mutter and then glance up at him. And then I die a little inside.

Fredrick wears a shocked look on his face and lowers the arm holding a pink laced bra with a matching thong. He glances around the space before his wide eyes narrow suspiciously, and for some odd reason, I feel like a child whose hand was just caught in the cookie jar before dinner.

“What are you doing here?” he grits out.

This time, it’s me who glares. “I could ask you the same thing.”

He turns his attention to my bag. “You must move on fast. Don’t widows stop fucking around after their husbands die?”

Every vertebra in my spine buckles. “You seem to move fast too. Is this for your wife or your piece on the side?”

His top lip curls. “It’s none of your business.”

“And mine isn’t yours. ”

We stand there for a moment. I can tell the cashier is watching the exchange closely because, by the tones of our voices, our expressions, and our body language, this isn’t a pleasant conversation.

“I haven’t seen you at work the last two days. What are you up to?”

I give a small shrug and brush off the accusing tone. “Taking time to myself. Again, none of your business.”

“Right,” he nearly growls. “I know bullshit when I smell it.”

“Then don’t take a whiff of yourself. You might pass out.” I produce a mocking smile and move to walk around him and to the door.

A little too roughly, he grabs me by the arm. “What are you up to, Charlie?” he demands in a quiet tone. “I have every right to know.”

I glance at his hand and then lift a murderous glare at him before yanking myself free. “We aren’t partners, Frederick,” I hiss out. “I don’t report to you. I report to the captain. He knows I’m taking a few days, and that’s all I’m doing. Me time. Healing time. You can fuck off with the bullshit you can smell so damn well.”

And with that, I turn my back to the snake and walk right out that fucking door with my head held high. He may not know it, but what I’m doing is for the greater good, and when I bring in all that’s involved, it’ll be worth the reward.