Charger (The Protectors Series) Book #16 Read online

  Charger

  Teresa Gabelman

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Note from author….

  Also by Teresa Gabelman

  Ralph Ronald ‘Ron’ Gabelman, Sr.

  Some people come into our lives and quickly go, some stay for a while and leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never, ever the same….

  RIP

  This one’s for you….

  The Protectors Series

  Charger

  Copyright 2020 Teresa Gabelman

  All rights reserved. The right of Teresa Gabelman to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance between the characters and persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Gabelman, Teresa (2020-12-29). Charger (The Protectors Series) Book #16

  Kindle Edition.

  Editor: Hot Tree Editing

  Created with Vellum

  Chapter 1

  Charger sat on his bike, looking relaxed as he watched the glimmering reflection of the Cincinnati skyline bounce off the rough waters of the Ohio River. To anyone who passed, he looked like a man enjoying the view, but in truth, there was nothing relaxed about Charger McNeil.

  Digging into the white paper bag of sliders and onion chips he’d purchased from White Castle, the only place open at five in the morning, he ate one slider in a single bite. His eyes scanned the city from across the river in Newport, Kentucky, where he’d parked. Newport wasn’t really his jurisdiction, not that the Guardians had jurisdictions. At least, they didn’t honor them if they did. Charger snorted at that thought. They went where they were needed. He liked this side of the river, though, and frequently came to think. It was always quiet this time of night.

  Taking another slider out of the bag, he eyed the stray dog who came out of the darkness to sit and stare at him, his tail rapidly going back and forth. Removing the slider from the box, he tossed it to the dog, who snatched it and, like Charger, ate it in one bite. With a sigh, he pulled another one out and tossed it to the stray, who moved even closer. He continued until there was one left, looked at the dog, then chuckled.

  “I was always a sucker for sappy eyes,” he said to the dog before tossing him the last slider.

  Wadding up the paper bag, he tossed it to the garbage barrel a few feet away before his gaze lifted toward the bridge he needed to take back to Cincinnati. Traffic was starting to pick up with people going to their eight-to-five jobs. Hell, his day was just ending, or was it starting? Damn, he didn’t know anymore. Days blended into nights, and nights blended into days. He liked to stay busy. It kept his mind from working overtime on other shit he just didn’t want to think about. Working with the Warriors had tripled their workload, and he welcomed it. At least, he had welcomed it.

  Why did shit have to get complicated?

  A vision of a dark-haired beauty flashed through his mind, but he pushed it away as he always did. As the years passed, it seemed harder to do. Glancing back at the dog, who sat staring at him, he chuckled with a shake of his head.

  “You want to change places? I’ll be you for a day and you be me?” Charger asked the beast with a half-grin. When the dog stood, then trotted away, Charger laughed. “Yeah, can’t say I blame you.”

  A scream filled the air, stopping the dog in his tracks as he looked up toward the bridge. Charger’s eyes followed; the grin slipped from his lips. He had heard many screams in his lifetime, and that was a scream of pure terror. Charger’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the area, trying to find the source. Movement at the middle of the bridge had him quickly sliding off his bike. The traffic had completely stopped. He hadn’t heard any sounds of an automobile accident so there should be no reason for the stoppage on the bridge. His eyes focused on a woman struggling against a man. Instantly, he knew what was happening before it even happened.

  Rushing toward the river’s edge, he stripped out of his leather jacket just as the woman sailed over the railing of the bridge heading toward the dark water below.

  With his shirt ripped off, Charger cursed just as he dove into the coldness of the river. The shock of the temperature didn’t faze him, but he knew a human would be hypothermic within minutes. The current was strong, but he was stronger. Breaking the surface, he swam with speed unseen with the human eye. He swore right then and there that if the female didn’t survive the fall, he would hunt down the bastard who dared do this.

  Who was he kidding? The fucker was dead, no matter if the woman made it or not. He’d make damn sure of it. Any man who would do something like this deserved to have the life beat out of him and Charger was the guy for the job.

  His eyes stayed on the area where the woman had hit. He couldn’t see her and knew the dark waters of the Ohio River had swallowed her. The further toward the middle of the river he went, the current became stronger that it had even him fighting against its mighty power. Immediately, he dove beneath the water, eyes open and scanning for the woman. Seeing something shimmer against the blackness, he realized it was a piece of jewelry. With one hard kick, he reached her, grasping her around the waist before using his speed and strength to break the water’s surface. As fast as he could, he made his way to shore with the woman, his eyes briefly scanning for trouble.

  Slipping in the slick, thick mud of the bank, Charger carried the woman out and laid her on her back. He felt for a pulse as he still looked around before realizing he needed to do CPR without delay. People were pulling in, the car lights shining on them.

  “Call 911!” he ordered loudly before positioning the woman to start CPR. He breathed for her carefully and then did chest compressions. “Come on, girl,” he urged as he once again placed his mouth on hers to help her breathe.

  Hearing sirens in the background, he continued with his chore. After the fourth time, her body jerked as she began to violently choke the water out of her throat. He lifted her gently, turning her on her side so she could expel the murky river water.

  “That’s it,” he murmured reassuringly to her. “Get it all out. You’re going to be okay.”

  The ambulance arrived, along with two police cars. The paramedics made their way quickly toward them and took over. Charger sat back, allowing them room. His eyes scanned the crowd of onlookers before he stood, grabbed his leather jacket he’d discarded before diving into the river, and put it on.

  “Did anyone see what happened?” he asked the crowd, taking control from the police who were asking questions.

  “My wife and I did.” An older man walked forward. “We were behind them. She just jumped out of the car and started running. I almost hit her.”

  “A man got out and chased. They argued, and then he pushed her over the railing,” the woman next to the man said, her voice shaking with fear. “I just couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Is she going to be okay?”

  Charger glanced down to see the woman awake and somewhat focused. He also saw something he had missed before in all the chaos of getting her to shore and saving her life. Dark bruising marred her skin along the jawline and under her l
eft eye. A low growl rumbled from deep inside his chest as his gaze left the woman, who glanced up at him with a look of gratitude.

  “Yes,” Charger answered the older woman.

  “I tried to get to them, but I was too late. Don’t quite move the way I used to.” The older man shook his head. “And that son of a gun was already in his truck and gone.”

  “Harold, you are a dear brave man, but that monster was a lot bigger than you, and it could have been you sailing over into the river.” The woman choked up on her last words.

  “What kind of truck was it?” Charger hoped to get some information, because he’d be damned if the bastard got away. It may take him a minute to find him but find him he would.

  “F-150, black with tinted windows,” a younger man answered, stepping forward. “Probably 2002.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to have gotten the license plate number by chance?” Charger cocked his eyebrow at the younger man.

  “No, I was too far back in traffic. A bunch of us took off after the guy, but it happened so fast, and then he was gone. We were trying to figure out how to get to her and then you were there.” The younger man frowned. “Somebody may have gotten it. I can ask around.”

  “Someone did get it.” The older lady held out a small piece of paper toward Charger. “Me.”

  Charger smiled at the woman as he reached for it, but another hand snatched it from her.

  “I’ll take that. This is police business. You folks need to go on and get. This is a crime scene.” The officer was a heavyset man who looked as if he liked his doughnut stops a little too much—out of shape and with an attitude. Charger didn’t have anything against the police. Not at all. But he did take issue with cops who were arrogant assholes.

  “Have you questioned these witnesses?” Charger’s question stopped the cop from walking away.

  “Excuse me?” The cop halted, turning around.

  “I said, have you questioned these witnesses?” Charger repeated, which he usually never did. You didn’t hear him the first time, that was your tough fucking luck. But he was going to make a point here with this asshole. “She didn’t just fling herself off the bridge. They are witnesses. Have you questioned them?”

  “Who are you?” the cop asked, his eyes narrowing.

  “Why, this man saved that girl’s life.” The older woman’s voice rose. Mumbles of agreement from the spectators sounded around them.

  “And obviously doing your job,” her husband added with a huff.

  The cop didn’t know what to say to that. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he gave them all a warning stare. “You heard me. This is a crime scene. You need to vacate immediately.”

  Charger smirked as the cop walked away. He’d find the bastard, with or without the license plate number, but it would have been a hell of a lot easier with it.

  “Hey, are you a Warrior?” the younger man who had described the truck asked.

  “Hell no.” Charger snorted, glanced over the crowd who stared at him, looking a bit disappointed. Charger chuckled at their reaction. Damn, before too long, the Warriors were going to have groupies and their own fucking fan club. Jesus, he needed to get the fuck out of this area. “They’re a bunch of….” His eyes met the older woman who was staring at him so he let his sentence fade away without finishing it. Charger was the first to admit he was mostly a dick, didn’t have manners, and definitely didn’t give a shit what he said, but one thing about Charger McNeil, he respected his elders and ladies.

  The woman smiled as if she knew what he was going to say. Then she carefully moved over the uneven ground toward him. “I have a very good memory,” she whispered, with the cutest, sneakiest grin he’d ever seen.

  After she gave him the license plate number she had memorized, he sent a group text—including the color and make of the truck as well as the license plate number—to all the Warriors, as well as Dark Guardians in the area. If he was a betting man, and he was, this bastard would be found within the hour.

  “Hey.” One of the paramedics walked up to him. “She wants to talk to you.”

  Charger glanced up from his phone to see the woman on the stretcher. “How’s she doing?”

  “She’s damn lucky,” the paramedic replied, also glancing at the woman. “Not many take a fall off a bridge into that river and live to tell about it. We’ve pulled more bodies than I want to remember out of those waters. It’s a deadly river.”

  Nodding, Charger walked over to the woman, who turned her head toward him. She slowly lifted her hand out to him, and he took her much smaller one in his massive grip as gently as he could. She was a beautiful woman, mid-to-late thirties he guessed, and tiny, very tiny, which set his anger on edge again just thinking of any man laying a hand on her. In her weakened state, she pulled on his arm and he leaned closer.

  “Thank you.” Her voice was rough and low, her eyes filled with tears. He was about to say “you’re welcome,” but she wasn’t finished. “But you should have let me drown. He’s never going to stop until I’m dead.”

  Charger waited a few short seconds before he responded, his anger boiling through his body like a raging fire. “Who is he?”

  “Ben Dawson, my husband.” She whispered the words with such sadness it really got to him, and for Charger, that was something, because this shit didn’t get to him. Not much did. “I finally got the courage to tell him I wanted a divorce. He obviously didn’t take it too well.”

  “Have you reported the abuse?” Charger asked, then wished he hadn’t when the look of disgust crossed her battered face.

  “Put it this way, I would have been safer if I hadn’t reported it to the police,” she replied as she stared up at him. “What’s your name?”

  “Charger McNeil,” he answered, then gave her hand a squeeze, hating that she felt her only escape from her abusive husband was death.

  “Thank you, Charger. I’m Cheryl.” She managed to give him a half-grin. “I do appreciate you risking your life for mine, no matter what I just said. I guess I finally realized how much he hates me.”

  “Do you have children?” Charger asked with a frown.

  The question seemed to confuse her, but she shook her head slowly. “No, thank God.”

  Charger glanced around before leaning very close to Cheryl. “You do not have to be afraid anymore. He will never hurt you again.” They stared at each other for a short second, an understanding passing between them both before the paramedics returned to take her to the ambulance. “Make sure her family is contacted so she isn’t alone. If she doesn’t have family, contact me, Charger McNeil, through Sloan Murphy at the VC Warrior compound.”

  “You’re a Warrior?” she asked with wide eyes.

  “Hell no.” He repeated his answer from earlier when asked the same question. Damn, his reputation was going to go to shit with everyone thinking he was a damn Warrior. “But I have connections with them. You got family, Cheryl?”

  “My sister,” she replied with a nod, then coughed. “They’ve already called her. Thank you again.”

  Charger nodded as they wheeled her past him. Glancing down at his phone, he started checking his messages to see if the bastard had been found yet. The sun was up, so it shouldn’t be much longer before Ben Dawson was found before he mysteriously went missing…again.

  “Damn, you really are a nice guy.” Steve’s voice sounded behind him. Charger looked over his shoulder and sneered. “And a hero.”

  “I’m a dick,” Charger replied, then cocked his eyebrow at Steve, Katrina, and Adam. “What are you guys doing here?”

  “Sloan told us to head over here since we were the closest, to see if you needed anything,” Adam replied, then nodded toward Katrina. “She’s riding along with us, getting ready for her initiation.”

  “They find the truck yet?” Charger asked, walking over to pick up the shirt he’d taken off.

  “No, but they will,” Adam answered, glancing toward the cops who were staring at them. “What
happened?”

  “Abusive husband tossed her over the bridge,” Charger answered, knowing the anger in his tone was evident.

  “Hero.” Steve nodded, as if saying it made it true. “No other word to describe it.”

  “Yeah, well, you best be thinking of a new word because if you call me that one more time, I’m going to punch you in the mouth.” Charger was no hero, not even close. Neither was he a fucking nice guy. He was a dick in every sense of the word.

  A younger cop walked toward them, stopping next to Charger. “We need to get a statement from you.”

  “Heard a scream, saw the woman go over the edge, swam out and got her, brought her back here, and you know the rest.” Charger headed for his bike. “That’s my statement.”

  “What exactly were you doing down here at that time of morning?” The older officer, who had tried to be a badass earlier, asked, and his tone was just as condescending as it had been earlier. Charger didn’t like the guy at all.

  Stopping in his tracks, Charger slowly turned to stare at the cop. “Don’t you think instead of asking me dumb fucking questions, you should be out looking for the son of a bitch who just tried to murder his wife?”

  “We have men working on that now,” the cop replied, not looking too confident now. “But it is suspicious that you just happened to be here.”

  “Shit,” Steve grumbled, shaking his head, but Charger ignored him as he turned completely around to face the officer head-on.

  “What is suspicious about it?” Charger asked the simple question.

  “I’m the one asking questions.” The officer’s face started to flush, whether in embarrassment or anger, Charger didn’t know and he really didn’t care.