Rebel (#3): The Riptide Series

by Brooke Page

  Rebel

  The Riptide Series: Part Three

  By: Brooke Page

  2018

  Copyright Brooke Page

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  How to Stop Human Trafficking

  Acknowledgements

  About Brooke Page

  Chapter One

  Seven Years Later

  Lauren

  Damn kids.

  You’d think scribbling all over the back of the bathroom stall wouldn’t be cool anymore. There were plenty of other options the arcade had to keep them entertained. I hadn’t called the mechanic to fix the ancient Pacman game in the back corner from allowing endless games. They could sit there and play it until their fingers went numb, and that was fine with me. If it would keep them from getting into trouble, it’d be worth it. Trouble came too easy in this small town.

  “Lo, are you in there?” Pete asked.

  Giving the stall one more scrub, I came up from my squat and went to the door, carrying the bucket of soapy water. “Yeah, our local artist has been at it again.”

  Pete frowned, holding the door open for me to pass through. “Was it another obscene picture?”

  “Yep,” I sighed, not wanting to tell the older man about the detailed giant penis with hairy balls etched into the metal with a pen.

  He ran his hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “I’ll have the new groundskeeper come in and give it a fresh coat of paint. Maybe we can catch the little shits.”

  Walking into the storage room, I tossed the bucket into the tub sink. “That’s a good idea.” Pete had owned this arcade and fun spot for years. His niece, Marcy, and I grew up hanging by the pool tables and putt-putt course. It was the only place for kids to go to mingle, unless there was a bonfire in a field or the 4H club had a show.

  Tying my apron, I asked, “I didn’t know you were hiring someone?”

  He shrugged and jutted his lip. “Bonnie made me do it.” Pete liked doing maintenance on the grounds. His hands were always covered in dirt and grease, but they weren’t as steady as they used to be. His age was taking a toll on him, and Bonnie was only doing it to help keep Pete around longer.

  “Maybe we could expand with another set of hands around here,” I offered, wanting to cheer him up.

  He bobbed his head. “Yeah, I still have those go-kart track plans Colby put together. Maybe I’ll pull them back out?”

  I smiled, but I doubted it matched my eyes.

  Pete frowned. “I’m sorry, Lo. I didn’t mean to bring him up.”

  I shook my head. “No, don’t be sorry. I really don’t mind talking about him.”

  Pete set a hand on my shoulder. “We all miss him. Tessa still talks about him nonstop.”

  Taking a deep breath and releasing it, I met Pete’s eyes. “Speaking of Tessa, she forgot her lunch on the counter this morning. Do you mind if I leave for my break a little earlier today?”

  Pete nodded. “Not a problem at all. You know we don’t get busy until school lets out.”

  “Thanks. I’ll stay later if I don’t get back in time.”

  Pete waved his hand at me. “You always stay longer than you’re supposed too. Don’t worry about it. Bonnie will handle this place while I get ready for the new employee.” He grumbled the last bit and headed out back toward the parts shed.

  ***

  “Momma!” Tessa greeted, her broad smile turning into giggles when she sought me out. I crouched down, opening my arms to her.

  “Hey, baby!” I grinned back, squeezing her tight when she jumped into my arms. She was my only meaning for living after all I had been through. The six-year-old little girl had all of my heart. Her eyes were bright like her daddy’s, and every time I looked into them, I was reminded of Colby.

  She pulled back from my embrace, her lips turning into a pout. “Mommy, I forgot my—”

  Before she could finish her sentence, I held out the pink princess covered bag. Her eyes lit up.

  “Good thing I grabbed it after you got on the bus.”

  She jumped up and gave me another hug, sending her warmth and gratitude through me.

  “Thanks, Momma!”

  “Of course, baby. I didn’t want you to go hungry.”

  She took the bag from me. “Mommy, can we visit Daddy after school?”

  My stomach knotted, but I kept my smile in place. “We’ll see how late it gets.”

  Her smile faded, but she understood. “I drew him a picture.”

  “Another one?” I asked. She patted the pocket in her jumper. The corner of a folded piece of paper was sticking out of it. “Can I see this one?”

  She shook her head. “Nope, only Daddy.”

  Although it broke me inside that she wasn’t sharing everything with me, I understood. She still couldn’t comprehend why her daddy wasn’t around.

  “Okay. You better go catch up with your class.” I gave her another squeeze, and watched her skip back to the lunch table, her blonde locks bouncing along with her spirit.

  I stood from my crouch, crossing my arms and watching her fall into place. The other little girls surrounded her, laughing and giggling. She was so relaxed around other people, friendly and confident. Far from how I was as a child. The only friends I had were Marcy and Colby. The rest of the kids at school knew my mom was the town whore and a drug addict. I shunned myself to protect my mom. Unfortunately, I failed. It had been seven years since she overdosed, and although I thought being rid of her would solve a lot of my problems, it stayed in my heart like a thorn, a constant reminder of how alone I was before Tessa.

  Waving to Tessa’s teacher, I checked my watch. I had more time on my hands then I had expected.

  Now I was alone, and the overwhelming feeling I fought every day began to take over. My chest was tight when I sat back in my car, the anxious feeling that crept up on me every day was about to strike. Taking deep breaths, the emptiness was never far. It consumed me ever since I left The Shore.

  The Shore. It used to be what I longed for. The Gulf breeze would touch my skin, and all of my problems were cut in half. It was my serenity, until what felt like a stake was driven through my chest, stabbing my heart and yanking it out of my body, tossing it in the ocean for the fish to devour.

  Vance Everett was the holder of the stake, and although he tore me apart and ripped out all hope for a normal, loving life, not a day went by that I didn’t think about him. He surrounded me, even when I got married, putting a face on for my future husband and onlookers. I wanted Vance to be the one standing across from me on that day, but it was no use. He didn’t put me first. He was married to his job, distant and afraid of commitment. He didn’t share the same devotion as me, wouldn’t even come to my mother’s funeral.r />
  Swallowing the pill, I took another gasp of air, collecting myself so I could go on with my day and temporarily forget how amazing I’d felt with Vance. Once I was brought back from the small panic attack, I put my car into drive and headed for the one place that seemed to help.

  It wasn’t far; nothing was in this tiny, run-down town. Waving to the ranger at the State Park, I drove down to the lake. During summer, it would be packed with people and their kids trying to cool off from the heat. Tessa loved coming to swim, but summer wasn’t the only time I found my way to the sandy beach area.

  Zipping up my sweatshirt, I opened the car door, the bite of the breeze causing my cheeks to turn pink within a minute of being in it. I didn’t mind. The parking area was wooded, and a stone path of steps led down to a large shelter with bathrooms. It was deserted, but then again, it was April. April in Michigan wasn’t warm enough for swimming, especially on a day like today. Snow had finally melted, but the ground was still cold. Ignoring the chill, I took off my shoes and socks, the grains of sand dusting the concrete scraped my feet the closer I got to the beach.

  As if God knew I needed it, the clouds broke, and the smallest amount of sun broke through the sky, casting over the beach.

  I hummed when the sand touched my toes. It was cold to my feet, but it was welcoming. It was never as silky as The Shore. It was damp, forming pebbles and chunks between my toes, unlike how it would disappear between my fingertips near the actual ocean.

  Not worrying about my jeans, I took a seat near the water, watching the ripples turn choppy whenever the wind would pick up its intensity. The lake didn’t roar like the sea, and instead of being able to see miles and miles of water until it dropped off with the horizon, trees and cottages appeared across the lake.

  There really wasn’t a comparison, but maybe that’s why coming here helped. There were a plethora of differences between the two places, but the sounds were similar, seagulls chirping, the water singing its song. The ocean was louder no doubt, but the water held the same tune, and if I closed my eyes and the sun hit my face just right, I’d be taken back to where my heart was left. Even if it were crumbled into a thousand pieces, it was still there, bleeding and aching for the one who destroyed it.

  I covered my wrist with my hand, the leather bracelet Vance gave me still in place. I never took it off, not even on my wedding day. Colby thought it held a different meaning.

  “Did you find this at one of those touristy shops?” Colby asked, thumbing the leather bracelet with shells on either side of a piece of metal. “Trust the sea,” he read, pulling me to his chest.

  I smiled, holding together my composure. Colby and I had spent the last few days together in his bed. It was the first time we’d been intimate. I had finally made the decision to stop searching for what I already had. Colby was safe and would take care of me, even if the sparks weren’t there. He loved me and wouldn’t stray.

  “Yeah, I found it at one of those stores,” I lied. “I should throw it away.”

  Colby grinned, then rolled so he was on top of me. His blue eyes were kind and full of passion. He was genuine, and I knew I could always trust him. I only hoped he saw through my heartbreak. “I think you should keep it.”

  He kissed my nose, and I furrowed my brows at him, confused by his response. “If the sea told you to come back home to me, then I’d say it gives pretty good advice.”

  I smiled and slid my arms around his neck, hugging him so he wouldn’t see the tears that were threatening. The sea didn’t tell me to come home to him; it told me I belonged in another man’s arms, but I ignored its advice. Vance hurt me beyond repair, and Colby wouldn’t dare destroy me anymore than he already knew I was.

  I stared down at my hand covered in the damp sand, methodically moving it from finger to finger. Tessa loved playing in the sand. Maybe I’d bring her back after work to build a castle. She had been bugging me since January to swim at the make-shift beach. Packing her up and driving south had crossed my mind dozens of times, but I was terrified the memories that I worked so hard to bury deep into my mind would resurface.

  My heart couldn’t take any more stress.

  Not after losing my mother to an overdose, or Colby’s tragedy, and most definitely not after Vance had shredded me to pieces.

  I gazed out at the water, the miniscule amount of sun kissing my face. No boats or jet skies were out this time of year, at least not in the middle of the day during the work week. The water was considered choppy, nothing compared to the raging waves of the sea, but the local fishermen wouldn’t be caught dead in it.

  Taking a deep breath and releasing it, I kept my gaze outward.

  My whole body went stiff with what I saw gliding from the curved side of the lake beyond the pine trees.

  Tingles shot up my arms and my heart began to pump wildly in my chest. Slowly finding my knees, I leaned forward and squinted, certain my mind was playing tricks on me. But the foreign object skidding across the bumpy waves didn’t disappear when I blinked; it only came into focus the more I stared.

  Every muscle in my body was tense while I watched; one of the memories I fought so hard to keep from rearing its ugly head was beginning to rise. My chest tightened, and I held it with my palm, pumping it to keep myself breathing.

  It was a kite surfer, catching the wind perfectly to soar through the air.

  I stood to my feet, cupping my hands over the top of my eyes as if it would help me see the man in a wetsuit owning the lake. I’d only seen one man who moved so smoothly on a board and could hold the bar to the massive black and white kite with one hand while spinning in the air.

  My eyelashes touched the tops of my cheeks. Was this all a dream? Springing them back open, he was still there, zooming through the air as if it were seven years earlier.

  Vance.

  I couldn’t peel my eyes away from him. My breaths shortened while I watched him glide passed the swimming area, pulling himself up with the bar so the wind would guide him over the buoys.

  A kite surfer, on this tiny lake in the cold weather. Who would have thought? I shook my head. There was no way Vance, the blast from my past, would be in my hometown. Although my heart ached for me to keep watching, I stood from the sand and turned on my heels, bursting into a dead sprint through the sand and up the steps until I found my Neon. I was out of breath when I slumped into the driver’s seat, but it wasn’t from the impulsive run. No, it was from the fear of how familiar that masculine body on the lake was.

  Shaking my head, I had to put it behind me. Vance was a ghost, someone I had accepted to never see again. Turning on the car, the loud muffler roared, and I drove back to the arcade, doing my best to forget about my pit stop to the lake.

  Chapter Two

  Two Months Earlier

  Vance

  Here I sat under the single spotlight of Riley’s office, again. It gave off the interrogation vibe with how little was in the room. There was a desk with a computer, no paperweights or clutter. No shelving units with books or picture frames of loved ones.

  Riley didn’t have a family, and neither did I. That’s probably why after seven years, we were both still here, fighting to stop monsters that drugged and sold women as sex slaves.

  My father, the ring leader to one of the biggest schemes in the southern hemisphere, we took him down with a gauntlet. He was sitting in a jail cell, getting all that he deserved. It should have bothered me more that I betrayed him, but good rose over evil, except I didn’t consider myself to be either one of those tags. I was merely just here. If I were good, I wouldn’t have helped him with his evil pimping and selling for so many years. A good person would have turned him into the police much sooner.

  We’d been tracking other sellers, busting them and throwing them behind bars where they belonged. Working undercover was exhilarating and gave me a purpose. I thought the weight on my chest from my father’s terrible way of life would be lifted once I brought him to justice, but it remained heavy, a constant
realm of guilt and pain hovering over me from the years I didn’t do anything about his sinister empire.

  Riley’s office door swung open, the man now in his late 50s trudged to his desk, slapping down a file folder. He pushed the sleeves of his white dress shirt to his elbows when he sat down, shaking the mouse to warm up his computer.

  Running a hand through his salt-and-peppered hair, he released a sigh. “Well, Vancy, we busted another group of perverts, great job.” His hard blue eyes left his screen and finally found me. “Sorry the SWAT team wasn’t timelier.”

  He was referring to my swollen lip and black eye. I lost my cover before the bust was made. It wasn’t the first time I took a beating before backup came. “It’ll heal. Did we get enough evidence to put him away for good? I don’t want a repeat of three years ago.”

  Riley grimaced, recalling a failed attempt at a bust in New Orleans. “We’ve learned from our mistakes. He’ll be locked away.”

  “As long as he stays there,” I grumbled.

  Riley turned back to his computer and opened the manila file folder he’d brought in with him.

  “Where’s my next location?” I asked, the drill engrained in my brain all too well. Stop the bad guys, only to move to another spot to stop more bad guys. It was predictable on my part, but it caught those sick fucks off guard.

  Riley glanced at me. “You know, you haven’t seen the psychiatrist in a while.”

  I huffed. He normally didn’t bring up the pain in the ass doctor that the government supposedly required all agents of my caliber to see, but I had been skipping appointments for almost two years. “I’m all right.”

  Riley shrugged. “Just doing my job and reminding you the doctor is available.” He turned in his seat so he was facing me. Both of his hands sprawled on his desk, the open folder between them. “But if you’re okay to move on, then I’ll put a note in that you’re good to go.”