The Fugitive's Secret Child

by Geri Krotow

  “I’m actually between jobs at the moment. I was in the Navy, and have worked law enforcement. I’m looking into a few options locally.” Rob’s sincerity wasn’t an act. And for some reason Trina didn’t think he was talking about Trail Hikers.

  “What’s your passion?” Carl got to the point, that was for sure. Trina had noted that seniors tended to do this. As if small talk was a luxury of youth.

  “At-risk youth.”

  “No kidding! My son’s a counselor at Silver Valley High School.” As the two compared notes, she was shocked to hear Rob state that not only did he know Carl’s son but he’d worked with him when he’d volunteered at the school.

  The men finished up their conversation, and Carl turned back to Trina. “Keep the smiles coming for these girls. I really think that this is the best meal of the week for a lot of them.” He rapped his knuckles on the front of the table.

  “Will do.” She waited for him to be out of earshot. “What the hell, Rob? You never mentioned this before. Did you make that up? Because if you did, Carl is going to find out. He’s probably texting his son right now.”

  “And he’ll verify that we’ve worked together.” Rob’s enigmatic smile unnerved her.

  “I don’t get it.” She’d pictured him as solely an undercover agent.

  “I’ve gotten my Master of Social Work degree over the last five years, mostly at night and online. I had to finagle it here and there between the course load and my ops, but it’s worked out. You were briefed by Claudia about how all Trail Hikers need a real, solid job outside of these ops, right?”

  “Well, yes, she said my position as a marshal was ideal, as it was the perfect job and cover to dovetail with my work as a TH.” Realization dawned. “So you’re really settling down here?”

  “I was going to do everything on a temporary basis until I saw you again. Now that I know about Jake, it makes sense that I make Silver Valley my home base. I still have a condo in Arlington that I’m renting out for now. I could opt to sell it or use it as a pied-à-terre, depending upon how the workload goes here.”

  “How do you justify your absences to the kids you help? To Carl’s son and the other counselors?” The Silver Valley school district was large, encompassing several elementary schools, two middle schools, and one of the largest public high schools in the state.

  “They think I’m still on reserve duty in the Navy. I’ve told the school that I could be called to active duty at any time due to my skill set. And that’s not entirely untrue, as TH calls me in when I’m needed.”

  * * *

  Rob watched Trina absorb the information that he’d earned his degree and was already putting down semipermanent roots in Silver Valley. And the funny thing was that as he explained his status to Carl, he hadn’t been just answering the elder’s question. He’d been serious. With all of the attention on first the ROC op and then getting know Jake this past month, he’d never told Trina what else he did. She’d assumed all he did was work Trail Hikers ops, and he allowed her to. He still hadn’t taken her to the apartment he rented, as they spent their time mostly at her place. Where Jake was.

  “I meant to tell you sooner, Trina, but I didn’t want to put any extra pressure on us, or on our start of parenting together. It wasn’t important.”

  “Not important? You figuring out what you want to do with your life is incredibly important.” She fidgeted with the edge of the tablecloth. The sunshine-yellow plastic looked out of place in the dark strip club. Rob had the urge to grab Trina and haul her out of here.

  His protective instincts had been on overdrive since meeting Jake.

  Baloney. It’s about Trina and Jake. Your family.

  “Yeah, well, it came in bits and pieces. I don’t even have an income from it yet. What I’m thinking about is opening up my own office and getting a contract with local government and mostly the schools. I want to provide a sanctuary for the kids who don’t have the safety net they need.”

  “I think that’s wonderful, Rob.” Her words didn’t match her disconcerted expression.

  “But?”

  She shook her head. “No ‘but.’ This explains why you’ve been so great with Jake. Why you’ve given me time and space to let you in as his father. You’re a professional.”

  That stung.

  “Whoa—I’m not a professional dad. My relationship with Jake is from the heart.”

  “I know.” Quiet, a small smile. Had he destroyed her trust again by not telling her sooner about his social work? She placed her hand on his. “It’s okay. I know why you didn’t tell me. You said so yourself. It would have spooked me.”

  “Babe, I’m here. And as much as I enjoy getting a rise out of you, I’d never do anything to betray you, Jake or this.” He motioned at her, then him.

  “About that, Rob.” Oh God, she was going to tell him to forget it all. That his relationship was going to be with Jake only.

  “Go ahead.”

  “I’ve been thinking...you know Jake is in Williamsport with my folks, and we won’t be at the truck stop all night.” Hope flickered again as he watched her lick her full, rosy red lips. “I think it’s time we had an adult sleepover.”

  * * *

  Rob’s expression went from wary to hungry in an instant. It wasn’t hunger for a meal, but for her.

  “Trina, are you sure? Because I’m willing to wait as long as I need to.”

  “I know you are. But I’m not.”

  She stared at him a heartbeat longer before a movement in her peripheral vision drew her attention. “First girl, dressed to look about seventeen years old, your six o’clock.” She used the analog clock face as a reference to indicate that one of the dancers was behind Rob.

  “Roger.” He replied quietly and slid into the chair next to Trina so that he could have the same view. “She looks a lot younger, more like fourteen.”

  “And she probably is.” Compassion tugged, but Trina shut that part of her heart down. If she was to save any of these girls, she had to be a professional first.

  The girl approached the dessert table, reinforcing their assessment of her age. Younger teens often had a bigger sweet tooth.

  “Hi, I’m Trina. Please help yourself to whatever you want.”

  Her eyes were pale blue against a porcelain complexion. She was slight and petite, her movements jerky as she took three cookies off the plate.

  “Thanks.” She didn’t make eye contact, and Trina recognized a heavy Russian accent.

  “Do you speak Russian?” Trina gave her a chipper smile, and began to explain, in that language, that she was studying it and always needed more practice. She introduced Rob as her fiancé and said that he was trying to learn but wasn’t so good at it.

  Rob glared at her and the young woman laughed.

  “What’s your name?” Rob asked in English. Trina stifled her giggle. Rob was fluent in Russian.

  “Stacia.” Trina would bet her full name was Anastasia but didn’t press her luck. The girl was talking; that was enough for now.

  “It’s so nice to meet you, Stacia.” Both she and Rob held out their hands and Stacia shyly shook them. “Do you live around here?”

  She shook her head, then drifted over to the sandwich table with no further conversation.

  “Smooth,” Rob teased her, and she bit her cheek.

  “I messed that up.”

  “Relax. There’s still the truck stop.”

  As several more women came by to eat and pick up the goodie bags filled with toiletries, healthy snacks, local restaurant and grocery gift certificates, Trina refrained from asking any deep questions. She could kick herself for such a rookie mistake with Stacia but then it was only their first day, their first time with this group of ladies. And as her experience with the Marshals and training from TH taught her, nothing happened as quickly as she wanted it to. Pati
ence was the key character attribute of any law enforcement officer.

  But there were lives at stake here. She was certain the girls had been told that they’d be hurt or killed if they talked about how they got here.

  After lunchtime ended, Rob placed his hand on her shoulder. “Have you stopped beating yourself up yet?”

  “Never.”

  He said nothing as he regarded her. God, she loved how he looked at her. “We have a few hours before we’re due at the truck stop.”

  She consolidated the remaining cookies onto one dish and stacked the empty plates as she waited for him to catch her vibe.

  “As in we have your house to ourselves for the afternoon?”

  “As in it’s time for an adult sleepover.”

  Rob leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on her lips. Chaste for the church crowd, but the contact heated her as much as any kiss from Rob did.

  “I’ll bring the popcorn.”

  * * *

  The drive back to Trina’s passed in a blur. When Rob pulled up to her front porch, she turned to him. “This doesn’t have to mean everything to you, Rob, but I want you to know that it can. Mean everything. If you want it to.”

  “Get out of the car, Trina.” He couldn’t answer her, because he couldn’t look at her. It was the same as it was in the Poconos at Camp Serenity, the way his need for her shook him to his core. But it wasn’t the same at all. That had been closure on their old days.

  This was their beginning.

  Trina said nothing more, but he knew she was as juiced as he was by the pink color on her cheeks and how her chest rose and fell in ragged, quick motions. As she unlocked the door, he was so close to her he felt the heat of her body along his front. The door spilled open and he’d never been so grateful he’d seen the inside of her house already. He used his foot to slam her door shut and immediately pulled her back up against him, his arms reaching around her front.

  “Rob, God.” She reached above and behind her to grab his head, and he kissed her from behind as his hands held her breasts. Her nipples pressed against his palms through her sundress, and it felt like his head would explode if not for the grip of her hands in his hair. Their tongues fought, lapped, twisted together as their bodies wanted to. As their souls always had.

  “Trina, your room. Now.”

  “No.” She took the two steps to the back of her sofa. “Here. Now.” As she playfully repeated his request, she looked over her shoulder at him. She’d hitched up her skirt, revealing black lace thong panties. Her ass, her beautiful ass, drove him mad. But nothing did more to him than the look of pure desire in her eyes. The impish grin.

  “Those panties aren’t made for church, Trina.” He reveled in her gasps as he pushed the scrap of fabric away and quickly tore open the condom packet he’d had enough foresight to shove into his front pocket. As soon as he’d unzipped and donned the protection, he touched the small of her back. “Are you sure?”

  “Always. Now, Bristol.”

  Rob didn’t need to be told twice. Trina was wet and open for him, and he plunged into her, his hands on her hips, pure sensation rocking him with each pump. He saw her hands as they gripped the back of the sofa, saw her head swing around to encourage him.

  “Faster, Rob. Faster.”

  He wished it could last forever, but knew he’d always remember the flush on her face, the smoothness of her ass, the pure connection between them. Trina’s moans grew deeper, and she let out an ecstatic scream just as he went rigid and his own release quaked through him. She kept pulsing around him until every last nuance of his orgasm faded.

  He bent over her back, mirroring her position on the sofa but not wanting to crush her with his weight.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  “Mmm. I could get used to this.” Trina moved to stand up, and he backed away, not ready for their “adult sleepover” to end. She turned and faced him. “Don’t look so sad, Rob.” She looked at her watch. “We’ve still got two more hours.”

  * * *

  Trina stood under the shower and allowed the water to massage her shoulders. She and Rob had made love two more times since they’d gone at it like animals on the sofa. Soaping herself up, she laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” Rob stepped into the shower and took the bar of soap from her, lathering her back.

  “We were like two rabbits when we came in.”

  His deep chuckle filled the space. “More like dogs, if you ask me.”

  “Do you think it’ll always be like this with us?” His hands stilled. She’d surprised him.

  “I hope so, Trina. I’m counting on it.”

  Chapter 13

  It was hot and muggy at the truck stop the next week, when Trina got the call from Carl, the ministry leader, that she and Rob were needed again. The stop’s owner allowed them to set up outside the main entrance, off to the side. The tables were away from the larger throngs of motor travelers coming in and out of the combination fast-food/convenience store/coffee shop establishment. Trina did a quick walk-through of the building, re-familiarizing herself with all entrances. There were full showers and lockers in the back for the truckers, all rentals. When she was done, she sat down at one of the outreach tables.

  “I’m thinking I should pose as a trucker and go hang out in the shower. Don’t you think there’d be conversations to overhear?” Rob spoke as yet another eighteen-wheeler drove into the huge lot, pulling parallel with another humongous trailer truck. It had freshly painted fruits and vegetables on the side of its trailer, with a popular grocery chain’s name painted over the images. At least three dozen trucks with connected trailers were parked in parallel, making the parking lot look more like a village.

  “I think that the women who come here to turn tricks do it inside the truck cabs, or even outside in the woods over there. Less chance of being caught, and if the cops show up the trucker can always say he knows the woman. You might overhear something else, though, that could help us track the girls.” Evidence that would put Vasin and Ivanov behind bars for good, once they caught them. If Trina had anything to do with it, she’d see Vasin in cuffs right now. It still chafed that he’d sprung free.

  “There are female truckers, too, you know.” Rob poked fun at her, and she smiled.

  “I do know. And yes, I know that some of them indulge in the sexual market as well. We’ll just have to keep our eyes and ears open. And if we’re very lucky, we’ll get a break sooner rather than later.” She forced her gaze on the lot, away from Rob’s handsome face. They’d have their sexy time later. The anticipation simmered between them.

  “Where did Carl go?” Rob strained his neck to see past the trucks and highway traffic that routed into the station.

  “He said something about needing coffee.” She shooed away a yellow jacket, intent on the sugary treats that were now individually wrapped in plastic instead of being on open display.

  “It’s been twenty minutes.” Rob looked agitated.

  “Go check on him if you want. I’ll be fine.”

  “Text me with anything odd.” His voice was stern as he stood up. “Do you want coffee or tea, a soda?”

  “No, I’m good. Thanks, though.” She kept scouring the area in between the trailers.

  “I’ll be back out in a minute.” He walked off, and Trina allowed herself the pleasure of taking in his form, his shape, his butt. This was so easy, falling into working with Rob again.

  And she’d fallen in love with him as he was today.

  As much as her heart sang at the thought of being with him as a lover and maybe more, her brain existed for a good reason. To keep her heart from breaking into an infinite number of shards again. Because no matter how much she wanted to believe Rob was here for the duration, for the hard times as well as good with his newfound son, she couldn’t shake the deeper worry that something awful would tak
e him away again.

  * * *

  Rob stood in the bathroom at the sink and washed his hands. He’d had to force himself to stay here, wait for a chance to listen in on the truckers’ conversations. He was in a hurry to get back outside to the table, to the outreach post, to a chance to break the trade that had insinuated its way into what had to be the nicest slice of small-town America he’d ever had the chance to experience. He saw someone walk in and pretended to be examining his face.

  Who are you kidding, man?

  Aw, hell. It was all about Trina. Trina made everything more exciting, the colors of the Appalachian Mountains a deeper green, the contrast of postthunderstorm steam a smokier blue. He heard the sound of footsteps from the shower area and ducked his head. With a ball cap on he looked like any other trucker or fast-food customer.

  “See anything yet?” The guttural Russian came from a corner of the wide room, past the stalls, near the showers. Rob froze. Vasin.

  “Two of our girls are out there. I verified.”

  How the hell had they verified?

  “Stupid bitches don’t know enough to cover their ink.”

  “They’re the two we delivered to the club? And we allow to live with the others in the apartment? And they’re trying to two-time it?” Rob heard the indignation at what ROC would consider a blasphemous act. They usually kept their working girls separate—a group for the club, and a group for the truck stop. And he’d bet a dozen women were living in one squalid apartment, the cheapest available. He wondered if the women had somehow gotten together, because it sounded like the criminals were being outsmarted.

  “They forget about the tattoos that show they’re ours.”

  “They are crazy to think we wouldn’t figure out what they’re doing.”

  Ah. Tattoos. And Rob thought the Russian mobsters were the stupid ones, assuming no one would be able to understand them. They sounded angry, though, and that meant danger for the two girls who were no doubt trying to make extra money on their terms so that they could escape their life at the club. They weren’t the first to attempt it, from the reports he’d read.