by James, Marie
“What?” I ask harshly, looking over at Shadow and finding him just staring at me with a stupid smirk on his face.
“You’ve got it bad for that girl.”
His words ring true. Before I can deny what he’s said, I think about my ignorant behavior yesterday morning in the kitchen. I remember my childish behavior just to save face in front of my crew. I won’t make that mistake again, not even when it is only Shadow and me in this room.
“She’s different,” I admit but refuse to make eye contact with him, rather I busy myself with getting dressed.
“She’s beautiful.”
I snap my eyes up to him, readying myself to give another warning to him, but he’s watching my reaction. I can see that he’s simply stating a fact, a fact any man who looks at her would have to acknowledge; he’s not implying that he wants her on any level.
“She is, but it’s more than that. I feel,” I pause before speaking again, making sure I say the right words. “I feel connected to her somehow. I felt it the second our eyes met in Denver.”
Fuck. I’ve kissed her once and I pretty much just admitted to my oldest friend that she has my balls.
“Before you saw her old man hit her in the back hall?” I nod. “Fuck, Kincaid.”
“Yeah,” I say reaching for my boots.
He stands and walks toward the bathroom to shower. “They say when you know, you know.”
He leaves me with that. Alone, with nothing but my thoughts and the fact that I just admitted, out loud, the connection I feel to Emmalyn.
***
The trip from DC to Johannesburg, South Africa was uneventful. With one stop in Ghana to refuel, the second leg of the trip was spent in small bunks getting as much sleep as possible, gearing up for the countless number of days we have ahead of us as we search for twenty-three-year-old Constance Harrison, daughter of the always controversial Senator William Harrison of Georgia.
I flip through the file that was provided in Washington when we switched planes from the private jet we took from the small airstrip in New Mexico. The picture of the smiling girl paper clipped to the corner of the thick packet hardens my resolve to find her. We’ve done this type of recovery before, but it never gets easier. These trafficked girls go through hell the minute they’re snatched from their families. Constance has been gone for two weeks, and the woman we hope to bring home will, no doubt, not be the same person that was taken from her college campus thirteen days ago.
The agencies that have worked the case before we were called seem to think that the abduction was random. They have no reason to believe that Constance was targeted specifically or as a political maneuver against her father. There has been no ransom request; no letters delivered to the Senator; no disgusting videos of Constance being abused. No contact whatsoever taunting the Senator into some sort of forced action with the promise of his daughter’s safe return to them. These facts are unsettling because the abductors have no motivation to protect her. The fact that they consider her just another slave to serve their purposes doesn’t bode well at all.
I cut my eyes to Shadow, who finishes reading just about the same time I do. I shake my head slightly, and he nods knowingly. The last time we had a case this cold, the outcome was not what we’d hoped for. We’d found the girl we were looking for, but a body to return home to her family was not the way we ever wanted to end a mission. This case has much of the same feel as the case from last year.
Rather than causing a feeling of defeat, knowing how hopeless the case may be, it adds determination to the team. We give a hundred and fifty percent every time we go out on a mission, with hope to bring home the person we’re looking for alive. If that doesn’t happen, then a lot of closure can be found in being able to bury the body of a loved one, rather than wondering for the rest of their lives what happened.
I’m itching to jump into action the second I hear the rumble of the plane’s engines, informing me that we are beginning our final descent into South Africa. I close my eyes and ask for patience, strength, and a watchful eye on this mission. The request is two-fold. I need to return the Senator’s daughter, but I also need to get home to a woman that needs to be nurtured and healed from the abuse she’s suffered at the hands of the man she once believed loved her.
I have to kick Wrench’s leg to get him to wake up. He was right about being useless on this trip, but the way he was begging Kid to convince me to let him stay behind instead made my skin crawl. He normally backs off when I give the club a command. I don’t do it often, and everyone knows how serious I am when I do. This time, for some reason, he’s focused his energy on defying me, and an ominous feeling in my gut says he’ll continue to push me until I do something more drastic to make it stop.
Remembering a text message from Kid earlier makes me smile as we wait for the door of the plane to open. Emmalyn wants to get a job. I knew it was coming. I can’t ignore just how annoyed she’s been at my offering to buy her things and her insistence on paying me back. I know, without even admitting it out loud, that I’d buy her the world if she asked. I chuckle knowing she’d never utter those words.
I gave Kid strict instructions of where to take her to seek employment, not because I want to control her, but because I want to protect her. I know she’s going to want to get a waitressing job simply because it’s what she knows, but I don’t want her in an environment we can’t keep her safe in. This thought had me firing off another dozen or so instructions to him.
I pull back my smile at the thoughts of her and steel my mind to the mission ahead of my team as the door of the plane opens. Walking down the few steps of the jet, I stride toward the Senator’s other team. Hopefully, together we can bring Constance Williams home safe.
Chapter 17
I wish I had something to focus on other than Bunny’s words as we drive into town. I opted for the back seat of the SUV even though Rose offered me the passenger seat. I wanted to avoid Kid’s eyes on the side of my face and Rose’s gaze on the back of my head. Instead, I get the steady stream of glances from Kid’s soft blue eyes in the rearview mirror.
Ten minutes of silence, it seems, is as long as Kid can handle before he feels the need to explain himself and, in turn, Diego.
“You’ll need to learn to ignore the club girls,” his reflection tells me in the mirror.
I cut my eyes to the line of trees flying by on the road outside of the vehicle. “So everyone keeps telling me.”
“She’s poison,” Rose says referring to Bunny.
“She’s marking her territory,” I say simply. “There’s no need for her to do that.”
“Kincaid isn’t with her, Emmalyn,” Kid says.
“He’s not with me either,” I mutter not pulling my gaze from the passing landscape.
“Isn’t he?” Kid prods. I look into the mirror. “So that little scene I had to turn away from in the hallway before they left last night didn’t happen?”
I look over at Rose and can see the grin in her profile. I narrow my eyes at Kid. “We kissed. That doesn’t make him mine. God knows how many women in that kitchen this morning have done more.”
“If he wanted the other women in the club he would’ve had them long before now. He doesn’t want them.” I get the feeling he’s going to say more but Rose places a hand on his arm, and he just continues the rest of the drive in silence.
Ten minutes later we pull up outside of a bar. The parking lot is empty except for a lone pickup truck parked near the front entrance. It’s midmorning, and most bars don’t open up until late in the afternoon unless they serve lunch.
I angle my head so I can read the sign above the door. “Jake’s” is all it reads. Seems simple enough, but it must be on the Diego approved list if we’re here. I open my door and Kid begins to open his also.
“What are you doing?” There’s no reason for him to go inside with me while I fill out an application.
“Going inside.” His response is flat as if he’d never consider doing a
nything else than following me inside.
“I’m capable of filling out applications without your supervision.” I watch in astonishment as he reaches for his phone. I sigh. “Fine.”
I’m seething as I walk toward the front door, and shy away by instinct as Kid’s hand reaches out from behind me and pulls open the heavy door before I can open it myself.
“Sorry,” he says genuinely. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I just nod at him, upset at my response. How long will I cringe and respond protectively around every man who makes any motion toward me? I hope to one day feel safe enough that it’s no longer my first instinct.
“Thank you,” I tell him softly as I walk into the dimly lit bar.
I walk toward the man behind the bar. He’s got a clipboard in his hands, obviously taking inventory before his night begins. He turns and smiles when he sees us approaching. I grin at the tall, lanky, but undeniably handsome man as I approach.
“Coors?” he asks Kid.
Kid laughs. “Fuck no, man. It’s not even eleven.” He motions to me. “This is Emmalyn.”
I reach my hand out, and he shakes it. “I was hoping to get an application,” I tell him before Kid can speak for me.
He gives Kid a quick glance before he looks back to me. “I don’t have applications.”
I frown slightly. “Okay, well thank…”
He cuts me off. “Do you have bar experience?”
“I’ve waitressed for five years at a bar in…”
This time, it’s Kid who cuts me off. “She’s got experience.”
I turn my head and glare at him. I want to chastise him for speaking for me, but the man behind the bar pulls my attention away before I can speak.
“I’m Jake,” he says reaching out his hand again. “You can start on Friday. Be here by four to fill out the paperwork.”
I hear Kid clear his throat and watch as Jake looks at him. Something passes between them before Jake looks back at me. “Make that four-thirty. No paperwork.”
If I wasn’t so happy about finding a job, I’d question whatever it was that’s clearly going on here. I thank Jake and leave the bar knowing by the charge in the air that Kid is right on my heels.
“What the fuck was that?” I ask Kid the second we’re both back in the vehicle.
His shrug from the driver’s seat makes me want to slap the back of his head for the nonchalance. “You got a job.”
I cross my arms over my chest and look out the window not willing to complain any further because in four days I’ll start a job that brings me one step closer to independence.
“We need to grab a few things from the grocery store before we head back,” Rose says as we pull out of the parking lot.
***
I’m doing my best to make the most of my first shift at Jake’s, but every time I look over at the table in the corner and see Kid supervising me, my temper grows. That, along with the fact that my period started this morning, and I had to ask another woman for tampons because I was completely unprepared for it pisses me off even more. My focus has been off since the moment I set my eyes on Diego Anderson, and it’s becoming frustrating.
I grin again at Jake as he makes a comment about the group of ladies at the back of the bar. I’ve been serving the bachelorette party since they got here. At first, I was certain Jake was testing me to see how I handled the table of ten; he settled when he realized not only was I being truthful about my experience but I’m very good at waitressing. He’s been flirting with me every chance he got since realizing I’m capable of handling myself in a busy bar.
I smile all the way to the loud group of boisterous women to deliver the colorful mixed drinks they ordered. When I turn back to the bar, I see Kid has moved from his table to a stool near the drink pick-up area. I ignore him as I lean in to grab the beers ordered by another table. He and Jake were talking but grew silent as I approached.
Without a word, I leave them at the bar. “She’s Kincaid’s,” I hear Kid say in a low voice. I smile, for some reason loving the idea of being Diego’s.
The atmosphere around the bar, including Jake, when I come back to place my next drink order is entirely different than it was just moments before. Jake smiles and is polite, but gone is the flirting and suggestive looks. I have to wonder about the power of the man I can’t seem to get my mind off of if two words have other men backing down immediately. It makes me feel safe and protected, a feeling I haven’t felt in a very long time.
My shift goes by quickly, and I find that the people of New Mexico, for some reason, tip more than the patrons I encountered at Drifter’s in Denver. After his conversation with Jake, Kid went back to his table, which surprisingly stayed empty while he was away even though the bar was fairly crowded. Just another level of control the Cerberus MC has over this town. I have no doubt the club’s standing in the community is the reason I was given this job within minutes of asking for it, but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth because at the end of the day I have a job; for that, I’m grateful.
When the crowd begins to dwindle, I head over to Kid’s table. He’s kept an eye on me all night but made sure to sit in one of the other waitress’s areas, giving me some room to breathe. His waitress left for home a few minutes ago, so I make my way over to see if he needs another beer before last call. He’s been nursing a few all night, and that is another reason I’m comfortable around him.
Whether it is Diego’s orders or the fact that he just cares, he’s not going to put me in a position where I’m forced to either ride home with him intoxicated or insist on driving myself. This is a consideration Bobby would’ve never given me. Countless times I had to practically carry him out of my place of employment and drive his drunk ass home.
“You need another?” I ask Kid and angle my head to his empty beer bottle.
He shakes his head no and just watches my face. I’m not uncomfortable with him looking at me, but I do feel pressured to speak.
“This situation is familiar,” I tell him pointedly. He hitches an eyebrow up in confusion. “A man watching my every move while I work.”
His lip twitches as if he’s annoyed that I’d compare him to Bobby. He leans in closer to me before he begins to speak. “I’m here to protect you, Emmalyn, not look for reasons to punish you.” I nod my head in understanding, feeling guilty for even implying he was anything like Bobby. I begin to lower my head in shame because Kid has done nothing but treat me kindly and make sure I’m safe. “Besides,” he begins, “Kincaid would have my balls if I let you get so much as a scratch on the beautiful body of his… I mean yours.”
I snap my head up and glare at him. He holds his hands up as if he may have to protect himself any second. “Don’t look at me like that! Those are his words, not mine.”
I narrow my eyes at him, but smile ear to ear as I walk back to the bar to throw his empty beer bottle away.
Chapter 18
The last two weeks have been absolute fucking torture, in more than one sense of the word. The mission took a nasty turn when after we had acted on some bad information, we discovered that we were within hours of rescuing Constance, but something tipped the traders off and they moved the group of captives.
We know, as of twelve hours ago, Constance was in Johannesburg with a group of about fifteen other women. When we made entry into the house, the only thing we discovered was evidence that they were holding a large number of people in a very small building.
We also found the body of a girl that could be no more than sixteen years old. Proper authorities were contacted after that gruesome discovery, and hopefully, they could get that poor soul back to her family; at least their grieving could start in earnest now.
We have eyes and ears all over town, and now the worst part of any mission begins, the waiting. We wait and hope that we’re paying the snitches more than the traffickers, and they call us first when the group we’re tracking gets settled again. We’re days away from the World Cup, a
nd there is no way the traffickers will leave the area without getting the biggest payday they can. It means they will be situated near the stadium grounds, making it easier for travelers to have access to the girls.
We all hit the makeshift beds situated in a small room in a rent-by-the-week motel hoping to get some sleep, so the waiting doesn’t seem as fruitless. We’re all exhausted. We’ve been at this for almost two weeks, and we seem to be just hours behind them with every move we make.
It’s not uncommon. Traffickers are known to be skittish, moving the women with just the slightest hint that someone may be lurking around the corner. They don’t have to only worry about recon forces such as myself catching them, but they also have to worry about other groups of traffickers coming in and poaching the women they’ve spent so much time and money getting here. No honor among thieves and all that.
I shoot Emmalyn a quick text before closing my eyes. I wait for a few minutes for her return text, but it never comes. I look at the time on the cell phone and realize that it’s four in the morning. I close my eyes, knowing she’s asleep and feeling like a jerk for sending a message that could’ve woken her up.
***
I’m livid at whoever it is that’s shaking me out of my dream. Nothing is more important to me right now than the arms I had wrapped around Emmalyn as we lay on our sides holding each other. I grumble and reach for the last few tendrils of sleep, doing my best to stay with her.
She drifts away, and my eyes snap open to find Shadow leaning over my bunk shaking me. “I could kill you right now,” I spit at him.
He chuckles. “I know you want your girl, K, but we have shit to do.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I follow his gaze to my crotch and smirk at the straining erection in my boxers.