The Complete Langley Park Series (Books 1-5)

by Krista Sandor

  “Zoe,” Em said, reaching out and taking her hand.

  Zoe nodded to her friend then wiped a tear from her cheek. “I always thought that someone had gotten to the mother. These private facilities operate under very little oversight. Claims of abuse and neglect get swept under the rug. There are so many shell companies involved in some of these places, it’s hard even to discern who’s in charge. The finances are also pretty sketchy—lots of money flowing in and very little oversight. But a few months ago, I met a young girl at a youth rec center opening in Kansas City. She’d just gotten released from one of these facilities. One that had opened not long ago in Garrett County.”

  “Near the hollow?” Michael asked.

  “Yes, but farther out and way more remote. There’s a farm that borders it to the west. The people who own it run a marriage retreat there. Initially, Cam from work was going to go with me. I wanted to try and get a closer look at this place without anyone knowing I was a reporter. But Cam’s wife went into labor right as we were supposed to leave, and Sam demanded that he come with me. That’s how we ended up there together.”

  “Weren’t you already supposed to be married?” Jenna asked.

  Sam leaned forward. “Yeah, but everyone there was in a pretty shitty place with their spouse. It didn’t surprise anyone when I told them I thought Zoe was going to leave me. When the whole snake bite thing happened and I professed my love for her in front of the group, Harmony, that’s one of the people who run the retreat, suggested we renew our vows. Her husband, Bud, is ordained and he did it right there on the spot.”

  Michael glanced down at the marriage certificate. “Hmm.”

  “We’re married, Michael,” Sam said, gaze hardening. “In every way that matters, Zoe’s my wife. If we need to go down to City Hall and fill out a form or pay a fee, we will.”

  “I’m not saying that you’re not married. Let me hold on to the certificate and check a few things. This, people,” Michael said, eyeing the group, “is why it’s good to be related to a practitioner of the law.”

  Gabe sat back. “So that’s what’s been going on all these months with you, Z.”

  Zoe felt her cheeks heat. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been preoccupied. I know I’ve canceled on you guys a bunch lately. But this story is important. My source doesn’t want to go on the record, but she’s told me quite a bit, and her account of what happens in the facility in Garrett sounds nearly identical to what was going on in Virginia. I need to get it right this time. I need to get real evidence. Concrete evidence. I need to help these girls.”

  “Were you able to learn anything from your stay at the marriage retreat?” Lindsey asked.

  “Not much, but enough to know that what my source has told me is most likely true.”

  “What’s the next step?” Nick pressed.

  “I need to find a way in. No girl is going to talk on the record. They’re all too scared. I need a way in where they don’t know I’m a reporter.”

  Em snapped her fingers. “Like a famous musician who’d like to do a little community service working with troubled youth?”

  Monica gasped. “Or a TV personality to do a little baking demonstration.”

  “Wait!” Sam, Michael, and Gabe said in unison.

  Em met Monica’s gaze. “No, it’s perfect! Zoe could be our assistant.”

  Monica nodded. “We could just show up and say we wanted to talk to the warden, director, whatever.”

  Em turned to Monica. “Yes! Ambush! Catch them off guard! I could go all music diva if they give us any trouble.”

  “Not a stretch,” Michael said, under his breath.

  Monica clapped her hands. “I could bring a strudel. Nobody’s ever been able to turn down my strudel. I mean that’s how I landed Gabe. Boobs and strudel.”

  All eyes fell on Gabe. “I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t partly true.”

  “You guys,” Em said, a determined spark in her eye. “It’s perfect. Monica and I are high profile. If something were to happen to us, it would cause too much trouble for them.”

  “Do you know who’s in charge?” Monica asked.

  Zoe started clicking on her phone. “Dwain Q. Leonard is listed as the Executive Director.”

  “Hand me your phone,” Monica said. “That name sounds familiar. I think he’s in my fan club!”

  Gabe turned to her. “You have a fan club?”

  “Yeah, for the TV show. You have one, too.”

  “I do?”

  Monica patted Gabe’s cheek then turned to Zoe. “We already know this guy knows me, and everyone on the planet knows Em.”

  “Are you both sure?” Zoe asked.

  Monica and Em shared a look.

  Em looked from her husband to Gabe. “Best case scenario, Zoe’s able to look around and get some evidence. Worst case, we do our best to give these girls a break from a terrible situation.”

  Michael took Em’s hands and kissed her knuckles. “Had you not been a musical genius, you could have made one hell of a lawyer.”

  “I don’t know,” Sam said, shaking his head.

  Zoe held her husband’s gaze. “Sam, this could work.”

  “Then I’m coming with you.”

  She shook her head. “No, those girls are traumatized by men. If it were just me, Em, and Monica, we’d have a better chance of getting them to open up.”

  He frowned. “I’ll stay in Garrett. I’ll stay in town. But I want to be close by.” He turned to his brother. “I hate to leave all the responsibility of running the restaurant on you. Have you had any trouble running Park Tavern?”

  Gabe cocked his head to the side. “Trouble?”

  Sam cracked a smile. “I know you’re a celebrity chef and all that. I wanted to make sure you don’t have too much on your plate with the show and the restaurant.”

  “I’m good, brother, and I owe you. You ran Park Tavern on your own for years. You’re due for some time off.”

  Em clapped her hands. “It’s settled! We’ll dump Sam off at some diner in Garrett and then we’ll girl power our way into the detention facility.” She looked around the room. “Now can we start this birthday party? Smelling all the cakes and pastries Monica and Gabe brought is nearly killing me!”

  “It’s not really a surprise birthday party anymore, is it? It’s a wedding celebration,” Ben said with his rarely used sentimental expression.

  “Wait!” Lindsey gestured to Monica’s necklace. “What’s that hanging next to your locket?”

  Monica’s hand flew to her neckline, and she delicately touched a ring hanging beside her locket.

  Gabe’s cheeks grew pink. “I asked Monica to marry me this morning.”

  Monica smiled up at her now fiancé. “I’ve been baking so much. I didn’t want to get it all doughy. I put the ring on my chain to keep it close. We were going to tell everyone after the party.”

  Zoe watched as the group circled Monica and Gabe. Sam came to stand behind her, and she leaned into him.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist. “Are you sure about this, Z? It could be dangerous for you.”

  She turned and ran her hands down his solid chest. Worry clouded his gaze, and a wave of guilt washed over her. But she pushed the emotion aside. As much as she loved him, this was her only choice. She had to follow through with this plan. How could she live with herself if she didn’t at least try?

  She brushed her fingertips across his forearms, inked with dozens of intricate Zs. She traced one then met his gaze. “You know I have to do this. It’s the best shot I’ve got. I have to take it.”

  18

  Sam brushed a lock of hair from Zoe’s face and tucked it behind her ear. For too many lost years, he’d laid in this bed, alone, imagining what it would be like to have her next to him. Of course, he’d imagined doing a hell of a lot more than just lying next to her. But in these moments, when he had her all to himself in the early morning light, murmuring in her sleep, curling into him. That’s when it would hit hi
m. She was his. He was hers. Zoe and Sam were no longer Langley Park’s platonic duo. Nope, now they’d joined the ranks of their blissfully happy, freshly-fucked friends.

  They’d been married three weeks. Three perfect weeks. Three weeks where he’d woken up without a care in the world…until today.

  Today, Zoe, Em, and Monica were going to try and con their way into the Garrett Grove Rehabilitation Center for Juvenile Girls. Today was the day all their busy schedules aligned, and in a few hours, they’d drive down to Garrett County, and the moment he’d been dreading would become a reality. Zoe could handle herself. She was no doe-eyed idiot. Still, that protective urge inside him didn’t want her in harm’s way. But he knew who he’d married, and he’d never stand in the way of her work.

  He ran his thumb over her parted lips. She sighed, the hint of a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth as she slept.

  Last week, they’d gone with their friends and family to the courthouse and were now by every legal measure in the state of Kansas, thanks to his cousin, married. Zoe Stein Sinclair’s parents had thrown them a wedding party after their civil ceremony where he’d slipped a pink diamond engagement ring on her finger. He’d seen the rare gem in a jeweler’s window a few days before their courthouse date, and the image of an eighteen-year-old Zoe with pink-tipped hair, combat boots, and that wicked spark in her eye told him that ring was meant for his wife.

  “You’re watching me sleep, you creeper,” she yawned, opening her eyes.

  “Creeper? What happened to pickle smoocher or cock ladle?”

  “I’m too sleepy to be dexterous with verbiage.”

  “Dexterous? Verbiage? I don’t know what you just said, but it sounded sexy as hell.”

  She closed her eyes and stretched. “It’s all my mental adroitness.”

  “Anything you say makes me hard, so keep talking,” he growled, leaning in to kiss her.

  All warm breath and loose limbs, she wrapped her arms around his neck. While any kind of sex with his wife was amazing sex, forget Wheaties or protein shakes. Morning sex was by far the best way to start the day. Waking up to Zoe in a tiny G-string and nothing else would have him raring to go before he was even fully conscious.

  She pushed him onto his back, wiggled out of the sexy panties, and climbed on top of him. She held his gaze, her gray-blue eyes swimming with lust as she sank onto his thick, hard length. She pressed her hands against his chest, taking every inch of him into her sweet, wet heat.

  He’d married a goddess. Slowly, Zoe rode his cock, rising up and down while rays of sunlight illuminated the sway of her hips, the curve of her neck. Like a siren’s lullaby, her moans and sexy sighs hypnotized him, leaving him ravenous for more and completely bewitched.

  “How’s the show?” she asked, grinding into him.

  He glanced up. Yeah, they went there. What looked like a fancy light fixture was actually a mirror. They’d also added a mirror above the dresser and a small one near the door. Once they’d found what Zoe called their Kansas bungalow kink, there was no going back.

  He gripped her hips, pressing his fingertips into the delicious flesh of her ass and thrust into her. “It should be illegal to have breasts that perfect.”

  She glanced at the mirror above his dresser. If he wasn’t already as horny as hell, watching Zoe watch herself ride him like a naughty cowgirl was enough to send him over the edge.

  She turned from the mirror and met his gaze. They may like to watch, but when she was close to release, she always turned to him. Gazes locked, he angled her body, bringing her closer as her most sensitive place rubbed against him in delicious strokes. Layer upon layer of pleasure built inside him, and he doubled his pace. The moment she lost control and met her orgasm, he was right behind her, riding each sensual wave of their joint climax.

  She collapsed onto his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. She nuzzled into the crook of his neck, and he tightened his grip.

  “Afraid I’ll blow away?” she asked.

  “No, I just want to hold you a little bit longer this morning.”

  She kissed his neck then pushed up onto an elbow. “I’m going to be fine, Sam. I’ll be with Em and Monica the entire time.”

  He knew this. He fucking knew this.

  “I know. But I just got you.”

  “You’re not going to lose me, pickle smoocher.”

  “There’s my girl.”

  Zoe glanced over at the nightstand where she kept her phone.

  He ran his hand down her arm. “Just check it.”

  She’d been waiting to hear from TJ. Anytime her phone would buzz or ping or beep, a hyper-alertness akin to that of a SWAT guy getting word of a hostage situation would takeover. But so far, she’d heard nothing.

  Not a text. Not one call.

  “She may be okay, Z,” he said.

  “Or the phone could have been confiscated. Or it could have run out of juice. It’s been weeks.”

  He stroked her arm. “If she hasn’t turned it on or if she’s barely used it, there’s a good chance the battery is still at least partially charged.”

  She narrowed her gaze, skeptical.

  “I’m serious! A guy came into Park Tavern the other night. He’d just gotten back from six months abroad. He was telling me that he left his phone charged in his desk. He said it was at seventy-two percent when he turned it on—after six months. TJ’s only had that phone a couple of weeks.”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  “And you’ll be there today. There’s a decent chance you’ll get to see her.”

  She tugged at her lip. “Most likely with those goon guards overseeing everything.”

  “It’s better than nothing, right?”

  Zoe softened her gaze. “Yes, it is. I’m just a little keyed up.”

  “A little?”

  She released a tight breath. “A lot.”

  He leaned back onto the pillows, and she rested her head on his chest. He rubbed her shoulder. “What’s the game plan today?”

  She brushed her fingertips up and down the hard plane of his stomach. “Em’s going to drive, and we’re all going in her car. She’s bringing keyboards and a couple of violins. Monica’s bringing a bunch of baking stuff. We thought if we all drove together it would give us a little more time to brainstorm.”

  “I’ll follow you in my truck and stay in Garrett until you’re done,” he said and waited a beat for her to protest. But she remained quiet.

  “Okay,” she whispered, her breath warm against his neck.

  “That was easy.”

  She pushed up on an elbow. “I get why you want to come. It’s the same reason you’re not telling me to scrap the idea.”

  “I’m behind you, Z. Always.”

  She licked her lips as that wicked, sexy twinkle sparked in her eyes. “Behind me? That could be fun.”

  Sam followed Em’s Range Rover until they hit a four-way stop. This is where they parted ways. Zoe turned and waved goodbye from the backseat of Em’s car as the Rover continued south toward the detention center. He turned on his blinker and headed east toward Garrett’s town center. After a minute, his phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen.

  I’ll call you soon. Don’t get into too much trouble. xxoo

  Zoe.

  He thought back to their morning double-hitter. Christ! He loved her. He couldn’t imagine life without her. It was hard to fathom how long they’d lived denying their attraction. Just the thought of her sent a heated spark down the length of his spine. But today, nerves were blocking that tingle of warmth.

  He drove down Garrett’s main drag. There was a diner not too far down the road, but he wasn’t hungry. He was too amped up to sit still for the next couple of hours. He passed through town and drove down random streets, his mind and his truck wandering. Had he been smart, he would have dressed for a run to burn off the worry. He continued down a country road until it hit him. His subconscious had led him to the Henshaw family cemetery.

 
He parked his truck on the side of the road and gazed up at the grove of cottonwood trees beyond the blond field of wheat. When he and Zoe had come here a little over three weeks ago, it had been the peak of the fall colors, the trees bursting with golden-orange leaves. Today, only a few dared to ignore Mother Nature and clung to spindly branches, fluttering defiantly in the breeze. As he sat in his truck, one rogue leaf lost its battle and drifted gently to the ground, and a sense of peacefulness washed over him.

  Just like that leaf, it was time for him to let go, too.

  He walked the path to the cemetery and passed through the weathered gate. The squeak of the hinges didn’t slice through him as it had on his last visit. Today, the sound wasn’t painful. Instead, the sensation was more like rubbing the raised, thickened skin of an old scar.

  Always with you, but no longer a gaping wound.

  He went to Kara’s headstone, crouched down, and picked up a golden cottonwood leaf. He twisted the stem, watching the sun pass through its brittle, sunbaked skin. “You will always be a part of my life. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m sorry that I couldn’t help you, Kara.”

  “She wasn’t always like that.”

  Sam looked over his shoulder. Standing outside the gate in jeans and a hunter green jacket was an out of uniform Officer Conrad Henshaw. Maybe it was the lack of police get-up, but Conrad didn’t seem to be carrying the sharp edge he’d had during their last encounter.

  Sam took the bait “She didn’t used to be like what?”

  Conrad opened the gate and stood a few paces away from him. “Manipulative. Manic. Delusional. When she was a little girl, I used to push her on the swings. ‘Higher! Higher!’ she’d tell me, and I’d keep pushing her. She’d be at that point where she was soaring so high, the chain would kink in the air, and she’d get so mad at me when I wouldn’t keep going—when I’d tell her she could get hurt if she went over.” He picked up a rock and threw it into the field. “I think that’s what happened with her when it came to you, Sam. She didn’t stop. She went too far and couldn’t get herself back. She was a lot like my mother in that way.”