Atone (Recovered Innocence #2)(39)

I lied when I told him he didn’t scare me. But it’s a good kind of scary. It’s the kind that makes me hope and want. We put our palms together, lacing our fingers. He tugs me down for a kiss. Our lips meet. It’s a gentle, testing sort of kiss that quickly gets out of control. We unclasp our hands, the need to touch overwhelming. I thread my fingers through his hair. He runs his hands down my back, then up, before banding his arms around me. There’s a strength in him that I need. Like an open source of bravery I can tap into when my supply gets low.

I lift my head and look down at him, smoothing the hair back from his face. It’s a good face, a handsome face. It’s become as familiar to me as my own, so I know when something isn’t right with him, like now. His brow is smooth, but there’s trouble in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t bullshit me.”

“It’s not something wrong. It’s something I’ve been thinking.”

“And that is…?”

“This is going to be over as soon as we find your sister, isn’t it?”

I don’t answer. I don’t make promises or conjure false hope. Instead, I kiss him. We have now. That’s going to have to be enough. He rolls us so he’s on top. I like the weight and feel of him on top of me and the way he looks at me when we’re like this. His touch is gentle, almost reverent. Everything slows. Discovering caresses. Long openmouthed kisses. I can’t get enough of him. He slides into me and it’s perfect. We rock together. This isn’t the same frenzied coupling as before. It’s deliberate. Each of us trying to say what can’t be said out loud.

I bring my legs up, trying to take him deeper. I want more of him. I want everything he’s got, everything I don’t deserve. In return, I give him everything I’ve got. I don’t have any other experiences to compare this to. It’s all new. His thrusts become more insistent, more demanding. I’m right there with him. God, he feels so good. He sucks my nipple into his mouth and I lose my mind, writhing beneath him. He makes a growling sound and lunges at me harder. It’s his name I shout when I come. He buries his face in my neck and thrusts one last time, driving as deep as he can go.

His breath is hot against the side of my face, drying the tears that somehow leaked out of the corners of my eyes. I was an idiot to think this could just be a for-now thing or that I could walk away anytime. It’s complicated and messy and necessary. He smooths away my tears with his thumbs, his gaze steady and understanding on mine. Every minute with him makes it harder and harder to be me. I wish I could be someone else for him. Someone who will stay. Someone who can offer more…more than just now.





Chapter 19


Beau


I’m in full search mode. I left Vera’s room at the ass crack of dawn to pry Cora out of bed so we could get to the office extra-early this morning. After last night, I’ve got a fire under my ass to get to Marie before that bastard marks her like he did Vera and sells her virginity to the highest bidder. I spent most of the morning learning what I can about sex trafficking. What a f*cking nightmare. Who knew that shit went on right under everyone’s noses? Third-world countries, sure, but not in the middle of the United f*cking States. If I ever get my hands on that *, they’ll have a real reason to put me away this time.

I also got Cora to agree to put the newest agent at the office, Nolan Perry, at the shopping center Vera and I staked out last night. I’m hoping we’ll get lucky there. We have almost no leads on this girl. Her Tumblr is the only link we have to her. I’ve been stalking it and her other social media accounts nonstop. Something’s got to pop. It’s got to. We’re on an impossible ticking clock here with someone else moving the hands.

I lay awake next to Vera most of the night, my mind spinning. Finding Marie means possibly losing Vera. I know only a portion of her story. There’s a big piece she’s not sharing with me, and she’s not likely to give it up. I went through a thousand scenarios, trying to figure out what it could be, but came up with nothing. All I can do is move forward, keep looking.

Cora’s glances at me are full of worry. It’s driving me f*cking nuts. I’d tell her I’ve got this, but the truth is I don’t. I don’t have a f*cking handle on anything right now. I don’t know how to explain any of this to her when I don’t understand any of it myself. She doesn’t get the sudden urgency and I can’t tell her. Not in a way that makes sense. Not without betraying Vera. And I’d never do that.

I have too few clues to track down. Javier Abano is a f*cking ghost. If that’s even his real name. There’s no record of his birth, of him ever having lived in the San Diego area, having a California driver’s license, or doing anything else real people do. The J in the tattoos is the only real clue I have to go on. It could stand for just about anything, but from what I’ve learned about him so far, I know it’s personal. He takes the time to select and groom his high-end girls. He takes pride in his stock, acquiring only the best, most desirable girls. He marks them with a f*cking inventory bar code.

How do you find a guy who seems to fly under the radar of every police and government agency?

I do an image search using key words to describe Vera’s tattoo. At first I get nothing. So I refine my search using new key words. It takes several tries and scrolling through pages of unhelpful images before I get a hit. One here, one there, one a little farther down. I mark all of the sources and start with the first one. It’s from Pinterest. I click on the image and find that it was re-pinned from another account. Following the re-pins back, I discover what I think might be the original account it was posted to. I bookmark the account and add it to the bookmark file labeled “tattoo.” Going back to the original search, I click on the next link.