Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 85228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
I follow behind them, sensing when Roman takes up a spot near me but, of course, not touching. He didn't question me earlier when I confessed why I was at the sex club on the cross. Maybe he understands the reasoning of being touched when it's clear I hate it. He simply gave me exactly what I needed and stayed within the unspoken parameters.
Just his proximity threatens to set me on fire, and I sort of hate the way my body responds to him without provocation.
He splits off without a word, standing outside of the SUV as I climb into the back with Eli and Kiva. The only interaction I get with him is a simple dip of his head before he closes the door once I climb inside.
Chapter 22
Jersey
I never know how my day is going to go.
This morning, I woke up beside Caitlyn before calling Casper. After a cup of coffee and a confession from her that broke my heart, I fucked her on the kitchen counter as if my cock was somehow capable of fixing whatever trauma made her unable to stomach someone touching her.
I spent an hour watching her at a fucking dog park of all places. When she got back to the cabin, she simply told Eli goodbye, loaded Kiva into her car, and left without bothering to come inside. I don't know what I was expecting as Lark drove up to the house, but it wasn't her being in such a rush to leave.
I had every intention of following her home, but I was assured by Casper and Hemlock that Lark was going to sit on her house because Zeus and I had a job to do.
Now, several hours later, we're in South Carolina, sitting on a house that we're certain is one of the final stops on a trafficking pipeline. This place isn't their stable, where they keep all the girls before dispatching them based on customer needs, but there are several women inside. This house isn't a place where patrons can come and spend some time with unwilling women. This place isn't nice enough for that.
The crazy thing about some men who want an unwilling woman is that they also don't want to be inconvenienced. They don't want gritty and dirty. They don't want to feel like they're going to be robbed in some shitty neighborhood in order to fulfill their needs. The only struggle they want is the woman they plan to hurt.
This house is in a less-than-savory neighborhood. The roof is bowing, and I have no doubt it leaks during heavy rain. The yard was overgrown before winter turned the grass brown, and those weeds now lean toward the sidewalk leading up to the front porch.
"I think it would just be easier to set the whole fucking thing on fire," Zeus grumbles.
The man is never silent about how he feels about people who hurt people for profit, but tonight, he seems to be even more verbal than usual. It makes me want to tell him to shut the fuck up.
But to avoid suspicion, I remain silent. I don't need him questioning my change in character.
For some reason, Casper hasn't said much to the other guys about Caitlyn. At least he hasn't shared with them just how close he suspects that I've gotten. It didn't stop Hemlock from watching my face when it was discussed that Lark would stay behind rather than me.
"We could never risk hurting the women inside," I mutter, knowing he's well aware of this.
"We could go in and easily shoot every guard they have. They'd never expect us. We could put an end to this night right now," he argues, his hands running down his thick red beard as he glares out the windshield toward the house.
One of the worst things I've ever had to do is learn patience when doing surveillance. We know that there are unwilling women in the house, and there's a very good chance they could be being hurt as we sit outside doing nothing, but we also know that this is a very small part of what the organization we're tracking is doing. Cutting this part of the cancer out does nothing to stop the larger problem. If anything, going in and taking out the assholes in this one house could make the main trafficking organization go further underground, where it can spread and create even more victims, only we wouldn't be capable of stopping them. Letting them operate without stepping in is hard as hell, but it's also for the greater good.
I stiffen in the passenger seat when the front door of the house opens. A massive guy steps out on the porch, lighting a cigarette as he looks around. Thankfully, the house is in a pretty crowded area, and one more car parked on the street doesn't draw added attention.