Freckles flicks her gaze my way, expression blank, before returning to her surveillance of Kathy.
Her trauma-sister stands shadowed by our Road Captain, Circus. The scary motherfucker would make most people cross the room to put adequate distance between themselves and him, but she seems to find comfort in his twisted presence.
A fact we learned when Jinx’s woman, Kyra, freaked out this morning after discovering them in the spare room together.
Whatever the lady needs, I say.
My gaze finds Freckles again—or should I say Jenna, as revealed during initial interviews—seated on a footstool near the smoldering fire while she listens to everything Marty has to say. Hands cloaked in the sleeves of my knitted sweater—the same one I wore last night—she rubs the tip of her index finger across her parted lips. Her dark hair holds a natural wave, with a pixie-like line of earrings on display from how she has her hair tucked. I trace the slight indent to her cheek, the light bruise highlighting her cheekbone.
What did she do to warrant that? Was it bravery or stupidity that got her assaulted? Does it even matter when either way it’s wrong?
“Will they know where we are now?” Mila, the frail one, asks. “How to find us?”
Marty straightens in his seat, chest puffing out. “It’s likely they saw the club’s patch last night. But my department will ensure that they don’t have any connection to you again.”
“How?” I ask, curious how this motherfucker thinks he can stop an intricate web of career criminals with a handful of deputies and an ego the size of Texas.
He sets a scathing glare on me. “We’ll assist the women with the transition back into everyday life via Victim Services. With the information they’ve given us, I’m confident we can shut the operation down within a reasonable timeframe.”
“Bold words,” Chaos says, drawing Marty’s attention his way. “You do realize that the Devil’s Breed have run this operation in some form or another for the past three decades. That plenty of men before us have tried to do the same and failed.”
“That was their error, not mine,” Marty grits through a stiff jaw.
I catch a couple of the girls exchanging looks with one another, tension in the room palpable. Marty’s biggest flaw has always been his ego, and it’s apparent they’re catching on pretty darn quick to that.
Jenna stares at the scuffed floorboards before her, hands fisted inside the knit and pressed to her mouth. She was restless in her sleep, legs pedaling beneath the sheets, rolling from side to side. When I asked her about it after she woke, she denied it, telling me I must have been mistaken.
I know nightmares when I see them. Had a father who’d tell me I was talking shit when I’d ask about his, too. Pretty sure I understand now why he had them.
“Once again,” Marty says, rising to his feet, “I want to thank you, ladies, for your time today. I know this has been exceptionally hard on you, but it’s important to record as much as we can while your memories are fresh so that we can bring these people to justice.” He flicks a pointed stare Chaos’ way before looking back to the women—a warning to back off. “We also need to acknowledge that a suspicious death occurred in your time held there. I’ll require you all to be available should I have more questions related to that until the case is solved.”
“Do you think you’ll find them?” Darla asks. “The men who kept us captive?”
Marty presses his lips together before answering. “I don’t make promises until I’m one hundred and ten percent sure I can deliver on them. But Iwillpromise I’ll do all I can. We have the complication of them not being directly associated with theDevil’s Breed to overcome, but I’m certain once we find who theyareassociated with, it won’t be long.”
“We gave you their names, though. A full description,” Darla says.
He nods. “Indeed you did. But in most of these instances, they don’t use legal names while in earshot of the victims to protect their identity.”
She looks away, muttering something indecipherable under her breath.
“What protectionwillyou give the women who return home?” Jenna asks. “If Nandi’s sister is in Illinois, and Mila’s mom is in Nebraska, then how can you be so sure you can protect them? Isn’t that outside your jurisdiction?”
Marty bristles, hooking his thumbs over his utility belt. “You’re right: itisoutside my jurisdiction. But there’s this little thing called an interstate liaison that keeps us informed. Engaged.” The man keeps a tight rein on his anger yet does a fucking terrible job of hiding his dislike of her.
I straighten, pushing off the wall.
“You didn’t really answer my question,” Jenna presses. “How can you protect them?”
The room falls silent, all eyes on the sheriff for his response. “We’ll liaise with their local PD,” Marty explains with a stiff jaw. “Have someone check in on them at regular intervals until we’re sure they’re no longer in harm’s way.”
“And when exactly is that?” Jenna’s eyes narrow on the man. Seems a lack of sleep has made her particularly prickly.
“When we decide it is,” Marty retorts, over-enunciating each word.
She doesn’t know the man as we do, but she reads him well, zipping her lip in response to his heated tone. I relax a little when it becomes obvious their standoff has passed, folding my arms.
These women have been manipulated, abused, and traumatized. All they want is to go home with a reassurance they don’t need to spend their lives checking over a shoulder. Jenna’s question was fair, given the circumstances, but at some stage it won’t be the law’s problem anymore—Marty wasn’t wrong either.
