Page 31 of Jude

My intentions did not include a pretty yet vulnerable brunette who had just scarcely escaped a trafficking ring.

I chided myself for being so judgmental.

Guilt hit hard as I remembered Sofia’s whimpering and screams in her sleep last night.

Regardless, I was not the man for her.

‘You’re overthinking it, Maggie,’ I rasped as I shifted my stance. ‘She’s a witness in a federal human trafficking case. I’m just the guy who happened to have the legal muscle to keep her out of a detention cell. Let’s not turn a simple rescue mission into some grand cosmic romance.’

I paused, shaking my head.

‘Besides, she’s not my type. She’s too timid, too messed up, with the mob after her. Red flag territory. I’ve no idea what her real story is, and I’m plain not interested.’

Maggie snorted.

‘You’re an idiot sometimes, Judah, my beautiful son, a brooder and dreamer. Wake up honey and open your eyes. The future you seek might be right in front of you.’

She patted my arm and walked into the house, leaving me alone in the gathering dusk.

I slipped my phone out of my pocket and saw another notification from Abby flash on the screen.

I flicked my gaze away from it and stared back at the kitchen window, where Sofia was washing dishes.

I found myself typing into the search bar of my browser, then scowling at the statistics it pulled up at my request regarding the grim reality of modern trafficking:

An estimated 22,191 cases of human smuggling have been documented in the United States since 2007 by the Polaris Project. Globally, women and girls make up more than 70% of the 20 million victims of modern slavery, yet convictions remain devastatingly low.

I shuddered at the thought Sofia might have been on these statistics.

Even more questions flooded my mind.

Why had I been pulled into this situation at all?

Was it, as my mum alluded to, purposed by some grand cosmic design, or a sideshow I could walk away from the second I left Vermont?

In that moment, my heart roiled even as my pride wrestled with a strange, irritating conviction. One that told me I wasn’t as in control of my destiny as I liked to pretend.

SOFIA

The kitchen window at Maggie’s place stood propped open, letting in the cool evening air while I stood alone by the porcelain basin.

Warm water ran over my hands as I scrubbed the grease off a frying pan, trying to keep my mind off the Luisa and Dario’s threats and on what would happen to me in the days to come.

Outside, the wind shifted direction, carrying the distinct sound of voices drifting toward the open sill.

Jude’s and his mother’s.

‘Besides, she’s not my type,’ Jude’s deep voice reverberated.

I froze beside the sink, the soap bubbles drying on my wrists.

‘She’s too timid, too messed up, with the mob after her,’ Jude continued, his tone offhand and casual.

‘Red flag territory,’ he rasped. ‘I’ve no idea what her real story is, and I’m plain not interested.’

A wave of red-hot humiliation flushed through my cheeks, burning straight down to my neck.

I stared down at the gray water, my eyes stinging while I gripped the edge of the counter to keep my balance.