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“Yes. I became an orphan when I was twelve. My father was her brother. That’s when I found out my mother was dead. I guess, she died a few years earlier. My father never told me. Anyway, you could say Aunt Willa inherited me. I’d never met her until she came to pick me up from social services.”

“So you’ve been here in Florida?”

“No. I left when I was twenty-two. I moved to Texas for a job and haven’t been back since.”

“Why not?”

“I have my reasons.”

“Now, that’s a story you can tell.”

“I’ll tell you mine after you tell me yours.” Her eyebrows lift, challenging me. “Like, you could tell me the one about how three brothers ended up being escorts for abused women.”

“Take the next exit in one mile.” The electronic voice of the GPS breaks the silence in the truck.

“We’re almost there,” I say, thankful for the save.

“Yes.” She looks at me from the corner of her eye. “We are.”

We remain silent for the next two miles.

“There it is.” She points at the motel sign.

I pull in, and we get out.

“Over there.” She indicates with her head. “Room twelve.”

I rush over, reach the door, and stop.

Fuck. It’s cracked open.

I hold out my hand to stop Harper. I glance over my shoulder. “Maybe you should wait out here.”

“Not a chance.” She reaches into her purse. “Besides, I’ve got Fred.” She holds the gun in her hand.

I swear the way she holds that thing, something bad must’ve happened to her. You don’t get that comfortable with a gun unless there’s a reason backing it up.

“Put that away. I told you, you don’t need that if I’m with you.” Her eyes slant. “Now,” I growl, not in the mood for her disobeying shit. I get it. She’s tough. Independent. Fuck. I’m attracted to that part of her, but the protector in me forbids me to allow her to use it to her full potential when I’m around.

She scowls, cramming it back into her purse.

I push on the door. It’s dark. The farther the door opens, the more light enters the room. My heart sinks when I spot feet on the floor next to the bed. I rush over to Amanda.

Harper flicks the lights on.

I drop to my knees. “Amanda.” I reach out and gently palm the side of her bruised face.

Motherfucker! He got to her.

“Amanda.” I lean in. “Can you hear me?”

She mumbles something.

I glance up at Harper. “Call 911.”

Harper stands, her unmoving eyes fixated on Amanda.

“Harper!”

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