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“Yeah, I ran track in high school and college, but that’s beside the point,” I argued.
“What’s the point?” he asked as he pulled his shirt over his head and used the cloth to wipe the sweat from his face. Just like that, I was distracted from my thoughts by his body. The man was so sexy, I was honestly surprised that a group of desperate women didn’t immediately start running in his direction.
“The point is that’s an invasion of my privacy,” I countered.
“No, an invasion of your privacy would be to ask you what happened or to call Boss to find out what happened. Instead I simply escorted you on your run from a distance, to make sure you didn’t do anything that couldn’t be undone.”
“I’m not suicidal,” I challenged.
Were my thoughts really that transparent? If so, I wasn’t going to be able to go undercover again. If I lost my edge, I would be devastated. I wasn’t cut out for desk work; I needed to be in the action. I needed to be the one who did the legwork to lock up sick bastards. If I didn’t have that, then I had nothing.
“I didn’t say you were, but trust me, grief has a way of making people do things they never thought they would,” he said. He was right, but not about me. I knew I had a greater purpose; I was going to fill the jails with perverts and human traffickers. That was my mission and all I cared about. I’d do what I had to make sure that I remained an undercover agent. I’d shave my head and have my tattoos removed by laser if I needed to. I had dark thoughts, but I had the power to see through them. I had the power to overcome them.
I stared at him as he took in my appearance. If I was a gambler, I’d put money on my eyes being red and puffy. My hair was probably a wild mess and my mascara smeared below my eyes.
“I’m not going to ask you if you are okay. I don’t want to be lied to. Instead I’m going to ask, is there anything I can do to help you? Do you need to talk? Do you need a distraction?” he asked as he took a step closer to me. I saw his fingers twitch, like he was dying to reach out and touch me but thought better of it.
I shook my head. “I just need time and space. I need to lose myself in something. My head is just swirling with grief and anger, and it’s hard not to focus on that.” The words left my lips before I could stop them. I was surprised that I shared even that much, but I trusted Adam. I trusted him not to let this cloud his judgment of me. I held on so tightly to my reputation of being a badass, I used it like a shield. This was the first time that I willingly let that slip, even for a minute. It was the first time I admitted that I felt real emotions since I became a federal agent.
He nodded, like he understood that. “Let’s go back to the resort. You can throw yourself into your work. If you need anything else, you let me know, all right?”
“Okay,” I said with a sigh. I needed to focus on getting to the bottom of this, to keep Lilith’s fate from happening to others. When everything was said and done, I’d go home and take a long weekend to process my emotions when I could be alone. Then I’d hunt down Lilith’s killer.
“I am sorry for your loss,” he said with a regretful expression.
I was too, and I’d forever feel guilty over it.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
adam
We didn’t force Abby to talk about what happened, not that she would have talked to us anyway. Even I wasn’t close enough to Abby for her to feel comfortable confiding in. However, I did force her to take a personal day. Abby put up a big fuss about it not being necessary, but we wouldn’t have that. Christine paid for Abby to go snorkeling, and Jasmine ordered her to go. She wasn’t allowed to come back to the team and work on the mission until tomorrow.
“Go do something your friend would have wanted to do. Go do it for her,” Jasmine said, ever the master of manipulation.
“When you put it like that…” Abby muttered, not looking at all excited.
I called and scheduled a snorkeling tour for her and then sent her off to meet the boat at the dock. I hoped she’d have fun, but I recognized that was likely impossible. Instead I hoped she’d find it peaceful. I hoped it would give her a tiny bit of healing energy and strength to continue on with her mission, and a clear head. She marched off in her bikini, denim shorts, and flip flops. I wished I could have joined her, but I didn’t need the break, not like she did. She told me she needed time and space to get through this, and I’d respect that. I knew my presence couldn’t fix those thoughts in her head. I knew from experience sometimes you had to spend some time in your head to truly escape it. She’d have peace and quiet except for the woman who led the private reef tour.
While Abby was embarking in some underwater therapy, we were moving ahead the best way we knew how, identifying the weaknesses and strengths of the area. The most likely way to get victims off the island would be by boat or small private planes. It wasn’t impossible for victims to be moved by commercial planes, but it was less likely. Too many eyes on their victims would make the traffickers uneasy, and it was very risky. Boats were the most likely culprit, and with this being an island, there were lots of waterways to be traveled and too many individual boats to track.
“I’m at the marina. All I see around is a bunch of large boats and larger houses,” I said as I looked around me. The water was calm, reflecting the sky back at me with minor ripples in the surface. This part of the island was owned by wealthy fucks. Everywhere I looked, I saw large houses, luxury boats, expensive cars, and perfect landscaping. It was something that Christine’s family might own, if they had the time to actually keep a residence outside of the States.
“Does anyone see a good setup for transporting?” Jones asked through the radio.
We were spread out all over the island, canvassing.
“I mean they all do,” I quickly retorted. “They all have access to the water, there are plenty of large boats around, and the small private airport is a quick drive away. The traffickers could easily use this marina and never be noticed.”
“Doesn’t that asshole own several houses in that marina?” Jasmine asked.
“Yes, but he owns houses all over the island, including Clifton Bay and South West Bay,” Garcia commented, reminding us just how large we needed to cast our net. My friends had done extensive research on Ricketts’ real estate holdings in this area while I followed Abby after her phone call. Guy wasn’t finished with his research on the corporations that owned the resorts; so far, those companies had similar names to those that were traced to Ricketts. It was a good sign that he at least partially owned the resorts.
“What about you, Garcia? What do you see?” Jones asked.
“About the same thing that Strong sees. Houses with good access to water. Again, not too far from the airport.”
“This is frustrating,” Jasmine said into the mic. “Maybe Abby was on the right track. There are so many good avenues for transport here, we could waste a lot of time trying to explore them all. They don’t necessarily need a large marina if they are using smaller boats.”
