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Four months since the other half of me was taken.
For four long months, this agonizing weight on my chest, this soul-crushing pain, hasn’t left.
I’ve been living my worst nightmare for a hundred and twenty-three days.
It’s debilitating, this feeling.
I just want to see her face. To kiss her and hold her and tell her how fucking sorry I am that I didn’t save her, that I wasn’t there to protect her like I should have been. God, I’m such a failure. I let them take my world from me.
The police are set on the fact that she’s been sold into sex trafficking, convinced she’s now part of a ring they’ve been trying to bring down and are trying to assure me they are doing everything they can. That’s bullshit. She’s probably been sold, but they aren’t doing shit because I have no doubt they are feeding that ring. Corrupt fucks. Every time I think of that, I vomit. I’d rather her be dead than suffering in such a heinous way. I’d rather her be by my side, giggling that stunning sound, her eyes lighting up every time I tell her I love her.
But she isn’t becauseIlet her down.
Sex trafficking.Perpetual, unending rape.
I wince at the thought, fighting back bile.
How the hell can they just give up on her like that? Just write it off as another one lost to… Fuck that.
I toss back the rest of the bourbon in my glass and slam it down on the bar.
The only thing keeping me going is finding justice for the girl I love. I owe her that much, but at this point, I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to do that. At least not in any legal way. The Sheriff has given it everything he can, but he’s exhausted every lead. I know for a fact he is still doing the work and refuses to give up, but he doesn’t have the workforce that NGPD does. Next step is going to the feds. We’re building a case and I’m giving them everything I can without ratting out the people I’ve used to get the little info I have. It isn’t for lack of them trying either, but I would never do that. Former gang member or not, there is still a residing loyalty.
There isn’t a night that goes by that I don’t drink while thinking of her, hoping, wishing, fucking praying that she’s okay. That she’s going to be okay. But I’m well aware of the odds.
A tan hand with thick, hardened fingers wraps around the bottle I’ve been working on. The bartender lets me buy a bottle as long as I don’t get sloppy drunk while I’m here, and I take an Uber home. It’s a silent deal we have going on.
“That’s mine.” Two simple words because that’s all I can manage. There are jagged shards of glass in my throat preventing anything else at the moment. The guy pours himself a drink, immediately putting the glass to his lips. Guess he doesn’t care that my mouth has been on it already.
“I know. But I’m here to babysit you, so I’m taking a drink.” I scoff. The alcohol in my system swirls, causing my world to spin around me.
“The fuck? You’re here to babysitme?” Anger flares in my chest at the audacity of this motherfucker. Here, to babysit me?Spencer Owens.My hackles rise and I’m pretty sure a growl rattles in my chest. “What the fuck do you want?”
I confronted him one day, growing tired of him watching me,protectingme from afar. Now he thinks we have some sort of friendship. He asks questions I refuse to answer yet he keeps coming back. Sometimes he gets me, on particularly bad days when I’m feeling my lowest. Some days I don’t mind his company, the sound of his voice. Even if I’ll never let him know that.
I remain steadfast in letting him know I hate his existence, though. I’m convinced the guy likes the fight. I shouldn’t be having these feelings, but I can’t deny that I might like the fight as well.
Silently, he studies me, chocolate brown eyes roaming over my face as if he sees something peculiar. Once he’s had his fill, his jaw hardens and his eyes narrow. I squint my eyes right back at him, but I don’t miss the little gold flecks in the center of his irises or the depth of his dark hair making his tan skin pale. I don’t miss the sharp edges of his jaw or the way it flexes as he watches me. Fuck, I’m not going there.
“Trace sent me.”
A disbelieving laugh rips from my lungs, and I twist my head back and forth.Fucking Trace. The Hellion. He’s moved up ranks quickly, and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know what the hell he’s gotten himself into to do so.
“Laugh all you want. The place is crawling with Chaos pricks. I’m not sure what the hell you’re even doing here. Do you have a death wish? Trace doesn’t want you hurt since you insist on being here.”
“Tell Trace he can go fuck himself.” Spencer shakes his head back and forth, annoyance emanating from him. I want to punch him while simultaneously pushing his handsome ass up against the bar and—I blink that thought away, not allowing it to finish. This man is not my girl, and he’s also an enemy. He is the epitome of everything I’ve devoted my life to stopping. I won’t do that to Lennox.
“C’mon, man. He’s just trying to protect his brother.”
“Protect me? He’s just trying to protect me? He could’ve protected me four months ago by not involving himself in your little gang. Bringing you into the club…”
“And choosing to stand up for himself against his father? His father, who we are taking care of?” Spencer says like it’s nothing. Like taking a man’s life, even an asshole like Trace’s father, means nothing to him. Just another day on the job.
Which it is. Even more of a reminder that I want nothing to do with him or his good looks.
“Taking care of?!” I nearly roar. He pins me with a dangerous look and coming from him, I have no doubt he will carry that threat out to the fullest extent. I lean toward him, glare equally as menacing because at this point, I wouldn’t mind killing this asshole, or fucking him into oblivion. It isn’t like I haven’t taken part before. But if he’s been hanging with Trace, then he knows my background and what I’m capable of. It shows when he relaxes his shoulders and sits back. I’m not as drunk as he thinks I am, and he’ll do better to remember that. “You said that wrong. You plan to murder him.”
“And look at Trace now,” he says gruffly, a hint of pride coloring his words, disregarding my accusation.
