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“Yeah. They got him.”
Mom looked out the window. “Good.”
Josie looked down at her legs while an awkward silence took over the truck. “Where am I taking you? Home?”
Mom nodded. “Yeah.”
I started the engine, letting it warm up a few seconds before heading home. Mom cleared her throat. “This won’t stop him, ya know.”
I backed out of my parking space and pulled onto the street. Josie glanced over at me, her brows lifted toward her hairline.
“What do you mean, Mom?” I asked.
“He has so many people that work for him—,”
“The police are taking care of it,” I said. “They’d already saved more than thirty girls in one night—,”
“Don’t you get it?” she snapped. “Derekisthe police, Maverick. How do you think he’s gotten away with this for so long?”
I swiped my palm down my face. “They called in the FBI, Mom.”
“I hope you’re right,” she whispered.
Josie tensed beside me. I didn’t want her to feel scared or afraid to go out in public. “Should I have killed him?” I asked into the cab.
Josie looked up at me with haunted eyes. “Could you live with that?”
I didn’t know. I’d wanted to kill him on more than one occasion, on my search to find Josie and when I pinned him on the garage floor. I felt like I could do it, but Josie was right, could I truly live with killing someone?
I sighed. “I don’t know.”
“I think that’s your answer,” Josie said. “Two wrongs don’t make a right, Mav. You’re not like Derek. You’re not a sociopath that feeds off fear. You’re … selfless and kind.” She chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“If you’d asked me four years ago if Maverick Booker was kind, I would have kindly suggested glasses to whoever asked.”
Mom shifted. “What happened four years ago?”
Josie eyed me, and I winked. “Nothing to worry about now.”
We pulled up to the house and let Mom out. She stopped at the door and said, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I said.
She walked toward the porch, opened the front door, and waved. It felt unreal to see her sober, and acting like a human. I was thankful she didn’t show her ass in front of Josie.
“Where are we going now?” Josie asked.
Glancing over at her, I traced her pretty eyes and soft lips with my gaze. “We’re going home.”
Epilogue
Josie
Four Years Later …
His fingers slid against the inside of my thigh, beneath my flimsy black thigh-length skirt and up to the lacy panties, I wore just for him. It’d been four years of this and it still felt like the first time he touched me in the hallway of our old apartment.
