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“Green light,” Papa Bear says, sounding as relieved as I feel.
Thirty minutes later, Sister Sass and Jester have returned from their poke-flirting outside. The kids are attempting to play charades with Nadia and Mabie. The house gets so loud until I can barely think.
Finally, I get a text from Luca.
“We’re heading back. Might want to ice those Black Gold Four spies in Metamora. Also, you better have a lot of bunkbeds because we’re bringing back nearly two dozen people.”
“Anyone hurt?”
“No one who matters.”
Her coldness used to bother me. I didn’t think she could fit in with the Sanctuary’s family atmosphere. I admit I read her wrong. Now, her coldness is a relief.
Kissing the top of Jules’s head, I feel myself settling down. I send texts to Apex, Blunt, and the others who will deal with the Black Gold Four’s local spies. Meanwhile, Papa Bear prepares his old friend, Doctor Sal Perez, for the influx of people who’ll need to be checked out.
The Sanctuary’s never taken in so many people at once, but we know how to rally the troops and get organized.
ANGEL EYES
Our RV convoy pullsinto a large truck stop just after midnight. An hour ago, I washed off the face paint and changed my black camo top to something more casual. Ghost sits next to me, also cleaned up and wearing a different shirt.
The estate’s staff looks almost normal despite their overly formal wardrobe. However, the Dolls seem ready for Halloween.
At the truck stop, Dire, Ghost, and I head into the store section and buy a pile of sweatpants and gas station-themed shirts. Shoes are trickier, but we grab seven pairs of flip-flops.
After the women are changed, they wander around outside the RVs. I keep watch, waiting for one of them to start trouble. They seem lost without someone holding their leashes. The cheerleader hasn’t even taken her hair out of the ridiculous pigtails yet.
Meanwhile, Thorn is in a weird mood, where he plays sheepdog to his restless flock. Ghost claims his friend is upset over what the women suffered. I recall how the big, blond biker reacted to finding Hope. The man’s got a tender heart hidden under all his muscles and tats. However, I think his mood tonight is a little simpler than the ugly realities of sex slavery.
Because he isn’t really keeping watch over all the Dolls. Instead, his attention seems mostly focused on the cheerleader staring at me.
“What?” I finally ask her as Rave and Riot corral everyone back into the RVs.
The cheerleader shuffles closer, stops herself, and then jerks forward again. When she approaches me under the parking lot light, I realize this must be Giselle’s sister. They share the same pale blue eyes, long blonde hair, and “deer in the headlights” expression.
“Is Giselle alive?” she asks, stepping back before again jerking forward. “I heard you say the name Papa Bear. That’s who she was going to see. Is she really alive?”
