Page 80 of Hunted Innocence

Tears prick my eyes. I could be bitter and angry that my older brother couldn’t protect me, but that would be fruitless. It wasn’t his job. And I know that he tried his best. We were not given tools on how to navigate the world. It’s a wonder we aren’t both lost in a world of drug abuse.

“I want to laugh because you just called me innocent. But at the same time, cry because you are willing to get rid of this man if he doesn’t take care of me.”

“You are innocent, Nadine. Doesn’t matter what your body has been through, especially if most of it was against your will. You are innocent.”

My lips try to smile, but they’re trembling too much, and then the tears begin to fall from my eyes and roll down my cheeks like two small rivers. My brother and I haven’t had many serious conversations, and he’s choosing the departure lane at the airport to do it.

“I love you, Brody. I’m going to be okay. I promise.”

He grins. “Let’s get you on that plane, then. And just remember,” he says, “I’ll fucking make him wish he were dead if he fucks you over.”

My smile grows at his words. “I love you, Brody.”

And that’s that. He opens the pickup door, taking my bags out of the bed before setting them down on the sidewalk. I unfold from the passenger seat, reach out, and wrap my fingers around his wrist before he walks away.

Brody looks over his shoulder at me, clearly wanting to get the hell out of here and away from all the emotions that fill the space between us. “Thank you,” I whisper.

He jerks his chin as I release my grasp on him. He takes a step backward, then turns back toward his truck and climbs inside. I stand on the curb, watching him as he pulls away. Only then do I gather my bags and turn toward the doors.

Walking through, I wince at the sight of the bright fluorescent lights that surround me. My eyes are sensitive and swollen from the crying jag I had in Brody’s truck.

Wheeling my bags up to the ticket counter, I check in and then make my way toward TSA, hoping I can slide through without too much touching, though I’m not holding my breath. I have a feeling I’m going to be fully felt up.

While I wait in line, I take my phone out of my pocket and text Brody to let him know I’m all checked in. He sends me a thumbs-up emoji, which makes me snort with a laugh. Then I send one to Lucille to let her know the same thing.

LUCILLE: Go get your maaaan. Also, I’m ready to start whatever shit needs to be started.

My lips curve up into a grin.

Hopefully, no shit will need to be started.

LUCILLE: I can’t deny I kind of want shit to go down. I’m getting bored.

Of course, she’s getting bored. Lucille craves the action, and not just that, she wants all her fingers and toes in said action. I hope that whatever happens next, she’s in the midst of it all so she can get her fix.

But whatever the drama is, I also hope that it’s harmless.

I can’t handle any more of what we’ve already gone through. I feel like, as a group, as a business, we need a bit of a break. A little breather from the drama. But I also don’t know when that’s going to happen, especially since I’m about to insert myself in some serious drama that is going to do nothing but shake shit up.

And as I think about that, a smile slowly plays on my lips.

I’m excited about it. Just this once, I’m going to have a bit of fun, and if everything goes as planned, which I hope it does, I’m going to come home with my man at my side. And if I don’t, I’m going to be pretty damn embarrassed, especially after all the men at Securus have agreed to this plan. I’m not sure I could face them again.

Chapter Thirty-Five

GRAYSON

My phone buzzeson the nightstand, and I remember that Boden was texting me yesterday before the yacht took a turn and ended up pulling up to a dock. I watched as three more men climbed on, and then they talked to the target for a few moments, shook hands and left.

It was a meeting, but I’m not sure what it entailed. I need to get some listening devices on that yacht. Reaching for my phone, I glance down at the new message notifications. I have a few which is surprising to me.

Boden’s is from yesterday. It’s a continuation of the conversation we were having about the women on the boat.

BODEN: All four girls have been missing for five years—presumed runaways from group homes.

Well, that fucking tracks. Same modus operandi. Teenagers who nobody would fucking miss. Teenagers who wereproblemsand nobody would come looking for.

Teenagers who would be easily written off as runaways. That’s what we were, too. That’s what every fucking kid taken by these pieces of shit was labeled.

---