Nik stands and grabs my hand again, pulling me in close. I want to shove him away, but I don’t. He’s taller than me, more solid. I bury my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in that familiar spiced scent. We just stand there, holding on.
“You’re not going to lose me,” he murmurs. “I promise.”
“You better keep that promise.”
We stay entwined for another minute.
“You want to see the video?”
“Yes.” Of course I want to see it. I haven’t laid eyes on her in eight years. As pissed as I am at Nik, I’m still dying to see her face.
He leads me back to the couch, grabs his laptop, and sets it between us on the coffee table. His fingers hover for a second before hitting play.
We watch as an SUV pulls up to a warehouse. A man getsout first, speaking to someone still inside the vehicle.
“That’s Marcus,” Nik says. “The guy I was tracking.”
“For what?”
“Trafficking. Know the name Walter Rutledge?”
Rutledge... why does that ring—
“Rachel Rutledge.”Fuck. Johnny’s fiancée. My high school mistake. “Walter’s her dad?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s he got to do with this?”
“I’ll explain. Keep watching.”
A minute later, the passenger door opens. A woman steps out. My heart seizes. It’s her. Lina. She looks more grown-up, but there she is. Right fucking there. My throat closes.
“I know,” Nik says quietly. “I couldn’t believe it either.”
Another man exits behind her. He’s tall and built. Watching everything. When his hand goes to her lower back, I see red.
“Who’s that?” I grind out.
“No idea. Maybe security? But they seem familiar. That’s next on my list.”
The clip ends when they enter the building.
“Play it again,” I order.
Nik does. We watch it twice more. The fourth time, I freeze it on her face. She looks so much like the girl we loved, and nothing like her, all at once. This brunette is all woman. Breathtaking features, painted lips, legs for days…
Memories slam into me. Her laugh. The feel of her skin under my hands. The way she looked at us like we hung the stars.
I force a breath in, then out. "Tell me about Walter."
Nik exhales. “It’s bad.”
“How bad?”
“Sex trafficking bad.”
I grimace. “No shit?”
