She takes it and asks, “What are you going to eat?”
I pop the bun back on the burger and bite into it. “This.”
A hint of a smile plays on her lips as she shakes her head and digs into the chicken sandwich and crinkle fries.
We eat in silence while the dogs watch our every move, praying something hits the floor. Frankie yawns halfway through her sandwich, her eyes drooping. She’s fucking exhausted. Not surprising after the night we’ve had.
“Go lie down,” I tell her, nodding toward the bed. “Get some sleep.”
She eyes me warily. “Where are you going?”
I glance down at the dogs. “Gotta take them out.”
Nodding, she throws her trash in the empty food bag and walks over to my bed. She climbs in, pulling the covers up to her chest.
Fuck.
The sight of her in my bed, wearing my clothes, her blonde hair spread out across my pillow—it’s doing things to me. Things I shouldn’t be feeling for the woman who stole my money. For a woman who’s barely legal.
It’s going to be a long fucking night.
Blowing out a breath, I call for the dogs and open the door. They trot out ahead of me, and I pull the door closed behind me. As soon as I’m outside, I light up a cigarette and inhale deeply, letting the nicotine calm my nerves.
I’m halfway down the steps when the phone in my back pocket starts to ring. Pulling it out, I glance down at the screen and see Cyber’s name flashing.
“What’s up?” I answer, taking another drag off my smoke.
“Another girl’s been taken.” His voice is tight with stress. “Sixteen-year-old from Gulf Breeze. Her name’s Heather Mitchell. She was walking home from her friend’s house. Never made it.”
My blood runs cold. “Fuck.”
“I need Frankie’s help, man. We’ve got a forty-eight-hour window at best before she disappears for good, and that’s being optimistic.”
Forty-eight hours.
Jesus Christ.
The thought of what they could do to a sixteen-year-old girl in that time makes me sick to my fucking stomach. These girls are being sold to the highest bidder. Trafficked. Raped. Beaten. Killed.
“We’ll be there soon,” I say, tossing my cigarette on the ground and stomping it out with my boot. I disconnect the call, then whistle for the dogs.
They come running, and I lead them back up the steps, my mind racing. Every second we waste is another second that girl doesn’t have.
When I push open the door, I’m surprised to find Frankie sitting on the edge of the bed. She lifts her head, and her eyes meet mine.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, seeing the fury on my face.
“Another girl’s been taken.” My voice is rough. “She’s only sixteen years old. Cyber needs your help. Now.”
She’s on her feet immediately, heading for the door without hesitation. No questions, no complaints about being too tired, nothing.
I stand there, watching her move, and it hits me that she’s nothing like her cokehead father. Nothing like that greedy bastard who only cared about himself. Tom Camden was a piece of shit who sold out the people in this town for a quick buck and a line of coke. But his daughter? She’s something else entirely.
Here she is, ready to jump into action to help someone she doesn’t even know, no questions asked.
Fuck.
“Are we going or what?” She’s at the door, looking at me expectantly.
