Devan finished Mac’s pourover as well as her cappuccino and then poked her head into the small kitchen behind the counter. “Leanne? Can you run the counter while I take a break?”
A petite blonde who couldn’t be more than twenty sashayed through the swinging doors. “Sure, Devan. Go relax.”
The three of them headed for a booth in the back corner of the coffee shop and local artisan gallery, and Terry eyed Mac as he moved slowly, almost awkwardly, his arm still around Devan’s shoulders.
“Fuck, Mac. What happened? You’re walkin’ like an eighty-year-old man.”
Once he sat down, Terry started massaging his thigh under the table. Seeing Mac in pain made him all too aware of his own damage, even though his leg felt good today.
“Found a new physical therapist.” With a grimace, Mac leaned back against the cushion. Devan reached over and squeezed his hand. “She’s a sadist. Saw her yesterday for a brutal session. But…” The man looked almost proud as he slowly, carefully, draped his left arm over the back of the booth. “Didn’t have this range of motion six months ago.”
“Hot damn.” Mac’s injuries had been serious enough he’d spent close to a year in the hospital and in-patient rehab before his doctors had finally given in to the man’s threats and released him. He’d be in pain for the rest of his life, and until he’d met Devan, had lived like a hermit—only venturing out of his apartment for PT or to buy groceries. “That’s fantastic.”
“Hurts like a son of a bitch once a week, but I committed to a year. After that…I don’t know. Might take a break.”
Devan stared into her cappuccino, and Terry didn’t need to ask her what was wrong. She loved Mac—the kind of all consuming, hopelessly head-over-heels love Terry had stopped dreaming about when Dana had disappeared on him. It pained Devan to see Mac suffering.
“So, other than night raids, what are you doing with Rescue International?” Mac asked as he linked his fingers with Devan’s.
“Outreach, mainly. Publicity. The op in Miami…I have some contacts who take on—” Terry leaned closer, “—less than legal jobs for those in need, and I’ve been able to call on them a time or two for help when our investigators got stuck. One of them gave us intel that led to the raid in Miami.”
“These contacts,” Mac said, “they wouldn’t be operating out of San Francisco, would they?”
Terry’s eyes widened. “Shit. Didn’t realize you knew.”
“I don’t. Not officially.” The corner of Mac’s mouth twitched, and Terry chuckled. “I still talk to people.” At Terry’s snort, Mac punched him lightly in the arm. “Don’t start giving me shit. I’m practically a fucking social butterfly now.”
“Oh, please,” Devan said, giving Mac the side-eye. “Like you’ll ever be…chatty.”
“I was chatty last night.”
Devan blushed, and Terry cleared his throat to stop the two of them from getting all hot and heavy right in the booth.
“Well, I’m back now. There’s a function in D.C. on Saturday I need to go to, but I told my boss I needed a few months without a crazy travel schedule. Need to get my prosthetic tuned up, sleep some regular hours…that sort of thing.”
“Well, we’re glad you’re back,” Devan said with a smile. “How about dinner tomorrow night? Giuseppe’s?”
“Drinks are on me.” Terry pushed to his feet and toasted Devan with his to-go cup. “Got a meeting at nine at the head office in the South End. Text me and let me know what time you want to meet up and I’ll be there.”
Heading out into the crisp, fall air, Terry grinned all the way to the T Station. He loved his job, loved making a difference. But he’d missed home. Missed Mac, Devan, and his sister up in Vermont. This break was exactly what he needed.
Dana
“Senator Lurkin, I have video of my nephew in Las Vegas six months ago. He was being led into a hotel room by a man at least fifty and exited a little under an hour later.”
“Was he fighting? Struggling?”
“Have you even watched the video?” Dana tried not to let her exasperation bleed through her tone. That wouldn’t get her anywhere, and she desperately needed someone to listen to her.
“There’s nothing on that video that proves the young man is being held against his will,” the senator said.
“Las Vegas is one of the biggest human trafficking hubs in the United States. Micah went missing on a field trip to Philly three years ago, and this is the first solid lead we’ve had on him. Please. Just look at his face. At his eyes. You’ll see how scared he is.”
“Teenage boys run away from home, Ms. Michaels. I’ve read the police report on your nephew. Fourteen years old? Disappeared with a girl he was rumored to be dating? You have no proof there’s anything illegal going on here. Hell, the video’s so grainy, I can’t even be certain that is your nephew. Please don’t call my office again.”
The line went dead, and Dana sank down with her back against the wall, barely resisting the urge to throw her cell phone across the room.
“Dammit,” she shouted.
