“I thought his name was Landon?”
I do my best to explain about Shadow Security and how it all came together. It’s certainly easier than talking about what happened to me.
“But how are you otherwise?” she asks. “I mean…physically?”
“I’m okay. I had some bruised ribs and they still hurt, but it gets better every day. The bruising on my face is almost gone so that’s a plus.”
“What about the less visible injuries?”
“I was examined at the hospital. They used condoms so there was no DNA but also very little chance for diseases.”
“Or pregnancy.”
“Well, I still have my implant, so I’m fairly safe in that regard. Diseases were more my concern.”
“Are you seeing a psychologist?”
“Not yet. I’ve been busy getting new ID, canceling credit cards, shit like that. And then two guys showed up at my apartment and trashed it. So now we know for sure, they are looking for me.”
“And you’re living with your bodyguard? Landon?”
“Yes. It was either here or the clubhouse, and you know that’s not happening.”
“Yeah, definitely not.” She pauses again. “Should I come out there? I can stay at a hotel nearby, but I’d be close if you needed me.”
I love that she offered, but it’s probably not the right time.
“You’re the best,” I say softly, “but right now it’s better for me to just stay out of sight. Both Shadow Security and the club are looking for them.”
“To what end?”
“To take down the whole trafficking ring. I mean, Dad’s club has been involved in sketchy stuff over the years, but never anything like this.”
“Don’t they run some kind of brothel?”
“Yes, but it’s mostly on the up and up. Women have to be twenty-one—they check ID—and no one is forced to do anything. They’re there because they want to be. I don’t love it but the girls are well taken care of. Like they don’t get beat up or hurt—the guys make sure of it.”
“So, they’re pimps but pimps with a conscience.”
“Essentially. Those women were going to do what they’re doing anyway. At least with the club, they have protection. My mom made sure of it, and I’m ninety-nine-percent sure my dad is strict about that.”
“If you don’t want me to come to California, what can I do to help? What do you need?”
I sigh, because I have no idea.
Cleo climbs on my lap as if she senses my frustration, and I absently scratch under her chin, which is her favorite. Within a few seconds, she starts to purr and it’s loud enough for Lacy to hear.
“At least Cleo wasn’t traumatized,” she says.
“Elliott got her out before?—”
“Elliott?”
“Oh! Do you remember Rage the Cage?”
“Yes! Holy shit, does he work for Shadow Security?”
“Yup. And he’s Landon’s best friend. Landon, who goes by the nickname Grim.”
