Dean swallowed a curse. He tried to calm his instant rise in blood pressure and did his best to keep his horror from showing on his features. There, on her hip, was another brand. The same as the one on her neck, but much larger. He forced his eyes away from it and turned to look at her.
“Bastards,” he growled. “I’m sorry, Amy. But what has that—”
“You heard the FBI agent, Dean. They can’t find the other girls. What happened to them, I have no idea, but I can imagine . . . and I hate to say it, but maybe they’re dead, and maybe they even preferred death over years of sexual slavery.” She paused, turning over onto her back and then sitting up. “I know I would have.”
“Amy—”
“Until I can get it removed, Dean, that mark reminds me every day that I managed to escape. But getting it removed will only help erase the exterior scars . . .” She turned to look at him again. Changed the subject. “They’re still out there. It’s obvious they’re still looking for me, or Nick wouldn’t be nosing around the area.”
“You don’t know that.”
She twisted and turned to look him in the eye. “Yes, I do. There’s no reason in the world Nick Summers should be anywhere nearby,”—her gaze dropped away—“unless he’s looking for me.”
Dean grasped her hand, squeezing it. He hated seeing her so worried, so upset. “He was extradited from Arizona to Savannah, wasn’t he? He’s connected in some way with the attempt to kidnap Sloane, isn’t he? The same gang . . . ring, or smugglers, whatever the hell they’re called. It stands to reason that he would be extradited to stand trial here, just like the Greek guy was.”
She was listening. Measuring the truth of his words. He could only hope she was taking in what he said. “But why not just run?” she frowned. “Why not just run and disappear somewhere? Why risk lingering in the area?”
Dean didn’t answer.
“He’s looking for me. And if not him, one of the others. They know what I look like. I’m at a disadvantage.”
Dean reached for her arm and stroked it. He wanted to reach out and choke every single one of them. “You can’t remember what any of them besides Nick Summers looked like?”
She sighed. “It was all a blur. To tell you the truth, they all looked the same, in my mind at least. I think a couple of them had brown hair, one had blond. I remember one of them had a square face, and another’s was long and narrow. I remember a flat and crooked nose, one that looked like it had been broken, and one of them had heavy eyebrows. But to put all of those pieces together on one face?” She slowly shook her head.
“But it’s something to go on, something that can give the police and the FBI a starting point.”
“Not enough. That’s part of the reason why I’ve hesitated to make friends, to venture outside the walls of Promise House. I don’t even want to risk going back home, not that my parents would want me . . .”
Dean frowned. He didn’t like the way her face had twisted when she talked about her parents. “What do you mean?”
Amy waved her hand as she quickly moved to the bathroom, as if not caring she was naked. Maybe she was so distracted she didn’t notice. He did. She left the door halfway open. He knew she was putting her clothes on, so he should do the same. Just as he stood from the bed, she extended her arm from behind the door, clasping his jeans, his boxers, and his T-shirt in her hand.
“Thanks,” he said, taking his clothes and rapidly dressing.
“It’s a long story,” she said. “But part of it is that I’m afraid they’re going to find me, and if they find me, everyone’s going to pay. My family, my . . . my friends . . . I don’t want to get too close to anyone, Dean. I’ve been telling myself it’s because I’m afraid for everyone else. But it’s about me, too. If Nick or any of them find me, I don’t know what I’d do. But it’s more than that. If I was being honest with myself, I’d admit that I’m scared to get too close to anyone again.”
Dean’s heart broke a little at the look on her face. “Give yourself time, Amy.”
“I have. And while I admit that I like you, and I don’t regret what we just did, this is where it has to stop. I can’t pull you into my life. I can’t expose you to the danger—”
“Why don’t you let me decide when I’ve had enough?” he said gently, zipping up his pants and fastening the button, then he yanked the T-shirt over his head. He stood outside the bathroom door, resting his hands on the door jamb. God, he wished he had some magic words that would make her feel better. Anything he said now would only sound like a platitude.
“I think we need to give Agent Hemmings a call,” he said instead. “Let him know what’s happened and that you won’t be going to back to Promise House for now.”
She emerged from the bathroom. A slight flush appeared in her cheeks and he smiled. “You can stay here with me as long as you like. I’ll respect your wishes regarding your personal space.” He paused, his grin broadening. “But if you enjoyed our little romp, I’m sure we could do it again . . .”
She offered a small smile in return. “I did,” she admitted.
Still, her passion from only minutes before had dissipated. Now she just looked sad and defeated. If he couldn’t be with her in bed, then he could at least try to make her feel better. “Come on, let’s go out to the living room. I’ll make us something to eat.”
Amy walked out of the room and down the hallway and into the living room. Dean watched the stiffness in her movements. She was scared. She sat down on the couch and at that moment, the thick plastic cover of doggie door slapped open and Penny scrambled in and came down the hallway. She saw Amy sitting on the couch and rushed over, jumping onto the sofa and climbing onto her lap. Amy smiled and allowed the dog to lick at her as she stroked her golden fur.
Dean grinned and sat down nearby. Penny Girl effectively ignored him. “Hey,” he teased. “What am I now, chopped liver?” The dog seemed to realize and bounded off Amy’s lap and onto his, repeating the greeting and bathing process. He looked at Amy. “Where’s your phone?”
“In my pocket.” With a sigh, she pulled it out, flipped it open, accessed the contact information, and pressed a button. Gazing between the puppy and Dean, she waited. He heard the ringing of a phone on the other end. Then it stopped and a male voice answered.
“Agent Hemmings? This is Amy Valenso.” A pause. “Something’s happened.”
As Amy related recent events since they’d left the GBI office and told him about the message and the flowers delivered to Promise House, Dean stood and moved into the kitchen. He couldn’t hover. Much as he wanted to, he had to let Amy deal with as much of this as possible on her own terms. He would do whatever she needed, whatever she asked to make this ordeal more bearable, but he wouldn’t take over.
He busied himself making a couple of quick ham and cheese sandwiches and then headed back into the living room. She was off the phone, absentmindedly stroking Penny’s back as the puppy curled up against her. He passed her a small plate holding the sandwich and sat down himself. Penny Girl lifted her head, sniffed the air, and then looked at Dean. He simply shook his head and she settled back down and closed her eyes to sleep.
“What did he say?”
“He strongly suggested that I go to a safe house for a few nights.”
“And?”
“I don’t want to go, Dean. But Hemmings agreed that because I can identify a few members of the gang, Nick might not be the only one out there looking for me.” She stared at the sandwich but didn’t make any move to pick it up and eat.
“You need to keep your strength, so try to at least get half of that sandwich down, okay?” He bit into his own sandwich. Nothing fancy, but it would stick to his ribs until he made supper or they decided what to do. He could imagine that she didn’t have much of an appetite. Understandable for sure, but she did need to eat.
“I don’t want to go to a safe house,” Amy said softly, still staring down at the sandwich. “He said they had one on the other side of town.
But I haven’t really been alone since . . . I mean, even when I’m up in my room at Promise House or I go anywhere, there’s always been other people around. Just there, you know what I mean?”
He nodded, took another bite of his sandwich, and chewed thoughtfully. “I know this situation isn’t what you were expecting to have to deal with, but I think you should do what Hemmings suggested.”
She turned to him, eyes wide with surprise. “You do? Why?”
He looked at her, resisting the urge to move over and pull her into his arms. “For one, you’re the only one who can identify Nick and a few of the others as part of the sex-trafficking ring. The Feds know what Nick looks like, but not the others. I know it’s scary, but you’re also the only one that can potentially put them behind bars for a very long time. You can save other women from the same fate.”
She thought about that for several moments and slowly nodded. Reluctantly, she picked up one half of the sandwich and took a bite. Amy ate in silence, taking only small bites, nibbles, really. What was she thinking? Even his worst-case scenarios were probably not as bad as what she was thinking right now. This had happened to her. It still was. Living with something like that hanging over your head . . . ?
He finally spoke. “I don’t want to you have to be running from the past forever. I want you to be happy, Amy.”
She looked at him and then leaned forward to place the small plate with the barely half-eaten sandwich on the coffee table. “And that’s just the problem. I haven’t been able to forget it, not one single day. How can I when every day I have to look at those scars? The constant reminder of my blind faith, my trust . . .” She shook her head, idly stroking Penny. “I know that eventually I’m going to have to testify against whomever they manage to arrest. But even then, it might not be over.”
She looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears. What could he say to that? She had to live with what happened for the rest of her life. But she didn’t have to do it alone. If she let him be part of her life, she’d never be alone again.
“I’ll go with you, stay with you at the safe house, if you want, for a few days. But only if you want me to. It’s your decision to make one way or the other.”
“I know what you’re saying, Dean. It’s nothing that I haven’t thought of myself. But thinking it and telling myself that I should do it are completely different things from actually having to do it. Does that make any sense?”
He reached for her hand. “It does. But you don’t have to go through this alone. Not anymore.”
She offered a half smile as she glanced at him and then down at their intertwined fingers. “I hardly know you, but at the same time I feel as if I’ve known you for a long time. How do you do that?”
He didn’t say anything but offered a small shrug.
“I want to trust you. I do. I’m tired of living in fear. But for every two steps forward, I seem to take one step back.” She paused and turned away from him. “But if we’re going to be completely honest with each other, you have to know that I might never be ready for a relationship. Ever. That’s not fair to you.”
Damn it. He was going to find every single person who had done this to her, who had taken Amy and left her broken. They were going to pay. Dean vowed to help her find peace in her life, to find happiness again, whatever it cost him. He sucked in a deep breath.
“Let’s just take one day at a time, alright?”
15
Amy
Dean wasn’t pushing her to make a decision one way or the other, but Amy knew what he wanted her to do. What could she do? If she had a car, she would have been tempted to fill it up with gas and start driving. Anywhere. Anywhere to be away from her past and her fear of the future. Her fear of Nick and other members of the trafficking ring.
Now the FBI was involved once again in her life. But so was Dean. She’d asked for neither, but she was so grateful to have him by her side. It was incredibly selfish, but she wasn’t ready to let him go yet. Amy knew she should, but perhaps she could have just a few more days with him first? Dean was offering her support. Had even volunteered to stay with her at a safe house for a few days. With him by her side, she felt safer than she had in months. She wanted that, for just a little longer.
And Agent Hemmings . . . she knew that the FBI would do everything they could to track down not only Nick, but other members of the sex-trafficking ring. Had they visited Sakkas in jail, try to get some information from him? Should she say anything to Sloane? Maybe she would know what was happening with Sakkas’ case. As far as she knew, Nick had no knowledge of Sloane, but Sakkas did and he had definitely been involved with the same trafficking ring as Nick.
Sloane had testified against her former boss, and as far as Amy knew, that’s where her knowledge of the sex-trafficking ring began and ended. She’d never even met the man face to face, but she was the only one who could directly link Nick Summers to Sakkas, as well as recognize several others that had been involved in her kidnapping and transportation across the United States.
She gazed down at her hand, her fingers still intertwined with Dean’s. What she had said was true. She barely knew him and yet, amazingly, she’d felt comfortable enough with him to have sex with him . . . wonderful and scintillating, passionate sex. But was she making the same mistake that she had made with Nick?
The two men were complete opposites. Dean was a well-established member of the community. Employed as a firefighter at Engine Company 81. Nick had been footloose and fancy free, as her mother used to say. Now she understood how Nick had managed to support his partying, his drugs, and that fancy motorcycle of his.
Prick.
No, Dean and Nick were nothing alike, but that didn’t make it any easier for her to place her trust in Dean. She wanted to, but she just wasn’t there yet. She sighed heavily, glancing down at the puppy. “If you stay with me at a safe house, who’s going to take care of Penny?”
He looked at the pup and then at her. “I’m sure Sloane or Meg wouldn’t mind coming by a couple times a day to look after her. Or she could go stay at the shelter for a while.” He stroked the dog’s back for several moments and then spoke again. “So, have you made a decision?”
Had she? Finally, she nodded. “I don’t want to, but I’ll accept the FBI’s offer of a safe house. Maybe a couple of days is all they’ll need to get their hands on Nick or perhaps some of the others. But I hate to ask you to take time off of work.”
“Don’t you worry about me,” he said, smiling. “I have accrued vacation time. I should probably take it before I lose it.”
They both sat for several moments, neither of them apparently prepared to make the first move. But this was all about her, whether she liked it or not. She got the distinct impression that while Dean was fully supportive, he wasn’t intending to make any decisions for her. He was leaving it up to her to make the first move. He’d been doing that since they met, giving her the choice. She appreciated it. Finally, she stood. “Alright then, let’s go talk to Hemmings. He said he would be here until tomorrow morning.”
Agent Hemmings had arrived with an undercover investigator from the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. Soon after he’d arrived, Dean and one of the undercover investigators had driven in his truck to Promise House to gather a few things for Amy and let Meg know what was going on. While he was there, the GBI investigator would also put a tap on Meg’s landline.
Through the whole process, Amy sat on the edge of a chair in Dean’s living room, trying hard not to chew on her nails. Meg had already been through enough, with the fire and everything that had happened to her recently. Not to mention one of the residents who lived down in the basement had been murdered. Things had finally settled down and gotten back to normal. Now here Amy was, bringing FBI agents to Meg’s doorstep.
Agent Hemmings had sat quietly with her in the living room from the moment Dean had left. Penny had once again scrambled onto her lap and she softly stroked the pup as Penny dozed. Hemmings’ gaze roamed
the room, repeatedly glancing at the puppy and then up at her. She offered a lame shrug. “Dean just got her a couple of days ago. He said it was because he was lonely, but I’m not sure . . . I guess it doesn’t matter. She’s a sweetheart.”
“How long have you known your boyfriend?”
Amy was about to correct him, to tell him that Dean wasn’t her boyfriend. But as the heat of a flush warmed her neck and made its way into her cheeks, she whipped her head around, not wanting the agent to see that he’d flustered her. Boyfriend. He definitely wasn’t that, but what was going on between them? She’d been determined not to get attached to him, but God, the sex had been amazing, and the man himself even better.
Dean didn’t seem like the one-night-stand kind of guy. He’d brought her to his house just to help her feel safer. She had a suspicion that he’d even bought the puppy to help her come out of her shell and her constant state of self-preservation.
The last time she’d had a boyfriend . . . no, she refused to equate the term to Nick. He wasn’t a boyfriend. He was a fuckin’ jerk. He was a . . . Amy slammed a wall around the thoughts, turning back to Agent Hemmings. Damn it. She’d been quiet for too long. The agent was staring at her, concern on his face.
“I’ve known about Dean for a while, through friends, since I came to live at Promise House, really. He works at Engine Company 81. So does Meg’s boyfriend and Sloane’s fiancé.”
“So you haven’t been dating long?”
She offered a shrug. “I don’t even know if it is ‘dating.’ We’ve spent some time together, had coffee, visited at the park, but that’s about it.”
Hemmings raised an eyebrow, staring at her. “And yet he offered to let you stay here? Does he know what’s going on with you?”
She frowned. “You met him, Agent. He’s a nice guy. And I know that if Meg had any doubts whatsoever, she would have discouraged me from seeing him. Rather, she seems to be encouraging it.”
“These are questions I have to ask, Amy; you understand that, right?”
Burning the Past (Southern Heat Book 3) Page 9
