Under the Stars: Bright Lights Duet #2

by Louise, Tia

  “I’m sorry to invade your privacy. We would’ve stayed at a hotel, but we hope to find what we’re looking for and go home as soon as possible.”

  His hair is still silver, short on the sides and long and floppy on top, and he’s dressed in a gray suit with a white shirt underneath. He looks really handsome and professional.

  “Were you at work?” I can’t imagine what kind of job he has. I can’t imagine Joshua working. “You’re so formal and businesslike.”

  He grins. “Yeah, I’m at the men’s store around the corner. It was time for my break, so I’ve got a few minutes.”

  “Are you getting coffee?”

  “Sure.” I wait as he goes to the counter and orders the daily brew. They pass him a white cup with a dark brown sleeve, and he joins me at the high table. “So what’s going on?”

  “Molly met us at the airport—”

  “You mean Maggie Mae?” He gives me a wink.

  “I’m sorry about that. We didn’t know who to trust, and we were alone.”

  “It’s okay. Molly told me the story.” His eyes blink to the ring on my hand. “I really like her, you know?”

  Sitting back, I put my hands in my lap. “I noticed she’s still living with you. Are you two… together?”

  “I don’t think Molly does ‘together.’” His gray eyes meet mine, and his smile is less sunny. “But we have moments.”

  Something shifts in my chest. “I’m glad. I didn’t know if she would ever be able to do that. If she would ever recover.”

  “Whatever happened to her was pretty bad, wasn’t it?”

  I only nod. “It’s something she’ll have to tell you when she’s ready.”

  “I know. She’s told me a little. Not much, but I’m fine with waiting.”

  My lips press into a smile, and I really like this friendly guy who picked us out on a crowded street one Friday night. I hope he’s able to break through to her, to touch her heart.

  I touch his hand again. “You’re pretty brave, you know that?”

  A chuckle breaks from his lips, and his smile shows off his straight white teeth. “Yeah, but I’m stupid when it comes to pretty girls.”

  The guy at the counter calls my name, and I hold up a finger before hopping off my stool to grab the waiting bag. It smells delicious—no Everything Poboy, but not bad.

  “What’s going on, Josh? She was only with us in the apartment for a few minutes before her phone pinged and she left in a hurry. We need her help, but it seems something’s more important…”

  His eyes flicker away, and he leans up, taking a sip of his coffee. I can tell he’s trying to evade my questioning, but I’m not about to let him. Reaching out, I grasp his forearm.

  “Please tell me what she’s doing.” Our eyes meet, and he studies my face a moment before standing as well.

  “She’ll be mad at me if I tell you anything.” He sets the cup on the table, his eyes fixed on the lid.

  “I’m not going to try and stop her. I just need to know, and we actually do need her help.”

  He doesn’t answer right away. He seems to be thinking, weighing the options.

  “Let’s walk while we talk.”

  Outside, it’s growing darker and the breeze is stronger. I hold the bag to my chest and sip my hot drink, doing my best to stave off the chill.

  Joshua’s hands are in the pockets of his gray slacks. “She’s been going out with Candi for the last two weeks.”

  My chest plunges. “Candi… the hooker? Doing what?”

  “Watching out for her. Making sure she isn’t hurt.” He lifts his chin. “I told her I didn’t like it. She told me she’s being careful.”

  It’s the best he can hope for. I know from personal experience.

  “Does Candi know Molly is there?”

  “Yeah, I think she likes having Molly there, even though she acts like she doesn’t.”

  I remember Candi, the young girl we met at the Redwood. She acted like a ditzy blonde, an act I’ve seen Molly use to lure her victims, make them believe they’re safe. But when pushed in a corner, Candi turned stabby… another trick I’ve seen Molly use.

  “Gavin has a new kid, a girl named Brittanie.” The muscle in his jaw moves, and I can tell this is where things are getting bad. “She’s only thirteen, but she looks older. She needs to go home, but she won’t.”

  “Where is her home?”

  “I don’t know. Foster care, probably. She’s like a lot of the kids around here, a runaway. Maybe her parents are into drugs. Maybe she’s a lesbian, and they kicked her out. Either way, she’s on the street.”

  We keep walking, and I see the men’s clothing store up ahead. “Do you have to go back to work?”

  “Yeah, but I can tell you things are getting close. I’m worried.”

  A knot tightens my throat, and I try to swallow it away. “Why are you worried?”

  “They’ve been going out more. Molly gave Brit her phone number, and every time it goes off, she leaves. She won’t tell me where they go, but I think I know.”

  “Will you tell me?”

  His lips press together, and he ducks his head before leaning in close to my ear. “It’s a private club. It floats—meets at different places, tattoo parlors, hotels. I don’t know all the spots. It’s dangerous. The men pay money to have… experiences.”

  A block of ice is in my stomach. It’s the same setup as in New Orleans, the underground club where men paid to have sex with strippers or to have a ménage or to have sex with a teenage girl…

  I know what Molly wants to do. She wants to kill them all, and I’m terrified she’ll fail horribly.

  “Do you know when they meet?”

  He shakes his head. “All I know is last week, she bought a gun.”

  Reaching out, I take his arm. “Mark’s here. He’s a cop, a detective. He can help us. Please call me the next time you hear anything, even if it’s just a hunch. If you think she’s going with them, let me know. Please, Josh.”

  He pokes out his lips. “Okay. I gotta get back, but maybe we can all go out when I get home.”

  “I’d like that.”

  I wait a moment as he heads up the block toward the store. My stomach is once again twisted with fear. I knew she was mixed up in something, but I didn’t know it had gotten so critical.

  A gun, Candi, a teenage girl…

  I need to get back to the apartment.

  * * *

  Mark

  “Fuck!” I push the wireless keyboard forward on the desk. “Where the fuck is Molly?”

  Nobody’s in the apartment, and I push the chair back, shoving my hands in my hair. I hit the cut on my head and swear again at the pain.

  We came all this way, we don’t have fucking time, and Molly just takes off. What the hell is she doing? I grab my phone and text her again, but there’s no response. Behind me, the deadbolt turns, and for a split second, I think it might be her.

  Lara pushes through the door, a brown bag in one hand and a go-cup of coffee in the other.

  Her eyebrows go up. “Did you find anything?”

  The hope in her eyes pisses me off even more. “Where’s Molly?” I growl.

  Her expression falls. “I don’t know, but I talked to Joshua.”

  “Yeah? What did he say?”

  “Come to the table.” She holds out her hand, and I follow her into the small kitchen area.

  She takes two large paper-wrapped bundles from the bag. I can only assume they’re sandwiches.

  “What’d you get?” My stomach pinches, and I realize it’s been a while since I’ve eaten… hours. Glancing at the clock, I realize it’s way past dinner time for us.

  “Reubens.” She places one in front of me, and I tear into it, lifting the marble rye out of the wax paper.

  White juice drips from the side as I take a large bite, and the tang of sauerkraut mixed with corned beef and Thousand Island dressing fills my mouth.

  “This might be the best thing I’ve e
aten all year.”

  She grins and kisses my head. “Not true. You had a Three-fer last week.”

  Nodding, I take another large bite. “I wasn’t starving then.”

  She sits across from me at the small table and opens her sandwich. It’s the same size, but she takes a less ravenous wild-animal-sized bite. She even touches away the juice with a napkin.

  “How’s it going?” She studies me with worried eyes.

  “Tedious.” I grab a napkin, wiping my hands, my mouth. “I need Molly. It’s the whole reason we’re here. We came all this way, and she just disappeared.”

  I don’t want to take my frustrations out on Lara, but they’re right at the surface.

  Lara shakes her head. “She’s off playing guardian angel… or angel of vengeance… or justice. I don’t know.”

  “What does that mean?” I’m finished with my food, but Lara has only taken two bites.

  “Joshua said she’s been going out with these girls… Prostitutes. I know she has Gavin in her sights, but she can’t face him on her own.”

  Her voice wavers, and I go to her, lifting her into my arms, against my chest. This is all so fucking hard.

  My hands slide up and down her back. “You okay? That shit this afternoon was brutal.”

  Her head nods fast, and she holds my arms, pushing out of them. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Once again, you’ve saved me from a meltdown.”

  An edge is in her voice. It makes me frown, and I catch her jaw. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Angry blue eyes blink to mine. “It means for once I’d like to be able to face a problem without the threat of flying off the cliff. I don’t have to be rescued all the time.”

  My chin drops, and I try to think of a nice way to say this.

  Fuck it.

  “Well, that’s too damn bad.” My eyes lock on hers. “I’m going to keep pulling you back from that cliff as long as you need me to do it. Every time.” Reaching down, I grab her finger, lifting it by the engagement ring. “That’s the whole point of this right here.”

  Shaking her head, she gazes at the not-diamond on her finger. “We haven’t set a date.” Her voice is soft.

  A tiny smile plays at the corner of her mouth, and I know she heard me. Maybe she finally internalized the message. She hasn’t shown any signs of running since that ring.

  “I’m ready. We can go down to the courthouse now, be back by the time Molly drags ass in here.”

  That gets me a little laugh. “Roland would kill us.”

  “I know.” Pulling Lara to me again, I kiss the top of her head. “You probably want a big wedding and all the trimmings…”

  “I never really imagined my wedding.”

  I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but I do know we’re stuck here waiting until Molly decides to return. It gives me an idea… something to release the tension. The lights of the city spread out below us. It’s a beautiful view.

  “As soon as this is over.” Catching her cheeks with my hands, I kiss her lips. “As soon as we can get it planned, it’s happening.”

  Her hands move to my waist, fumbling with the edge of my shirt until they find my bare skin. “I’ll be your wife.”

  The words heat my blood, and I kiss her deeper, tasting her spicy mouth. I find the edge of her shirt and lift it over her head. She’s standing in her jeans and a black lace bra, her nipples peaked and pointing right at me. I’m instantly hard.

  Leaning down, I kiss the top of her shoulder, lowering her bra strap. “I thought we might try for a little brother or sister for Jillian.”

  Cool fingers unfasten my jeans, pushing them down my hips. “I’m on the pill.” It’s a light quip, a touch of seduction, and it makes me smile.

  “I know it’s too soon.” Moving my mouth higher, I pull the skin of her neck between my teeth. “Just know I’m ready when you are.”

  She shivers and lets out a little moan that registers straight to my cock.

  “When this is over.” She has my shirt open, and the touch of her mouth against my skin is electric. She sucks and pulls at my nipple, and fuck me, that’s sensitive. “We can think about so many things.”

  Leading her to the silly air mattress, I remove the last of her clothes. Dropping to my knees, I pausing to kiss her flat stomach, looking at it a moment, thinking.

  “I don’t want to miss anything. Ever again.”

  Her fingers thread in my hair, and regret fills her eyes. “You won’t.”

  She leans down, and our mouths collide. I want to kiss the pain away, the fear. The anxiety she doesn’t want to have, but she can’t deny. With all the crime and danger surrounding us, nothing has ever been able to stop our love.

  Our bodies slide together. Her thighs part and her hips rise to meet me. I sink into her warm depths with a groan.

  “It’s always been this way,” she sighs, her fingers cutting into my arms. “No matter what happens, I always want you.”

  Stretching down, I capture her lips, pulling them with mine. “Will you still want me without all the danger?”

  “Hmm,” she grins, picking up on my tease. “It’ll be so boring.”

  “I’ll find a way to be your hero.” I rock my hips, giving her a hard thrust, glistening on the edge of orgasm.

  She moans, eyes fluttering shut. “Always.”

  18

  Challenging me will be your last mistake.

  Mark

  The bang of the metal door rouses us. I’m lying on my back, dozing in the afterglow, but Lara jerks the blankets over her breasts and stands.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you.” Molly goes to the sink and runs water. Her tone doesn’t sound sorry.

  Lara steps into her jeans and pulls my tank over her head before storming around the screen. I push off the mattress, grabbing my pants.

  “Where were you?” Lara’s voice is sharp. “You disappeared for hours, and you know we came all this way for help.”

  Molly’s is equally sharp. “I’m sorry. My life wasn’t on hold waiting for you to show up. I had a prior commitment.”

  “Where? What did you do?”

  “I don’t have to answer that.”

  Stepping into the room, I try to ease the tension. “I wish you’d at least answer my texts. I get it. You have shit going on, but this is urgent, Mol.”

  She takes a breath and holds out her hand. “Show me what you’ve found.”

  “Nothing.” We go to the computer, and I show her what I’ve done. “I searched the terms you said, but they only brought up that one video.”

  Dropping into the chair her thin brows pull together. “You also have to use what you know about the time, the place, the people.” Her fingers fly over the keys, and I watch her type in sex club, underground, backstage, floating, exclusive, teens.

  The screen fills with lists, and she scrolls quicker than me.

  “You’re more familiar with this environment.”

  Her eyes scan. Her lips are pressed into a straight line. “The population here isn’t that big. It’s a lot of the same shit repeated over and over. You learn to recognize it.”

  The tension in my neck is back. “You said you’ve been searching for three days? So you think he’s deleted it?”

  “It’s possible. I still might be able to find traces.”

  Lara paces the room behind us. Her arms are crossed over her waist, and anger radiates off her. “Do people have usernames in this dark web? Couldn’t that be a clue?”

  “No.” Molly’s voice is flat. “It’s about anonymity. Nobody uses traceable IDs here. It’s one of the first rules of a tor browser—no cookies, no storing passwords.”

  My fists clench. “Dammit, Molly. He can’t have deleted everything.”

  Her hand stills, and she hesitates over a listing. Faster than I can keep up, she clicks it. A window opens, and she scans the contents before closing it again just as fast. I only caught the first sentence, Third meeting, same day, same time, Black
Pony…

  Her cheeks are flushed, but she closes the window and continues scrolling as if nothing happened.

  “What was that?” My eyes go from the screen to her face and back. “You found something?”

  She shakes her head. “It was a false alarm. I thought it was something. I was wrong.”

  Years as a policeman have made me pretty good at spotting a guilty face. “Was it something else? Something related?”

  Blue eyes flash at me. “You’re looking for videos to exonerate Lara? Or at least give her an alibi for what she did?”

  “Yes.”

  “That wasn’t a video.” Her face is back on the screen, and her fingers move faster than ever, leaving whatever that was far behind us on the path.

  The next search term makes her stop. “What’s this?”

  I grab a chair from the table and pull it beside her so I can sit. The link opens a window to another video screen.

  “This looks like a hit.” Her voice is high, and my chest squeezes.

  “Play it.”

  She taps the triangle below the black frame, and images start moving. Again, it’s black and white, very poor quality. We watch as a figure, a man, enters a room carrying a long pole. He leaves for a moment then returns with a bucket.

  “Wait…” I lean forward, studying the screen, running my eyes past the man to the setting around him.

  It’s a bedroom with dark walls and ornate light fixtures. A couch is against one wall, and trash is on the floor. A table is smashed, a lamp overturned.

  The figure returns and puts his hands on his hips, staring at the room for so long, I’m worried the video is corrupted and has stopped playing. Then he takes the pole, which I realize now is a mop, and dunks it in the bucket.

  “It’s me,” I say softly. “It’s my first job… for Gavin. I had to clean blood from a room and burn the sheets.”

  Watching myself from all those years ago in that place, I understand the feelings Lara wrestled with earlier. It’s haunting, but more than that, it’s alarming to think everything was recorded and is somewhere on video. It’s similar to someone reading your old diary, discovering the worst things you’ve ever done from long ago.