Intimate Fear

by D. C. Stone

  He had never seen her—in the twenty-plus years they had known each other—act with such reckless abandon. Her wild eyes spoke to him, uttered a desperate plea he wanted nothing more but to answer. Shit, he wished to find Hailey, too. Every one of his instincts screamed something was wrong, that she was in danger. He couldn’t concentrate on what to do, though, without making sure Brooke was cared for. That drive, the urge to provide protection for the damn woman who had driven him crazy forever, seemed ingrained into his DNA.

  He cared for her. Had a soft spot for the sweet woman. He had pushed his feelings to the side for years, and while they were still there, he thought he had them under control. At least until she’d embraced him in her kitchen earlier.

  He’d been wrong to think he could push her from his system, slake his lust on other, more willing partners. And every skirt he laid with was willing, almost eager for what he provided. He wasn’t cocky about it, but it was a fact. He recognized lust and gave in to it, taking what they both wanted in a mutual agreement of pleasure.

  “She really should have been keeping an eye on that boyfriend of Hailey’s.”

  Mr. Rodgers’ statement cut Dwayne from his musings. “Excuse me?”

  The tall, lanky man puffed his chest and tried to stand straighter but fought to keep eye contact. “All I’m saying, Detective, is that kid has been bad news since day one. I suspect he was the one behind the drug dealings around the area, too. However, where he chose to make horrible decisions in what to do with his life, and to others, he was smart in how he hid it. I never saw any dealings on campus, and each time I asked him to leave, he did.”

  Dwayne bit his tongue to rein his temper. Getting into a schoolyard fistfight would do no good.

  “Do us a favor and keep an eye and ear out. If anyone hears anything, give us a call.” Charlie passed the principal a card and they all turned away. Dwayne crossed the yard and cursed when his best friend called for him.

  “Not right now, Lopez.” He faced her, softened at the concern in her expression.

  “Look, D, maybe you need to take a step back and let someone else handle this.”

  He crossed his arms and glared down the length of his nose. “No.”

  She tossed her hands. “Why? What good are you going to do for them in the mood you’re in?”

  “I’ll handle it. Don’t push me on this.”

  She cocked her head and studied him. Silence stretched, the sound of cars passing on the highway behind the village filling the air. “This isn’t the way to get close to her, Dwayne. Tread carefully. This is her daughter.”

  That did it. The coiled string in his stomach snapped, the last of his patience whipping out. He dipped his head and got in her face. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear you say that. I, of all people, know exactly who is missing and what she is to Brooke. I’ve spent countless years trying to give her that male figure in her life, taught the girl how to play softball, gave her instructions on the proper way to toss a right hook, and goddammit, Charlie, it has nothing and everything to do with that stubborn woman in the backseat of my cruiser. This is every bit of my fault as it is the school’s. I was here yesterday. I could have stopped her from leaving.”

  She held his stare, didn’t even flinch. “When did you see her last?”

  He sighed and straightened, pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to hold in impatience. “Yesterday morning, right before school. She was hanging with Jaxon Williams and he got a little rough with her. I tried to intercept, got interrupted, and when I finally managed to break free, they were gone.”

  She glanced around the neighborhood. “You’ve been talking with Trent.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Of course. He’s looking into it. Did he tell you?”

  “Yeah, a little. I’ll go see what he’s found out.” She glanced to his backseat. “Take her home and try to get her to see reason.”

  “I plan on it.” Without another word, he got in his cruiser, started it, and pulled away from the curb.

  Once at Brooke’s house, he opened the back door, and she got out. She stayed silent and pushed past without looking at him. They entered her residence in quiet. He followed Brooke to her bedroom, watching as she grabbed a duffel bag. He clenched his jaw when she began to stuff clothing inside.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  She didn’t answer him. Of course! Why would she? Instead she disappeared into the attached bathroom and came out minutes later with a brush, a small bag, and her toothbrush. She tossed the items inside with the clothing.

  “Stop.”

  She didn’t. He growled under his breath and grabbed her arm. She wheeled around and slapped him across the cheek. The sound vibrated around the room and stunned the hell out of him. Electricity filled the air as if it were a living thing. Without realizing, he reacted. He held her body to the wall, his large frame pushing into her, holding her wrists behind her back with his hands.

  “Damn it, Brooke. I’m trying to help you!”

  “Help? Help! Bullshit, you treated me like a child and threw me in the back of your cruiser like some hooligan.”

  “You were acting like a spoiled brat who wasn’t getting her way. Shouting orders, throwing things, and demanding answers isn’t going to get us to find Hailey any faster. Let me do my job here.”

  Her expression grew cold and she lifted her chin. “Fine. You do yours.”

  He narrowed his eyes. It couldn’t be that easy. “You’re going to listen to me?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  He switched his grip on her hands, held them with one of his own, and brushed a tendril of red hair from her cheek. “Listen, I need you to trust me. You need to understand that I would never neglect my duties when it comes to Hailey. I will find her. You have to believe that.”

  She studied him for several tense moments. Her gaze jumped back and forth between his eyes, as if she searched for an answer. He swallowed, trying like hell to show his intent, to let her know he wouldn’t stop for anything until her daughter was home. It would have to be enough. It was all she would take from him. At least, for now.

  Seconds turned into minutes and finally she nodded.

  “Promise me.”

  Her blue eyes swam with tears, reminding him of drops of rain falling into the ocean. Catching a tumbling tear with his thumb, he released her hands and cupped her jaw. “I promise you, Brooke. With everything I am, all I could ever hope to be. I will bring her home.”

  A sob tore from her mouth, and he crushed her to his chest, his heart breaking as sounds of her despair filled the air. She clung to him with a fierce grip and he closed his lids. He hoped like hell he’d be able to keep this promise.

  Chapter Twelve

  The continual rocking of the truck, the constant swaying back and forth, soothed Hailey. The drugs in her system, the ones making her mind scatter in every direction, unable to latch on to one specific thought, kept her in and out of consciousness. Memories of getting in the vehicle were fuzzy at best, and she’d only woken for brief periods to see other girls being loaded in with her. They shivered against each other. The tank top she wore wasn’t much of a barrier against the cool air.

  She tried to sit up, to pull her face away from a foul stench that reminded her of spoiled milk, but she couldn’t move. Her arms were heavy and failed to answer to the call her brain tried to send.

  Someone groaned, another gagged, and Hailey’s stomach lurched. The truck took a sharp turn. The group shifted and pressed together with each motion. Everything spun around her and she groaned. Rocks hit under the truck next, the ping, ping, ping sounds slamming through her head. They must have turned off to an unpaved road as the vehicle shook and bounced until she thought her head would explode.

  She pushed against the body lying on her face, desperate to take in fresh air. Her arms wouldn’t move. They felt laden, out of sorts, and itchy. She yearned to shower, wanted a meal, but more than anything craved something darke
r.

  No!

  The heroin injections took over her body and mind. She couldn’t respond to the things done to her and was powerless to stop the doses. Tears burned behind her lids as she wished for her mom, pleaded to go home. She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud until a loud thump rattled the metal above her head and a harsh voice demanded for her to shut up.

  The truck braked suddenly. Bodies tumbled one over the other, and someone’s hand smacked her in the face. Pain exploded, blossoming out from her nose. She gagged at the distinct taste of copper trailing down the back of her throat.

  Bright sunlight pierced the interior, the first she remembered seeing in several days, as the back end opened.

  “Get the fuck up, and get out. Your new life is about to begin, whores.”

  * * * *

  Brooke stretched, her fingertips touching the beige velvet headboard above. Her room was doused in fading orange light that dropped indiscriminate shadows behind picture frames and the large six-drawer dresser in front of her. She stared at the ceiling, watched the play of blades as the fan rotated in a slow and constant speed. The motion almost hypnotized her, the scene and day coming to a false relaxing tranquility.

  Memories rushed in, crashed into her mind like a jolt of electricity, and her heart slammed against her ribs before pounding away at a breathtaking speed. The insistent demand told her what she already knew. Hailey had disappeared, was taken from her, and could very well be dead.

  “Oh, God,” she choked, the building beat of her heart scrambling up her throat. She gave in and set it free with a sob.

  She scrambled out of bed, rushed to her phone sitting on the dresser, and jumbled the device until it turned on. The red light blinked, alerting a need for charging, while the lack of icons displayed across the top revealed no missed calls.

  No contact. No hope. No Hailey.

  The digital second hand ticked away precious time. She groaned, realizing she had been asleep for six hours. Her mind spun with implications, her biggest fears, and a dead quiet that bellowed how alone she was, how helpless, and how utterly useless she was in ensuring her daughter’s safety.

  Tears trailed down her cheeks unchecked, and she let the remorse free. It pressed on her chest and weighed her shoulders. She dropped her phone on the side table, plugged it in for juice, and grabbed her calf-length sea-blue silk housecoat. After settling it on her body, she headed down the hall, bypassing memories she couldn’t face. Stepping into the kitchen, she drew to a halt. Dwayne. He’d stayed. She hadn’t expected him to, but that he had brought something akin to gratitude through her chest.

  He stood by the back sliding glass door, facing at an angle, arms folded across his chest. A black long-sleeved shirt looked as if it had been painted on, the muscles in his arms straining against the material. The cloth tapered at his waist and covered the distinct bulge of his belt buckle holding up dark washed jeans that encased his ass in perfect display. A dark blue baseball cap sat on his head, pulled low, shielding her from the piercing green eyes he turned her way.

  With unhindered focus of him, she sucked in a sharp breath. Dwayne hardly ever seemed so casual to wear something this normal. Usually impeccably dressed, he wore suits for his job, and for the past few years that’s all she’d seen him in. This man—and he was all male—seemed a stranger. The hat on his head defined a strong jaw and plump, full, tanned lips. His mouth didn’t curve as she was used to seeing, though, and instead tightened. A muscle ticked in his cheek.

  “You’re up.”

  She didn’t acknowledge his statement. There was no need for idle chitchat. “Have you heard anything?”

  He sighed, lifted the cap, and scrubbed the top of his head. He averted his gaze, looking anywhere but at her, and settled the hat low. “No, not really. I’ve been trying to call Jaxon for hours now, but each time the phone goes to voicemail. No one else has reported anything and the truck companies in the area haven’t rented anything resembling what was reported this morning.”

  She blanched, sure she heard wrong. “What do you mean a truck?”

  He grimaced. “Shit, Brooke. I meant to tell you. This morning at Jaxon’s house, Mrs. Wilshire mentioned seeing a truck leave his residence early yesterday. Some sort of moving truck. And while I was there, I checked the place out. It was empty.”

  She cried out. “No!” Her lips trembled and she fisted her hands. Behind her breastbone, her heart pounded against her chest like a wave crashing ashore. “A truck?” she asked in dismay. “Tell me that’s not true. Where’s my little girl?”

  A look of helplessness crossed his features. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find her.”

  He crossed the room, cupped her shoulders, and refused to let her look away. “You need to trust me to do my job here. I want to find Hailey as much as you. I need you to hold it together.”

  Her eyes stung, but she forced the tears back. Shedding them wouldn’t help anything. She had to be strong for her daughter, keep her head together, and show Dwayne she could help. Sitting around and letting others do all the work was not the woman she wanted to be. She was more than that, had grown in confidence when Leo left.

  She swallowed, forced the lump of guilt down, and nodded. “I do. I will. I’m just really scared. I don’t know what else I can do to help here. I don’t know how to get her back.”

  “I know. We are doing everything we can. I won’t rest until she’s back in your arms.” He searched her face, and his lips thinned. It almost looked as if he held something back. Hiding things, keeping secrets, and refusing to tell the truth had led to the demise of her marriage. She wouldn’t let it have a part in the finding of her daughter. Impatience wove its way through her fear.

  “What is it, Dwayne? What aren’t you saying?”

  He leaned forward, a passing moment, but then stepped back and released her. A battle raged over his face like a movie playing out his indecision. His body rocked back and forth as if he was having a difficult time staying in place. He cursed, a foul word so low she didn’t quite hear. Then he turned away, paced to the door, spun around, and came back. Just when she thought he wouldn’t answer, he did. His voice was devoid of emotion, calm, flat, and lethal. She shivered.

  “Trent,” he started, “that’s Agent Rossi with the FBI, has been looking into a few things while you were asleep.” Pivot, pace back. “He’s doing it as a favor, you see. So, the information I’m about to tell you can’t leave this room. A lot is riding on this and it’s our best shot at tracking Hailey down.”

  She bristled, opened her mouth, but he held up a hand and continued, still pacing back and forth.

  “We’ve tracked Jaxon’s phone. The little fucker may not be answering it, but with the GPS inside, Big Brother has made it easy to keep track. And really, I could have done that without Trent’s help, but it’s still appreciated. I mean all you have to do is Google ‘how to track a cell phone’ and you get a bunch of hits. Pay a few dollars, log on to a site, input the number, and there you go.”

  Why was he rambling? She struggled to keep up.

  “It tracks to a hundred yards, but hell, that’s close enough, right? Well, the FBI can get closer. I mean real close, like satellite lock and all. I wouldn’t be surprised if they could actually see the phone from space, but Trent wouldn’t answer that question. The fucker.”

  “Dwayne!”

  He stopped pacing and snapped his head up, eyes wide.

  “Please,” she pleaded.

  He gave a distinct nod. “Sorry. Anyhow, we’ve traced Jaxon’s phone up north. To Rhode Island, just outside Providence.” He drew up straighter, lifting his head high. “And his credit card charges in the past few hours have led us in the same direction, so there’s no doubt it’s him.”

  She stared at him, speechless. What was he saying? She would not, could not, let hope surge…yet.

  As if he heard her unspoken question, he heaved a deep breath. “I’m going after them.”

  * * * *
<
br />   “Okay, when do we leave?”

  Brooke looked so damn small standing in front of him. He had never paid much attention to her size, but with the blue housecoat that clung to her shoulders—her very small and petite shoulders—she seemed fragile. Her eyes filled with hope and trust. It physically hurt his heart. He couldn’t make her any promises, but damn he was going to try.

  “I’m leaving as soon as I hear back from Trent.”

  “Okay.” She turned and took a step. “I’ll go pack a bag.”

  Her words caught up with his sluggish mind. “Wait.” She stopped, then spun to face him. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying here, Brooke.”

  Her spine snapped and he saw the fury—and braced—before it released. “She’s my daughter.”

  “Stop it.” He held up a hand, palm out, and took a step closer. “This is dangerous. I will not put you in jeopardy. It’s safe here, and this is where you will stay. What if she comes home?” It was a long shot going there. They both knew—he knew—Hailey was with Jaxon, up fucking north, and there’d be no returning anytime soon.

  Her mouth opened, closed, and repeated until she resembled a fish out of water. Sea spun blue eyes swam with moisture and it was like a kick to the gut.

  Fuck.

  “You will not keep me out of this.” She tried so damn hard to keep those tears from spilling. The fight for control rode over every taut muscle in her body. “You won’t.” A sob broke free on the last word.

  His resolve wavered. Hell, he didn’t want to think about her coming with him, putting herself in danger. As it was, the fact that Hailey was wrapped in something dangerous was enough to rub like salt across a wound. All day he had been unable to get her out of his head, the memories hitting him one after another: Hailey learning to ride a bike without training wheels, her first day of middle school, trying out for the varsity softball team, going on her first date. He had been present for each one, held her hair back when she blew out the candles for her thirteenth birthday, and damn it, she may not be his daughter by blood, but the affection he felt put her on a pedestal in his life.