A Perfect Storm. Lori Foster
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made her a priority. Having backup, just in case things went sideways, only made sense. He wanted her safe, damn it.
Feeling a little traitorous, Spencer crossed the restaurant floor. He’d only promised not to tell Jackson, he reminded himself.
He hadn’t said a thing about Trace.
When he reached the table, Trace set aside his napkin and glanced up. “There a reason you stood there studying me before coming in?”
Since he hadn’t been going for stealth, Spencer didn’t mind the direct question. He shook his head and slid into the booth. “Not really. Just wondering about something. I know Jackson renamed Arizona. And I know that Alani’s last name is different from yours, even though you’re siblings. So was she renamed, too?”
“No.”
Which meant Miller was an alias.
Figures. With a nod, because he really didn’t care, Spencer said, “I have a problem.”
With a half smile, Trace asked, “Is her name Arizona?”
Not funny. Or rather, it would be funny if it didn’t involve him. “Bingo.”
“What’d she do now?” Trace sat back in the booth. “And why aren’t you going to Jackson? She’s like a sister to him.”
Was she? He knew Jackson felt that way—but Arizona? Sometimes he wondered. They had a very complicated relationship, but Spencer said only, “Arizona made me promise I wouldn’t tell Jackson.”
“Ah. Didn’t mention keeping it from me or Dare, huh?”
“No. I guess she didn’t think you two were an option.” Dare was the third element in the team. The day Spencer had met them all, Dare had been on surveillance—meaning crouched on a hillside with high-powered rifles ready to pick off anyone planning an ambush. “I doubt Arizona even realizes we’ve stayed in touch since that cluster-fuck happened.”
He shrugged. “It went as planned.”
“She was in the middle of it all.” It still made Spencer furious to think about it. Arizona had used herself to lure in the human traffickers. But she hadn’t realized they were the same people she’d previously escaped—the same people who had once tossed her, bound and abused, over the side of a bridge and into a churning river to kill her.
If Jackson hadn’t come upon them that night, if he hadn’t been skilled enough and fast enough, Arizona would have drowned.
Sadly, few would have noticed her passing. Even fewer would have cared.
Spencer’s guts cramped. So far in her young life, Arizona had been dealt a miserable hand. And still she was so…spirited.
“Since they wanted her dead, I’d say you were right.” Trace studied him. “You seeing her much?”
“Not really.” He didn’t want to betray Arizona’s trust, so he couldn’t explain that he’d been trying to avoid her—and forget her—only to find her sitting in his bedroom, watching him sleep. “She stopped by.”
Trace’s expression didn’t change. “To engage you in one of her stunts?”
Now he felt defensive on her behalf. “What she doesn’t have in size and strength, she makes up for with brains and bravery.”
“Bravery?” Eyebrow raised, Trace reached for his Coke. “I’d call it recklessness.”
“Maybe.” He didn’t want to argue the point. “It bothers me that she doesn’t show enough caution, and she puts no value on her own hide.”
“I know.” Almost as a warning, Trace said, “Whoever hooks up with the girl better have a lot of fortitude, because I don’t see her easing off anytime soon.”
Yeah…he didn’t want to think about Arizona with anyone else. And the way she’d reacted to the idea of a kiss, he knew she still had a lot of hurt to overcome. People now cared for her, but she trusted only the ugly side of life.
Because that was all she knew.
With the Coke gone, Trace got serious. “I thought Jackson had her busy doing computer work.”
Not busy enough, obviously. “She does that—and then some.”
On a sigh, Trace asked, “So what’s she into now?”
Spencer explained about the bar and grill, and Arizona’s suspicions. “She told me she’s been there a few times already and she’s been noticed.”
“That girl would get noticed anywhere.”
An irrefutable fact. He’d never seen a woman as breathtakingly gorgeous as Arizona. “So at this point, for the sake of her safety, I have to assume there are some shady deals going on. Which means someone might have already followed her.”
“They could know where she lives, the places she frequents. She could get grabbed right off the street.” Trace gave him a long look. “Unfortunately, it happens all the time.”
Which was why he wanted to protect her. “I have no choice but to get involved.”
“No choice at all.” Trace considered things. “Give me the name of the place and the location.”
“The Green Goose, in downtown Middleville.”
Expression arrested, Trace said, “Shit.”
“What? You’re aware of something going on in there?”
It took him a second, and then Trace laughed. “She’s got great instincts, I’ll give her that.”
It hit Spencer like a ton of bricks. “She’s right about the place, isn’t she?”
“Afraid so. Luckily for your peace of mind, we were already on it. Early stages, though. Dare was running background checks on the owners, and I was planning a visit so I could scope out things from within.”
“Arizona’s already done that.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, but Trace had to know it all. “She says she sat at a table, and when a kid came to take her order, she noticed some bruises, what looked like a broken finger that hadn’t been set right, and the boy wouldn’t look her in the eyes. Probably not more than sixteen, though of course his age would be fudged.”
Anger gathered in Trace’s expression, but he sounded calm enough when he said, “I wish we’d moved on this sooner, damn it.”
But they couldn’t be everywhere at once, and cruelty existed far and wide, all the time. “When the boy brought her food, Arizona asked if it was a good place to work. She told him she was looking for a job.”
“The boy’s reaction?”
“He couldn’t or wouldn’t tell her what they made per hour.”
Grim, Trace said, “Because he’s not getting paid.”
“That’s Arizona’s assumption. Around a lot of stammering and nervousness, the boy pointed out the man to talk to if she wanted to work there. Arizona said he’s a tall, skinny guy, mid-forties, thinning brown hair, brown eyes, goatee, earring, some sort of colorful tribal tattoo on his left arm. From what she could find out, he’s the owner of the place.”
“Terry Janes.” Trace crossed his arms. “Did some time when he was younger for peddling drugs, been in more trouble a handful of times for robbery, breaking and entering, suspected rape. He had a charge for beating a guy half to death, but that fell through the cracks. No way is he the owner.”
God, it sounded worse than Spencer had suspected. “Later that night, Arizona kept watch on the place and only a few of the employees left. Janes, his bartender, his bouncer—just key people, I guess. He locked the door behind him. It’s a shitty part of town, so bars on the windows make sense, but in this case—”