Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 140965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
She could see he expected condemnation from her. Turning away. Rejection. He expected it because everyone he grew to care about left him, just as his mother had. Now he was sure that because he had committed such a heinous crime, she would leave him too.
She tapped her fingers on her knee in a little letter of love to him, of solidarity. She wouldn’t. She loved him. More, and maybe most importantly, she knew him. She knew his character. He was incapable of the cold-blooded murder of an innocent. He could say whatever he wanted to say, but if he killed another human being outside of the enemies he faced in the service of his country, he would only kill for self-preservation or in the defense of others. She knew that as surely as she knew it about herself.
She met Draden’s eyes, willing him to go on. He wanted her to know what he’d done and because that was so important to him, she would listen. But if he thought she would turn from him because he had blood on his hands, he was wrong. Whitney had sent her out before to track an enemy of the United States. She’d done her research and read the files on whomever the target was before she was sent. Ultimately, she’d been the one to make the kill. The responsibility lay with her.
“I don’t feel remorse for what I did,” Draden continued. “I didn’t even care that Whitney had been secretly watching the people and caught me on tape. I was modeling with several others, working my way through college. Some of the girls were young. It was some big private fashion venue with all designer clothes, so a lot of very wealthy clients. We were to go through the rooms in various apparel and the clients could decide to purchase if they chose. That was the gig, and I’d been to quite a few of them. At the time I was very popular.”
Shylah didn’t interrupt to say she knew why. He was beautiful. Just watching him talk, watching the passion move across his face made her heart beat harder. He made her go damp with need.
“Afterward, we were paid right there, under the table, all cash. I couldn’t remember where I left my jacket, so I went hunting for it. When I came back to the room where we’d been rounded up to get our money for the night, there were five men standing over the girls, yelling at them in another language. It seems these girls were brought into the country illegally and were used virtually as slaves by these people. They had no rights and were supposed to turn over every bit of their earnings to them.”
Shylah sat up straighter. She was well aware of the way illegals were often treated, but she’d never witnessed it. She took a deep breath and slipped off the bed, reaching for the nearest shirt. It was one thing to try to be seductive when she was working against a virus and a storm. It was another when he was talking about virtual slavery.
“The five of them were very powerful people. I think one was a congressman, and two of them were his brothers. The other two were originally from another country, and the five of them were making a lot of money from their scheme. The girls had been trying to hold on to some money each time to save to leave. They were being beaten severely. I walked in on it.”
She couldn’t imagine what she would have done had she walked in on several grown men beating young girls. She pictured them as teens, maybe early twenties. She would have lost it. Apparently, Draden had.
“I remember running toward them, and one came at me, swinging. I saw he had brass knuckles on. He’d actually hit the girls with them. It made me crazy. I hit him hard, right in the throat and kept going straight at the next one. I went through them all. The girls were screaming, and I told them to get their money back and get the hell out of there. I remember checking pulses and then realizing that I didn’t care if they were dead or not. I didn’t know what to do, so I just sat there, waiting, I think, for the cops to arrive. I’d forgotten I’d arranged a ride back to the university. I didn’t have what others called friends, because I barely talked to anyone, but this one guy was persistent and nearly always picked me up from my gigs.”
He swept his hand through his hair. “He came to get me, found the bodies and I told him what happened.”
“Was that Trap?”
“No, it was Joe. He sent his father to help me.”
His loyalty to Joe made sense now. Joe had helped him at a very critical time. She didn’t know why Joe hadn’t called the police and distanced himself from Draden, but he hadn’t.