Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 137310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Other than that, no one was around.
He rolled up beside Eight, parked, and Diana jumped off.
He swung his leg over after she did.
Eight eyed her, looked to Hugger and grinned.
“You say no to her,” Hugger replied to Eight’s unspoken comment.
Eight’s grin got bigger before he asked Diana, “What kind of tacos are we havin’ tonight?”
She huffed before she shared, “Harlan doesn’t want tacos every night. I’m making white chili and serving it with Red Lobster biscuits.”
“What time?” Eight asked.
“I don’t know. Six?” she answered.
“I’ll bring the beer again,” Eight said.
“Also some wine,” she put in. “White. Sauvignon blanc or a buttery chardonnay.”
“Buttery chardonnay. I’ll get right on that,” Eight replied, looking like he was about to bust a gut trying not to laugh.
Hugger felt him.
Diana Armitage was something, and fuck him standing, all of it was good.
“We’re also gonna get right on giving Diana some cake. She’s not feedin’ this crew without reimbursement,” Hugger entered the conversation.
“I’ll see to that too…Harlan,” Eight gave him shit.
“That isn’t necessary,” Diana stated.
“It is,” Hugger and Eight said in unison.
“It really isn’t,” Diana asserted.
“What it is, is not up for discussion,” Hugger returned.
“Bluh,” she grunted adorably, giving in.
Fucking torturing him.
“Hup,” Eight uttered, jerking up his chin.
Hugger and Diana turned to see a big shiny SUV rolling in.
The thing was, they knew who was behind the wheel, so it wasn’t the Phoenix cop.
“This just got even more interesting,” Eight murmured.
“Who’s that?” Diana asked.
“Kai Mason,” Hugger answered.
“You know him?” she queried as Mason swung in and parked.
“He’s from Denver. Moved down here to expand their business,” Hugger shared.
“And that business is?”
He looked down at her. “Investigations and security. And before you ask, yeah, they’re good. The best.”
“Why’s he here?” She was watching Mace walk toward them.
“Because Scott can’t tell us dick,” Eight said. “But Mace can.”
Proof.
Detective Rayne Scott was solid.
They waited until Mace got to them.
“Eight,” Mace greeted on a handshake.
“Mace.”
“Hug.” Mace turned to him.
They shook and Hugger said, “This is Diana.”
“Know who she is,” Mace muttered and dipped his chin to her. “Diana.”
“You know me?” she asked. “How?”
“Try to know as much as I can in this town,” he replied without really giving her anything.
Of course, Diana didn’t let him get away with that.
“Precisely…me. How do you know me?” she pushed.
“Anything that Imran Babić touches, I know. Anything that he might touch in a way that will piss me off, I know better,” Mace returned.
That was acceptable to Diana, because she backed off.
“All right, I got a buttery chardonnay to buy, let’s get down to it,” Eight called it to order.
Mace got serious.
“Suzette Snyder doesn’t exist.”
Diana gasped.
Eight grunted.
Hugger growled.
“At least, the woman staying with you isn’t named Suzette Snyder,” Mace said to Diana.
“Oh my God,” Diana whispered.
“Cops don’t know who she is. She had no ID when she came in, and didn’t provide any before she went out. Address she gave, someone else lives there and they’ve never heard of her. Prints aren’t in the system. She reported to the cops she was twenty-three. Doctors who treated her said they can’t be certain, but they think she’s no more than seventeen,” Mace stated.
At that, Diana reeled, so Hugger threw an arm around her shoulders, pulled her back to his front, and locked her down by curling his arm around her chest and holding her against him.
In turn, she lifted both hands and latched onto his forearm.
“You’re fuckin’ shittin’ me,” Eight gritted.
But Hugger caught on.
“Trafficked,” he bit out.
“No,” Diana moaned.
“That’s what the cops, and FBI, are guessing,” Mace affirmed. He focused his attention on Eight. “Maybe we can talk alone.”
“Whatever it is, I should know,” Diana put in.
“I get you think you do, but I know you don’t,” Mace replied.
“If anyone’s going to talk her into a safe place and get her to the point she can keep it together and help, it’s me. I should know what I’m dealing with,” Diana pushed.
But Hugger was studying Mace’s expression.
So he gave her a squeeze and said, “Babe.”
She twisted her neck to look up at him. “I should know, Harlan.”
Fuck, but she’d latched onto his name stronger than she had his arm, and she had a damn strong hold on him.
“How bad is it?” Eight asked.
“The worst,” Mace didn’t delay in answering.
Eight made a move to put distance between them. “Let’s do this.”
“No!” Diana shouted. “I should know.”
Mace looked at Hugger.
“Don’t look at him,” she demanded. “Look at me.”
“Why are you in this?” Mace asked her, and Hugger’s hold got tighter.
“That isn’t relevant,” she returned.
“I disagree.” Mace stood his ground.
“Okay then, it’s none of your business,” she retorted.
“That I can’t disagree about,” he replied, looking her straight in the eye, which meant he’d made an experienced guess, and that guess was correct.
Hugger felt Diana shiver, knew what that was about, and growled to Mace, “Lay off.”
Mace switched to looking Hugger right in the eye, he nodded once, then said, “Prelims on the DNA came back. Multiples.”